The Healer by Allison Butler Read Free Book Online

for the smoothest tracts of land to cross. Keith scouted ahead. His natural instinct for sensing trouble made his position in front, inevitable.
    The small party followed the worn trail into a copse of silver birch. The branches angled sharply toward the sun, the tips curving downward as if all hope of reaching its brightness were lost.
    The desperate need to return to Closeburn ate at William’s soul like a festering wound. He could imagine the stricken faces of his clan as they crossed themselves and stared down at Edan stretched out upon his horse-drawn pallet. Sorrowful eyes and defeated whispers would abound.
    If he hadn’t whisked his brother away to escape the ill-fated murmurings, he was certain Edan would have avoided the horrible injuries he sustained. He should have eased the lad’s fears by treating the superstitious babblings as the foolish ravings they were. But he hadn’t, and the woman sitting as stiff as his blade before him was a vivid reminder.
    Her rigid posture affected the joy that normally washed over him when he rode. His back and shoulders ached after only a few hours in the saddle. He lightly gripped the leather reins in his left hand, sure that his mount was content to follow the others for now. The fingers of his right hand bit into his leg.
    The healer sat between his thighs, holding herself so ramrod straight to ensure none of her body touched his.
    A small gust of wind wafted through the tree-enclosed passage, stealing a lock of red-gold hair from the tight knot on her head. It danced and tickled his cheek, teasing him with a faint smell of lavender.
    He caught the long, stray strand and gently twined it around two fingers. The saddle creaked as his weight shifted forward. He leaned over her shoulder to murmur in her ear. ‘If you don’t relax, it’s unlikely you’ll survive the journey.’
    She flinched, emitting a tiny gasp.
    Tilting his head, he gazed at her gold-tipped, wide-eyed lashes and skimmed her profile with cool interest. The sprinkling of freckles on her nose and cheeks faded as her face reddened. He continued his perusal downward, past the line of her clenched jaw and skimmed the length of her slender neck.
    Her pulse skipped wildly beneath her flushed skin, enchanting him. He longed to set his lips against her throbbing flesh and taste her with his tongue. His groin sprang to life under his plaid and his heart thumped erratically in his chest, keeping time with the swift beating of her throat.
    Christ’s blood .
    He jerked away, but only as far as the saddle permitted. Not nearly far enough . He’d meant to warn her of the discomfort she’d suffer later if she didn’t allow her body to move with Black’s even gait, never knowing how badly his own composure would be shaken.
    Curse her and the clean, flowery scent tormenting him still.
    Releasing the hair wrapped about his fingers, he stifled a groan. He saw that Edan was awakening, and looked ahead through the tunnel of silvered trunks standing sentinel. Patches of sunlight glistened on the water of a narrow burn to the right. He often made use of the shaded curve in the stream whenever he traversed this route, but never before had he been in such dire need to feel the chill water on his heated body.
    ‘Donald,’ he called, startling the woman whose posture had become stone-like since he’d spoken to her. Why couldn’t she have been an able rider? It would have saved her from the pain she’d experience during the next few days and him from the torture racking him now. ‘Stop at the usual place.’
    ‘Aye, Will,’ Donald said.
    The thought of having her ride with Donald had crossed his mind, but he’d dismissed the notion. In the unlikely event they were attacked, he knew the stalwart older man would protect Edan with his life. He and Keith were younger, more agile, and would swiftly dispatch anyone who dared to threaten them.
    Will drew Black to a halt and threw himself from the saddle. He wanted to get away