Page 8 of Taken By the Heartless Highlander
Her fingers began to do something complicated with the length of hair that they held. It was not just a plait anymore; it looked far more intricate. She did not even need to look at it as she worked. Noah was mesmerized by her.
“I have been learnin’ me craft for many years now, and the villagers had grown to trust me,” she paused, a haunted look coming into her eyes. “Recently, I was told there had been a fire in a neighboring village. I went to see if I could help and found a man there who was terribly burned. I brought him back to me cottage. I ken of many salves and ointments that relieve pain, and in order to ensure he dinnae lose his leg, I wished to try some.”
“I’ve been in battle lass, best to chop off the offending limb before infection sets in.”
“He was a farmer,” she said, with deep compassion in her voice. “That is his livelihood.”
Noah stayed quiet, seeing the healer come forth in her demeanor instantly. This woman cared deeply for those she tried to help; that was clear.
How on earth had they ever believed her a witch?He wondered angrily.
“I wanted to try comfrey and honey as I have seen it heal others before.”
“Comfrey?” he asked, curious despite himself.
“Aye, ye may have seen it in the forest. It has bell-shaped flowers. White or pink. Hairy leaves.”
“Ah, knitbone,” he said, remembering the term used by his man-at-arms before now.
She smiled up at him, clear joy in her expression talking of her craft.
“Aye. Exactly. It’s often used for open wounds, but I fancied it could do the same for burns.”
“How did this lead to a crowd pursuin’ ye with torches?” he asked, particularly puzzled now.
Keira’s eyes darkened. He felt a shudder of desire as she looked up at him with a demure expression, her dark blue eyes framed by her lashes. He imagined her looking up at him in quite a different situation, on her knees before him, her wild hair cascading over her bare breasts, her lips parted with desire. He clenched his fists to try to dispel the unwelcome image.
“Lucas had proposed to me.”
“The priest?” he asked, his fists clenching involuntarily at the idea of another man laying claim to her.
Ye are a fool,he thought irritably,what do ye ken of this lass?
“Aye. The same. He has done so before, but I always refused him.”
“Why?” Noah asked. The priest had been handsome, in his way, which only irritated him more. He hoped her answer would simply be that she found him repulsive.
“Because I dinnae love him, and dinnae want him,” she said simply.
Damn.
“On me third refusal, he came to me house while I was attendin’ to the patient whose leg had been badly burned.”
Noah watched as an echo of the fear he had seen in the woods flitted across her face. He wanted to take her into his arms and banish it forever.
“Lucas tried his suit again, and I said nay. Me brother hates Lucas, even though he is a man of God. He was angry that he wouldnae leave me be, hounding me every day for an answer because the one I’d given dinnae suit him. When Lucas refused to leave, Scott hit him.”
The hands creating the intricate braid in her hair were moving feverishly now.
“Lucas stormed from the cottage. He was furious. I have never seen rage like that. It took one word from him,one single word,from a man of God against a woman, and everyone turned against me. He said I had raised the man from the dead, that he had been burned alive, and I was in league with the devil. People who I have tended, women whom I helped give birth, they looked at me as though I was evil.”
There were tears in her eyes as she looked out of the window. Her fingers finally fell still as they lowered into her lap again. The braid was tied over her shoulder now. Noah wondered what it might look like with flowers running through it. He had an absurd image of lying beside her in a meadow, plucking daisies from the ground and weaving them through her hair in the sunshine.
He cleared his throat irritably.
“Sounds like it was yer brother who angered him the most. Where is he? Why was he nae protectin’ ye when ye were hounded into the woods?”
“He is only fifteen Me laird, and it was nae his fight.”
