When I stopped in front of her, we stood so close that the scents of thyme and lavender that swirled around her filled my nose with each breath. Up close, she was even lovelier, with the delicate bones of her face, keen eyes, and a proud curl to her lips.
“So ye came for my healing skills?” she asked, studying me closely.
I nodded. It was not a lie. I’d come to take her to the king, but I now found myself in need of her skills.
“What brings ye so far from the Highlands?” she asked, reaching toward me as if she were about to tug my tunic up.
I stilled her hand. I needed a moment to control the lust surging through me, and her hands on my skin certainly would not help. “A mission for the king,” I replied. Sticking as close to the truth as possible was the wisest and easiest course of action.
“Is this mission one of witch-hunting?” she asked, her words halting with disgust.
“Nay,” I assured her, grunting as I tugged my tunic over my head. When I got it off, I felt the cool sweat on my forehead, and my wound throbbed. I met her gaze, fixed on me. “I can assure ye, I have no wish to be part of the hunt for women accused of being witches.” She looked unconvinced and ill at ease. Was it because she was a healer? Did she fear being named a witch because of her skill? “Nae anyone would accuse ye of being a witch simply because of yer healing abilities,” I assured her.
I thought I caught a disbelieving look exchanged between her and the lass Millie, but when the healer pressed lightly near my wound, a shaft of pain shot through my side, and I reflexively gripped her shoulder, forgetting everything but the pain. She looked up at me, hair falling back, lips parting beguilingly.
“I’m sorry. ’Tis infected. I’ll need to cleanse it with Liquid Fire.”
I nodded. “Do you have a stick I can bite on?”
She glanced at Millie, who scurried into the tent and emerged a moment later with a stick, which the lass held out to me. “Ye’ve lots of scars,” Millie murmured, her gaze roaming over my stomach and chest.
“Aye, as I said, I’m Laird Ross’s right-hand man.”
“Does yer laird war much?” the healer asked.
“Only when he needs to protect our clan,” I assured her.
She smiled faintly at that, but the tiny smile revealed two dimples I wanted to run my thumbs over. “My name is Katreine,” she said. “Katreine Whyte, and this is my sister.”
“Pleased to meet ye,” Gillie drawled as she gave me an awkward curtsy.
Whyte was a surname I knew Summer Travelers often used. Maybe I’d been wrong about Katreine. Maybe she was simply a gypsy with uncommon grace and cultured speech, but I didn’t think so. Her sister didn’t share the same mannerisms or speech, and if they were truly sisters, their mama would have passed them down to both of them. Then again, Summer Walkers often made their families from those they chose, not from blood, so maybe this woman, Katreine, had chosen the Whyte family, or maybe they’d chosen her. Either way, it wasn’t my concern. My only care was delivering her to the king, which meant keeping her close, watching for the others hunting her, and collecting my prize after handing her over.
“What sort of mission are ye on for the king?”
“A secret one,” I said, keeping my tone teasing so she’d hopefully leave it be. She snorted as she opened the vile of wound wash. The sour smell was so pungent that my eyes watered. “Ye asked if I was here for yer mission?” I prodded.
“Aye,” she nodded as she stood. “This will hurt, but it seems ye already ken that.”
“Aye, I’ve had the Liquid Fire before. What sort of mission do ye need a man for?”
She eyed me. “I need a warrior. A brave, honorable one to accompany me to the Dark Woods in—”
“The MacLeod Clan’s land,” I interrupted. “Why do ye wish to go there?”
“’Tis my private business,” she responded. “Besides, what does it matter to ye? Ye were nae here to answer my call for a warrior.”
“Well, I’m headed back that way anyway, back to my home. I could see ye safely there.”
“For coin?”
“Nay. ’Tis on my way.”
She cocked her head, as if considering. “How’d ye get this wound?”
“I was ambushed,” I said honestly. I hadn’t expected Siward to be following me. I’d expected we’d cross paths, but I hadn’t expected him to simply let me do the work of finding Katreine’s trail, then try to rid himself of me once he knew exactly where to look for her.
“How did the man who ambushed ye fare?” she asked.
