As Killian made his way through the village, the sounds of hammers striking nails and voices murmuring with determination filled the air. The villagers were a resilient bunch, but it was Leah's soft voice that caught his attention, drawing him toward a small cluster of people gathered around a makeshift medical station.
He approached cautiously, peering over the shoulders of the villagers to find Leah kneeling beside a small boy, no older than eight, whose face was streaked with dirt and tears. A bad gash marred his forearm, the deep red wound stark against his ashen skin. Leah's brow was furrowed in concentration as she worked, her fingers deftly cleaning the injury with a cloth, but Killian noticed the slight tremble in her hands. Her face, usually so composed, was a mix of focus and unease.
Killian couldn't help but chuckle quietly to himself. How had she ever become a healer? The sight of blood, even a small cut, seemed to send her into a flurry of anxiety. Yet here she was, tending to the boy with all the care in the world. He admired her dedication, even if she appeared a touch squeamish.
As if sensing his gaze, Leah looked up, her deep blue eyes locking onto his. The moment their eyes met, a rosy blush erupted across her cheeks, creeping down her neck like wildfire. Killian felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of her flustered expression, and he couldn't help but grin.
"Killian!" she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. "I dinnae see ye there."
"Clearly," he replied, a teasing lilt in his voice. "Ye look as if ye might faint at any moment."
"I'm fine, it's just—this little one is quite brave, but I'm nae used to such... messy work. I prefer herbs and salves, not—" She gestured at the boy's arm with a wince.
Killian stepped closer, his presence a reassuring weight as he knelt beside her. "Ye're doin' wonderfully. The lad needed ye, and ye came through."
"And what of ye?" Leah asked. "Did ye find us somewhere to rest?"
"Aye, but I daenae think ye're goin' to like it," he answered as he tried to keep the smile off his face.
Leah's eyes narrowed as she studied him a moment. "Then why do I get the feelin' that ye're nae tellin' me somethin'? Did ye nae find us a place?"
"Aye, I found one. But the inn had but one room. Ye have to understand, there's a few people who have been put out because of the fire and the rooms were scarce."
"Killian, ye're nae instillin' any confidence in me," Leah said as she folded her arms over her chest. "Just say what ye're goin' to say and have it out already."
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "We'll be sharin' a room tonight."
Leah's expression shifted from joy to utter shock. The blush that had barely faded from her cheeks flared back to life and raced down her neck like a crimson ribbon. "Wh-what?" she stammered, her eyes widening.
"And there's but one bed," he continued, enjoying the way the heat of embarrassment deepened in her features. "The innkeeper assured me it was quite cozy."
"Cozy?" she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Killian, we cannae?—"
"Why nae?" he challenged, a playful glint in his eye. "Tis just practical. We'll keep each other warm, and ye can have me cloak to snuggle under," he teased, unable to resist the way her flustered state made her look all the more enchanting.
"I—uh—" Leah fumbled for words, her mind racing. "What if there's nay room? What if it's uncomfortable? We could?—"
"Leah," he interrupted, his voice low and earnest, "it's just sleep. I promise I willnae bite. Unless of course ye want me to."
16
Leah sat on the edge of the narrow bed, her heart fluttering like a trapped bird within her chest. The room felt small enough as it was with her in it; having Killian coming in, too, made her nervous. She glanced at the wooden beams of the ceiling, contemplating if they were high enough for Killian to pass under.
This will be fine. Nay one kens where we are or that we're together. This willnae ruin me.
She swallowed hard as the flickering fire crackling in the stone hearth threw long shadows on the rough-hewn walls. Leaning back, she watched the shadows dance and play. The sight always reminded her of the O'Malley's castle. How she wished she was there now and not at the inn with Killian.
The scent of burning wood mixed with the faint aroma of dried herbs hanging from a small shelf above the mantle, remnants of the innkeeper's attempt to infuse some warmth into the rustic space.
A small window, adorned with tattered lace curtains, overlooked the cobblestone street below, where the late autumn chill sent gusts of wind swirling through the leaves. Leah wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the chill seep into her bones, but it was not the cold that made her shiver.
Just then, the door swung open with a force that made her jump. Killian strode in, his broad shoulders filling the doorway as he maneuvered through with a tray of mismatched dishes, which he held precariously in one hand and a bottle of whiskey clutched tightly in the other. His hair fell in dark waves around his face, and the firelight caught the rough edges of his jaw, accentuating the fierce determination in his expression.
"I'm sorry this is all I could manage to round up," he said, setting the tray on a small, rickety table that creaked under the weight. The spread was simple—a hunk of bread, a few slices of cheese, and a couple of apples that had seen better days. The whiskey, however, gleamed invitingly, a promise of warmth against the coolness of the room.
Leah offered a small smile, though her heart raced as she eased into the chair and started picking at the bread. She glanced at Killian, waited until he sat, and made his plate before taking more.
"Ye dinnae have to do that ye ken," he said as he pushed the rest of the tray over to Leah. "I ken ye're just as hungry as I am. At least by nibblin' ye quell that ravenous belly of yers."
