The Bard (Highland Heroes #5) - Maeve Greyson Page 0,102
parents of an entire herd of children—maybe even thirteen. “Dinna let her hear ye call her that. She’ll curse ye with even more bairns.”
He kissed her forehead and shooed them onward. Jenny had paled and looked close to losing whatever might be left in her stomach. “Go now. I’ll fetch her.”
A sense of satisfaction filled him as he trotted down the front steps of the keep and headed for the small, newly built cottage tucked between the outer kitchens and the herb gardens. With the events of the past several months and the hopes of the bairns to come, he had convinced both Aderyn and Chieftain Greyloch that the healer needed to reside within the skirting walls of the keep rather than down in the village. He didn’t wait well for anything, and waiting for a healer to be fetched for his precious Sorcha was something he truly hated. The old witch’s home had been finished in record time.
Aderyn sat on a bench outside her doorway with her eyes closed and her face uplifted to the sun. Her hands rested palms up on her lap, making Sutherland wonder if she was praying to whatever deities the odd soul believed in.
“I am not praying,” she said without opening her eyes. “The warmth of the sun eases the aching in my bones brought on by more years than I care to confess.”
“Jenny needs ye,” he said. “She fears she’ll nay get through her vows without retching all over Lachlan’s boots.”
Aderyn chuckled and shook her head. “If Jenny would use the mint I gave her and drink the tonic first thing each morning, it would help.” She patted the bench beside her. “Sit, future chieftain. I would speak with ye before I tend to those who dinna have the sense to listen when I try and help them.”
Sutherland suddenly felt like a lad about to be scolded by his mother, but he complied. Old ones held wisdom earned throughout the years. It was well to listen to them. “What have ye to share with me, my favorite old witch?”
The healer chuckled and patted his arm. “I appreciate the compliment.” With her gaze fixed on something only she could see, her contented look faded. “Ye will rise to be chieftain of Clan Greyloch sooner than ye expect.”
“What?” The balmy summer’s day suddenly didn’t seem quite so pleasant.
“Greyloch will enjoy some time with his first grandchild, but willna live to see yer bairn’s one-year mark.” She shifted on the bench to give Sutherland a stern look. “Sorcha will struggle mightily with his loss. But ye must help her remember that her parents will be reunited and happy once more. Soulmates separated are never content until they’re rejoined.”
“There isna any way we can keep him with us a while longer? Protect him from whatever ye see befalling him?” Sutherland had grown fond of Greyloch and knew Sorcha would be devastated when her father passed.
“It will be his time.” She shrugged. “All our days are numbered. Our endings are chosen at the same time as our beginnings.”
He bowed his head and blew out a heavy sigh. “Why today, old woman? Why would ye tell me this on a day that should be filled with nothing but joy?
“So, ye will be prepared to not only help the clan but also yer wife.” Aderyn pointed down at a circle she had scratched in the dirt. “And I must do something I have never done before.”
After the doom-filled prophecy she had just spoken, Sutherland dreaded what she would say next. “And what is that?”
“I must tell ye that I was wrong about yer bairns.”
“Dinna speak ill about my children, witch. Not a word of darkness about them, ye ken?” He shot up from the bench. For Aderyn’s safety, it was best he walk away.
“And now the word witch is no longer a compliment but a blasphemy.” The healer slowly shook her head. “I am the one who is cursed, my fine war chief. Cursed to see the things that would make others cringe.” A sad smile trembled at the corners of her mouth. “I told ye of Greyloch’s death to help ye prepare. I tell ye of yer bairns to help ye do the same.”
He forced himself to remain calm. Too many were around to hear him roaring at the healer to keep her dire predictions to herself. “Speak then.”
Pushing herself up from the bench, she reached inside the opened doorway for her familiar cloth sack of remedies. She handed