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Fia hurried her hands to cup his face and lavished endless kisses on his lips as if trying to capture his every word and tuck each away inside her.
Varrick stopped her, easing her away from him, not that he wanted to, and her look of displeasure told him she felt the same.
“You’re bleeding,” he said quickly and reached for a clean cloth to quell the flow. “Our marriage will not be an easy one. Many tales will be born of the legendary Highlander’s witch wife.”
“In time, I will prove I am a healer and no witch.”
“And through the years things may happen that suggest otherwise.”
“Then we will face them together and show everyone the strength of our love,” she said as if their love had the power to settle any problem and heal all troubles.
“You have such faith, wife.”
“Aye… in us,” she said and brushed a light kiss across his lips.
“My lord.”
They both turned to see Argus standing in the open doorway.
“You found the culprit?” Varrick asked, eager to get his hands on him.
“Aye. We chased him down. He hit a low hanging branch that knocked him off his horse. He’s dead.”
“That was not what I hoped to hear,” Varrick said, “but at least he will cause no more harm. Was there anything on him that might tell where he came from or a clan he could belong to?”
“Nay, though I would guess he was a man for hire, but what sense is there in killing a hawk?” Argus said, shaking his head.
“Not just any hawk, Lord Varrick’s hawk.” Fia pointed out. “What would people think if Lord Varrick failed to protect his hawk?”
Argus realized immediately what she meant. “That if he failed to protect his hawk, he could also fail to protect the clan.”
“And once again place more doubt in already confused minds,” Fia said.
Argus’s brow wrinkled. “Why did we not hear the God of Death’s hell hounds howl before this death?”
“My grandmother taught me that the God of Death has no interest in quick deaths. It is the ones who linger from illness or battle wounds that cause his presence.”
“Why?” Argus asked.
“My grandmother believed he enjoyed a good battle.”
“Then he has come to the right place,” Varrick said, “for I will give him a battle he will never forget.”
* * *
Fia steppedout of the healing cottage, giving her back a good stretch. It had been a busy day, mostly because her husband had refused to let her return to her duties as a healer for two days after the incident in the woods.
Her wound had been minor,but he had been stubborn about it, and for two days she had remained in the keep. She had used some of that time to confiscate a small room not far from her husband’s solar that would be a perfect place to dry her plants and prepare them for mixtures as well. Merry had seen to having it cleaned out and items Fia had requested moved in. And while much still needed to be done there, she left instructions with Merry as soon as her husband had informed her that she could return to the healing cottage. It felt wonderful to return to her work and to talk with people, listen to them and learn while helping them.
With her hands planted on her hips, she stretched once again to ease the ache in her back when the first howl sounded strong and clear, a second followed, then a third until the hell hounds’ chorus of howls filled the cold air.
Fia watched as mothers grabbed their children and rushed them inside, wives hurriedly searched for their husbands, men looked to one another unsure what to do, the old clutched the talisman they wore, and clan dogs joined the howls, as fear struck the entire clan.
Varrick appeared suddenly, his commanding stance and voice drawing every single eye to him. “The hell hounds cry too late for the dead man or perhaps it is the wild hounds that howl. Either way, take precautions and do not venture anywhere alone and stay in your homes for the remainder of the day, dusk will fall soon enough.”
People nodded and hurried to follow his command.
“You will return to the keep with me. No more healing for the day,” Varrick ordered when he reached her side.
