Read Online Charming the Chieftain by Deanie Roman - Free Book Online Page B

possibility you have overlooked.”
    She fixed him with a skeptical look. “Truly? Pray, enlighten me.”
    “To light a fire or play fetch with a hound? Younger brothers might poke their little sisters or get up a game of swords.”
    Her mouth formed an O. Tentative she studied the gnarled, warped wood as if any of his suggestions never before occurred to her.
    “’Tis true. There are many uses for a yew stick.”
    He gave her a conspiratorial wink. She blushed red to the roots of her hair and he tried to quash the urge to lay her down and plant himself between her supple thighs. Shifting positions, a twinge of pain put an end to his lust-filled daydreams and he recoiled.
    “Oh, Aeden, you’ve regained your stamina so rapidly I’d quite forgotten you are not completely healed.”
    Worry clouded her eyes. He waved off her concern and guided her to a flat rock. She sat down and splayed her dress. The feminine gesture captivated him and momentarily he forgot what he wanted to say. Just then, Fergal approached carrying a drink skin filled with clear river water. Aeden waited attendance on Elisande, until her thirst abated before he continued.
    “Where did you learn the yew spell?”
    She gave him a peculiar look. “It is not a spell, but a prayer.”
    • • •
    Uncertain he heard right, he framed the question another way. His relaxed demeanor belied the sudden tension at her answer.
    “So, this is a prayer to you?”
    Her face lit up with relief. Damn she was pretty.
    “Yes.”
    “Father Fenton assured me this prayer would dispel spiteful spirits wont to linger in the area.” She canted her head and continued, “I did assume that as head of your clan, you would know this particular prayer.”
    He studied her eyes. They were an unusual shade, like the color of warm honey.
    “And this was part of your healer training?”
    “Oh no, Father Fenton taught me the ways of Christianity. My training came from the village healer.”
    He didn’t show any reaction to her remarks, wanting to understand her mind more fully. Still, he could not fathom that a man of the cloth would form these strange opinions much less teach such blaspheme as God’s truth. Seems the man may have been as mad as a garderobe rat.
    “I have to tell you, lass, it sounds to me like you’re away with the faeries.”
    Guarded, she dropped her smile.
    “I do not understand what you mean.”
    An easy smile played at the corners of his mouth. “It means out of your head, lass.”
    She tsked, indignance etched into every ripe curve of body.
    “Really, Chief, ’tis a terrible judgment to imply.”
    “Well, lass, ’tis no’ out of the realm of possibility since one moment you are dancing about with a weed on your shoulder chanting an auld fish wife’s tale, and then stabbing the earth with a stick to attack an evil spirit.”
    “I am not witless, Chief Maxwell, if that is what you are inferring.”
    The scowl carved on her face could split stone. She poked his chest to emphasize her point. His breath came out in a whoosh. The unexpected sensation of her touch sent his pulse racing and his head swimming with images of Elisande naked in his arms. He shook off the sensation. Christ, what had they been speaking of? He had to backtrack over their conversation. Right, madness. He rubbed a hand over his face. It disturbed him to know that such bare contact upended his entire thought. Out of the blue, a nugget of a conversation with Onora jarred loose from his memory. On more than one occasion, she had impressed upon him Elisande’s unorthodox upbringing.
    Nevertheless, he failed to grasp the enormity of the situation. He wondered if Onora even guessed at the extent of her niece’s strange beliefs. Now, more than ever, he must conceal this oddity from the clan, until Father Pollock set her mind to rights. For the moment, he decided no harm would be done if he indulged her peculiar notions when they were alone. Then, he grimaced as a thought surfaced.