July 24, 1411 - A Field Near Harlaw, Fifteen Miles West of Aberdeen, Scotland

JULY 24, 1411 - A FIELD NEAR HARLAW, FIFTEEN MILES WEST OF ABERDEEN, SCOTLAND

C alum Brodie stood with his chief, Iain Brodie, on the ridge overlooking the empty field outside the village of Harlaw. "We're close enough to Aberdeen, like as no' there will be townsfolk come to watch the battle soon," he said.

Iain nodded toward Mar's troops massed on the other side of the field, a mix of knights in mail on horseback, men with spears and halberds, and men on foot, dressed in rough clothing, carrying short swords, pikes, pitchforks, whatever weapons they had to hand. Most looked little different from many in Domnhall's army. "That lot are merchants and farmers, no' fighters. If we're lucky, they'll decide to blend in with the townsfolk and disappear."

"We can hope so."

"Aye, well, hope never won a battle, did it?"

Calum turned to face the men arrayed behind the Brodie laird. They were ready, weapons sharp and faces grim. But their eyes gave away their eagerness for the battle to begin. This day, they fought for Domnhall of Islay, the Lord of the Isles, against the Regent of Scotland, the Earl of Mar, both of whom claimed the same Ross territory. "Domnhall had best give the signal soon," he said to Iain.

Iain pulled his claymore from the sheath on his back.

The heavy longsword flashed, blinding Calum for a moment with the sun's reflection. Iain took great care with his weapons, much as he did with his clan, and had sharpened and polished it to shine. He wanted an enemy to see death coming for him.

"Let's show him we're ready, aye?" Iain looked over his clansmen and raised his voice, thrusting his claymore skyward. "Are ye here to watch or to fight?"

"Fight, fight, fight," rang out and echoed back from the nearby hills.

"For Brodie!" Iain called out when the noise died down and raised his blade again.

In answer, the Brodie oath, "Unite!" rang out and filled the field. The men broke into raucous cheers as other clans allied with them called out their war cries in turn. Calum, heart racing, grinned at Iain. He was a master at rousing his men.

Kenneth Brodie, Iain's second-in-command, joined them. "T'will be a good day," he said. "The fog has lifted. We can see every man they have and how they move."

A cold chill ran down Calum's back.

"Dinna say that," Iain scolded. "Lest ye curse us."

Kenneth frowned, then nodded. "Ye have the right of it. I take it back," he added and crossed himself.

Despite Kenneth's words, Calum studied the opposing force. Knights on horseback, mail glinting in the summer sunlight, were easiest to see, though Mar had positioned them toward the rear of his massed spearmen. Domnhall's army vastly outnumbered Mar's, but Mar's knights could make up for their lack of numbers. Men on horseback moved faster. React faster. Their steeds' hooves and teeth could be as deadly as the steel their riders carried. Domnhall's men would have to take them down as early in the battle as possible.

Calum would be glad when this fight was over. It should settle control of Ross territory that had been under dispute for years. Even though he'd met Ella because of it, he'd be glad to see it done.

Ella. Nay, he couldn't think of the lass today. He must concentrate on staying alive, returning to her so that he could, someday, win her heart. No matter how he tried, she gave him no encouragement, but he wouldn't stop. He understood what she'd been through when stolen by Ross warriors and forced into a marriage she didn't want. She needed to be in command of her own destiny. But he was determined that destiny would include him.

First, he had to stay alive.

Finally, the order came. A cry went up, immediately joined by a host of others. Roars and thundering hooves filled the air as the two sides rushed at each other, cavalry pushing to the fore. Calum fought alongside Kenneth, both staying near Iain, charged with protecting their laird.

In moments, Calum lost himself in the rage of battle, his senses aware of everything around him. Arms lifting, blades flashing in the summer sun, cries of battle and screams of agony, the clash and clang of weapons and shields, thunder of horses' hooves, neighs and equine screams of distress, the reek of sweat, blood and piss. It all blended into a single awareness, himself at the center, Iain and Kenneth at his sides. He had no recognition of time passing. He measured the progress they made by the number of foes surrounding them. The battle eddied and swirled as they fought off knights and farmers with the same ferocity.

A sudden lull in the numbers of men coming at them gave Calum a moment to catch his breath, chest heaving. Then he felt Iain move behind him and shout a warning. They'd let down their guard!

Only when Calum turned to defend Iain, his gaze sweeping around them, did he become aware of another danger. Iain and Kenneth fought Iain's attacker, but another loomed at Calum's side. Too close. He had only a moment to think that if they lost Iain because of it, he'd rather die here than live with the shame. He raised his sword to block the blow aimed at separating his head from his shoulders. Blades crashed and sparked, the clang loud enough to make his ears ring. Something hit his head and the side of his face. He had only a moment to regret that he would never get the chance to wed Ella before everything around him went black.

Calum woke to pain, as if hands spanned his head, squeezing until his skull cracked. Thought was too heavy to reach the surface unless it leaked through his skull with blood and brains. A strange whistling filled his ears. Horror made his belly roil and he heard a low groan. His? He couldn't move, couldn't even open his eyes. Something cool dripped onto his lips and into his mouth. He swallowed and went away, back into the blackness.

The next time he woke, the pain in his head had spread to his eye, sharp and piercing. Had he been stabbed in the eye? He managed to lift one hand, intending to pull out the blade, but cool fingers forced his hand back to his side and a feminine voice said something he couldn't comprehend. Male voices rumbled in the background, blurred and indistinct below the whistling. Nothing made sense, so Calum let the world go away again.

This time, he came awake with the determination to find out what had happened to him.

"Ah, Calum, good morrow."

He knew that voice. He loved that voice. Ella! What was she doing on the battlefield? He struggled to open his eyes, to sit up, to find his sword and protect her, but a hand on his chest held him down.

"Dinna move, laddie," a firm, older, female voice commanded. Not Ella. Where had she gone?

"Ella…" He tried to open his eyes, but couldn't.

"Here, Calum." Soft fingers wrapped around his and he relaxed. The women would not be on the battlefield unless the fighting was over and they had won. When had they followed Iain's men from Brodie? Calum thought Iain had left them safe within its walls, hand-picked men remaining to defend them.

"Iain?" He croaked out the name, dreading the news he might receive. "Kenneth?"

"Hale and nearby," the older voice replied.

He recognized the clan's healer's voice.

"What happened? Why canna I see? Who is making that whistling sound?"

"Ye were wounded, lad, as ye ken."

Her tone was matter-of-fact. Calm. Yet Ella's cool fingers tensed on his hand.

"How bad?"

"A crack to yer heid, and ye can be glad 'tis so hard, ye yet live. But the sword that did it shattered. Ye had a sliver of steel in yer eye. 'Tis gone now."

Her comment stopped him from trying to lift a hand to his face yet again.

"Yer eyes are covered and bandaged round yer heid. Ye must rest and heal if ye hope to see again out of that eye."

"How long?"

"Another sennight, I think. Or a wee more. I'll judge as ye go," she told him. "Ella, go fetch some broth from the kitchen. Our lad is awake enough to drink and it will help him heal."

Ella squeezed his hand and the swish of fabric told Calum she'd done as the healer asked.

"Ella will care for ye, and see to yer needs," the woman continued, "until ye can do for yerself. Ye must stay abed and keep yer head still."

Calum didn't like the sound of that. "Nay," he said, forcing the word between dry lips. "Nay Ella. I'll no' abide her seeing me like this. One of the lads can attend to me."

"If that is what ye wish." Her voice communicated disappointment. "And here I thought ye pined for her. Months ago, ye confided in me that ye wished for her to be yers. Now that ye need her, ye dinna want her?"

"I do wish it," Calum insisted once the healer's complaint ran down. "But nay like this. Send Ella away, back to Brodie. She doesna belong here."

"Lad, we are at Brodie. Ye are in yer own bed. Where did ye think…"

Shock turned his blood to ice, then he warmed again, safe. "I thought…the battlefield. Outside Aberdeen. How did I get home?"

"In a cart. Fortune smiled on ye, and ye made the journey safe in Hypnos' arms, unaware of yer pain. Ye came to me only a pair of days after ye took yer wounds. Iain made certain ye were cared for until ye arrived. Ye've had little fever, and if ye do as I say, ye'll have nay more. But ye must do as I say. To save yer sight, ye canna move yer head overmuch. Do ye ken?"

"How have…how will I…" Suddenly he didn't want to know what had gone before, while he slept.

"I'll have someone see to ye, and check on ye myself, often. Dinna fash, lad. All will be well."

Calum heard her words but they faded into a well of sound, as if she moved far away from him, under the whistling instead of in front of it. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her back, but she'd said not to stir. So instead, he faded away, too.

"Dinna go in," the healer, who waited for Ella outside Calum's door, told her. "He sleeps again and we must speak." She gestured to move away, down the hall.

Ella frowned at her, then set the heavy tray she carried on the hallway floor as the woman closed the door to Calum's chamber. "About what?"

The older woman took her arm and led her toward the stairs she'd just climbed. "Now that he's awake, he doesna want ye to care for him, to see him…" She paused and frowned at the door. "The way he is now."

"But…"

"Ye are no' married and he has intimate needs unfit for a lass no' his wife or servant."

"I'm well aware." Ella canted her head, wondering if the healer had forgotten who'd taken care of those needs since he'd been brought home. Or if Calum was too insensible to recall that she'd been stolen from Munro and married to a Ross against her will. She was well schooled about men's bodies. "I dinna care about that. I care about him."

"I ken ye do, lass. Ye havena left his side since he was carried in and put into his bed. 'Tis glad I am to ken ye return his affection. But now he's awake and uncomfortable with ye tending him…" She shrugged. "I'll do as he asked and find a lad or a serving wench."

"Nay!"

"What would ye have me do, lass? He refuses yer care. I canna spend all my time with him. Others need my skills, too."

"Aye, I ken it." Ella crossed her arms and leaned against the wall at her back, thinking. "What if he doesna ken 'tis I?"

"What do ye mean, lass? He kens ye well."

"I can change my voice, my gait, my touch, as I did when I was a lass playing with the other bairns at ‘warriors and maids'." She cleared her throat and lowered her voice's pitch. "Do ye think he'd ken this voice?" She raised it to a high, clear, child's tone. "Or this?"

The healer smiled. "The lower pitch will serve ye better, especially if ye speak softly. Dinna be as gentle with him as ye have in the past. 'Twould help if yer hands were rougher."

"'Tis easily done. Annie has set the maids to making soap. If I help them, the lye will do what's needful, and quickly." The Brodie lady would welcome another pair of hands to help with the onerous chore.

"Go on with ye, then. Ah, wait a wee. What shall I call ye?"

"Janet. Call me Janet. 'Tis a common enough name for a lass."

"Soap," the healer muttered. She closed her eyes and sniffed. "Does he ken yer scent?"

"I…perhaps. I kenned my husband's and hated it."

"Of course ye did. He was forced on ye. Ye had every reason to hate him." She rested her chin on her hand for a moment. "We must find something that will give ye—give Janet—a scent all her own. An herb or spice rubbed into yer clothes might serve. Something pleasant or something strong?"

"I dinna want him to be drawn to Janet's scent."

The healer grinned as Ella pushed off from the wall with her elbows. "I'll make certain of that."

15 August, 1411

Ella led Calum along the path through the nearly empty bailey, gravel crunching under their boots. With most of the keep's residents either inside preparing the great hall for the Marymas feast or out of the keep taking part in family celebrations or hunting, the healer had agreed it would be quiet enough there if she didn't take him far and was careful. To her, the brilliant afternoon sunshine seemed an odd counterpoint to the darkness Calum had lived in for three sennights. Though he couldn't see it, she hoped the change in his surroundings and the fresh air would help speed his recovery.

"We're near the stables," he suddenly remarked, lifting his head in its direction. "I smell horses."

Startled, Ella nodded, then remembered to speak in Janet's low, clipped tones. Calum had suffered ringing in his ears since the battle. Just before they came outside, the healer had removed the packing from them that muffled sound, worrying Ella. She had relied on it to help alter her voice, but the healer had insisted it come out. "Aye, we are. What else do ye smell?" She hoped the onions in her pocket continued to mask her own scent. She'd rubbed their juice on her hands and even chewed on wild onion stems to keep her own hidden behind something unpleasant. Likely he'd gotten used to the onion scent around her and knew she wasn't asking about herself. She hoped by the time they ended this deception she would not be permanently stained with the odor.

"Something acrid…woodsmoke," Calum told her. "The blacksmith's forge."

"We're approaching it. How did ye ken?" The forge was still, lacking on this feast day the clang of the smith's hammer on his anvil. The healer had agreed to this foray because the bailey would be more quiet than usual. She wanted to know if Calum's hearing had improved.

Calum remained silent for a few moments as they walked farther. "My life depends on what I notice around me," he told her. "The iron has a tang that I taste as well as smell…and I felt the heat from the banked forge as we neared it."

"I did no'," she told him. What else did he notice that she failed to discern?

"I've lived in this keep most of my life," he added. "I can find my way around this bailey blindfold…" He stopped suddenly, stiffened and sucked in a breath.

Ella laid her free hand on her heart, pity for him welling up at his words. He would hear it in her voice, so she took a breath and tried encouragement. "Aye, ye can, Calum, very well. Yer senses are undimmed by yer time indoors."

"I am…I was a Brodie scout," he said, turning his face aside as though staring off into space while recalling the battle that had made him an invalid these past weeks. "One of the best. What am I, if I can no' longer be what I was?"

Ella wanted to hold him, to reassure him, but knew she had no answer to give him. If he wasn't acting out in frustration over his enforced blindness, he fretted over his future, his place in the clan. She reached for something to lighten his mood. "Ye need no' think to become a bard—ye dinna have the voice for it," she told him in a teasing tone. As soon as she said the words, she regretted them. Would Calum realize Janet had never seen him drunk and singing drinking songs with other men, but Ella had?

His brow furrowed, telling her she had his attention. Calum's lips tightened, then twisted, one side quirking up in a hard fought attempt at a smile.

Relieved he didn't seem to have made the connection, Ella couldn't help smiling back. If his sense of humor was returning, he truly was getting better.

Then his hands curled into fists. "If ye dinna take this wrapping from around my head, I'll do it myself. I canna bear this darkness any longer."

She grabbed his wrists and held them down by his sides, using her weight against his strength. "Ye will no'!" She knew he could break her grip with little effort, but she had to prevent him. "The healer said yer eyes must remain covered—both of them—if ye wish to regain yer sight."

"What sight?" he snarled. "She is blinding me as surely as that shattered sword did."

"A steel splinter went deep into yer left eye. She told ye, what one eye does, they both do, so to let yer wound heal, ye canna try to use the other." Ella released his wrists and placed a hand on his arm, still heavily muscled despite his forced inactivity. "Ye were out of yer head with fever for days?—"

"What? The healer said 'twas mild."

"She sought to reassure ye. And the fever is done. So ye think all else is healed as well. But 'tis too soon. Do ye truly wish to lose yer eye?"

Calum was silent for a long moment before his shoulders dropped. "Nay," he bit out, defeated. "A blind scout is worthless, and a half blind man fares little better. If I am to be useful as a warrior…"

"Ye have been so patient," she said, cutting him off, and wishing she could do as he asked and reveal his gaze. She missed the way he looked at her. She heard the fear in his voice he struggled to hide. How he must long for the sight of blue skies…and everything else. "Ye can tolerate waiting a wee more."

He pressed his full lips together, then spoke. "If at the end, the reward is being able to see y…"

The abrupt end to his sentence made Ella study his face—as much as she could see for the bandages, her heart in her throat. Did he know her? After a moment, she rejected the thought. If he did, why would he continue to play along with her ruse? Still, once the healer removed the coverings from his eyes, how would seeing her again as Ella affect him? How angry would he be to know she was Janet? The tension in his jaw told her she'd only added to his misery today. "I am sorry. I did no' mean to make ye feel worse."

"I ken it, lass," he finally said. "'Tis no' yer fault the Lowlanders fight with poorly forged blades."

She encouraged him to move with a light tug on his arm. "Ye were unlucky to be so near to one that shattered," she said as they walked along. "But," she added as his fists clenched yet again, "ye were lucky to have made it home from the battle so quickly, and to be under the care of the Brodie healer. She saved yer life. She may well have saved yer sight. I hope so."

"No' half so much as I."

She squeezed his hand in sympathy. "We need to go in soon." She hesitated, then deliberately brightened her tone. "The Marymas feast is taking place this eve. Everyone is expected to attend. Ye, too." How she wanted him to be able to enjoy the celebration, to spend time with his friends, to laugh. She tensed, waiting for his response.

"Marymas? Already? How long have I been confined to that chamber?"

Ella sighed and walked on. He kept pace with her easily, despite the uneven ground. "Only a fortnight and a few days, Calum."

"So I'm to attend a feast I canna see and make a fool of myself trying to eat it?"

"I will be there to help ye."

He stopped again, head tilted back, face to the sky.

Whether in frustration or despair, behind the bandages, his eyes were probably squeezed shut. She could only imagine what kind of battle must be raging inside this proud man. She tried, but no amount of tugging would move him from this spot.

"Calum!" As Janet, she felt free to say his name more sharply than Ella ever would. "I've much to do before this eve. Will ye take me inside, please?" If his sense of humor failed, his sense of duty rarely did.

He took a breath and turned toward her. "Aye."

Relieved that he was moving, Ella guided him toward the keep's main door. Then her foot slipped on a patch of mud. She cried out, but before she fell to the ground, Calum scooped her up. He held her close against his chest, his arms solid supports across her back and behind her knees. Sudden heat coursed through her, whether from Calum's body or her own embarrassment, she couldn't say.

"Are ye hurt…Janet?"

Heart pounding, she shook her head, then remembered to speak. "Thanks to ye, Calum, nay. Ye saved me from falling. How did ye ken where I was?"

"I always ken where ye are." He started walking forward, still carrying her.

Ella shivered at the deep undertone of his voice rumbling through his chest and into her ribs, intensifying as it slipped deeper into her body. His words seemed to carry a promise she hoped for but dared not name.

But nay! Thanks to her altered voice and scent, he thought she was Janet, not Ella. How true was his love for her if he could speak so of Janet? She thought he loved her and her alone, yet it seemed he was no better than any of the men in her life. Faithless. Determined to have their way with any woman in reach. "Ye can put me down," she told him, guilt and anger stealing her enjoyment of his nearness. She must look ridiculous, being rescued by a blind man, no matter how good it felt to be held secure in his arms. No one else would know that angst filled her, but anyone could see them. Even now, the quiet bailey was too public a place for such a display.

"Are ye certain ye can remain standing?"

His tone was teasing, but his touch betrayed his concern, his hand on her back stroking up and down. He meant to soothe her, she knew, but his touch set her blood to singing. Yet he was flirting with Janet, not her. She fought down the feeling and took a breath. "Long enough to get inside, aye." Where she would find more onions.

He stood her on her feet and took her arm without further comment, but with a frown that made her fear that he'd been affected by holding her, too. Needing a distraction, she hurried them up the steps to the keep's heavy door and let him pull it open. Once he closed it behind them, his shoulders slumped and she realized he dreaded being confined indoors yet again.

She led him to the entrance to the great hall and paused. There was no one nearby. No one to call her by her name. She could remain Janet, at least for now. She didn't know what she would do if someone did forget their ruse and call her Ella. Admit to it, she supposed, and deal with Calum's reaction as she must.

"Take a breath," she told him. So soon after being in his arms, it might be a risk to emphasize his sense of smell, but she was confident the festival preparations would cover her scent. "Tell me what ye sense." His broad chest rose and fell, and watching him made her hungry to be held against it again. Even if only as Janet.

"People and hounds," he said, his fierce expression smoothing into enjoyment. "And for the Marymas, bannocks. Lots of them."

"And more?"

"The hearth fire burning, and…" He lifted his head, nostrils flaring while he took another breath.

He looked proud, strong and confident, despite the healer's bandages covering his eyes and wrapping around his dark head. "Roasting meats, aye, and tarts from the kitchen," he announced.

"I canna smell the pies, but all the rest, aye."

"Ye said my senses are undimmed. And I told ye, I notice everything." He turned his face to her. "I ken that Ella has been in my chamber, no' ye."

Ella froze. Nay, she'd been careful to keep the healer's herbs on her any time she tended him. Then she realized he did think of Ella and Janet as two different women and warm relief flooded her, easing the ache in her chest.

"I ken her scent. I told the healer I didna want her there."

"Perhaps ye only imagined…or something of her scent remains in the chamber from before the healer called me to ye."

Without the bandages over his eyes, she expected his gaze would be locked with hers and her worries returned. Was he trying to tell her he knew—or at least suspected—who she really was? Could he truly find her scent among all the others in the keep?

"Perhaps."

Yet, as he held her safe in his arms, he'd hesitated before calling her Janet. Was he playing with her? That, she would not allow. She'd been through too much to be any man's plaything ever again.

"If she has been in yer chamber, 'twas not when I was present. And surely, she only means to help ye." She summoned a chuckle. "What man would object to another beautiful lass caring for him?"

Calum's mouth thinned and his fists clenched. "What good is beauty to a blind man? Can ye tell me that?"

His words hit her like a dirk to the heart. Was that all she meant to him? He saw only her beauty, but not who she was inside?

Nay, she would not accept that. His fear and frustration had set those resentful words spewing from his mouth. He'd pursued her from the moment he'd met her. He cared for her. He'd made his feelings for her plain. She had held him off, certain that she was not ready to be close to any man, even one who interested her, and who pursued her as consistently as Calum did.

Perhaps it was time to end this pretense. This false face she wore around him. She wanted to tell him the truth, but the great hall was no place for this conversation. This confrontation, if that was what it would become. She could not let him fall in love with Janet. It would hurt her too much. She knew that was selfish. She'd denied his advances again and again, but she did love him. She couldn't bear to lose him. He might be angry at her deception, but the Calum she knew would soon get past it.

Or would he? After succumbing to such a terrible injury, was he still the Calum she knew?

Who would Calum become if, as he feared, he'd lost half his sight? If he could not be the warrior he was before Harlaw, would he still be the man she loved? Friends had warned her he might be changed. Different. But she believed, deep inside, he would be the same man he'd always been, and he would adjust. Iain would see that he had an important place in the clan, no matter what. She would help.

So she must wait until the healer determined it was time to reveal his eye—and his future. The Marymas feast was a time to celebrate the Assumption, the coming harvest, and to prepare for the long winter ahead. It was also a celebration of good fortune. Of miracles. Ella hoped for two—that the love Calum once held in his heart for her remained, and that once his eyes were no longer covered, he would see on her face, in her eyes, the love she had hidden from him for too long.

Calum didn't know how much longer he could stand this. The enforced blindness was bad enough, but worse were these feelings for a woman who was not Ella.

Or was she? There were times he was convinced Ella attended him. At times, the onions Janet favored failed to completely mask her natural scent, and though rougher than Ella's, her touch seemed otherwise the same, even if the voice was altered.

Altered. Deliberately?

He'd held this woman in his arms minutes ago, more closely than he'd ever been able to hold Ella. He'd nestled her body against his chest, her heat warming his hands. Surely, he could not be this attracted to any other woman but his Ella.

Was Janet a mummery cooked up between Ella and the healer to circumvent his wish that Ella not be involved in his care?

Or was he days too late in that concern? She had been at his bedside when he awoke. Had she cared for him until he objected? Had she cared for him as a mother cares for a sick child? He couldn't bear the idea of it.

He was a warrior. A scout. And Ella was the woman he loved. The one that he wanted for his wife. That he wanted to bed, damn it. How was he to arouse her to accept him as a man if she'd cared for him while he was unconscious and helpless to control his body?

And what harm had he just done by his angry words? What good was beauty to a blind man , indeed? Yes, Ella was beautiful, but he loved all of her, not only her appearance. Her beauty encompassed who she was, how she cared for others—even for him, perhaps—and how she had fought for and protected herself at Ross.

Yet he'd told the truth. His angry outburst exposed his pain if he didn't get his sight back. If he lost his eye, his place in the clan, he'd have to give her up, too. She deserved to be with someone whole. The thought tore at his guts. He wanted her, but only if he remained the man he once was—with both eyes. He had to keep his distance until he knew who he would be, the warrior or the half-blind man.

But then, why the deception of Janet? If Ella was indeed pretending to be Janet, he didn't know what he would do.

He was confused and he knew it. And tired from the walk outside, which angered him again. How could he fight for his clan if a walk around the bailey exhausted him?

"I will return to my chamber now," he announced, not even certain Janet remained with him. She'd been silent since his angry comment.

"I'll take ye." Her voice had taken on a gruff edge. Had he hurt her feelings, then? Another reason to think this was Ella, not some fictional Janet.

"Nay, ye needna. Stay and enjoy the feast. I can find my way."

"Third door?—"

"On the right. I ken it." He moved away without another word. He was at a loss for how to deal with Janet…or Ella…at this time. The healer had to take these bandages from his eyes. The deception they practiced would be impossible. And he would know whether he had two good eyes and the future he had worked for his entire life, or would be forgotten among the clan's crippled and ill, struggling to make use of any skills he retained.

It was a grim thought, and soured his mood further. He needed to see !

Where was the healer?

He stood still for a moment, orienting himself to the sounds and movement around him. Had he gotten turned around? Which way should he go? Ah, the great hall's hearth was ahead of him…there. The scent of burning wood was stronger in that direction. The way sound bounced around the hall, seeming farther away in that direction, told him the shape of the room. Which meant the herbal was to the left. He turned in that direction, going slowly so as to avoid barking his shins on a bench or tripping over a trestle table. People saw him coming, of course, and helped him avoid obstacles. He thanked them and moved on, embarrassed to be treated as one who could not take care of himself, even though he knew they meant their assistance as a kindness.

Could he face them with a warrior's pride once he could see again? Or worse, could he live among those who'd known him as a warrior when his sight was gone forever? That would be harder to survive than any battle he'd fought up to now. He must be freed from this darkness before he went mad.

The last helpful voice told him he'd reached the hallway he wanted. Once he'd successfully transited the great hall, getting to his objective was easy.

"Healer, are ye within?" He knew he'd come to the right place. The scents of herbs and flowers added to the often acrid or odorous potions and poultices she was constantly making, assaulted his nose.

"Good day to ye," he heard her say. "Where is Janet?"

He didn't let her use of the name distract him. "I left her to find her friends enjoying the feast, and came to find ye."

"Come in, then. There's a stool six paces ahead of ye to yer right hand. Have a seat and tell me what ye want."

"I want ye to remove these wrappings from my eyes," he said as he found the stool and settled one cheek on it, then slid over to sit on it fully. "It has been long enough."

"I'll be the judge of that."

He felt as much as heard the healer approach him. He fought to keep his voice calm and level as he told her, "If ye dinna remove them, I will. I've lived in darkness too long. I must ken what my future will be."

She stayed silent long enough that he began to sweat. Would she deny him?

"I will uncover yer eyes long enough to check the injured one," she said. "But ye must accept that if I dinna like what I see, I may have to cover it yet again."

"Please. Dinna do that." He couldn't believe he'd been reduced to begging, but that was what blind men did, was it not? Only he would not be blind, merely one-eyed, if the healing had not gone well.

"Turn yer head this way. Ye will keep yer eyes closed," she ordered as she clipped the binding around his head and unwound it.

The feel of cool air on the skin of his face that, except for brief periods when she changed the bandages, she'd kept covered for weeks nearly undid him.

"Eyes closed," she reminded him, then removed the pad over his damaged eye. "I'm going to touch yer eyelid," she warned, slid a warm finger down from his eyebrow and pulled up the lid.

Brightness assaulted him, but he reveled in it.

"Hmmm. What do ye see?"

"Light. Brightness. How is it?"

She let go of his lid. "Keep it closed."

He was happy to comply, wincing against the sting of tears the sudden brightness had elicited. But her failure to answer him made his gut tense.

She removed the pad from his other eye. "Verra well. Open them slowly," she ordered.

At first, the light was too much, though she'd taken care to face him toward a dark corner of the herbal and not looking toward the hearth or any candle flames.

His eyes teared, but he blinked and cleared them. Slowly, things came into focus. Both eyes or just the good one? He closed that lid and found he could still make out objects in front of him. Relief filled him, so profound that it made his chest heavy, his arms leaden weights he couldn't lift.

"I can see with the injured one." He turned to her voice. "I see ye. A little blurry?—"

"That is to be expected. Do ye still have pain?"

"Only a little."

"Good. I am not surprised the light seems strong now. Ye will adjust to it as yer vision clears."

"That is good to hear," he said, his words heartfelt. But he had to know something else, too. "Now, tell me the truth before I have to see for myself," he demanded, but lowered his voice when her eyes widened. He was not here to frighten her, but he needed answers. "Ella and Janet are the same person." He didn't make it a question.

The healer pinked and glanced aside. "Ye suspected so."

"I did, though not right away."

Her reluctance to answer told him everything he needed to know. She had lied to him. So had Ella. But the anger twisting his gut told him no matter how much he condemned what they had done, he had allowed himself to be deceived. He'd known all along that Janet was Ella, so he could only be angry in some small portion with them. Most of his ire he directed at himself. And he didn't know what to do about any of it.

Ella sat at a table with some of her friends, but instead of talking and laughing with them, she could not take her gaze away from Calum making his careful way across the great hall. She feared he would meet with disaster—a fall or some other embarrassment—but pride in him filled her that he would attempt it. Others helped him avoid hazards with a word or two. Those he accepted with more grace than she thought he would be able to summon. His determination and adaptability continued to impress her. But knowing where he was headed—to beard the healer in her own den—scared her.

She prayed his eye had healed well enough to let him understand that the future he'd expected to have was not lost. That he would still be a warrior for the clan. A man in the way he understood manhood.

If he lost the eye, could he adapt to that? She hoped he never had to find out.

She also prayed the healer did not admit the Janet ruse. If she did, what would Calum do about it? Accept that she'd do anything to take care of him, including lie to him? Or reject her for her subterfuge?

She couldn't sit here waiting for the axe to fall. Without a word, she left her friends and followed Calum's path across the hall, then waited silently by the door while the healer removed his coverings, and rejoiced at the vision he described. He could see .

She needed to wash the onion scent from her hands and breath before he saw her. And perhaps some cream would soften the damage the lye had done to her hands. She started to back away from the door but her boot scraped on the flagstones.

Calum turned at the sound, this time with his eyes open. "Ella. I see ye."

She was out of time. She went to him, hands out to grasp his if he raised them, or to give him a hug full of joy and relief. "I'm so glad ye do," she said when he let her capture his fingers. Then the tone he had used sank in. "Is aught amiss?"

He lifted her hands and sniffed, then pulled his fingers free. "Will ye remain Ella now?" When his brow lowered and he glanced aside at the healer, she realized he knew about their deception before she arrived.

Ella's belly plunged as if into a frigid lake. She glanced at the older woman, who shook her head.

She had no choice. If she dreamed of having any future with this man, she must admit what she'd done, and hope he understood why she'd done it.

"Calum, I couldna bear to see ye suffering," she began. "I helped care for ye before ye woke up. We…I…created Janet so that ye would allow me to remain at yer side, where I needed to be. Where I thought I belonged."

"Did ye think so? Ye lied to me."

How could his newly revealed visage be so full of censure? How dare he condemn her for caring for him? If this was going to be their future—if she made such an effort and he reacted like he'd rather die than accept her help—maybe she'd been wrong about him.

"I did everything to help ye heal. And to help ye see again. If ye canna forgive that?—"

"Ye believed I would thank ye for seeing me as helpless as a bairn?" The flat tone had a definite chill to it.

Ella crossed her arms and wrapped her hands around them for warmth and protection. "Like ye are behaving now?" She shook her head as he stood. To make her look up at him? "I never meant to do that. I love ye."

"If ye truly did, ye wouldna have tried to fool me. Playing such games with a man in my condition is a kind of torture. Losing my sight wasna enough for ye? Ye had to make me fear I was losing my mind with yer deception?"

"Calum," the healer interjected, "Ella helped me care for ye. There is nay shame in that. She lied to protect ye, and that is the only reason. She proved her loyalty to ye. Dinna blame her, for I went along with the ruse. I helped her craft it. Blame me for not having a better answer to the question of how to keep ye safe."

Calum studied the older woman for a long moment. "And after that, I am supposed to trust either of ye?" He huffed out a breath. "Am I free to go?"

"I must cover the injured eye again so ye dinna damage it while ye sleep."

"Nay."

"I willna cover both. 'Tis time for ye to start using yer eyes again. Ye can uncover it in the morning. We'll do that for the next sennight. After that, it should be healed well enough that ye may sleep without protecting it. And yer vision should continue to improve."

He sat back on the stool without another objection and let her tend him while Ella watched. She felt frozen to the floor, unable to move, either to go to him or to leave. When the healer finished, he stood and walked out of the herbal without another glance or word to either of them.

Ella sank onto the stool Calum had vacated. "He willna forgive me." She kept her tone matter-of-fact, but inside, her heart was in pieces. Sharp, jagged little pieces that cut with every breath she took. "Am I never to find a man who accepts me—all of me—for who I am?"

The healer pressed her lips together and raised a finger. "Dinna let him belittle ye. Without ye, he wouldna have regained his sight."

"I dinna think he will believe that. Ye are the healer."

"Perhaps as his eyesight clears and he regains his confidence, he will accept the part ye played in his recovery. He is still hurt and embarrassed by it all, but that will pass."

"Will it? Will he come to me and beg my forgiveness? After this, I canna…I willna go to him."

The healer pressed her lips together and nodded, then captured Ella's gaze with her own. "If he doesna, there is yer answer. Ye have been strong for him, but ye must be stronger still for yerself. He will come to ye, or ye will tire of waiting and find what ye seek in another man."

"I dinna want another," Ella said, turning to stare out the doorway Calum had exited, the pieces of her heart a leaden weight in the bottom of her chest. "I thought I'd found what I needed in Calum. I hope that I still can. That he will come to see I did the best I could for him. I will fight for him—for us. But if I must," she vowed, "I will find my way forward without him."