“I canna,” she said as she pushed herself to sitting, then lifted a hand to her face. “Dizzy.”
“No doubt. Why can ye no’ eat more?”
“The lad is growing. He needs food. And Rory works so hard…”
“He hits ye. Does he knock bread out of yer hand?”
Mhairi didn’t answer, but her shoulders slumped.
“Ye should leave him.”
“Ye ken I canna. Where would I go? I’d starve for sure. And the lad.”
“Why does he no’ have a name, Mhairi?”
“He did, once.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Alastair.” Then she looked up, her voice still weak, but stronger. “But Rory took it away.”
“Rory took it… he cannae do that.”
“Aye, well, he can and did. He beats me if he hears it. He beat Alas… the lad… near to death once for insisting it was his name. Now the lad stays out of Rory’s way.” She dropped her head into her hands. “Mostly he hides. I’m surprised he kenned I needed help and fetched ye. Rory would be pleased if he disappeared forever.” She lifted her head. Tears glistened in her eyes.
“Ach, Mhairi, this isna right. Ye should no’ have to live this way.”
“I didna ken what he would be like when I married him,” she choked out on a sob.
“We lasses never do, do we?” Aftyn rubbed her back, trying to calm her. In a few moments, the tears subsided. Maybe she should have let Jamie talk to Rory. He sounded ready to pound some sense in to the man. Rory was big, and well-muscled from working the fields, but Jamie was bigger, and something about his shape and the way he held himself, the confident way he moved, told Aftyn he would win any fight that came his way. Or any lass.
* * *
Jamie loungedagainst the sun-warmed cottage wall, arms crossed over his chest, dirk strapped to his thigh and a sgian dubh in his boot. His longsword was stashed with his other belongings in the chamber the Lathans used in the keep. He wouldn’t need it. And walking around the village with it slung on his back did not say “healer.” It said “warrior,” a message he did not want to send unless absolutely necessary.
Even without the claymore, if Mhairi’s husband refused to see reason, Jamie had other ways to drive a lesson home. He uncrossed his arms and dropped his fists to his sides, wondering how long he’d have to wait. The sun was melting into the western horizon. Men should be returning from the fields very soon.
His thoughts went back to Aftyn and what she might be doing for Mhairi in the cottage. It was constructed well enough that he could not hear any conversation or movement inside, but he could picture Aftyn’s worried frown as she cared for the lass.
If the MacKyrie Seer had not told him he was bound for a life of service to those he loved at Lathan, he could find himself tempted by the village healer. Yet how could he even think about taking a wife? He was trained to fight and to heal. His skills would always be needed and would often take him far from home, even if he refused to use his talent.
He hadn’t been very successful in keeping his vow since he arrived here. To be wed to a lass with a healer’s knowledge of herbs and potions and all their uses, he would have to guard his talent even more closely than he already did. She would soon realize he relied on more than potions to care for the ill and injured. He didn’t want to think about the consequences of having his talent exposed.
His elder brother was the heir. It would fall to him to marry and provide for the future of the Lathan clan at the Aerie. His younger brother, one of the twins, served as the spare. Jamie was free to make the best use of his abilities, no matter where he roamed or what battles he fought. One day, he expected to become the Lathan arms master. His youngest sister would become his mother’s replacement. And though the Seer hadn’t said any more, he was certain she meant he’d use his prowess in battle, not his mother’s talent, for honorable service to his clan.
Yet he could not get Aftyn out of his mind. Her beauty had captured his attention at first, but she was so much more. Aye, not yet the best healer a clan could hope to have, but she led with her heart and did her best with what she knew. Any man would be lucky to have a lass like that to care for him. To love him.
He shifted his stance as two men appeared on the track into the village, then one more. They passed by with a nod, which Jamie returned and settled back to continue waiting, letting his thoughts wander to Aftyn in his arms. Aftyn in his bed, her hair unbound and spread on the pillow, her body bare for him to see and enjoy.
Another handful of men approached. Jamie reined in his fantastical imaginings and nodded as they passed by. In moments, one lone man coming up the track spotted him and increased his pace.
That must be Rory. He was shorter than Jamie expected, yet significantly bigger than his slip of a wife. Still, size did not make the bully, actions did. His glare as he approached didn’t invite explanations. Jamie let him get close, then to be certain, asked, “Ye are Rory, Mhairi’s husband?”
“What’s it to ye?” The man stood with fists on hips. “Get away from my door and go on yer way.”
“Or?”
“What have ye been doing with my wife?” He pulled the door open and took a step forward. “Mhairi, where are ye?”
Jamie grabbed the edge of the door and slammed it shut in his face. “Ye’ll no’ go in there until I have a word with ye.”
“I won’t, eh?” He reached for the door again.
