Page 12 of Shaw

“I don’t know.” Caroline glanced back at the stronghold. “The first time I met the man I knew he was scary dangerous. I even punched him in the face. We had a problem with each other for a while after that. He could have hurt me a couple of times, and I’m sure the thing in him wanted to do worse, but instead he left the stronghold and kept his distance from me. I’d bet good money that Shaw doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but because of the dark thing, he might not be able to stop himself. Does that help?”

“Kind of. He’s never tried to hurt me, but sometimes the way he looks at other people is a little serial killerish. No, not that bad.” She thought for a moment for a better description. “You know how alligators always look, like they’re not in the mood, and hate themselves, but also wonder how tasty your face is? Like that.”

“He reminded me of a starving shark, so yeah, I get it.” The diver nodded. “The biggest problem on this island is hardly anyone is ever straight with each other. Maybe it’s a medieval thing. My advice is to talk to the man and tell him what’s worrying you.”

Could she tell Shaw that her breasts wanted to stalk and jump him? “Thanks for the assist, Caroline.”

“Another thing.” The other woman pointed to one of the small islets ringing the bay shallows. “I live over there in a sweet little cottage. You’re welcome to come and visit any time, just not after dark. I go to bed early, and not alone.” She winked and started down the cliff stairs.

On her way back Julianne noticed Duncan walking out of the forest toward the gates, and changed direction to join him on the trail. He limped along as he carried a heavy-looking sack under his arm, so she offered to take it for him. As she did she noted how handsome he was, even with the threads of silver in his black hair. She’d always had a thing for older, quiet, good-looking dad types. They tended to be less jerk-faced than guys her age.

Weird that my boobs don’t get excited over the healer. He’s definitely more my style than pretty boys like Shaw, so why no cartwheels?

“My thanks for your offer, my lady, but I’m well.” He wiped some sweat from his upper lip and paused to shake the leg that seemed to be bothering him. “How fare you at Dun Ard?”

“Okay, I guess. I like your family. The food is carb-heavy, but at least everything’s organic. Your bathrooms are totally gross. Your castle needs less torches, bigger windows, and some house plants.” With a quick move she took the sack from him, and although it seemed as if he’d filled it with rocks, she slung it over her shoulder. “Don’t argue, dude. I’m freaking strong for a girl, and you look like you’re ready to pass out.”

“You’re wondrous kind.” He sighed. “I appreciate your aid, my lady.”

At the gates Julianne saw Shaw waiting on the other side. He looked like a different man, and she realized why when she noticed how dark his eyes had grown. “My bodyguard doesn’t look too happy with me. Or am I his bodyguard? Ah, who the heck knows.” Her boobs were already tingling again, the traitors.

Duncan took hold of her arm and tugged her to a stop. “Mayhap you should give back the sack now, Mistress Scott.”

“Why would I do that?” She tightened her grip on the bag. “I don’t need Shaw’s permission to help you.” She hesitated, remembering that the chieftain was second in command, and then whispered, “Hey, uh, do I need his permission?”

“No, my lady,” the healer murmured back, sounding as if he were about to laugh.

As soon as the men raised the gate Shaw strode out, reaching for the sack on Julianne’s shoulder and scowling when she went around him. “My lady, you neednae dance attendance on Duncan. One of the guards shall aid him.”

Julianne strode through the second gate and then waited on the other side for the healer to catch up with her. As she did a guard came over and took the sack from her. Rather than wrestle with him over it she decided she needed to set some ground rules with the chieftain before he wrapped her in a blankie and carried her everywhere.

“You’re really having a problem with that leg,” she said to Duncan. “I’ve had first aid training, and I know a lot about muscle strains and tears, if you’d like me to take a look at it.”

Shaw made a rumbling sound in his throat.

The healer smiled. “My thanks, Mistress, only ’twill soon mend after I rest.”

Julianne watched Duncan hobble off before she turned and glared at the chieftain. “Come here. We need to have a little chat.”

Nyall looked down from the watch tower to see Mistress Scott seize Shaw by the arm and march him into the stronghold. “Our healer’s injured himself again, my lord. And ’twould seem Mistress Scott has our chieftain well in hand.”

“Mayhap.” Connal brought his wife’s hand to his lips. “Would you do me a kindness and look in on Duncan, Wife?”

“You mean, will I leave you two alone so you can talk about things you don’t want worrying me?” Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Of course. Captain.”

“My lady.” Nyall bowed to her, and then made a gesture that sent the watchers on duty after her. Once he was alone with the laird, he lowered his voice. “You’ve heard from the druids, then?”

“Aye.” Connal moved away from the battlements, as without Valerie he would quickly suffer from vertigo at such a height. “They claim the Pritani never offered up their lads to malevolent spirits. ’Twas but the practice of the NightRiver tribe, and ’twasnae discovered until after the last of those bastarts perished at the hands of their enslaved warriors. All those they inked chose to end themselves after dispatching the slavers.” He met his gaze. “All but Shaw.”

“Could the druids name the spirit that yet possesses our brother?” Nyall asked. “If we discovered what ’tis, then surely we might seek a cure.”

“No, but I learned something just as important,” the laird said. “The druids believe our màthair shared a bloodline with the Pritani. Without her blood, the spirit never could take Shaw.”

Although it was certainly unusual, he didn’t understand how it related to their problem with the chieftain. “Why does such matter?”

Connal’s expression filled with sorrow. “The spirit possessing our brother may leave him and take hold of another who shares the same bloodline as Shaw.”

“No.” Now Nyall understood what his eldest brother meant to do. “You cannae sacrifice yourself so we may save the chieftain. ’Tis as terrible as permitting him suffer the beast. Worse, for he should never forgive himself for inflicting such on you.”