Chapter Three

 

Calum wanted to do things properly, but he could not stay away from this woman. He was enchanted by her and at a loss to know what he should do next. He desperately wanted to take her in his arms but did not want to frighten her with his desire.

He had never been in this situation before. He had only ever kissed one woman before, and actually, she had kissed him. His inexperience with balancing his desire and his sense of honour left him confused and frustrated.

Perhaps he should just forget about Gwen and leave his memories of her here in this place. He would go mad if he had to think about her day after day, knowing he could not have her. And, it was only a matter of time before his brother came to him to discuss his future.

Now that James was betrothed, Calum was sure he would insist upon the same for him. There were only the two of them and with all the constant warring, who knew what would happen to either of them. They had both seen their fair share of danger and turmoil, and if they were to secure the MacIntosh line, they would both need to begin producing bairns.

But that was the business of marriage; to produce a line of succession. It had little or nothing to do with love and desire. Of course, it would be much more difficult to produce said bairns if one’s wife was a shrew.

Gwen was no shrew. He’d learned enough of her in the past two days to know of her intelligence and wit. He had no choice but to leave her and his memories behind. He and James were to return to Moy Hall within the hour. Perhaps if he saw her one more time, he could convince himself that leaving was the right thing to do.

Calum did not have to look far. Gwen was diligent in her service to Lady Aileana. He hoped he could steal her away for at least a few moments before he had to take his leave.

As he entered the great hall, Gwen was just leaving by a side door. A servant’s entrance, no doubt. He gazed around the hall to ensure no one took notice of him and then followed her.

The door led to a narrow, dimly lit hallway where he could just make out her shape ahead. He was concentrating so hard on following her, he did not see the large iron sconce on the wall. The candle in it had burnt out and whacked his head hard enough that he was sure stars from the heavens had come down just to dance around him. He planted his feet wide and placed his hand on the wall to steady himself .

“Ow!”

“Who is there?”

He held up his hand to his head and already felt a bump rising, and something wet and sticky. He winced. “It is me—Calum.”

She was like a floating angel as she rushed toward him. “My lord? What are you doing in here? This is the servant’s passage.”

“I followed you.”

His answer was simple, yet confusion crossed her face.

“What do you require?”

“You. I had hoped we could speak briefly before I took my leave. Now it appears I am in need of a healer.”

Gwen took one of the other candles and lit the one he’d just collided with. Calum brought his hand down from his head; it was covered in blood. The sight was not normally a problem for him, but it was rarely his own blood, and he swayed anyway.

“Well, lucky for you, I am just that.” She took him by the hand and guided him forward. Her proximity was intoxicating. Her scent was a mixture of wildflowers and something spicy, and he wanted to bury his face in her hair.

At the end of the hallway, she opened a door leading outside. She brought him to a stone bench and forced him sit and examined his now throbbing head. Her breasts were directly in his line of sight, so it was impossible to ignore their fullness. He squeezed his eyes shut, lest something else throb.

“There is much blood, but your cut is not deep,” she said and passed him a cloth. “Press this against your head, stay here, and I will return with some things I require in order to mend you.”

There was only one thing that could fix him, and he suspected it would not come from a healer’s satchel. His gaze followed her as she re-entered the castle. If she was a healer, did that mean she was pagan too? If often did. Calum had known some, but the majority of those he encountered were also Christian. If she was pagan, and a healer, how much of her healing ability came from herbs and how much from magic.

Did Calum even believe in sorcery? He had never considered it before now. What if it was real and she actually had cast a spell on him. The thought made him chuckle aloud. Mayhap the bump to his head had addled his thoughts.

“Have you lost your wits, my lord?”

Gwen had returned. By the look on her face, she had heard him laughing at himself. “Perhaps. I was wondering how you came to be a healer.”

She unwrapped a cloth and withdrew a vial, and tended his wound as she spoke. “I was not always a servant, as I told you before. I once held a lady’s title and might have become betrothed to a nobleman. But I have learned that we cannot always see our life’s path clearly. Mine has taught me to keep an open mind and not be afraid to explore that which makes me happy.”

“How came you into service?”

“My uncle was in control of our family’s lands. He had an appetite for many things and one day my father confronted him, discovering we had nothing left. We could not maintain any sort of social status, and the debts owed were so great, my sisters and I were put into service to help pay them off.”

Calum gritted his teeth, more from her story than from the prodding she was doing to his scalp.

“I have only ever been in service with Lady Aileana, and have forged a home here. I consider myself quite fortunate.”

“And your mother and father? How do they fair?”

“They are older and have not weathered a loss of social status in social status and lack of coin as well as my sisters and I.”

Calum missed both his parents dearly and understood all too well the lengths one would go in order to care for family. He admired her strength and resolve at such an enormous life change. But her healing arts had also captured his attention.

“So as a lady, you would have been Christian. Did you blame God and abandon him because you believed he abandoned you?”

Gwen stopped her ministrations and stepped back. Her eyes were wide. “I do not believe that, no. After I moved here, I met some of the servants and listened to what they had to say about the life-giving energy in all things. The more I learned, the more I saw truth in the connection between the trees and flowers, and from the tiniest insect to the largest stag.”

Hearing the clipped tone in her words, he said, “Gwen, I am sorry. I did not mean to offend you. I chose my words poorly.”

Her frown remained for a few moments longer. “Do you have any idea how difficult my life could have been, had I not come to live with a caring family?”

He had deeply offended her and he hated himself for it. “I do not. My ignorance and my comments are out of line.” He reached for her hand. “Please, forgive me.”

While she did not take his hand, she did resume examining his head. Calum smiled as his hair was tugged a little rougher than before. Oh, he liked this woman—very much so.

“Please, tell me how you came to learn the healing arts?”

“As I said, once I moved here and became acquainted with some of the other servants. I learned there were things in this world I had always wondered about. Learning of the connection between living things provided answers the Church could not. I have not abandoned God as such, but I spend my time thinking about how to wield life energy to encourage healing.”

“Do you know that in some circles—”

“I would not call me a witch if I were you, especially since I have things here to cause you an incredible amount of discomfort.”

Calum looked up. The glint in her eye was charming. Surely, she was otherworldly. The sunlight shone on her hair and brought out golden and crimson tones he’d not seen before. Her eyes were the colour of honey with dark flecks. Oh aye, she’d bewitched him for sure and certain. He was beginning to think he could abandon everything for her.

“I was going to say, that in some circles, talk of the connection you speak of is discouraged and even forbidden. I trust you are careful with whom you share your beliefs?”

“I am.”

“Then I am very pleased to hear it. I very much enjoy how you describe this connection. Can you feel it or see it?”

“I sometimes think I see a shimmer around things which are very pure. But it is rare. I do not believe I have any real gifts, save for an instinct for knowing how to heal the sick and stitch the maimed.” She grinned and cast a quick glance at his head wound.

She spread something thick along his scalp and in the next moment a pleasant warm sensation spread along the cut.

“You have a very comforting touch, Gwen.”

“I am not yet finished, and you may wish to hold your praise until I am through.”

She wiped the first batch of salve from his cut and then doused his head with water, making his scalp sting. He yelped.

“Oh, do not be such a wee bairn,” she said, laughing, then covered the cut a second time with the sticky substance.

Her laughter delighted him. He grabbed the pitcher from her and stood with the intention of returning the favour. Unfortunately, as soon as he was on his feet, the courtyard danced a ceilidh around him. He closed his eyes and sat back down.

“That is what you get for attempting to throw water at your healer.”

His healer. He liked the sound of that. “Aye, I suppose a case of the spins was well deserved. So what is your verdict, my lady. Shall I live?”

Gwen stepped back. She frowned at him and then examined her work again. In a quiet voice, she said, “Aye. You shall live. But you should not do anything strenuous for a couple of days. The cut is not deep, though you bled like a stuck pig.” She looked down upon him, the corners of her lips turned up.

Her grin was infectious.

Calum stood, more carefully this time, and lifted her chin with his finger. “Thank you, Gwen. For healing me, and for sharing your tale.” He hesitated. “I do not know when I will see you again.”

He had wanted to say something nice to her, and yet those were the words that had come out. He wanted to kiss away her frown.

“I understand, my lord.”

She turned away from him and re-entered the castle. He did not follow, though he wanted to. Ached to. But what good would it do? The reality of their situation was best to be acknowledged now, before either of them became too attached.