Page 50 of The Cruel Highlander's Healer
“Oh!” Eliza exclaimed, walking forward despite herself as she fought to take it all in.
It was a garden. The pathways were laid out meticulously. Each one was perfectly straight and crossing at crisp angles with the next.
Stones lined the pathways, and Eliza stepped onto them. At first glance, she had thought that the beds were filled with flowers. But on further inspection, it was so much more than that.
Herbs had been planted in between the blooms. And each bed had been meticulously chosen and cared for. Flowers had been paired with herbs that they would be used with to make varying remedies.
Rose was mixed with chamomile. Thistle blooms with mint.
On and on the gardens went, spanning the whole length of the town and up to the tree line. She walked forward, her hands darting out so her fingers could trail along the taller blooms.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
She made it to the center of the garden, and she turned, whirling toward Conall to thank him for bringing her there. But the moment her eyes landed on him; the smile slowly faded from her lips.
A screech rang out, filling the air and sending birds squawking with surprise as they took flight. Conall started, turning toward the sound.
A petite woman was stomping through the garden. Her black hair was curly, with streaks of grey running through it. Her grey eyes were as wild as a tempest, and they were leveled directly at Conall as she advanced.
He glanced back to Eliza, clearly wondering what to do and how to protect her from the woman who was rapidly advancing on them.
But there were no words that Eliza could offer him. She knew in the very depths of her soul that there was nothing she or anyone could do that could stop what was about to happen.
Because the woman that was heading for them was a force of nature all on her own.
The woman stopped a few feet from him, a bony finger rising to point directly at Conall’s chest.
“You.” Marissa snarled, a moment before she lunged forward, making a path directly to Conall.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Conall readied himself for the woman to swing at him. He straightened his shoulders, preparing himself to topple the older woman screaming like a banshee as she rushed at them.
She was getting closer, her eyes fixed on Conall. He raised his hands, preparing himself to knock her back the moment she reached him.
But the moment she did, she moved past him. Her lithe arms swept out, moving him to the side as she rushed toward Eliza.
He reached out, his hand clasping at air as he made to grab her bicep. But she was quicker than expected. His eyes landed on Eliza, expecting to see her readying herself for a fight.
But what he actually saw stole the breath from him entirely.
She was reaching her arms out to the woman, she spread herself wide as she clutched her into an embrace. Eliza’s brown eyes were wide with shock as the woman clung to her, her petite shoulders shaking.
Conall stared at the scene in confusion, his mind working to make sense of everything he was witnessing. Eliza’s eyes locked on his, her mouth moving as she mouthed out a word.
He tried to repeat its movements and make sense of what she was trying to tell him without sound. But he couldn’t.
Conall shook his head, an indication that he couldn’t figure out what she was saying.
She moved her mouth again, forming the word a little more slowly. This time, he understood.
“Marissa.”
That woman hugging her was the Witch of the Wood.
“What are ye doin’ here?” Eliza asked, her astonishment leeching into every syllable.
“What am I doin’ here?” Marissa screeched.
