Page 7 of Wolf Heir
When he got a whiff of their scents, he realized they were wolves like him. He smiled at the two women, especially the younger one, and flexed his muscles, unable to help himself. The older woman’s gaze focused on the wolf mark on his shoulder that he’d had from birth.
The next moment, her blue eyes widened, her face grew ice white, and he dashed across the field to catch her before she fell. He managed to reach her, caught her, and cradled her in his arms.
“Momma, what’s wrong?” the younger woman asked, squeezing her hand, sounding shocked.
He realized he was covered in glistening sweat, and specks of dirt were splattered across his chest as he crouched and held the older woman in his arms. “Ma’am,” Coinneach said. Then, he asked the younger one, “Do you have some ale?”
“Aye.” She pulled a flask off her hip and gave it to him.
He dribbled a little on the older woman’s lips, trying to revive her.
Suddenly, she opened her eyes wide and again stared at his shoulder, looking ready to pass out.
He rose to his feet and carried her to the croft. “My mother, da, and brother are at market. If you wish, you can lie down on my palette until you’re more yourself.”
“Oh yes,” the younger woman said, answering for her mother.
“Nay, nay, nay, we must leave here at once,” her mother said, her voice raspy and weak.
She seemed so frail that he feared she would collapse again. “I’m Coinneach.” He carried her into the croft and laid her on his bed. He wasn’t about to take her word for it that she was alright.
Tears pricked the woman’s eyes until she was sobbing hysterically.
“Mother, what is wrong?” She turned to Coinneach and said, “I am Aisling, and this is my mother, Blair. Thanks be to thee for your help.”
“I would do no less.”
Her mother’s sobs finally quieted, and she looked resigned to being there.
“Do you work at Middleborough Castle?” he asked, never having been there because of his farm work, but he’d always wanted to see inside the magnificent structure.
“Aye.” Like her mother, Aisling had the most beautiful blue eyes. “I work in the kitchen. My mother delivers babies and caresfor the wounded or ill. She never wanted me to do that job. I wanted to, though. She would never say why,” Aisling said.
Her mother was again staring at the wolf's head on his shoulder. “We…we have to go,” Blair said, still sniffling. She attempted to move her legs over the edge of the bed, but when she tried to stand, her legs gave out, and Coinneach caught her again.
“You will stay with us and recover. When my family returns from the market, you will eat with us. Once you feel strong enough, I’ll take you to the castle.” He had decided that once she couldn’t stand on her own, he would take care of her until she was safely at the castle.
Appearing panicked, Blair shook her head. “You…you canna.”
“Thank you. We will do that.” Aisling gave her mother a reproachful look, but then her expression softened with concern.
“Good. ‘Tis settled. I need to finish my chores. Will the two of you be all right?”
“Aye, thank you for your kindness.”
“You’re very much welcome. Just dinna let your mother leave the bed,” Coinneach said sternly. “If she falls, she could hurt herself this time.”
He walked to the doorway, glanced back at the two of them, and vowed to see them home safely. He also wanted to see more of the beautiful lass and ensure her mother was all right, though he was determined to know what had frightened her.
“Mother, whatever is wrong?”Aisling asked, taking hold of her hands and squeezing them for reassurance. She had never seen her mother so distraught about anything.
“Dinna ask because I canna tell you,” her mother said, at an attempt at making her words strong, but they lacked the strength.
Aisling had never seen her mother break down into sobs, except when Aisling’s da died in battle when Aisling was ten. She shook her head. “You have to tell me what the matter is.” She would help her in whatever way she could. When her mother wouldn’t say, she sighed, walked over to the open door, and looked out at Coinneach as he plowed the fields.
He was so brawny, his golden muscles rippling in his back as he pushed the plow, his plaid flipping up in the breeze, showing off his muscular legs. When he turned, he caught sight of her and frowned. She smiled, indicating that her mother didn’t need his assistance. She was just intrigued with him—his kindness and helpfulness, and aye, his appearance.
He smiled at her as if he knew just why she was watching him, and she loved it.
