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  However, what struck Ewen as odd was how quick the goodwives were to thank Roi. Ailments did not disappear over a few hours. He looked again at those who surrounded Roi. They had been joined by some of the men and a couple of wee ones. Ewen recognized them from yesterday. The marked difference in the once hunched shoulders, pained countenances, and the lack of sallow skin made Ewen glad they had left Renfra and Glaschu behind, for surely Roi would be accused of some sort of witchery—his medicinals seemingly worked too well.

  Would Roi be safe in the Highlands? The Fartairchill Abbey had graven Christian symbols alongside the symbols of the old ways, the old gods intermingling with the new one. People made the sign of the cross of Christ, and then set milk upon the stoop for the faeries. But if someone found fault with Roi he would not be the first healer to be strung up for a perceived evil.

  As Ewen struggled with how much access the people should have to Roi, the man in question took the seat next to him and began to taste the different offerings, making much ado over the meal. Many of the young-eyed maids watched Roi with a judging eye. There were some who would take a tumble with Ewen for sport, as a noble marriage would be not an option to those of a low born station. But Roi, on the other hand, shared their station. Ewen’s kinsmen’s bantering tales of Roi’s prowess upon the field of battle coupled with his skill as a healer made him a desirable rogha a chèile to any household.

  Bear and Ewen watched with jealous eyes, wishing they could stake their claim upon Roi for all to see. Every smile, every teasing note of laughter stoked his ire. Afore his kin, Ewen would pull Roi into his arms and issue a challenge, but amongst others Ewen was forced to turn a blind eye lest he give away his intentions towards Roi. The views of such relationships changed with the ages, but currently it was forbidden under the farseeing eyes of the church.

  Ewen’s da had spoken of times when the heart’s desire, regardless of gender, was encouraged in other cultures, rather than shamed or hidden. Some even believed such bonds were blessed by the gods. Alas, that was not the age in which they lived. Instead of encouraging what came natural, belief, creeds, and cultures pushed doctrine, oft times wrapped in a blanket of ignorance or fallacy, upon the people as divine truth. Though Ewen loathed the sight of others touching Roi, he held his peace, noting with care who paid Roi overmuch attention, listening to the conversation and inquiries made of Roi.

  “Nay, goodwife—” Roi held the woman’s hands betwixt his own, “—I beg of ye, worry not yerself upon my behalf. My temple may be no more, yet I remain a priest.”

  Confounded, Ewen watched her grip Roi’s hands as if she wished to embrace him, her expression one of sympathy mixed with sorrow.

  “If ye decide to leave priesthood behind, ye come to me. I shall have ye married to the daughter who would make ye the best wife.” Roi had claimed no celibacy, yet the goodwife seemed to take his silence as assent. Clever of him to not lie yet allow her to draw her own conclusions.

  “Ye would be the first to know,” he reassured with a soft smile.

  Stamping down the soft growl that threatened to escape his throat, Ewen turned his eyes from Roi but still listened to their conversation as the goodwife expressed her worry over Roi wasting away as he used his skills to help the people, claiming him a gem to the shires.

  He knew he had no right to jealousy, yet the prick of jealousy warred with pride. By the time the goodwife had made her leave, pride had won out. When he glanced back at Roi, he was startled to see Roi watching him with a secret smile that departed when Ewen met his gaze.

  With the people gone, the fire banked, and the watch set, they crawled into their pallets. The long day wore at Ewen more than he wanted to admit. He silently bemoaned the inability to pull Roi into his arms after such a long day. Roi lay only a breath away, and yet Ewen wished for Roi’s length to lie firmly at his side.

  Ewen stared at the back of Roi’s head and allowed himself to lightly grasp Roi’s golden braid. He wanted, needed, something to hold on to. Did Roi long for his own children one day? Would he find pleasure in the bed of a young maid or the knowing arms of a widow? With his uncanny ability to heal, his house would hold great standing with the common people. Ewen could see Roi becoming a leader, a person others would be drawn to and follow.

  “She only meant to care for me,” Roi said without turning, startling Ewen. His breathing had evened out, leading Ewen to think he had fallen asleep.

  “You be a fine catch for any who have a mind to make you a husband.” The words tasted bitter in Ewen’s mouth.

  Roi rolled over, his gaze glowing in the low firelight. He lowered his voice and said, “I have been claiming priestly duties with the maids since I first knew I would make a terrible husband. They deserve a man moved by their face and form. I let them assume I have taken a vow of chastity as some of the abbots in their conclaves and monasteries have. That reasoning they understand better than if I claimed lifelong bachelorhood. If I had not feigned such, then it would have become a contest to see which goodwife found the maid who turned my fancy. Better they believe I abstain.”

  The tension Ewen held eased from his body.

  “Now, ye can stop mooning over me and looking so dour when someone touches me. None but one holds my interest.” Roi made a face, pressing his lip out in a mockery of Ewen’s jealousy afore he turned back over, a smirk gracing his mouth at Ewen’s scowl.

  Ewen frowned harder. His lips did not protrude, and he did not watch Roi with a long face. Roi chuckled softly, as if Ewen had spoken his confusion aloud. The last thought he had afore sleep took him unto her breast was that he wanted to discover what form Roi found pleasing, and prayed it was his.

  XV

  ROI LAY AWAKE facing the nearby wains, staring into the dark shadows cast by the low light of the banked fire. The sounds of the night charmed him—the hoot of an owl hunting prey, insects singing to the stars, the fingers of the trees grasping at the wind—all of it an enticing melody that still sounded new to his ears. Although he missed his home and the constant murmur of the sea kissing the shore, once he had seen past the unease of the new he espied the different sort of beauty held by the forest and mountains.

  He glanced over his shoulder at Ewen, beholding the man of whom he had dreamt for nigh upon ten years. Those dreams made him believe he knew Ewen, yet he had come to understand he had gleaned but a small measure of the man. The last few days had afforded him a glimpse into Ewen’s life he mayn’t have had otherwise.

  Unlike the nobles Roi had come to know, Ewen did not lord his station over others, instead exhibiting a rare kindness towards folk of lower birth. His easy, open manner invited people to approach. His fair and even judgements favoured none. The people respected Ewen, whether verdicts favoured them or not. Many Roi spoke with inquired after Ewen’s well being, concerned over his grief and the loss of his lady wife.

  Roi struggled to retain his ire with Ewen, a part of him warning him to keep his distance lest he risk his heart. Unbeknownst to Ewen, he possessed the ability to ruin Roi, delivering a fatal blow that would fell Roi without Ewen even raising his hand. Despite knowing this, Roi was angrier with himself and the presumptions he had made than at Ewen for being secretive. Roi felt humiliated for indulging in Ewen when he had no right to assume such familiarity. He continued to make an utter fool of himself every time Ewen looked at him thusly, as if Roi were the only one Ewen saw. Roi had almost given in, committed the folly of throwing himself upon Ewen’s mercy, consequences be damned.

  But was caring for Ewen truly folly? Ewen spoke as if he would have Roi stand boldly by his side. Roi himself had witnessed the pride Ewen bore when Roi sat beside him these past two days, Ewen’s jealousy of the goodwives, and the pensive looks he threw Roi’s way when he thought none watched. Ewen did not wish for Roi to throw himself at Ewen’s feet. Nay, Ewen professed he desired Roi for more than a lover or manservant, more than a slave or possession. A few days ago, Roi would have gladly given in without thought to the consequen
ces for himself. The ire he held had slowly melted away, leaving him weary and unstable, leading him to offer his skills to the folk who awaited to see Ewen instead of idly standing by as he should. But Ewen had yet to discuss what Roi’s duties would be once they reached Ewen’s estate. So for the time being, Roi lent a hand where it was needed.

  It was hard to believe that less than a fortnight agone he had faced Ewen upon the field of battle yet spent the last two days by Ewen’s side listening to the people’s petitions. Where others would counsel caution, bidding Ewen throw a savage pagan such as Roi in chains until he learned his place, Ewen did no such thing. How strange was it that Ewen turned a blind eye to convention and offered Roi a place of respect within his household? Furthermore, Ewen allowed Roi to express his ire where other masters, lords, and nobles would have swiftly and ruthlessly punished Roi for his display of displeasure regarding the secrets Ewen kept. Roi knew firsthand how surely such disrespect would have earned him stripes in the home of his former master. But in Ewen’s, there had been no repercussion. Ewen had surprised Roi by giving an apology, then proceeding to publicly court him.

  His liege confounded him to no end… and caused him to see how fortunate he was. Considering how they met, none would believe Roi could never strike Ewen down, that Roi would serve him the rest of his life simply to be allowed in Ewen’s presence. Roi knew Ewen’s belief in him would be difficult to justify until the time when Roi’s service proved his abiding loyalty.

  Roi had come to Ewen expecting too much too soon. Ewen did not have the luxury of seeing Roi’s visage in his dreams over the years, and it was unfair of Roi to expect Ewen to trust him as easily as Roi did him. Even with Ewen sharing his body with a mathan spirit, he was but human and, as such, fallible. They both were.

  Which brought Roi back to the anger he held. Aye, the emotion was a protective blanket he held close. If let go, he would throw himself like a damsel at Ewen’s feet and beg he take him in any way Ewen saw fit. Roi fought the sense that Ewen belonged to him, that he would be Ewen’s without question or deed. Could he embrace this desire for Ewen to possess his body? Could he live every day of his life with Ewen being his, but not quite? Ewen was a noble, a figurehead that people watched and made note of his actions. His mormaer, even his king, could press Ewen into another marriage. Where would Roi’s place be then? As a secret paramour? Could he endure when Ewen took another to his heart? Was Roi strong enough to stand by Ewen’s side, guard his back whilst he fulfilled his duties by sharing his body with someone other than Roi? He feared he had not the fortitude without giving into a jealous fit.

  Dare he believe Ewen and the demonstrations afore his kinsmen? His liege claimed to court Roi, but Roi had rejected the notion to begin with. Men courted maidens, and Roi was no damsel to swoon at the sight of Ewen’s handsome visage.

  The memory of Ewen washing off upon the bank of the stream had Roi’s heart thumping hard in his chest. Well, mayhap he was a bit weak-kneed.

  Men did not court men, the notion as ridiculous as a maiden fighting in a tournament to woo a young buck. Adding to his consternation, Roi recalled how the maidens of the King of the Isles’ court held themselves in order to catch the eye of some unwary lord. The solicitous touches, the sly glances, the soft fragrances meant to bewitch the senses, how they exclaimed and fawned over men whom they would later claim as suitors.

  And yet, in Roi’s thoughts Ewen’s overtures were not the same. Ewen broke convention with his declaration, and as flattered as Roi was, a woman he was not. Could Roi not be the courter of Ewen’s heart and hand? He was no less a man than Ewen. Had he not seen to Ewen’s needs? Though others would look upon Roi’s deeds as those of a manservant, the things he did for Ewen were no different than a couple in a common household, each person working to ease the burdens of the other.

  Why was Roi arguing with himself over who got to woo whom when he should be recounting all the reasons he should keep Ewen at a distance? He sighed. He was gone upon the man. Many times he had considered stealing away in the night to make his way back to his island. Yet the thought of leaving Ewen, of parting ways, caused an ache to bloom in his chest, stealing his breath. How the man had snared Roi so utterly, hooked his claws in Roi without him knowing, Roi knew not. Something about Ewen drew him. After seeing Ewen so many times in his dreams, Roi could admit he loved Ewen, but even so he should have been able to walk away.

  Not only was Ewen compelling, his mathan drew Roi as well, an enigma Roi desired to puzzle out. Bear’s captivating amber eyes pleaded with him as if Roi held the answers to free Bear as well as Ewen. Could he walk away with a good conscience when he sensed they both needed him? None of Ewen’s kinsmen’s aura spoke of the agony Ewen’s held. And the longer Roi spent with Ewen, the more he came to believe the tinge of painful red came from his mathan, not Ewen.

  Nay, he could not leave Ewen. Roi could lie to himself, steadfast in his claim to want to heal Ewen and his mathan, clutching such foolish excuses simply because he was scared as he had never been afore. Roi would stay. He would endeavour to court Ewen just as Ewen sought to woo him. Mayhap there was nothing he need be afeard of?

  His mind set upon a course, Roi rose for the day, the dawn not yet touching the distant horizon. He had promised to call upon a couple of folk afore they continued upon their way. But first he needed to brush out Ewen’s garments for the day and start a crock of pottage.

  ~ : § : ~

  BY THE TIME EWEN rose for the morn, his brother along with two of their kinsman had accompanied Roi to the homes of those who were bedridden. Ewen had wanted to attend with Roi, but Donn argued that Ewen’s mere presence could cause strife, hindering the recovery of the ill. So Ewen harnessed his patience, yet every moment Roi was out of Ewen’s presence his apprehension grew.

  With Bear alert and near the surface, Ewen prowled about the campsite, dropping the half-hearted pretence of securing the wains. They circled as if caged, occasionally lifting his nose to test the air for traces of Roi. When the sun reached the pinnacle of the sky, Ewen saddled his steed, not caring if his presence caused unease. He would stand outside the cottage if need be to relieve the commoner’s apprehension, but go to Roi he would. Separated from Roi, not knowing whence he was or how he fared grated upon Ewen’s frayed nerves.

  Afore he mounted his horse, the wind brought him the scent of the sea, a trace only but there natheless. He swept his gaze over the fertile valley for sign of Roi and Donn’s return. The four horsemen rode towards the camp. Turning, Ewen called for the men to mount up and make ready the wains for travel.

  Roi appeared tired, though he grinned at something his companions spoke of. He rode stiff in the saddle, as if he thought the horse would throw him at any moment. Nostrils flaring, Ewen drew air into his breast and held his breath, parsing and testing it to reassure himself that no harm had come to them whilst they were out of his protection. Naught seemed amiss.

  Approaching the last wain, Ewen reached in and claimed a large satchel stowed with several days of provisions, tieing the additional baggage behind his saddle.

  Scenting Donn’s approach, Ewen turned to address him. “The men know to follow your orders until I return. I sent riders to Fartairchill. They shall spread the word that I be there some two or three days hence and shall attend me there. After I have finished the mormaer’s business in Fartairchill, I shall continue to Mael Coluim’s estate, then we shall meet up with you at the keep. Do not expect me for a sennight.”

  Donn stopped behind Ewen. “And Roi?” Donn inquired, his countenance a blank mask when Ewen glanced over his shoulder.

  “I shall heed your advice and hearken to my mathan. He would like to take Roi to our den.”

  “Roi mayn’t belong in our world,” Donn cautioned.

  Ewen’s gut clenched at the possible truth. “I know.”

  “Ye be willing to give him up if needs must? Send him back to his home?”

  “I shall do everything in my power to keep that from ha
ppening… yet if it be what he wants…” Ewen glanced over to where Roi sat upon his steed, frowning at the creature as he tentatively patted its thick neck. Could he truly let Roi go his own way?

  Donn clasped Ewen’s forearm and pulled him in for a quick embrace. “Leave behind the leader ye be and allow yerself to be the man I know ye were meant to be.”

  Roi approached, nervously eyeing Ewen’s horse laden with supplies.

  “We shall traverse a path separate from the wains,” he explained.

  Roi nodded, expression blank, and clasped Donn’s forearm. “May the tides of fate favour ye.”

  “Until I see you again, slàn leibh,” Donn replied.

  Roi bestowed upon Ewen a weak smile. Was he nervous to be alone with Ewen? Had Ewen damaged his trust so utterly? No matter, he would prove to Roi that he was a man of worth.

  Ewen quickly mounted, and they headed down the road at a faster clip than they had travelled the last few days. The wains had set the pace afore now. Roi seemed to keep his mind solely upon riding, the colour of his skin remaining pale as milk for some time. After a while he relaxed, the set of his shoulders and back becoming less rigid.

  They followed the River Lìobhann for a ways, the forest draped, snow-capped mountains towering to the north and south, the fertile glen lying betwixt the two ranges. Farmsteads dotted the valley, grazing cattle with drovers and dogs moving the livestock to richer meadows. They forded the river where the water shallowed, the snow melt having yet to raise the depth. Soon, though, the water would be too frigid and deep to cross without the aid of a bridge. Ewen reined the horse in towards the split in the well-travelled path where the old game trail led up the mountainside and deeper into the Black Wood. Once upon the narrow path, Roi’s mare naturally fell in behind Ewen’s horse. As the track slowly climbed the slope of the mountain, the sun ducked in and out of the clouds, a fine mist still clinging to the forest floor in the higher areas.