Chapter 8
“You saw me kissing someone?” Slatter asked once they entered the cottage.
Willow almost missed the peg she went to hang her cloak on. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember the woman. She certainly looked no stranger to you. And you looked straight at me and smiled. I almost got the feeling you wouldn’t mind if I joined you both.” She wrinkled her nose at the thought. “It was shortly after that that a man called you a whoremonger and I couldn’t believe how fast you got to the other side of the market.” Her brow knitted as she tilted her head in question. “How did you get to the other side so fast?”
Slatter didn’t answer, instead he turned a question on her. “Why didn’t you go with Tarass’s warriors? They would have taken you where you want to go… home.”
“Why did you return for me? Why not let me go and be done with me?” she shot back.
“I suppose I’m not done with you.” Slatter looked as startled as she did by his response and hurried to explain. “I can’t just have you return home without finding out how we can absolve our vows and be husband and wife no more.”
His explanation made perfect sense, or so he told himself. He’d never questioned or needed to convince himself of his decisions until he’d met Willow, and the thought rankled him.
“What of you? What brought you back to me?” he asked and saw her shiver. He turned a chair toward the hearth and took hold of her arm and hurried her to sit. “You need to get warm.”
Your arms would keep me warm. She kept her lips tightly sealed afraid her thought would voice itself. Instead, she hugged herself, rubbing her arms and thinking on what an impact Slatter had made on her life in only a few days. It was sheer foolishness for her to be having such intimate thoughts about him.
When he brought the other chair to place beside her and sat, she knew he would pursue an answer from her.
She didn’t delay her response. “Like you, I believed there were things that needed to be settled between us before I could safely return home.”
“Of course, it would be difficult to return home with the likes of me as your husband.”
“It wouldn’t be practical to return without knowing what we faced first,” she corrected. “And with Rhodes on the hunt for you, I’d say you’d be facing a return to Tarass’s dungeon, and if there is no way out of our marriage, Tarass may find it more prudent to make me a widow, thus eliminating the problem. Now that that is settled, please answer my original question about the woman you were kissing.”
“There is no easy explanation to that,” Slatter said, focusing on the flames as he stretched his long legs out to them.
“We have nothing but time at the moment,” Willow said.
A knock interrupted them and Slatter went to the door and opened it.
The lad Willow had seen walking with the old woman stood there.
“Sorry to disturb you, Slatter, but my seanmhair isn’t feeling well and I thought your wife, our healer, might be able to help her.”
Willow was impressed by the lad. He had not only shown Slatter respect by referring to her as Slatter’s wife, but he had also expressed acceptance of her by referring to her as our healer. He was a wise lad for his young years.
She joined her husband at the door. “I’d be only too glad to tend your grandmother.”
“I’d be most grateful,” the lad said with a bob of his head.
“Does Corliss know you’re fetching the healer for her, Crofton?” Slatter asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
Crofton shifted his eyes to Willow. “My seanmhair can be stubborn, but I know when she doesn’t feel well.”
“Of course you do,” Willow said and grabbed her cloak off the peg. She smiled sweetly and hurried her words out when Slatter went to speak. “We’ll continue our talk when I return.”
Slatter grabbed his cloak from the peg as well, letting her know she wouldn’t be going without him.
The snowflakes were big and falling fast, covering everything. Winter had a few weeks before it officially arrived and this early snow warned of a possible harsh winter. Willow couldn’t help but think that some of the structures here would not survive such unforgiving weather. But what could be done? Her mind started working on possibilities.
“Seanmhair, I brought the healer,” Crofton announced when he stepped into the cottage.
The old woman turned from the hearth where she’d been stirring something in a pot that hung over the flames and wagged a crooked finger at Crofton. “You should not have done that. I told you I am fine.”
“Sit, Seanmhair,” Crofton said gently, going to his grandmother and helping her to a chair. “I will see to the cooking.”