“The hell he didn’t,” Rory growled, sounding furious. “I’ve seen . . . yer face,” he finished after a slight hesitation that made her think he’d meant to say something other than her face.
Elysande briefly considered the possibility that Rory and her men had arrived sooner than she’d realized down at the riverbank, and had seen more than she’d thought. But since there was little she could do if they had, she pushed the worry away. “Aye. He beat me badly, but broke no bones. Not even a finger. I think he held back on his punches and kicks too. And while he punched me in the face several times, he avoided my temples and head. Also, when de Buci ordered him to throw me to the ground and kick me, he kept those kicks to my back, buttocks and legs. The only injury I took to my head was when he threw me to the ground. My head bounced off the floor, but that was probably an accident. He never hit my head himself.”
Elysande had been grateful for that. She’d curled into a ball on the floor, her hands over her head to try to protect it. But it hadn’t been necessary. He’d never once kicked her in the head.
Smiling wryly to herself that she would feel gratitude for a man who had beat her so badly, Elysande lowered her gaze to the tips of her slippers again. “De Buci eventually grew tired of watching. Or perhaps he was just impatient that it was getting no results. My mother had lain weeping throughout, and eventually I became so insensate that I could not feel the blows anymore and stopped screaming. I was very close to unconsciousness when he called a halt to the proceedings and ordered me to be thrown into the dungeon. Even so I heard the threats he yelled at my mother as I was dragged away. He would give her time to consider what he might do to the both of us next if she did not tell him where it was. Perhaps he’d let his men rape us, or start cutting off limbs, or burn my face so no man would look upon me . . .”
After a brief pause, Elysande shrugged. “Several other rather nasty options followed before I was so far from the great hall that I could not hear him anymore. Or perhaps I just lost consciousness. I do not recall being carried into the cell they kept me in. The next time I woke was the day Betty came for me. She managed to sneak the keys from the guard and get me out of there without waking him. I still do not know how.”
“Lady Mairghread had her take your guard his food and put a sleeping potion in his drink,” Tom explained.
“Oh,” Elysande breathed, thinking she wished she’d known that at the time. It would have been less stressful to her. She’d spent the entire time terrified the man would wake and catch them. Shrugging, she continued. “Betty helped me to the secret passage and up to my parents’ chamber. Mother was in bed.” She paused as the image of her mother flashed through her mind, alive still, but so pale and weak. She’d been unable to move anything below the neck, but was still able to talk, though she appeared to be having trouble with her breathing and swallowing. Elysande had known, or at least feared, she wouldn’t last long.
“Mother’s first words to me after greeting me were ‘the Buchanans,’” she admitted, glancing from Alick to Rory and then keeping her gaze on the older brother as she told him, “She said you were a healer, and a friend to our kin the Sinclairs. She wanted me to come to you for aid getting to them. She then told me that Simon and Tom were still alive and outside the wall. She’d had Betty pack clothes, coin and food for our journey before the maid had rescued me from the dungeon, then sent her to fetch the men. But while we waited for them, she needed me to write messages for her to both you and the Sinclair.”
Elysande paused then to peer curiously at Simon and Tom when they released small “ahs” of sound as if she’d just explained something they’d wondered about. Supposing they’d wondered about the written messages when her fingers were broken, she explained, “Mother dictated the messages and I sealed them with her ring. She then insisted I change into a boy’s breeches and tunic and don a fresh dress over them for the journey. I was in a lot of pain, and moving about just increased it. I managed the task, but only just, before collapsing beside the bed.”
That last part was a lie. Or at least a lie of omission. She’d left out that she’d argued with her mother the entire time, trying to convince her to come with them, pointing out that if this Rory Buchanan was such a grand healer, perhaps he could help her. But her mother had refused to even consider it.
“No one can help me, love, and you know that,” she’d said. “’Tis fine. I am going to be with your father. You are the only reason I still live. I must see to your safety ere I can rest.”
Sighing, Elysande continued. “I woke when Tom arrived and picked me up. And I’m afraid I caused a bit of a kerfuffle that could have got us caught.” She paused and turned her face toward the two English soldiers with an apologetic expression they couldn’t possibly see through the veil. Tom had stifled her cries with a hand over her mouth. If he hadn’t, and the guard she suspected was in the hall had heard . . .
“I am sorry for that,” she said finally. “But I could not leave my mother there so weak and defenseless. De Buci had left her alone because she had been feigning unconsciousness since that first night. He had apparently tried to rouse her several times each day with blows to her stomach and such, but Mother said she could not feel the blows, and so continued to feign unconsciousness by merely keeping her eyes closed. She worried he was growing impatient, however, and she did not think he would leave me be in the dungeons for much longer. She feared he would take those frustrations out on me soon and I needed to go or I would be dead right next to her.”
Elysande lowered her eyes to her slippers again. “I knew she was right. Still, I could not just leave her.” She breathed out slowly. “Apparently she had feared as much and had prepared ahead of time for it. When I refused to leave, she told Betty she was thirsty and it was time for her drink. Only after Mother had emptied the chalice Betty held to her mouth did she admit to me that it had held poison.”
Elysande’s throat constricted and she had to swallow several times before continuing. “I was horrified. ’Tis a sin to take your own life. But she assured me that she felt God would understand. She had done it to save me and she was dying anyway, and had just sped it along. She then said that if she was wrong about God’s thoughts on the matter, and was banished to purgatory for the act, then she considered it worth the sacrifice so long as it got me away from de Buci. She wanted me to leave at once, find you, stay alive and get to Sinclair. She said it was the last thing I could do for her as a daughter: to live, marry and have children to love and treasure as much as she loved and treasured me.”
Elysande broke off then, fighting the tears that were trying to swamp her.
“Lady Mairghread died minutes later,” Simon continued for her. “And Tom scooped up Lady Elysande again and we slipped into the secret passage, using it to get back out beyond the wall. We thought we would be taking her on one of our horses, but Betty and Eldon had managed to arrange for her mare to be hooked to a cart and brought out.”
“How the devil did they manage that?” Rory asked with surprise beside her.
There was a moment of silence before anyone spoke, and this time it was Tom who answered. “The blood-soaked rushes in the great hall were apparently starting to stink and at dinner that night de Buci had finally had enough of the stench. He ordered them taken out beyond the wall and burned at once. It took several trips to haul it away. The servants had been working on it since the evening meal and were still working on it at that late hour, so Betty and Eldon had one of the carts lined with fresh hay, attached Lady Elysande’s mare to it and then filled it with the dirty rushes and the boy rode it out along with the others. He went with them to where the dirty rushes were to be burned, but rather than return inside the walls with the others, he broke off from the line of carts and took it to where our horses waited instead. Fortunately, it was a moonless night and his defection seemed to go unnoticed, so we placed Lady Elysande and our bags and furs in the cart and headed to Monmouth.”
“And you know the rest,�
� Elysande said into the silence that fell. “Simon took you the message my mother dictated, you came to meet us and now we are on the way to Sinclair.” Swallowing, she added, “But to answer your earlier question, I do not know if we should expect trouble. Mother expected de Buci to think we would be headed for court and the king, ’tis why she sent us north instead. She hoped I could remain safely at Sinclair while a message about all of this was delivered to court,” she explained, and then frowned and added, “But I am troubled by the soldiers you said arrived at Monmouth as you were leaving.”
“Does de Buci ken ye’re related to the Sinclairs and might go to them?” Alick asked, drawing her gaze his way.
Elysande considered the question and then shook her head helplessly. “I do not know. As I said, he used to be a friend to us. My mother or father or even I might have mentioned our Scottish relations at some time.” She paused briefly and then admitted, “But I worry about Betty and Eldon. I tried to convince them to come with us, but Betty insisted she would stay and see Mother buried properly first, and young Eldon decided to stay in the woods to keep an eye out for her and be sure she got away. He determined he would use the secret passages to get her out if there was trouble.” Elysande bit her lip unhappily. “But what if de Buci figured out that my guard in the dungeon was drugged and found out that Betty was the one to take the meal to him? He would know she was involved in my escape. And if he started taking his fists and boots to her as he did my mother . . .”
“She might have told him all,” Tom said worriedly.
“He would have had to beat her horribly to get the information,” Elysande said miserably. “I should have insisted she come with us. Both of them. I should have made them come,” Elysande muttered, angry at herself that she hadn’t. Betty had been a good and faithful maid to her mother for many years. More like family than a servant. She should have made her and Eldon leave with them, ordered the pair to, but she’d been so tired and weak . . .
“The soldiers we saw might not be de Buci’s,” Rory said now. “But whether they are or no’, by continuing on this trail to Scotland we should be able to avoid them.”
“Aye,” Alick agreed. “Those soldiers, whoever they are, will most like continue on the main road. This path is much less used.”
A moment of silence passed and then Rory stood. “We should eat and bed down for the night. Tomorrow is another long day for us if we wish to reach Scotland ere we stop.”
“I am not really hungry,” Elysande said quietly, bringing the men to a halt.
She thought Rory Buchanan was frowning at this, but his voice was gentle when he said, “Ye really should eat. Ye need yer strength fer healing.”
“Aye, but . . .” Elysande grimaced. The truth was that recounting all that had happened had stolen any appetite she might have had and she feared she might be ill if she tried to eat now. But she simply said, “I will eat when I wake up.”
When Rory didn’t argue further, Tom stood and offered his hand to help her up. Glancing to Simon, he said, “Lay out the fur for her to sleep on.”
Elysande accepted the help, and was grateful for it when her abused muscles protested their use as she got to her feet. Her movements were slow and stiff, and Simon had the fur unrolled and laid out by the time they reached him. Elysande then grasped Tom’s hand tightly and used his strength as she lowered herself to the fur. She lay down on her uninjured side, tugged the cloak around herself and pulled a corner up to cover her face. It had been cold all day, but was growing colder still as night fell.
The damp tunic she wore beneath her dress was not helping. It had soothed her bruises at first, but was now merely warm and damp against her skin. She knew it would dry eventually, but couldn’t imagine being able to sleep like this. In truth, damp tunic or not, she suspected she would have trouble sleeping. Elysande had never slept outside of her own chamber at Kynardersley where a nice fire and several furs kept her warm the night through in her bed. At this moment, she would have given a lot to be back in that bed, with her mother and father safely tucked away in the next chamber. She was still having trouble accepting that her life had changed so drastically and so quickly. It was like a nightmare, and she felt very cold and alone inside.
That thought had barely slipped through her mind when something pressed up against her front. Stiffening, she tugged the cloak away from her face and blinked at the figure in front of her. It was growing dark enough that she couldn’t be sure, but she thought it was Rory Buchanan who had settled on his side in front of her with his back to her chest. He was close enough that she could feel his warmth through his plaid and her cloak, and smell the woodsy scent she recognized from riding with him.
Movement at her back distracted her, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Tom settling himself down behind her, leaving a couple inches between himself and her sore back, but close enough that she could enjoy his warmth too.
“Sleep, m’lady. We will guard you well,” the soldier said solemnly when he saw her looking.
Having no idea what to say, Elysande merely nodded, then glanced around at the other men as they lay down around them. Simon was settling himself lengthwise at her feet so that her toes pointed at his chest. She could tell that it was he by his silhouette. He was the only one besides Tom not wearing a skirt. She tilted her head upward then as another man lay lengthwise above her head, and recognized Alick Buchanan’s voice when he whispered, “Good sleep,” as he curled up in his plaid. Three of the other Scottish warriors were arranging themselves around the other men, doubling the barrier between herself and anyone who might approach from the sides or above. But she could see the last man had moved to sit on the log they had just left. To keep watch, she guessed, and supposed the men would take turns at sitting watch, each of them doing so for a couple hours before waking someone to replace them.
“Cuddle closer if ye’re cold, m’lady. The last thing we need is fer ye to fall ill during this journey.”
Elysande lowered her head to peer at Rory Buchanan’s back at those words. She was very tempted to do just that, slip her arms around his waist and lean her face against his back as she had on the horse. But it wouldn’t be proper, so she merely pulled her cloak back over her face to keep it warm and tried to relax. She was positive she wouldn’t sleep, but at least she was warming up, Elysande thought just before drifting off.
Rory woke up on his back, his face cold but with a warm weight on his shoulder, chest and legs. Not the sort to take women to his bed for a night, he blinked his eyes open with confusion, and started to turn his head, but froze when his lips brushed against Lady Elysande’s coif. The contact made him stiffen and then he pulled back slightly to stare at the sleeping woman now draped over his body. Her head rested on his shoulder, her chest half on his with her arm and cloak wrapped around him. She had also cast one of her legs over both of his. They were as entwined as lovers, and he couldn’t say he minded, but suspected she would when she woke.
Unsure how to extricate himself without disturbing or inadvertently hurting her, he glanced around the clearing and grimaced when he saw that he and Elysande were the only ones still sleeping. The other men were all up and about, going about the business of starting a fire and tending the horses, even the two English soldiers. Although he noticed that Tom and Simon kept casting worried glances to where he and Elysande slept, as if unsure what to think or do about their cozy sleeping position.
It was completely improper, of course, Rory acknowledged. But then little about this journey was proper. The lady was traveling alone with eight men due to circumstances beyond anyone’s control. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d deliberately arranged this. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep on his side in front of the woman. He had no idea how he’d ended up on his back with her snuggling into his chest like a sleepy kitten. The fact that he quite liked waking to find her there was a bit disturbing though.
That thought was enough to make Rory decide he should try to ease out from unde
r her. He was tensing in preparation of attempting just that when she murmured in her sleep and shifted her leg, sliding it up his thighs to rest over his groin. A most unfortunate event, Rory decided grimly when his cock stirred with immediate interest.
Rory was lying as still as death, taking deep breaths to try to calm his body so he wouldn’t embarrass himself when he did manage to get out from under her, when she shifted again. This time her hand slid across his chest under the cloak, even as her leg moved down a bit and then up again, rubbing against his growing erection.
Oh, this was bad, Rory thought, and then tilted his head to look down at Elysande, when she suddenly stiffened against him. For a moment he wasn’t sure if she was waking up to their situation, or merely suffering a nightmare. He got his answer when she suddenly gasped and pushed herself upward, then cried out and flopped back onto him, panting for breath as she fought against the pain her abrupt action had obviously caused her.
“Breathe,” Rory instructed, his voice rough from sleep as he clasped her upper arms to keep her from moving again too quickly and causing herself more pain.
Elysande whimpered in response, but then released the breath she’d been holding and took in a fresh one.
“What can we do to help?”
Rory glanced up to find Tom and Simon standing over them, concern on their faces as they watched their lady struggle with her pain. Alick and the other warriors were right behind them. It seemed that while he had only noticed the two Englishmen glancing their way, the others had been just as aware of them the whole time. Now they were all there, wishing to help.
The hell of it was, they couldn’t. Even he couldn’t. He had nothing to take away her pain except that sleeping draft she’d refused to take.
Highland Treasure EPB Page 5