Found herself a match indeed. Not hardly. Though a night ago, she’d allowed herself to believe the same thing.
“How?” Hall muttered, attempting to pull away as if he thought he could do this on his own.
“Easy, now,” Orabilis cautioned as she shoved the cottage door open with one hip and guided them all inside. “Into the chair with him. Over here, near the fire. I need to see what I’ve got to work with.”
The old woman grunted as they eased their burden down and then stepped away, hands on her hips as if admiring her accomplishment.
“You said he’d been poisoned by Magic. What exactly has done this to him?”
Brie straightened, her back protesting sharply at the last several minutes of mistreatment she’d given it. “The Sword of the Ancients. It barely touched him, but Editha Faas said its Magic is most powerful. And, judging by what it’s done to Hall, I have to agree with her.”
“Sword of the Ancients, eh?” Orabilis chewed on the corner of her lip, her sharp eyes boring a hole in Hall. “If that’s the case, how did you pass through my ring of rowans, my good man?”
Hall shook his head back and forth like a man waking from a long dream. “Tried to ask you that.”
“So you did. That’s a mystery we’ll worry ourselves over later. Yer here now, are you no? Might as well get out of that tunic and give me a look at that injury of yers so we can see if Editha Faas kenned what she was talking about when she sent you here. You should be feeling a little stronger by now. Are you?”
“Mistress Faas isn’t likely to make an error on something such as this. No Fae would.” Hall pulled the tunic up and over his head and let it drop beside him.
Brie tightened her hands into fists as Orabilis laid a gnarled finger upon his wounded shoulder. The old woman traced the curve of his muscle to the edge of the bandage and Brie could almost swear she felt the touch of his heated skin upon her own hand.
The light of the fire glistened off Hall’s chest and Brie’s heart beat a little harder, forcing her to breathe deeply to calm it down.
Too bad he wasn’t what she’d thought him to be. Too bad she wasn’t what he’d want in a wife. Too bad, all of it, because he was exactly what she would—
“Bridget!”
Brie’s head snapped around to face Orabilis, realizing as she did that she’d missed whatever her hostess had said earlier. She’d been completely lost in staring at the beauty of Hall’s bare chest, remembering how it felt to be held by those strong arms.
“I said I need more light in here. Run out to the shed and bring in peat staves for the fire.” The old woman spoke slowly, deliberately, as if her words were meant for a dullard.
Brie deserved as much.
“Right away.”
She cast a quick glance in Hall’s direction as she headed for the door. In spite of his condition, a smile lifted one corner of his mouth.
A mortifying certainty swirled in the pit of her stomach and heated her face. She’d been so obvious in her lusting after his body that, even at death’s door, he, too, had known she’d been lost in staring at him.
If there was a greater name thanfoolfor a fool, she had more than earned it this day.
BRIDGET HAD DONEit. Just as she’d vowed she would. Somehow, this wild-spirited warrior had managed to get him to Rowan Cottage before the Magic of the sword had taken him.
What an amazing woman she was.
He tried for a smile as she headed past him, hoping she realized how grateful he was for all she’d done for him. But her gaze skated past him as if she couldn’t bear the intimacy of their eyes connecting.
Little surprise there. He was hardly worth her time. One way or another, he’d be out of her life soon enough—a fact she’d apparently accepted.
Hall turned his attention to Orabilis. His only hope for survival tottered around, looking as if she were on her last legs. Witch or Faerie, it made no difference to him. They needed to act quickly.
“It’s betony and yarrow I need now—” he began, but the old woman interrupted.
“Dinna you be telling me how to go about healing, boy. I was working with herbs long before you were born.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” In fact, he quite doubted it. To say he was older than he looked would be a great understatement. Though if she were indeed Faerie, her looks would have no bearing on her true age. The Fae wore appearances as Mortals wore clothing.
“Well, I’m sure of it. I ken what you are. I felt it when I touched you. And dinna you bother to argue with me. You’ll want to save yer strength for answering my questions. The potion I used willna last overlong. What I do want to hear from you is where you got yer hands on the amulet that hangs around yer neck. The one that allowed you through my defenses.”
