A Healer For The Highlander. Terri Brisbin

The rest is in the Almighty’s hands.’

      She walked past him then and he heard the soft groan as she did so. Watching her, he noticed the signs of discomfort or pain in the way she walked now.

      ‘Mistress Mackenzie, are you yourself in need of a healer?’

      She laughed then and the sound of it made his heart beat faster.

      ‘Aye, I think I might. Do you know one?’

      ‘Old Ranald is good if you need anything hacked away.’ The jesting relieved the tension in him.

      ‘Nay, not that. I just need to walk a bit after crouching and bending for so long. I will not keep you from your duties, Commander.’

      ‘Come,’ he said, motioning with his hand ahead of him. ‘I am not expected back for some time yet and I can show you the rest of the village if you have not walked it yourself.’

      ‘I would like that,’ she said, following him to the road, then walking at his side.

      They walked along that main road and Davidh pointed out the important places of their village—the smithy she knew, but the baker, the miller near the stream and the weavers she did not. Word had spread about her and many came out to greet her. Some she called by name which surprised him at first, but she told him that she had seen them just a short while before his arrival.

      Davidh guided her as far as the stream that led north to the river that connected Loch Arkaig to Loch Lochy. To reach the falls and her cottage she would follow the river to the mouth of Loch Arkaig, cross the small bridge there and head around to the northern side of the river. The river that rushed over the falls fed back into the River Arkaig. The most surprising thing about the walk was that Davidh found it easy to talk to her. Giving her bits of gossip and explaining the connections between this person and that one continued as they made their way back to the smithy.

      ‘You did not show me where you live.’

      He had not time to ponder her curiosity, for a man came running towards them, shouting out his name. Only then did Davidh realise he’d lost all sense of time as he’d walked with Anna. Robert expected him after the noon meal to meet with the steward and Davidh had forgotten all about it.

      He could blame it on the sight of his son, sitting outside for the first time in weeks. He could and that would have been part of it. The other part was that he’d been enjoying himself too much and, for that short time, he’d forgotten his duty. He’d forgotten his duty.

      Davidh nodded at the messenger and faced Anna.

      ‘I must go.’ She nodded. ‘Will you be back on the morrow?’

      ‘I will be back in a few days. There is so much to do before I will have enough to help those in the village.’

      He wanted to argue with her, but he could not now. Any anger or frustration he felt was his own fault, so he took his leave with a hurried word of gratitude. Davidh cursed silently first, with every step he ran to the smithy to claim his horse and then with every stride of his horse after he mounted and as he rode to the keep.

      Never in his life, never since taking command, had he ever forgotten to carry out a task or duty or responsibility. Never. Not even when Colm suffered the worst of his affliction.

      But this young woman arrived, bringing help to his son and appealing to him more than any woman before or since Mara, and he allowed her to distract him. From his duty.

      This could not happen again.