Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

" I 'm too tired to eat," Quint said after Shade got done examining his wounds and finding no serious damage had been done, she applied clean bandages.

The fight had robbed him of more strength than he wanted to admit, and it annoyed him that he had to rely on the healer for help. He never relied on anyone. Though that wasn't completely true. He had once but never again would he do that. The consequences were far too painful.

"I can spoon feed you the broth," Shade said, prepared for his reaction.

"I am not a bairn, woman," he snapped, thinking he had felt like one when she insisted on washing his feet and part of his legs to rid him of the forest debris before he got back in bed.

"Then don't act like one. You need your strength. Eat," she said and handed him the bowl of broth.

He sipped at it and one taste had him drinking more.

She returned to the bed with a cloth she dropped on his lap and placed a chunk of bread on it. She then felt his brow. "Your fever lingers."

"Aye, I can feel it inside me," he said and once again found her cool hand comforting.

"Sleep some after you eat," she said. "Rest will help heal you."

"You are not curious about the man I killed or his dead brother?" he asked as she walked away from the bed.

Shade continued to the table and sat, turning a glance at him after breaking off a piece of bread from the loaf. "Was he an evil man you killed?"

"Extremely evil."

"Then he got what he deserved, just as you said."

"You don't know me, yet you accept my word as truth."

"What would you have me do after seeing you kill a man and hearing you killed his brother?" she asked and popped the piece of bread into her mouth.

He nodded slowly, a slight smile to his mouth. "You are a wise woman."

"All healers are wise women."

"Wise about plants and ways to heal, but not always about life itself," he said.

"As in all things, wisdom comes with time. It cannot be rushed, for lessons would be missed."

"And what have you learned about life thus far?" he asked.

"That life is like the Highland weather… unpredictable, sunny one moment, stormy the next."

She was right about that, though his life had been filled with endless storms of late.

"Has your life been more sunny or stormy?" he asked as a yawn crept up on him.

"A bit of both."

Quint placed the empty bowl and cloth on the chest beside the bed, yawning again.

"You should sleep some," Shade said and went to feel his brow after he lay prone. "It lingers but at least the fever hasn't risen."

He rested his hand over hers to keep it there, telling himself it was the coolness he sought, but wondering if it was her gentle touch that truly comforted him.

"Your hand feels good."

"It is the coolness that feels good," she said and gently removed his hand so she could remove hers.

Once again, he was sorry for the loss of her touch and surprised when she returned and pressed a cool, wet cloth against his brow. He said nothing. He simply closed his eyes and let himself linger in her soothing touch.

Late that night Shade woke to him thrashing around in the bed. His fever had spiked again. It was difficult to calm him enough to get cold cloths to stay on his brow or to slip a spoonful of the brew into his mouth.

He gripped her wrist when she went to remove the cloth from his brow and once again, she was reminded how much it felt like a shackle. He yanked her against him, their faces so close that their noses almost touched.

"You gave me your word."

"And I will keep it," she reassured him, not knowing what he was referring to and hoping by appeasing him that he would calm down.

"You didn't keep it. You left me," he accused angrily.

"I won't do that again," she said, keeping her voice calm and agreeable.

"I forbid you to leave," he ordered harshly.

"Aye, I will obey your word," she said, continuing her feigned submission in hopes it would soothe him.

The anger faded from his eyes replaced with a look that Shade did not quite understand. His hand suddenly left her wrist to grip the back of her neck.

"I love you. You are mine and I will not let you go," he said and forced her head down for their lips to meet.

His grip was far too strong to break free of it and foolish as it was, she did not want to. She had never been kissed, never had a man tell her that he loved her or claim ‘you are mine.' Even though she knew those words were not meant for her, she let herself think they were so that she could feel what it was like to be kissed.

His lips claimed hers with a strength that had her whole body tingling. It was a hungry kiss like someone who had gone too long without food and was now famished. It was a kiss filled with need that could not and would not be denied, and it was a kiss filled with love. She could feel it all in him, see the way his heart reacted, thumping madly against his chest. Those thoughts sobered Shade and brought her to her senses. This wasn't right. He was not kissing her. He was kissing someone he had lost and loved, not her.

It took her a few moments, a few kisses to get him to stop and for her to ease herself away from him and for him to settle down. Cool, wet cloths helped as did soothing words that she hoped were similar to what the woman he loved would say to him.

His restlessness finally stopped, and he slept peacefully but he would not let go of her hand. He had taken hold of it shortly after the kissing ended and he had yet to release it. He held it firmly as if afraid to let go, as if afraid of losing her again.

Shade sat there thinking how lucky the woman had been to know such a strong, unwavering love, to feel it in his kisses, his touch, and no doubt every time they made love. A single tear slipped down her cheek, sad for him and the woman losing such a strong, indelible love. Something she would never know, never feel before death claimed her.

His hand finally went limp, and she removed her hand from beneath his and walked away from the bed. She silently chastised herself for being selfish. It had been improper and wrong to let him kiss her and for her to want to know a kiss. She was ashamed of what she had done, and she would not let it happen again. She raised her fingers to her lips that seemed to still pulse from the kiss or was it that she was eager for more kisses?

Her grandmother had warned her often that it would not be easy for her to find a good husband. That most men feared or were skeptical of healers while other men could not abide a woman who was more knowledgeable than them. But her interest in healing grew, not lessened, as she matured and when she discovered she possessed a rare skill inherited from her great-grandmother, she knew there was no turning back. Healing was as necessary to her as a limb, always a part of her, always something she could rely on.

Shade glanced at Quint. He was a warrior and would leave here as soon as he was healed to fight another battle, and he had already given his heart to a woman and sounded as if he would never love again.

She sat silent, indulging in thoughts, dreams, possibilities. Perhaps she was approaching this all wrong. Healing meant constant learning, discovering new ways to help the ill. How could she truly help women with intimate problems if she never truly experienced intimacy and felt it for herself?

An excuse. Was it or was it a valid question for a healer to consider?

Quint woke with a stretch, stopping when he felt the pain in his arm. He looked around to find the room empty and sat up slowly. He pressed his hand to his brow and was pleased to find it cool. His fever had broken, and he had no intention of spending another day in bed. Or for that matter, spending another day here. He had a task to accomplish, and he needed to be on his way.

He got dressed, grabbing a few chunks of bread off the table to eat, downed three of the six quail eggs there, and washed it all down with cider. His sudden hunger was a good indication that he was healing nicely.

He took advantage of the clean water in the bucket near the hearth and scrubbed his face, then ran his fingers through his hair, raking out the knots to fall in a smooth wave to the top of his shoulders. He tied his belt with the three sheathed daggers attached around his waist but left his sword leaning against the narrow table under the lone window.

He needed to talk with the healer and settle his debt with her before he took his leave. He decided it would be good to couple with the healer after recalling a dream he had of kissing the only woman he would ever love. He had forgotten how amazing it had felt and while he did not expect to feel that way with the healer, bedding her would at least satisfy the sudden need his dream had produced.

The sun was shining to Quint's surprise when he stepped outside. Not seeing Shade anywhere, he assumed she was tending to her garden, but first he wanted to check on his mare, Gillie. He looked around and not seeing his mare anywhere, he quickly headed to the garden to find out about his horse.

He heard her soothing voice before he reached the garden.

"Onions are your favorite, aren't they? I have never seen a horse who didn't enjoy the wild onions that grow abundantly in the fields."

Quint heard his horse snort as if answering Shade and his mare's head shot up just before he emerged from the woods.

"You're up and about and look much better," Shade said cheerfully, getting to her feet and brushing the soil off her hands against her apron. When she saw his eyes drift to his horse, she quickly explained. "I did not think you would mind your mare spending some time in the sun and enjoying a few wild onions."

His mare neighed and bobbed her head.

"That was generous of you, Shade," he said, pleased that she had tended to his horse as well as him.

"Not at all. She kept me company while I worked." She walked toward him. "I left food on the table for you."

"I had some, thank you."

She stopped a distance from him, almost as if she feared getting any closer. "I can see you are eager to take your leave, but I advise that you remain at least one or two more days so I can make certain your wounds heal properly and your fever does not hide and wait to resurface."

"I have a matter I must see to, but before I go, I wanted to settle my debt with you," he said. "I have someplace I must be today, but I can be back by this evening and bed you properly."

She had thought long about this moment, but in the end, her decision had come easily even more so hearing him talk about coupling as a debt he owed her.

"I will be direct, Quint," she said firmly. "I have no desire to couple with you, nor do I need compensation for tending to your wounds."

"But you said?—"

"Nay, I never invited you into my bed," she said before he could once again mention bedding her. "You misunderstood. I do not bed men in exchange for my healing skills."

Was that disappointment he felt? He shook his head. "I truly don't mind bed?—"

"I do," she said, interrupting him as she dusted her hands again on her apron, wishing he would take his leave and be done with it. Though as a healer, she knew he should remain to make sure his wounds were healing properly.

He didn't know why he pursued it. She was right, it was none of his concern and not at all proper of him to ask, but he did anyway. "Do you already have a man who sees to your needs?"

"That is not only rude, but it also doesn't concern you, Quint," she warned.

Why did he feel that it did? And why did the spark of fire in her eyes tempt him?

His response satisfied at least one of his unexpected thoughts. "Protection. You live alone and that leaves you vulnerable."

"I never give it thought, since my home sits secluded in the woods, removed from any well-worn path. Anyone who comes here, comes for healing, not to harm me. That was until you arrived and brought your danger to my door."

That he could be leaving her vulnerable troubled him. On second thought, no one would dare harm her since they would be aware of the consequences… facing his wrath.

"Regardless of that, I would be remiss as a healer if I did not profoundly object to you taking your leave too soon. I have repeatedly advised you that you need to rest to fully heal, but I cannot force you to remain here. I do hope that you seek shelter and rest and do not return directly to battle. It would be extremely unwise. Your sword and blanket roll are in the cottage. I will get them for you while you see to your horse."

Shade did not know why she felt such a loss with him taking his leave, but she did. It was unsettling, though if she thought on it, she had been feeling lonely and he briefly had filled that void.

In a short time, he was ready to leave, and Shade felt a lump rise in her throat and her heart begin to pound. She was being foolish and forced herself to wish him, "Have a safe journey, Quint."

He looked about to step closer to her, his hand appearing as if it was about to reach out to her, take hold of her, and Shade didn't back away and he didn't step forward, nor did his hand reach for her. Once again, she felt foolish.

"I am indebted to you, Shade," Quint said.

"Nonsense. You owe me nothing. Be well, Quint," she said and turned away, heading to her garden.

Quint watched her for a moment before mounting his horse. He felt an overpowering need to take her in his arms and do what? Why did he feel the need to hold her close?

He shook his head and mounted his mare and turned her away from the cottage and into the woods. He didn't need anyone. He preferred being alone. Though he wouldn't have minded a night with the healer. He was in need of a good coupling and whether she would admit it or not, he believed she felt the same. When all was done, he would ride this way again and see if she changed her mind.