Read Under the Highlander's Spell for Free Online

Artair at the head of the table.
    Who was she? Artair could not say he truly knew her, though one day had given him a good indication of her nature, and left him wishing to learn more about her. How, though? How did he learn more? His brother wasn’t here. He had no reason to stay, yet didn’t wantto leave. Besides, there could possibly be others in the village who might have seen something that would help him track Ronan.
    â€œWould you mind if I remained here for a few days and talked to the villagers? You never know what they may have seen or heard.”
    Bethane placed a slice of bread on his plate and a heaping of bramble jelly. “We would be honored to have your company, Artair. Remain as long as you like.”
    He caught the way Zia scrunched her brow. She obviously wondered over her grandmother’s invitation. Was there more to it? The only way he could find out was if he remained and snooped around.
    â€œZia, you have an extra room in your cottage. Artair could stay with you,” Bethane suggested.
    Artair raised a brow. “Would that be proper?”
    â€œDo you intend any improprieties with my granddaughter?”
    â€œAbsolutely not,” he said adamantly.
    â€œThen what’s the point of him staying with me?” Zia asked, disappointed.
    Artair stared at her, confounded.
    Zia burst out laughing, as did Bethane.
    â€œYour word is good enough here,” Bethane said between laughter.
    â€œYou are welcome at my cottage,” Zia said, her face bright and her words honest.
    â€œYou trust me, a stranger?” he asked with a thump to his chest.
    â€œI don’t consider you a stranger,” Zia said.
    He was surprised, and spoke his thoughts. “We’ve known each other barely a day, and how can I trust you when I rescued you from being burned at the stake for being a witch?”
    Bethane gasped. “You were tied to a stake?”
    â€œOnly for a short time, Grandmother,” Zia said, and sent Artair a scalding look.
    Artair felt a stab of guilt. He hadn’t meant to upset or worry Bethane, but he intended to view the situation reasonably and sensibility would show that he had taken a huge risk in taking a chance with her.
    â€œWith your intentions to remain for a while, we should be able to get to know each other better,” Zia challenged. “Then you can determine for yourself if I am a witch.”
    â€œA reasonable offer,” Bethane declared. “Now with that settled let me tell you about your brother.”
    Artair gave her his immediate attention wanting to hear all she had to say, but his mind lingered on Zia, the way she quirked the corner of her mouth, the way her eyes danced with joy, the soothing tinkle of her laughter and her generous smile when she found something amusing or pleasing, which was often.
    â€œHe fought against his pain, all his pain,” Bethane said. “I would hear him whispering to himself to stay strong, fight, not give up. And he would laugh when he spoke of his brothers, telling me stories of when he was young and how Cavan—I believe he told me that Cavan was his oldest brother?”
    Artair nodded, the knot in his throat preventing him from responding.
    Bethane continued. “He claimed Cavan always protected him from his other brothers or his own stupidity, or as I advised his youthful innocence.”
    â€œCavan did that,” Artair said with fond memory. “He always protected Ronan, always kept him safe from harm.”
    â€œI believe Ronan felt obliged to return the favor,” Zia added. “He wanted so badly to heal. He was determined to regain his strength and…”
    When she didn’t finish, Artair asked, “And?”
    Zia’s smile faded and she seemed reluctant to continue, but she did. “He wanted to rescue Cavan and seek revenge against those who had caused him and his brother such pain, such grief. He was as determined to seek revenge as he