She wasn’t used to people caring, but she had come to know Wren well through the years. She was a caring soul and Purity couldn’t understand why anyone would ever think her a witch. She was a wise woman and had become a trusted friend.
“What’s this I hear about someone being killed?” Parlan asked after he dismounted and helped Wren to do the same.
“You men talk, I will see to Purity,” Wren said, going to Purity and wrapping her arm around hers.
“Don’t let my wife tell you her leg isn’t paining her,” Arran said, glad to release his wife’s hand so Wren could tend her.
“I will see to her, Arran, have no worry,” Wren said and the two women turned and walked away.
“He overly worries about me,” Purity said.
Wren smiled. “And isn’t it nice that he does.”
“It is,” Purity agreed with a smile of her own.
After about an hour, Purity was sitting up in bed, her leg wrapped in a cloth, and resting atop folded blankets. Wren had covered the bruise with comfrey leaves and wrapped it with a cloth that had been soaked in the brewing leaves.
“It looks far worse than it is,” Wren said. “This will help heal the bruising, though some pain may continue in your leg for a while.”
“I’ll manage fine,” Purity assured her.
“I thought you would, but I wanted to make sure for myself. Oria wanted to come with me, but Royden wouldn’t let her and I was glad he was firm about it. She is suffering with nausea and the ride here wouldn’t have helped.”
“Please make sure to tell her I’m fine and that I will visit with her as soon as I can.”
“I think it may be a while before your husband lets you go anywhere with trouble brewing here,” Wren said.
“Do you see or sense something?” Purity asked, anxious to see if Wren could tell her anything.
“Nothing clearly, there seems to be a haze that hides things from me, which means I’m not meant to see.”
“But the vision of the MacKinnon clan reuniting, that hasn’t changed has it?” Purity asked, still anxious.
Wren laid a gentle hand on Purity’s shoulder. “I’ve seen nothing to believe otherwise.”
“What of my wife? Is she in that vision?” Arran asked from the open doorway. Wren hesitated and that was enough for Arran. “She isn’t. You didn’t see her.”
“No, I didn’t,” Wren said, “but the vision concerned your clan at the time.”
“But Oria was in it, wasn’t she?” Arran asked, entering the room and going to the bed to reach for his wife’s hand as if by holding on to her, he wouldn’t lose her.
“Aye, she was, but she was about to become Royden’s wife, which was why she would be in the vision,” Wren explained.
His da had followed Arran into the room. “Wren can’t control what she sees, son.”
“I can tell you that all appeared pleased in the vision,” Wren hurried to say.
“Then all turns out well.” Purity smiled and held tight to her husband’s hand as a yawn hurried from her.
Arran went down on his haunches beside the bed. “You need some sleep.”
“I wonder why?” she whispered with a wicked smile.
“Your husband is right,” Wren said. “A good solid rest will help heal your leg.”
Arran brushed a few wisps of hair off her face. “You’ll do as the healer says.” He kissed her quick when she went to protest. “So you don’t make your husband worry needlessly.”
“Aye, husband,” Purity agreed and looked to Wren. “Could you do me a favor, Wren?”
“Of course,” Wren said.
“I should warn you that it won’t be an easy one, but I feel it’s necessary. My father is very ill. Could you see if there is anything you can do for him?”
“I will do whatever I can,” Wren assured her.
“I’ll see that Galvin speaks with her,” Arran’s da said. “He can be a stubborn one, but there are times he can also see reason.”
Purity had never experienced one of those times. It was either obey her father’s every word or else. She thanked them both and was glad Arran remained behind.
“The day went far different than I had planned,” Arran said, getting up and nudging his wife with his hip, moving her just enough for him to have room to sit beside her.
“How so?”
“I intended for us to spend a lot of time alone together,” he said with a devilish twinkle in his eyes.
She glimpsed a spark of the old Arran, the one who smiled often, teased playfully, and charmed endlessly. She didn’t expect all of that Arran to return, how could he with all he had been through? But the small bits that were returning were a welcome sight.
“I would have enjoyed such a day,” she said, disappointed it had been lost to them.
“And you will. I won’t give up on it. It will be ours,” he promised like a gallant knight on a mission.