The Witch of Black Isle by Keira Montclair
Chapter Thirteen
His legs were ready to run, but a tiny voice stopped him.
“Please don’t leave me. Not now, Ethan.” Jennet reached for him, but her hand stopped just before reaching his upper arm.
He stared at her hand, realizing this was an important moment. After all she’d just been through, he had to do this for her. He brought his gaze up to hers and said, “You may if ’twill help you. But I have an extra plaid to put between us.” His mind worked quickly to find a solution, now that he clearly saw what she needed. He’d been so pained by his inadequacy to give her what she needed. Now he was willing to do whatever he could to find a way to comfort her. He wouldn’t allow her to get near only to then push her away. He took the plaid from his saddle bag and hung it down from his chest. “Will this work for you? I can hold you with this.”
“I don’t care. I need you, Ethan.” She reached for his arm, grasped onto him, and fell against him. He found this to be an acceptable position because they were not touching skin-to-skin.
“I will hold you,” he said. His body suppressed a small shudder at allowing the one thing he’d rejected after all these years. While he wasn’t touching her skin, he could feel her heat through the fabric. He wrapped his arms around her, tucked her head under his chin, and allowed her to cry. He felt her soft hair and realized this didn’t bother him, the scent of her stronger than it had ever been before.
He was holding her, just as Donnan had suggested. He didn’t need to speak; his understanding was that all she needed was his presence. He would simply be here for her. His presence, Kyle had said, would soothe her.
“Did they hurt you, Jennet?”
“Nay,” she blubbered against him, her sobs hitching deep in her chest. “I just need to cry for a wee bit. Then I’ll be fine.”
So he let her cry.
This allowed him to focus on everything else that was Jennet. Her scent of the sweetest of pine trees, the silkiness of her hair, the softness of her curves against him. He felt the curve of each breast as she struggled to control her sobs and the way her hands gripped the muscles in his upper arms, as if she were afraid to let go of him.
This woman in his lap was nothing like Cori. He would remind himself of that. Ethan couldn’t help but imagine that being with Jennet would be very different…even pleasurable. Could Jennet be the key to freeing him from his own fears?
It was a waste to spend time on that now, instead he needed to think on their situation. How did she manage to get into such a predicament in the first place? What was she doing here? It struck him that this might have something to do with her most important task, so he asked, “Your sire is healed?”
She pushed against his chest to peer up at him, sniffled several times, then wailed “Nay” before falling against him again.
Ethan couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made things worse, which brought him to another consideration. What could he say to fix it? He thought hard on it for a moment before finally coming up with something he’d seen Marcas do with Brigid. He set Jennet away from him, still touching her arms through the material, and said, “Tell me about your sire.”
She hiccupped twice, sniffled three times, then swiped at her tears. “You’re right. I need to control myself.” She stared at the ground for a moment, still swiping at the tears that had caused the flood from a few moments before.
“My sire is not doing well.”
“But you can help him, nay? Why did you leave?”
The tears began again, so he asked, “May I hold you while I sit on the rock over there?”
She glanced back at the spot he indicated, then nodded as she whispered, “I would like that if ’tis not too much bother.”
He led her over to the boulder far away from the path. Then she stopped cold. “Ethan, are you alone?” She glanced around, apparently searching for another horse. The air was still, the only sound carrying to them was the twitter of squirrels dancing through the trees and the occasional birdsong.
“Aye.”
“But we are not far from the path, something that is foolish. There were four men who accosted me, but three ran away. Those men could return at any time so we must leave. The only way to be safe would be to find somewhere else to go. Is there a cave not far from here? I think we need to be more careful. We must try not to be conspicuous to any random reiver who travels past us.” She scanned the area. “The other three could return to look for their friend.”
“All right. I know of a cave about an hour north. Will you be going to Ramsay land or to Black Isle?”
She sighed, then nodded with an air of defeat. “Black Isle, if you’ll take me along.”
“I will. Where is your horse?”
“He was right there, but I have no idea. They may have stolen it.” She looked around, sad to see no horse in sight. The area was littered with rabbit bones and other items left behind by the four men. They’d clearly left in a hurry.
Ethan got up and searched the area, pausing by the dead body to retrieve his arrows. He had no feeling but justice served for this fool who’d planned to accost Jennet. This was entirely different from the dead bodies he’d encountered from the curse, their passing a tragedy. He moved past the dead man to the horse he’d left behind, clearly not the one she’d had because the beast was poorly cared for. He set the animal free, hoping the beast would be able to find food and nourishment. When he freed the reins and the animal trotted off, he caught something out of the corner of his eyes, something in a nearby tree. One of her saddlebags, he’d guessed the larger one, had snagged on a tree branch. He recalled she often traveled with two, though he knew not why.
He grabbed her bag and returned, the bag held up in the air. “The horse must have run off, but your bag was caught in the trees. You have this one.” He saw the small smile cross her face at this finding so took it straight to his horse.
He attached it to his saddle, then lifted her up to the back of his beast before mounting the horse behind her. “His animal was left behind, but he was ill-cared for, not the type to hold up well on a trip to the Highlands. ’Tis best for you to travel with me.” He pulled out an extra plaid from his saddle bag and put it between them, just to be sure. Not wanting to draw attention to this action, and feeling a bit embarrassed at his vulnerability, he said, “An extra one…to keep you warm.”
They hadn’t gone far when Jennet fell asleep against him, something he didn’t mind. Ethan was beginning to accept the closeness he’d been maintaining with Jennet. More and more, it felt natural, like a hurdle he could actually jump.
Or was his acceptance indicative of his feelings for the lass?
He didn’t know and wouldn’t dwell on it, instead enjoying the feel and the warmth of her body against his. From a survival sense, it was certainly more practical to sleep with another person next to you.
She did not awaken until they arrived at the cave. He shook her slightly and she responded, sitting up and smiling when she saw him. “Thank goodness,” she whispered. “I thought I was still being held captive by those disgusting men.”
He led her to the cave in the thick of the forest after settling the horse and giving him the bag of oats he’d brought along. He climbed a small knoll to reach the mouth of the cave, going ahead of her to check on things. Checking inside, he motioned to her. “No one is here. We are safe for this night. If we move past the bend, I think we’ll not be seen either. There appears to be a ledge at the back of the cave.”
The cave smelled moist from a recent rain, a puddle off to the side where there must have been an opening in the rock. He preferred caves with openings for fresh air. It allowed not just the rainwater but the light of day, signaling dawn and dusk to travelers. Once inside, he set their belongings down and settled on a rock toward the rear of the cave, then put his extra plaid in place again. “I’ll hold you again while you tell me about your sire.” The thought of holding her close like before suited him just fine.
What was happening to him?
***
Jennet couldn’t have been more surprised that Ethan was willing to allow their touch again, even with the extra plaid between them. The reality of her situation was just hitting her now that she had finally calmed down. She felt happy to have him here with her, so she easily accepted that she should keep a safe distance to avoid making Ethan uncomfortable.
She didn’t care as long as she was safely far away from those bastards. Cringing at the thought of what they had planned for her, she decided it was probably best not to share her thoughts with Ethan. In some ways, he was more sheltered than she and Brigid had been.
But she did wish to share the experience she’d had with her father. “The situation with my father is dire. He is not well and I could not help him.”
“Tell me what happened. He still lives, aye?”
“Aye, he lives on, but we are mystified as to what causes his constant festering and fever.”
“Then you should stay until you figure out the mystery. You and your mother could continue to study the problem, could you not?”
It wasn’t quite that simple, though it might seem so to others. People didn’t understand that healers had no idea what caused most illnesses. “My mother has studied his illness, but she’s been unable to find a cause.”
“Your mind is probably quicker than your mother’s. Why can you not find out the problem?”
She sighed, thinking of the chamber she’d left, her siblings all around waiting there to help her. “His wound festered, and my mother and I agreed we needed to clean it out, wash away the putrid fluid, then rebandage it. We planned to do that, but my sire got angry.”
“With whom?”
She stared up at him, hurt deeply by the truth. “At me. He told me not to touch a certain area that pained him the most. I ignored him, tried to clean that area, and he became furious.”
“Sometimes ’tis the delirium speaking. ’Tis exactly what my mother says. Not to listen to those who are extremely ill. ’Tis what guided me when I cared for those stricken during the curse.”
“Not for me,” she said, peering up into his gray eyes. “He tried to hit me.”
“Hit you? Your own sire? You’re an adult. ’Tis too late for disciplining.”
“True, but he was so angry when I tried to clean the painful spot that he lashed out at me. Only my dear brother’s hand stopped him from leveling me to the ground. My sire is much taller than me.”
“Then what happened?”
“I ran away.” She sniffled, leaning against him for his heat. She liked the feeling of his arms around her.
“And when your sire apologized, you felt better, aye?”
“Nay, he never apologized.” She sighed again because it was a source of comfort for her. “I left and did not return.”
“Truly? You never told your mother you were leaving? Your sister? Brothers?”
She shook her head, knowing the words were so painful that if she had to speak their truth again, she’d begin sobbing once more. “I made two mistakes—hurting my sire and leaving without saying goodbye. I can never go home again.”
Her father hated her.