She cast a glance at Slatter every now and then. He remained by his grandmother’s side, holding her hand as if sharing his strength with her. He may have debated her a time or two over whether he was kind or not, but seeing him now confirmed to Willow that kindness did reside in him and love as well. Not that he would admit it.

He was a man who would be a good husband… only if a wife could trust him not to lie.

It was over an hour later when Willow was bending over the hearth, stirring the soup that bubbled in the pot over the flames, that her husband came up behind her and slipped his arm around her waist to turn her to face him.

“I owe you much,” he said, gently pushing the long strand of her dark red hair away from her eye to tuck behind her ear.

“You owe me nothing. It is I—”

He pressed his finger to her lips, stopping her from speaking. “You are a good woman, mo ghaol—” He paused, letting the words that followed remain in his thoughts… and you deserve a good man. “I am forever grateful to you for looking after my grandmother.”

Willow smiled softly. “She’s my grandmother now too.”

“Aye, that she is,” Slatter said and wished that could be so.

He almost shook his head at the thought. He couldn’t keep thinking this way. He couldn’t keep getting used to having her with him. He couldn’t allow himself to believe he was falling in love with her. If he did, he’d never let her go.

Willow gently rubbed at the deep crease in his brow. “Do not worry so. We will take good care of her.”

We.

She did the healing but she talked as if they did it together, a couple, a pair, a husband and wife. How was it that he felt so joined with this woman? Or how was it he felt that she belonged to him and that he belonged to her, and that no other should ever come between them?

He was sounding like Lander when he talked about Slatter’s mum. The man had commented time and again how he had lost all common sense and sane reasoning when he had met Blair. Slatter would often laugh and Lander would chuckle and say wait until it happens to you.

Had it happened to him?

A moan from Sara had them both rushing to her side and when Willow felt her head, worry twisted her stomach. Fever had set in.

“Fill the bucket with snow,” she ordered Slatter and he didn’t hesitate to do as she said.

As soon as he returned Willow placed handfuls of snow on her forehead and around her neck. “My mother did this a few times when fevers got high. I hope this helps to keep the fever away.”

Slatter looked at his grandmother, fearful for her as she lay there as if lifeless. He rested a firm hand on his wife’s shoulder and she turned to look up at him with worry in her green eyes. He wasn’t sure who the worry was for, his grandmother or him?