Slatter stood aside while his wife looked over Walcott and watching her expressions made him think Walcott was not doing well. That didn’t stop his wife from fighting for him. Another healer would probably think him past helping and let him die, not Willow. She was tenacious, even in the way she had treated his simple wound when a prisoner.
It was as if she fought a foe, an enemy out to defeat her. And she fought as hard if not harder than most warriors.
Once she finished seeing to Walcott and making sure he was settled comfortably, she turned and walked over to Slatter.
“We wait. There is nothing more I can do.” She turned her head and looked at Walcott as she spoke. “My mum reminded me time and again that it’s often the wound or damage done that you can’t see that’s the culprit. The wounds look to heal well, but I don’t know what goes on inside him and that’s what worries me as does his constant sleep.”
“We can only hope that death wants nothing to do with his cantankerous nature.”
Willow couldn’t help but smile.
The door opened and Carna stopped abruptly seeing Willow and Slatter. “Sara sent me to sit with Walcott. She told me that Walcott needed my tending more than she did.”
“How does my grandmother know about Walcott?” Slatter asked.
“Word spreads fast through the village and keep. Besides, talking with Sara can be,” —she narrowed her eyes searching for a word to explain— “comforting, and you simply discuss everything with her.”
Slatter understood perfectly.
“You did well with Sara and I would appreciate your help with Walcott,” Willow said. “Let me explain what needs to be done and what you need to watch for.”
Slatter stepped outside the cottage while the two women talked. It was another cold day, the sky gray, but there was no hint of snow in the air. He was glad for the cold that nipped at his face, it helped clear his head some. Once it did, it forced him to think on what he feared most about the present situation.
Was he or was he not wed to Willow?
He had known fear in his life, but nothing compared to the sheer fright of Willow not being his wife. The cleric could not get here fast enough for him.
Slatter reached for his wife’s hand as soon as she stepped near him and his hand swallowed hers in a possessive grip.
“You know you can’t get rid of me, don’t you?” she asked, understanding his need to cling to her, since she felt the same. They were one and to part them would cause an agony she didn’t believe she could survive.
“I told you once, wife, I can escape anything,” he teased with a wink.
She smiled and shook her head. “There’s one thing you can’t escape.”
“And what’s that?”
“Love.”
Chapter 25
Slatter snagged his wife around the waist and kissed her as he kicked the door shut behind them. There had been no time to sneak off to their bedchamber. He couldn’t get through supper fast enough and now that they were finally in their bedchamber, he didn’t want to waste one moment.
He wanted them both naked and in bed.
She was as eager as he was, her hands rushing to free him of his plaid.
He helped her in between stripping her of her garments all while not relinquishing her lips.
They fumbled and stumbled through shedding their garments, getting rid of their boots, and he hurrying them both to the bed to fall down on it.
She felt so good, warm and soft, and a sweet scent drifted off her, not to mention her womanly scent that drove him mad with the wont of her. He caressed her breasts, loving the feel of them plump in his hand, the hard nipples begging to be suckled.
His mouth was just about to close on one when she popped up on her elbows.
“I forgot to tell you what Maddie told me.”
“You told me it all earlier.” The thought of Maddie, Kevin, and the others being held in a pen like animals sent a spurt of anger through him and dampened his passion a bit. Not wanting his time with his wife disturbed, he pushed it from his mind to revisit later.
“No, not that. Maddie felt Beck was giving her a message to deliver to you and only you—which was why I waited to tell you until we were alone—before Sterling finally ended his misery.”
Slatter raised his head, his mouth once again having been about to settle on her nipple. “What message?”
“Maddie said Beck looked directly at her and told her to make sure she told you that he won, that he got you. He got you good. He kept repeating, ‘Slatter. You tell Slatter, I got him good.’”
Slatter rolled away from his wife to lie flat on his back, glancing up at the ceiling. “Damn.”