The Healer by Allison Butler

hanging from heaven’s rafters suddenly broke.
    The path they followed through the valley between small rolling hills soon resembled a shallow, running burn. But the cluster of willow trees drooping under the weight of the deluge to William’s right, and the smooth granite boulder growing out of a hillock to his left, announced they were on his land – Kirkpatrick land.
    Ignoring the water soaking his exposed head and face, William caught the woman in front of him about the waist and tucked her more securely into the shelter of his body. She squirmed, but he held firm. Her wet hair cooled his neck but failed to douse the ever-present desire simmering in his blood. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the sensations and then shifting in the saddle, cursed his momentary weakness.
    Thank the saints they were almost home.
    The lay of the land rose to a slight incline and Black tugged on the reins, sensing a dry stall and fresh oats close by. William held him back. There would be no galloping the last short distance today, even if he shared his mount’s eagerness to be home.
    Instead, William studied the gait of the borrowed horse dragging his brother’s litter. The end of each pole scored the rain-softened earth, but did little to slow their progress.
    The slope levelled out and the woman shifted. William’s body stirred at the heat they created between them. He tipped his head back and welcomed the stinging raindrops beating against his face.
    William straightened in the saddle and peered through the curtain of water at the sight that always filled his heart with pride.
    His castle. Home.
    Closeburn Castle stood on an island in the middle of the loch; the curtain wall surrounding the grey-stoned keep was an added measure of defence.
    Even on such a dull and dreary day as this, Closeburn inspired strength and warmth. It was a haven. Within its walls, William had experienced love and laughter, as well as tremendous pain and loss. But since he’d become laird half a year ago, he’d removed the cause of Closeburn’s suffering. He’d banished the clan’s healer.
    His arm involuntarily tightened about the woman, the healer, in his lap. He loathed the thought of allowing her to cross Closeburn’s threshold. But he’d given her strict instructions for tending Edan. Although his mistrust had saddened and then angered her, she’d done as he bid, so far. Her stay would be brief. Only twelve days of her allotted time remained. Once William was ensured of Edan’s recovery, he’d cheerfully let her go.
    The woman in his arms leaned forward as they rode down the gentle slope. Drawing Black to a halt, William dismounted and plucked the healer down from the saddle. She squirmed as he carried her the few feet to where Donald stood with Geordie the boatman.
    ‘Here.’ Almost carelessly, he deposited the woman into Donald’s outstretched hands and turned to the young man beside him. ‘Is all ready, Ian?’
    ‘Aye, laird. Welcome back.’
    ‘Thanks, lad. I’ll fetch Edan.’
    William strode across the slick grass toward the barge nudging one side of the pier, and gave a shrill whistle. Black trotted up and Keith stepped away from Edan’s litter to lead the stallion onto the flat-bottomed boat. The barge was used for transporting horses, and any goods too large for the rowboat, across the loch.
    ‘It’s good to be home.’
    William peered down into Edan’s face peeking out from beneath the hide. With a smile at his brother’s relieved tone he said, ‘Aye, lad. You’ll be warm and dry soon enough.’
    Keith returned, having left Black and the other mounts in Geordie’s capable hands. He scooped up the borrowed horse’s reins and gave a nod.
    William bent low to lift his brother from the litter. ‘Time to go, Edan.’
    Donald, Ian and the English woman were waiting in the rowboat, heads bowed against the relentless rain. William carefully climbed into the small, rocking craft and sat on one of the cross planks, using