The Warrior's Touch by Michelle Willingham Read Free Book Online

green, depending upon the light. The rigid, intricate braid kept the dark brown curls at bay. He imagined the thick length of her hair surrounding her hips.
    A startled smile crept across his face at the thought of Aileen sharing his bed. The earth would burn into ashes before such a thing would happen.
    One of the women mistook his smile as an invitation. ‘Have you taken a woman to wife yet, Connor?’ she teased.
    He thought her name might be Grainne or Glenna, but he didn’t remember. ‘Not yet, Glenna.’
    ‘Grania,’ she corrected, smiling broadly. ‘Were there no women to your liking?’
    ‘There were too many,’ he bantered. ‘I could not take all of them to wife.’
    The women laughed, but he noticed the distaste upon Aileen’s face.
    Grania emitted a sigh. ‘Oh, Aileen, I nearly forgot.’ Her face became a mask of innocence. ‘My father is on his way here. You are to bring Connor to our dwelling this night.’
    ‘He is not well enough to walk yet,’ she argued.
    Connor frowned, for nothing was the matter with his legs. His chest and head ached still, but they were healing. ‘Tell Seamus I don’t wish to see him now. I’ll come to the rath when I’ve healed. Not before.’
    Grania’s face furrowed. ‘I will tell him. But he wants to speak with Aileen.’
    ‘Now?’ Aileen asked. Anxiety lined her face, and Connor wondered why. Seamus was a good chieftain, a well-respected leader. What reason would Aileen have to fear him?
    ‘Yes, now.’ An air of smugness surrounded Grania.
    Aileen departed with haste to meet her chieftain, her gaze averted. The door closed, and Connor was left to wonder what she hadn’t told him. He tried to bring his attention back to Seamus’s daughters, but with little success. He wanted to know what Aileen had done.
    ‘Why would Seamus wish to speak to Aileen?’ Connor asked.
    ‘She is forbidden to heal.’ Grania’s face shifted to anger. ‘After what she did, none here will let her be the healer again. Cursed, she is. You’d do well to leave this place and let our new healer help you.’
    ‘A new healer?’ Conner grew still. Aileen had said nothing to him about another healer. A rigid suspicion fouled his mood. He’d thought Aileen was the only healer in the Banslieve. But she’d lied.
    ‘You may come and live with us,’ Sinead offered, lifting a dab of honey to his mouth. ‘We would be happy to look after you.’
    He ignored their invitation. ‘Why is Aileen forbidden to heal?’ he asked.
    Grania exchanged a look with Sinead. ‘Our father will tell you of it.’
    A moment later, she changed the subject. The shrill chatter of the women made his head ache, and though Connor tried to keep a good humour, he wanted them gone.
    ‘Do your hands hurt terribly?’ Grania asked.
    They did, but he refused to admit it. ‘They are fine.’
    He could hardly concentrate, for questions crested inside him. ‘But I would like to rest again.’
    They murmured their sympathy, and he was thankful when they left at last. When they’d gone, he stared at his bandaged hands. The swelling had not improved, and the pain seemed magnified.
    Worse was the dawning fear that Aileen had not fixed his hands properly.
     
    ‘You were not to tend any of my people.’ Seamus’s tone was quiet, but it held the power of a chieftain. ‘You disobeyed my orders.’ A tall, heavily muscled fighter with long grey locks that fell to his shoulder, none dared to suggest that Seamus had grown too old to be a swordsman. He had not changed his clothing from the raid, and sweat lined the flanks of his mount.
    ‘Connor needed help,’ Aileen argued. ‘He would have bled to death if I’d left him.’
    ‘You should have brought one of us there.’ The unyielding set to Seamus’s face revealed his opinion of her healing.
    Aileen gripped her shaking hands tightly. ‘His wounds would have become poisoned.’ She couldn’t have stood by and watched him suffer. He had needed immediate help, his