and rested it back against the chair. “I have no idea how it happened or when. And I still question myself. Is this love or lust?” He paused, his dark eyes round with confusion. “Then when she was hurt—” His confusion turned to distress. “I never feared as I did when Fiona toppled off her horse into my arms, and I never prayed as hard as I did while I rushed back to the keep.”
“Sounds like love.’
“Really?” he asked anxiously.
She realized that he looked to her to confirm it for him, but who was she to know of love?
“What does your heart tell you?”
“It is more of my stomach that speaks.”
She smiled.
“I cannot eat, and when Fiona turns stubborn my stomach knots. You are a healer,” he said as if just realizing it. “You can give me something for my aching stomach.”
“Advice is what I can give you.”
He seemed disappointed, but then he shrugged. “Anything if it helps.”
“Fiona has seen to our care since our father died. Our mother had turned ill soon after and was bedridden until she passed. I tended her while Fiona saw to the care of the fields, hunted food, made repairs to the cottage, made certain there was peat and logs for the fireplace, and protected us.”
“She was but eleven years, how could she protect?”
“With sheer stubbornness and a sharp tongue,” Aliss said and smiled, though it instantly faded. “And a tenacity to survive.” She turned silent for a moment, recalling the painful memories. “After mother died, I cried terribly; Fiona cried but once right when she died. She kissed our mother, prepared her for burial, then dug her grave. She dug straight through the night, wanted it deep like father’s grave, so that no man or animal would disturb her.
“I wanted to help but she insisted that I sit with mother, that she was not to be left alone. When it was finally done, the wooden cross staked in the ground, the prayers spoken, she turned to me and held out her hands. They were raw and it took weeks for them to heal.”
Tarr winced at the thought. “Your uncle came then and she had to worry no more, right?”
“Fiona intended to take no chances of us ever worrying about surviving on our own again. When we arrived at the MacElder clan, she immediately befriended the bowmaker and begged Uncle Tavish to let her learn bowmaking. She also discovered that an old warrior known for his swordsmanship lived as a hermit in the woods. Many thought him a myth, but Fiona searched those woods until she found him. At first he chased her away, yelling at her that he wanted nothing to do with children. But she persisted, and he soon relented they became friends. It is because of him she is skillful with a sword.
“Fiona did what was necessary for us both, and the only thing she has ever asked for herself is to find a love as strong as our parents’.”
A catch in her throat paused Aliss, and her shining green eyes warned of tears.
“Fiona loves you. I hear it in her voice when she speaks of you. I see it in her eyes when she looks at you, and I feel her joy when she returns from having spent time with you.” She paused purposely this time and reached out to place her hand on Tarr’s forearm. “And I think you feel the same about her. You are both lucky to have found such a strong love. Do not let pride or foolishness stand in your way.”
“You are telling me to fight for her.”
Aliss nodded, fighting back her tears.
“But I must fight Fiona to win Fiona.”
Aliss smiled and let one tear fall. “She is so very obstinate. I fear she will lose you and will always regret it.”
Tarr patted her hand and grinned. “Thank you for telling me all this. And do not fear Fiona is mine and will always be mine.”
“I am glad to hear you say that, for then I will worry no more. I know you will be good to Fiona and patient with her.”
“Patience, you will need to remind me of this every now and again,” Tarr said with a laugh and stood, holding his hand out to her. “Suddenly I am hungry, will you join me?”
She took his hand. “I would be honored.”
“Nay,” he said, his expression serious. “It is I who am honored that you join the clan Hellewyk, and proud I will be able