“Please keep an eye on him,” she said, and then fled the room.
* * *
He had a matching birthmark.
Alistair Fletcher, her Scottish captor, had a matching birthmark.
A part of Jane wanted to dismiss this as a coincidence. Another part of her, the more cynical part, wondered if Alistair had put the supposed witch of the Highlands up to this. Perhaps, even before he had planned her capture, he had met the woman and told her what to say. But that was not possible for three reasons: one, he had no way of knowing about her birthmark; two, if by some stroke of magic he did, he could not have created an artificial mark that looked just like it, with the exact same detail; three, it was she who had run into the woman’s cottage. He had not taken her there. He had been quite cross when she had rolled down the hill and made her way back into the forest.
This left one option, and it was worrisome indeed: that Alistair indeed was her soulmate.
Bah! She could not alter her position based on a birthmark. She was smarter than that. She was an educated Englishwoman. She wanted to stay away from Alistair, but she could not - at least, not until he had healed completely. She owed him that much, not because of anything special, but because he was a human being.
That was what she told herself the next day as she got up from her bed and made her way to the door. Jane was uncertain as she took the few steps that brought her to Alistair’s room. She knocked but got no response, so she went inside. The healer, Campbell, appeared to have just finished with Alistair. He slung his bag around his shoulder and turned in Jane’s direction. “Good morning, sir,” Jane said, and then turned to Alistair, who was, to Jane’s utter pleasure, standing by the window. “Good morning, Alistair. I see your health is much improved. I am glad.”
The healer nodded at her, whether in acknowledgement of her greeting or in affirming her declaration about Alistair’s health, Jane couldn’t be sure, and made his way out of the door. She wondered if the man was naturally taciturn of if he reserved this behavior for her and the English in general.
“’Twas a miracle ye wrought on me last night, Jane Marsh,” Alistair said with a smile. It looked very much like the smiles she was used to. The sweating had stopped. Blood had returned to his lips.
“I am glad I could help,” Jane said woodenly.
Alistair arched a brow. “Come,” he said.
“I don’t… I don’t think that is necessary. I can see that you are fine.”
“Come,” Alistair said. Jane walked slowly to him. She kept her head on the ground, but he tipped her chin up with the crook of his index finger. “Are ye truly glad?”
Jane’s eyes furrowed in confusion. “Are ye truly glad that ye could help? Why didnae ye prefer that the wolfsbane claim me life?”
Jane gasped. “How can you say such a thing?” she asked.
“Why then will ye nae look at me in the eye, Jane?” His voice was husky and had a tiny hint of a purr to it. Jane resisted the urge to get lost in it.
“Iamlooking you in the eye,” Jane said, and matched his gaze. But the intensity in his blue eyes made her look away swiftly.
“Is it because of the kilt?”
Jane blushed. “I do not know what you are taking about.”
“Is it because ye had tae lift me kilt up yesterday and caress me skin?”
“And caress your…” There was a scandalized scoff in her voice. “No!” she exclaimed. “Of course not! I did not caress your skin, sir! I simply applied a salve to it.”
“And lingered fer seconds longer,” Alistair added, his tone teasing.
“I’ll thank you to take that back!” Jane said. “How is possible for a man to have only indecent thoughts towards a lady? Even as a convalescent. It is shocking to save the least!”
“It is possible when he kens the woman.”
He placed an emphasis on how he was hinting at the Biblical meaning.
“Alistair, I do not-”
He took her hand.
“I do not care for this kind of conversation,” Jane said. “I should like my hand back, please.”
Alistair hesitated for a moment, and then he let go of her hand. His eyes searched hers, but she squared her chin and looked away.
