The Bewitching Twin (5 page)

R
ogan entered the room quietly, freshly washed from his dunk in the stream, his hair damp and his chest bare. He watched Aliss from the doorway. In between crushing herbs to a fine powder, she tended the stew bubbling in a cauldron over the hot fire.

She had impressed him when they first met. Her escape had been unexpected but it had been a display of her courageous nature, something he had not foreseen. He had heard rumors about the twins, the strength of one, the gentleness of the other.

He had been surprised to learn that the gentle twin possessed strength of a different kind. Once she had learned of the illness that plagued his clan she forged like a warrior into battle, relentless and untiring in pursuit and destruction of the enemy.

However, when he stepped near her, touched her, her courage faded and she retreated like a young lass uncomfortable with her emerging womanhood. Her dual natures made her an enticing woman, as did her beauty.

He would not deny he found her attractive or that her presence chased away the loneliness he had suffered since his wife’s passing. Then there was that healing touch of hers that his people gossiped about. He had thought them delirious—but then it had happened to him.

He had felt the warmth and tenderness of her touch when she tended his finger. He did not recall a twinge of pain. All he remembered was her loving touch and the desire to feel it again.

“The stew smells good,” he said, entering the room.

“It is almost ready.” Aliss glanced over at him.

He smiled as her eyes rounded and fixed on his naked chest; with a shake of her head, she quickly turned her back on him to fuss over the cooked stew.

He glanced with appreciation at the perfect image of her narrow waist, curving hips, and round backside. His hands itched to reach out and run his fingers ever so intimately over her naked flesh, getting to know every delightful inch of her.

He silently cursed his lascivious thoughts. His mission was more important than satisfying his lust.

Rogan slipped on a shirt and plopped down at the table. After a few awkward minutes, they began to talk and a relative comfort fell over them. They had grown accustomed to sharing daily news at the evening meal, just as he and his wife had done. And lately he looked more and more forward to this time together. Aliss never failed to find a bright spot in her day or to make him laugh at something she had heard or experienced. He found her soothing nature extremely attractive.

When supper was finished Rogan asked, “Do you plan to see James? If so, I will go with you. I would like to see how he fares.”

“Prayers are forever on my lips for him,” Aliss said while refilling her basket.

“Do you really think he has a chance?”

“Time will tell.”

They both reached for her basket at the same time, Rogan’s hand slipping over hers. He could not help but squeeze her soft flesh ever so lightly and he could have sworn he felt her tremble.

“I will carry it for you,” he said.

She looked about to refuse him then suddenly she nodded and hurriedly withdrew her hand from beneath his. This time her shiver was noticeable, cautioning him that she was not impervious to his touch, and that knowledge fired his loins all the more.

A smile and a shake of his head as he followed behind her expressed perfectly his own confused thoughts on the matter.

Aliss remained behind to watch over James. Anna had insisted that she would return later in the night so that Aliss could get some sleep.

Rogan had spoken with James’s grandparents before taking his leave and the older couple retired hours ago to a sleeping pallet on the floor.

She now sat alone with James. His color looked good, his sleep quiet; she prayed both were a good sign.

Aliss leaned back in the chair, the first time all day she could sit and do absolutely nothing. But while her fingers might be idle, her mind refused to stop. Healing forever occupied her thoughts; tonight, however, Rogan had taken its place.

“Who cares for you?”

His question had lingered in her mind since he had uttered it.

She had not answered him. She had not known how to answer him. Her sister cared for her, but she had the feeling that was not what Rogan had implied. His question had pertained to a man caring for her.

Why should it matter to him? And why had the sight of his naked chest so unnerved her? She had seen many men’s naked chests before and never had they affected her as Rogan’s had.

His taut muscles rippled one into another, producing an upper torso that was lyrical in form and flesh. Old scars dotted his chest here and there, reminding her that he had suffered his fair share of battles. And how appropriate that he carry a significant scar over his heart, as if physically scarred by his wife’s passing.

She shook her head vigorously. Her exhaustion was obviously making her delirious with nonsensical thoughts. The Wolf had abducted her from her home and here she sat admiring his naked chest.

He was a man—no, a warrior—intent on having his way at all costs and she would do well to remember that. She was here to serve a purpose and once it was done, she would return home—thank God.

No more sharing meals with him, no more conversations and no more bare chests. She suddenly felt upset and shook off her distress with a shiver. She reminded herself that she would soon be free, a prospect she was looking forward to. She loved her freedom, answering to no one but herself, coming and going as she pleased, studying her healing, no one to bother her—that was her life. But was it what she truly wanted?

“Water.”

James’s mumbled request pulled Aliss from her musings and she gently lifted his head as she pressed a water-filled cup to his lips.

“Thank you,” he said with a heavy sigh and struggled to keep his eyes open.

“You are in pain?”

He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. “I am grateful for the pain.” He caught another painful breath then released it. “It tells me I am alive.”

“Sleep helps heal you,” she said.

His eyes suddenly widened and Aliss was struck by their vivid blue color, like a spring morning after a rain, bright and full of promise.

“Will I live?”

It was a plea more than a question and one she had heard endless times before.

She had found that no good came of lying to the ill. “I cannot say for sure, though I am encouraged by your courage.”

“I want to live,” he said with conviction.

She took his hand in hers and squeezed gently. “Then fight along with me.”

“I will never stop fighting.”

“Neither will I.”

His eyes closed and his faint smile faded and Aliss continued to hold his hand.

Anna showed up shortly after midnight. “Go rest, the sick will be expecting your visits tomorrow.”

Aliss nodded. “Instruct his grandmother what to do then get some rest yourself. I prefer he not be alone during the night and you taking turns with me helps relieve me of the sole burden of his evening care.”

“I enjoy helping,” Anna said and took the seat beside the bed.

“Again, if fever or—”

“I know,” Anna interrupted. “You are to be summoned directly if fever or fester sets in.”

“I see that I leave him in capable hands.”

Anna turned to refill the water cup and the fire’s light glared off the rash on her neck.

Aliss could not help but examine it.

Anna jumped when Aliss’s finger touched her.

“I am sorry,” Aliss apologized. “I have been meaning to have a look at your rash. How long have you had it?”

“It started just around the time people began falling ill.”

Aliss studied the persistent skin irritation. “I think I may be able to rid you of it.”

“Really?”

She rummaged in her basket and opened a small crock. With a gentle touch, Aliss covered the rash with the thick salve.

She handed the crock to Anna. “It may take several applications before we see results.”

Anna hugged it to her chest. “I will faithfully apply it as often as is necessary.”

“Morning and night to start,” Aliss said and yawned.

“Go and rest, morning will be here soon enough.”

Anna was right. Morning arrived with a shock; another new case of the mysterious illness had surfaced and fear grew in the healthy.

In late afternoon Aliss returned to the cottage to replenish her basket, and realized that she needed to take time and search the surrounding woods for herbs. A few of her staple herbs were nearly depleted and she could not afford to run out of any of them.

When she left the cottage, she gave a quick glance to the woods behind it. She halted. Had there been a stirring in the woods? A figure? A pair of eyes? Green ones like the ones before?

Or had she imagined them? Yet again?

A strong hand grasped her shoulder.

Aliss jumped and yelped.

“I am sorry,” Rogan said, stepping in front of her. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

Aliss took hold of his forearm. “I was deep in thought and did not hear you approach.”

“You were staring at the woods.”

She nodded and grasped his arm more tightly. “I think my tired mind sees things that are not there.”

“The woods are safe now.”

“That is good to know.” Still she clung to his arm.

“Aliss! Aliss!”

She let go of Rogan and turned to see a frenzied John running toward her.

“Hurry, James’s grandmother is screaming that Anna is a witch.”

A crowd had gathered around James’s cottage listening to the hysterical woman inside screaming accusations of witchcraft and the devil’s cohort at Anna.

Rogan quickly dispersed them with a firm voice. “Go tend to your business.”

Aliss hurried into the house followed by John and Rogan.

Anna turned to Aliss. “I stopped by to see how he was and he suddenly began burning with fever.”

The old woman rushed to Rogan’s side, grasping at his shirt. “Keep the devil’s own from my grandson. She brought this fever on him. He was fine before she entered and laid hands on him.”

“Anna did no such thing,” Aliss said sternly, while hurrying to examine James. “She is a new healer with good instincts. She would cause no one intentional harm.”

“She bears the devil’s mark,” the woman said, backing away from Rogan and pointing to Anna. “It grows bright.”

The salve had soaked into Anna’s skin, causing the rash to look as if it burned her skin; an effect of the salve Aliss had not considered a problem. She had no time to explain this to the woman, her concern being for James.

He had a fever and the wound festered.

Aliss turned to the woman who cowered in her husband’s arms. Her fear of losing her grandson caused her foolish accusations; Aliss did not wish to cause her any more pain, but she needed Anna’s help.

“Do you trust me?” she asked the woman.

The woman nodded without hesitation.

“Then believe me when I tell you that Anna is no threat to your grandson, and leave us both to try to save him.”

Rogan and John assisted in getting the distraught couple out of the cottage while Aliss and Anna went to work on James.

Shortly after midnight, Rogan attempted to get Aliss to return to the cottage and rest but she refused. James’s fever had risen and fallen throughout the evening and she could not leave his side. It was imperative that she continue to rub him down with a damp cloth that had been soaked in a mixture of herbs. She also had to keep the blankets stripped off him in hopes of ridding him completely of the fever. Only then would he have a fighting chance.

Just before dawn the fever finally broke, releasing James to rest comfortably. She sent a protesting Anna home, the young woman insisting that she should remain and look after him. Aliss felt that James’s grandmother could do what was necessary until morning and would probably want to help, relieved that her grandson still lived.

Rogan was standing by the fireplace when she returned home and she eased his concerned expression. “James is still with us.”

“Your hard toil is much appreciated.”

“It is what I am here to do—heal. Then I go home,” she reminded him, and intended to keep on reminding him.

He stared at her a moment, then bid her good night and went off to his room.

His lack of response worried her.

Would he be true to his word?

“W
here is Aliss?” Rogan asked of Anna, as he caught her leaving her cottage.

“Last I saw her she was speaking with Derek.” She smiled. “He feels so much better. He is almost his old self.”

“I know.” He nodded then shook his head. “Aliss is not with him, I just saw Derek.”

“James?” she questioned, and her smile grew brighter. “He is healing so nicely, sitting up, finally eating well this past week, and Aliss says the stitches will come out soon.”

“Yes, I heard,” Rogan said, having heard nothing else in the last few days. The people were excited; if the healer could save James from death, surely she could cure the persistent illness. “She is not there, either.”

“Perhaps she rests—”

“Aliss rest?” Rogan snapped sarcastically, and Anna took a step back. “She has been up since before dawn and suppertime is near and I can find neither hide nor hair of her.”

Anna’s brow shot up. “Laurel. She is due to deliver in a couple of weeks—”

Rogan shook his head and marched off, mumbling to himself. Aliss had worked herself senseless since arriving here; little sleep, little food, endless healings, and not a thought for her own well-being.

Her day started before anyone else’s in the village and never seemed to end. He had grown tired of watching her hectic pace, but no amount of threats deterred her from her course.

Last night she had really tested his mettle when, after he had insisted that she get some needed rest, she persisted in working with her herbs and potions, although she had promised she would retire soon.

He left her only to return in the morning to find her sound asleep, her head resting on the table. She had never gone to bed, though exhaustion had claimed her as she had worked. When he had woken her, thinking to see that she slept in her bed for at least a couple of hours, she immediately started her day.

He had had enough. Now
she
would listen to
him
.

Rogan entered Laurel and Peter’s cottage without knocking. The young couple’s eyes turned wide when without a word he scooped Aliss up and flung her over his shoulder, grabbed her basket and walked out the door.

“What do you think you are doing?” Aliss asked, pounding on his hard back.

“Looking after you since you are too stubborn to do it yourself.”

She forced a laugh. “You call this looking after me?”

“What would you call it?”

“Another abduction,” she snapped. “Now put me down!”

“When we get home,” he snapped in return.

“This place is not my home.”

Rogan entered his cottage and turned into his room, where he was certain no one would disturb her, and dropped her on his bed. “For now, this is your home.”

Aliss scrambled to the edge of the bed.

“Do not dare set foot out of that bed. You will rest.” He could hear the warning snarl in his voice. It did the trick; she did not move.

She raised herself on her knees. “I am not tired and there is work—”

“That can wait.”

“It cannot.” Her shoulders slumped. “You must let me heal as I see fit.”

“And what if you get sick? What do I do then?”

“Why don’t I, or you, or Anna and others not get sick while some do? That is the true question.”

She plopped down, crossing her legs, and Rogan caught a hint of a firm, slender calf before she tucked her skirt over it. She had beautiful cream-colored, touchable skin and a heart that never stopped caring.

He joined her on the bed.

“I intend to find the answer. It is here right in front of me.
I know it,
” she said.

“What is your life like back home? Is there a man who cares for you?”

“What does that matter?” she asked, annoyed.

“Healing, healing, healing. That is all you ever talk about. I have wondered if you have anything else in your life.”

“I love my work.”

“I understand that,” he said, and reached out to tug gently on a strand of her fiery red hair. “But you are a beautiful woman, surely you have many men chasing after you.”

“I have no time for a man in my life.”

He wrapped the red curl around his finger. “No time or no interest?”

She swatted his hand away. “I do not wish to sit here talking about nonsense when time could be better spent in finding ways to combat this malady.”

He leaned closer and he could feel her body shiver like a trembling breath washing over him. “Talk of intimacy frightens you.”

“It does not!”

A catch in her voice told him otherwise.

“Do you not want a man to love you?”

He reached out and grabbed her arm as she scooted to the end of the bed.

“I need no man.”

It sounded more a challenge to him than a fact.

“Why is that?” he asked, tugging her back to the middle of the bed.

She hesitated.

An abrupt, “Tell me,” got him his answer.

“I have no time for a man. Men demand as you do now.” She glanced at his grip on her arm. “You hold me here. You say I must rest and I say no. Is the choice not mine?”

“I look out for you,” he argued, releasing her.

“For no other reason but that I am needed to tend your people.”

He moved his face close to hers. “So say you.”

She stammered her response. “Wh-what o-other reason—”

“Could there be?” he finished, and stroked her cheek with his finger. “That you are a good and generous woman whom a man could easily love.”

“I need no man,” she reiterated sharply and made a dash for the edge of the bed.

Rogan was quicker and had her on her back in a flash.

“Sometimes we deny what we want the most,” he said, staring down at her.

“That is nonsense.”

He loved the way her eyes fired a blazing green; a passion lay burning in them. A passion he was certain she had yet to discover. He leaned closer. His lips so near to hers that it appeared they kissed, but they did not, though when he spoke his warm breath stroked her pink lips like a kiss waiting for an invitation.

“Is it nonsense? Think about it.” He stood and walked to the door. “Do not dare get off that bed at least until supper.”

“If I do?” she challenged.

He laughed deeply and walked out the door.

Aliss listened to his fading laughter. He had left her to rest, but it was her thoughts that he really left her to. Thoughts of him kissing her. Not that he had; was she disappointed?

His lips had been close enough for her to almost feel them on her own. She licked her tingling lips, recalling the warm sweetness of his breath and the way it had tickled and tempted. She had for a brief moment actually thought of kissing him.

She jolted up and pressed her fingers to her mouth.

Was she crazy?

Had she actually thought of kissing the Wolf?

She felt her head, certain she suffered from fever.

Nothing.

She scurried off the bed and heard his laughter in her mind. Should she challenge him?

With a heavy sigh, she dropped back on the straw mattress.

He had upset her—or was she upset with herself? Their talk had reminded her of the problem she had left behind in Hellewyk and would face upon her return.

Marriage.

Unwanted marriage, though her brother-in-law Tarr had offered her a chance to choose her own husband. No amount of protesting had changed the circumstances. Tarr had decreed that the prophecy Giann had predicted be satisfied, which meant that the twins, she and Fiona, had to wed if the clans were to avoid destruction. Fiona had fulfilled her part; now it was Aliss’s turn.

She had yet to find anyone suitable. Though there had been many willing prospects, none had impressed her. Actually, none would have tolerated her propensity for healing.

She hesitantly touched her lips and thought of the intimacy expected of her once she wed. How could she be so intimate with a stranger?

A peck or two on the cheek was all the experience she had with kissing, though Fiona, her sister, claimed it was fantastic and urged her to try it. She had insisted it would help her to decide on a husband. If a man could not kiss then Aliss should not even consider wedding him.

What else, though, did she look for in a husband?

Kindness. Strength. Patience
.

Rogan possessed all three qualities. He had demonstrated them often with his clan and with her.

What of love?

She jumped, startled by the question that popped into her head. She had not even considered it. She had no time for it. She was not certain she would recognize it if it hit her in the face.

Would a kiss help acquaint her with it?

Kissing, Fiona had said, was a pleasure to be shared repeatedly and often between husband and wife. If a man’s kiss left her feeling nothing, then he was not the one for Aliss.

She rested her fingers to her lips.

How would Rogan’s kisses leave her feeling?

Aliss drifted off to sleep, her mind chaotic with kisses.

“Sweet, you taste so very sweet.”

Aliss sighed with pleasure. His lips caressed every inch of her face, her closed eyes, the tip of her nose, her cheeks, her chin, her forehead.

“Sweet.”

He kissed along her neck. It tickled and she laughed softly, hunching her shoulders to prevent him access. She relinquished them and his kisses resumed, bringing her a pleasure she had not known possible.

Her lips began to ache for him. He had not kissed her lips. She wanted him to kiss her lips. He had to; how else would she know if he was the one?

She turned her head toward his mouth. “Kiss me.”

He kept his lips a breath from hers.

“Kiss me!”

“Do you know what you ask?”

“Kiss me.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Kiss me and I shall know.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she insisted, her eyes springing open.

She stared into the eyes of a snarling wolf and screamed.

“You are all right. You are safe.”

Aliss ceased her struggling once she realized that Rogan held her protectively in his arms. She rested her head on his chest, grateful to have escaped her nightmare.

“It was nothing more than a bad dream,” he said.

She refused to close her eyes, fearing she would return to the snarling wolf. All she wanted to do, at least for a moment, was remain safe and warm in Rogan’s arms.

She glanced up at him.

“Want to tell me about it?”

She shook her head, while realization startled her. She woke to escape one wolf only to land in the arms of another. Or were they one and the same? She eased herself out of his embrace and casually moved to the edge of the bed.

“Your actions answer.”

She stood away from the bed. “And that would be?”

“You dreamed of me and now you run.”

“Since I woke screaming, I would not think that a compliment.”

He stood abruptly. Aliss was in no mood to continue their debate. She turned away and walked to the door. “I am hungry.”

“Are you, or do you run away, Aliss?”

She raised her hands to her cheeks when she entered the other room. Even with warm hands, she could feel the heat that had rushed to her face when he accused her of retreat. She hurriedly busied herself at the hearth. The fire’s heat was a good excuse for rosy red cheeks.

“Sit and eat since you claim hunger.”

She turned to notice the table laden with food.

“The women of the village wished to show their appreciation for your help thus far,” Rogan said, and was about to take a seat when Anna rushed into the room.

“James complains of severe stomach pains.”

Aliss hurried out with Anna. Rogan followed close behind.

A quick examination and a few facts proved James had eaten too much. A brew to ease his discomfort and a lecture to the grandparents about his meals was all that was needed.

Unfortunately, Aliss, after finishing with James, was summoned again then again and again until she was finally finished around midnight.

Rogan waited outside the last cottage and held out his hand to her.

She thought to take it, grasp it tightly and not let go. He anchored her when she felt herself adrift and lonely, especially after hours of tending the ill. The sudden thought of dependence startled her and she quickly handed him her healing basket.

He took the basket then reached out and grasped her hand firmly in his.

She did not object; after all, it was what she had wanted but feared reaching out for. It felt so good to be connected to him by a simple grasp of hands, though if she allowed her tired mind to rationalize it, she would understand that their clasped hands meant much more.

She forced her mind silent, too tired to make sense of her musings. But before long her thoughts wandered to her work, or was it that she felt in safer territory there? “I thought by now I would have prevented any new illnesses.” She shook her head, disappointed. “Three more tonight.”

“But none have died since you arrived,” he reminded her.

“And none have mended permanently, except—” She stopped. “Tara’s son Daniel has suffered no relapses.”

“True enough.” Rogan laughed. “He runs around like a little banshee.”

She started walking again. “What is different about him?”

“His age,” Rogan offered.

“What else?” Her stomach rumbled.

“You need food.”

“I need answers,” she insisted.

“I will help you search for your answers,” he offered. “I want this culprit caught and done away with, never to bother my people again.”

“You are all different and yet—”

“We care for each other, for if not, no one else will.”

“What brought you all together?”

“A common trait,” Rogan answered. “No one else wanted us. We are not pure breeds. Our blood is mixed. No specific birthright means no specific allegiance to any clan, or so it is believed. My father had settled us in the far north of Scotland, nearer to Oslo, where the Norse left their mark.”