The Healer's Gift by Barbara Cutrera

Author:Barbara Cutrera
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: strong characters, story about family, adventure and danger, intimacy and desire
Publisher: Barbara Cutrera

Chapter Seven

Collum jerked in surprise as Cierran’s cool lips teased the head of his erection. He slipped his fingers into her blonde hair and watched her take him into her mouth. She caressed him with her tongue; then she drew back and looked up at his face. Her pupils danced with flickering flames. He cried out in horror, roughly pushing her away from him.

“He’s awake! Collum, please! Lie still!” his mother cried tearfully. “Edward, get your father!”

He covered his ears with his hands in an attempt to shut out Ainsland’s pitiful cries. He had left her alone, and the child had grown too big. She would die in childbirth, and he would be at fault.

“Collum!” Richard’s voice boomed in his son’s aching brain. “You must stop this or you will not live!”

Richard’s youngest son ceased his struggles and lay still in his father’s arms. In a moment of clarity, the healer forced back the envelope of fever that surrounded him and focused on his weakened body. His skull was knitting itself back together nicely. The ribs and shoulder continued to ache, but the pain was not so acute. Most of his bruises and cuts were healing, albeit slowly. His broken leg throbbed fiercely, and Collum doubted that he would ever walk normally again – if he lived to walk again.

His belly had been badly infected. From the fresh lacerations near the area, he deduced that Jordan must have been waging a repetitive series of battles with persistent infection. Collum imagined what steps he himself would take if he were the healer and Jordan were the patient. It would be a ceaseless cycle of cut, drain, clean, stitch, and dress.

“Father?” Collum rasped in a voice that he himself did not recognize. “Mother?”

“My shining boy,” Vivien said, kissing his temple and stroking his hair. “My little wolf.”

He almost smiled at her use of the old pet name she’d given him when he’d been a baby. She had one for each of her children. Edward was the little hawk; Landon was the little fox; Grayson was the little foal; Inya had been the little robin; and John was the little deer. It had been years since he’d heard any of these nicknames spoken aloud. He had almost forgotten them completely.

Collum became aware of how badly his back ached. He reasoned that his body was not doing its job of purifying itself. Between the fever and his prolonged periods of unconsciousness, it must have certainly been a trial to get him to take in enough liquids. Significant weight loss was to be expected as well.

“Ainsland,” he mumbled through parched lips. “I – I need her. I must have water.”

And then she was near to him, pulling him against her chest and offering him tiny sips from a cup. He could not have been more content had she offered him her breast. His feeble efforts to touch her hair made her cry. Once the cup had been drained, she passed it to someone, took his hand in hers, and brought it to her cheek.

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