“What happened?” Rory repeated grimly, his gaze shifting to the side when the door Alick had stopped in front of opened and Fearghas and Donnghail stepped out. Even as he noted that, Conn and Inan’s door opened and they came out into the hall to see what was going on too. They’d apparently woken the men with their raised voices.
Alick tore his glare from Elysande and shook his head as he admitted tersely, “I do no’ ken. We were on our way back from the shops. I was walking in front, and Elysande was behind me with Simon at her back. I heard her cry out, and Simon shout, ‘M’lady!’ and I swung around in time to see her fall into the street in front o’ a moving horse and cart.” His face went pale with the memory. “I could no’ catch her in time to stop her fall. I thought sure she was done fer. Fortunately, the horse reared, trying to avoid her, and she rolled away before it came back down, but . . .”
Alick didn’t have to say more, the expression on his face told Rory his younger brother was feeling like he’d failed in protecting the lass, and had probably been mentally berating himself all the way back to the inn.
“I am fine,” Elysande said on a sigh. “There was no need for you to scoop me up and run through the streets like a madman to get me back here.”
“Ye’re no’ fine. Ye’ve sustained an injury,” Alick said grimly. “And o’ course I rushed ye back here. We needed to get ye somewhere safe ere something else happened. ’Tis obvious de Buci’s men trailed us here.”
“De Buci’s men?” Elysande asked with surprise. “What have they to do with this?”
“It must have been one o’ them who pushed ye into the street. No one else wants ye dead, do they?” Alick pointed out with exasperation, and then assured her apologetically, “I was keeping an eye out fer them, but one must have slipped past me to push ye.”
Elysande was shaking her head before he’d finished speaking. “Nay, there were no Englishmen around us when it happened, just a group of drunken Scots weaving about. I am sure ’twas an accident. One of them probably lost their balance and accidentally bumped me into the road.”
When Alick frowned, and looked uncertain, Rory turned to Simon. “Was she pushed or was she bumped by accident?”
“I did not see,” the English soldier admitted unhappily. “I was watching for threats, looking for any sign of de Buci’s men or Englishmen in general. Then, like Alick, I heard her cry out and looked down in time to see her fall into the street.” He hesitated briefly, and then added, “But my lady is right, we were passing a group of drunken men when it happened.”
“Aye. I’d just passed them before she cried out,” Alick recalled, and then looked uncertain. “They were sailors and fair fou. Mayhap one o’ them did stumble into her by accident.”
“There, you see. ’Twas an accident. I am fine. All is well. Now put me down,” Elysande demanded impatiently.
“I’m no’ putting ye down till I have somewhere to put ye.” Alick scowled at her. “It may have been just an accident, but ye were still hurt. We helped ye up, and ye promptly fell right back into the muck o’ the road with a moan o’ pain.”
“I twisted my ankle when I fell,” Elysande responded on a sigh. “When I put weight on it, it hurt and gave out, is all. But truly, I am sure ’tis fine now,” she repeated, and then snapped, “My lord!” with outrage and lunged upright in Alick’s arms to slap at Rory’s hands when he lifted her skirts to peer at her lower legs.
“I have to examine it,” he said firmly, but released her skirts and gestured toward the room they’d slept in last night. “Take her to our room and I’ll examine her there.”
“Nay!” Elysande squawked when Alick continued up the hall. “’Tis not proper to have a bunch of men in my bedchamber.” She was glaring daggers over Alick’s shoulder at Rory as she said that. Turning a kinder face to his brother, she added, “He may look at me in the taproom below where we can all have some food and drink. You did mention you were hungry just before the accident happened and now so am I. But I can walk,” she added when he turned back toward the stairs. “Please put me down.”
When Alick hesitated and glanced at him, Rory considered Elysande briefly and then nodded.
He didn’t miss Elysande’s little sigh of relief when Alick released her legs so she could stand on her own. He also didn’t miss her gasp of pain and the way she wobbled when she tried to put weight on the injured ankle. Alick caught her arm at once and then stepped back when Rory scooped her up.
“Ye’re injured,” Rory said firmly when she opened her mouth in protest. “Stop being so bloody stubborn and accept help when ’tis offered.”
“I am not stubborn,” she said with irritation as he started down the stairs. “And I have been accepting help. Are you not escorting us to Sinclair? And did I not let you put liniment on my injuries?” She nodded grimly. “Aye, and just look where it has landed me. You took liberties, crawled into my bed, and now my reputation is in ruins,” she complained.
“I did no’ take liberties,” Rory said with dismay, and then frowned as he realized that yes, he had . . . though not last night in the bed. Scowling at his own thoughts, he said defensively, “Tom was there last night too.”
“Aye, the Judas,” she growled, glaring over his shoulder, probably at Tom, he supposed. “And his being there just makes it look worse.”
“Lass, ye’ve slept between us every night since we met in the wood outside Monmouth and I accepted the request to be yer escort,” he said firmly.
“That was in the cold dark woods, my lord. We were all fully clothed and bundled in our own cloaks and plaids, not the bed of an inn.”
“We were all still fully clothed last night, and ye were under the furs while Tom and I were above them,” he pointed out, feeling righteous.
“You were not,” she denied hotly. “You were under the furs with me.”
“I was no’,” Rory denied vehemently. He distinctly remembered curling up on top of the furs next to her. The first thing he’d done after returning to the room with Tom was take advantage of the still-warm bath and bathe himself. It had left him a bit chilled when he’d got out and he’d approached the bed thinking it would have been nice to crawl under the furs with her to warm up. But he hadn’t. He’d curled up in his plaid on top of the furs and shivered himself to sleep.
A soft “ahem” made him pause on the bottom step and glance back. Tom was directly behind them with the other men filling the stairs behind him, Rory noted, and then tilted his head back to focus on Tom, who had one eyebrow raised. The man shook his head once their eyes met, and told him, “You were under the furs with her this morning and she was plastered to your chest as usual when the maid arrived.”
“See! I told you,” Elysande said at once, and then sighed unhappily. “Why could you not have slept on a pallet? Or just told me you planned to use the bed, then I could have used a pallet. Now I am ruined.”
Rory frowned at her desolate tone and then heaved a sigh and stepped off the stairs and carried her into the taproom. Angus was standing by the table he and Tom had been seated at earlier, two drinks in hand and uncertainty on his face, but he brightened when he saw them returning and set down the drinks. “Yer food’ll be right out.”
“Good. Thank ye, Angus. I suspect Elysande and the others will be wanting food and drink now as well,” he said. And when the innkeeper smiled widely and started to head back to the kitchens, Rory called out impulsively, “Angus?”
The innkeeper turned back at once, one eyebrow raised in question.
“We were so tired when we rode in last night, I do no’ believe I introduced ye to me wife.” He nodded to Elysande in his arms and said, “Lass, this is Angus, the finest innkeeper in Scotland. Angus, this is me wife, Lady Elysande Buchanan.”
“Oh, ho!” A broad grin claimed Angus’s face. “Finally found the right lass to settle down with, did ye?” he asked. “Lady Jetta and yer sister must be well pleased.”
“Aye,” Rory agreed as he squeezed Elysande in warn
ing. She’d stiffened against him at his words, but now quickly changed her expression from shock to a poor attempt at a smile as Angus bowed to her.
“’Tis a pleasure, m’lady,” the innkeeper said sincerely as he straightened. “Ye’ve a good man there. The finest healer in all of Scotland.”
Rory was just puffing up a bit at the words when Elysande said, “So I have heard. However, I am more in need of his other talents, so let us hope they are just as fine.”
Rory knew she was referring to his sword arm and escorting her safely to Sinclair, but Angus had no idea she would need either and his eyes twinkled with wicked merriment as he gave her a wink and said, “Well, I’m sure he’ll no’ let ye down there, m’lady. Now I’ll fetch drinks fer the rest o’ ye, and see about food as well, shall I?”
A chorus of ayes from the men was enough to send him on his way. The moment he was gone, Elysande asked Rory, “What talents did he think I was referring to? It was not your sword arm, was it? And why on earth did you tell him we were married?”
“To save your reputation,” he answered the last question, happy to use it as an excuse to avoid the first two.
“How does claiming me as your wife save my reputation?” she asked with surprise as he set her down sideways on the bench, with her legs out.
“It excuses me presence in yer bed,” he pointed out.
“Aye. But not Tom’s,” she pointed out with exasperation. “And besides, once he learns you lied— What are you doing?” she gasped, trying to snatch her legs away when he started to push her skirts up to her knees.
Rory grabbed her legs by the calves to hold them in place. “Settle. Ye’re wearing breeks. ’Tis fine. Now, which ankle did ye hurt?” he asked, ignoring her outrage.
“The right one, but ’tis fine, I—” She broke off on a squawk when Rory took her foot in hand and pushed the bottom of her breeks up to get a look at her ankle. She fell silent though when she saw how swollen it was, and that it was beginning to bruise. When he pressed a thumb into the swelling, she drew in a hissing breath and clenched her hands.
Rory took his thumb away and noted the imprint left behind, and then glanced to Tom. “There should be strips of linen in my medicinals bag. Fetch them for me, please.”
The man nodded and rushed away at once.
“You are going to bind it,” Elysande guessed with a sigh.
“Aye. ’Twill help keep the swelling down,” he murmured, twisting his head one way and then the other to see as much of the injury as he could. Once he was finished, he set her foot back on the bench and said, “Ye’ll have to rest it and keep it elevated as much as possible.”
“I can hardly rest it and keep it elevated on a horse, my lord,” Elysande pointed out with irritation. “Resting it will have to wait until we reach Sinclair.”
“Then ’tis a good thing we are staying another day so ye can at least rest it until then,” Rory muttered, and then glanced to the doorway as he heard Tom pounding down the stairs. A moment later the Englishman was rushing into the room with the requested linen.
Rory bound Elysande’s foot firmly, but not too tight. He didn’t want to restrict the blood flow too much. By the time he’d finished, Angus had delivered drinks for everyone else at the table, and the food was now showing up. Elysande tried to twist around on the bench to sit properly to make room for the rest of the men to join them, but Rory held on to her foot, and reminded her, “Ye should keep it elevated.”
“How can I keep it elevat—” Her voice died as he collected her other foot as well, shifted from straddling the bench to sit on it properly and then lifted both her legs and slid toward her on the bench, before setting them down in his lap. He knew it was awkward for her to sit like that, but Elysande didn’t complain or try to remove her feet again; she merely twisted her upper body to face the table and began to eat when one of the maids set food in front of her. But she didn’t join in the conversation he and the men had about the weather and how long they thought it would take to reach Sinclair while they ate.
“I need to go above stairs and make more liniment.”
Rory glanced to Elysande at that announcement and then started to get out from under her feet, intending to pick her up, but she scowled and said, “I would rather go alone. I am guessing you have business to take care of here anyway, else we’d be leaving today.”
Rory met her gaze, his own eyes slightly widened with surprise, but in the end he nodded as he stood. “Aye. I do. But I’ll carry ye up first, and then Simon and Alick can guard the door,” he added, his gaze sliding to his brother and the English soldier.
“I can stand guard with Simon,” Tom said, getting up as well.
“Nay. Simon and Alick will do fine,” Elysande said at once, scowling at the man. She was obviously still annoyed about the sleeping arrangements from the night before, Rory supposed, and gave him a sympathetic look as he bent to pick her up.
Elysande didn’t protest, but crossed her arms and stared straight ahead as he carried her upstairs. Rory tried to think of something to break the silence, or get her past her irritation with him, but nothing was coming to mind, so he simply carried her upstairs to the chamber, set her on the bed and headed out of the room to find Alick and Simon waiting in the hall.
“Do ye want us in the room or outside the door?” Alick asked as Rory pulled the door closed.
“Out here is fine. Ye can play dice or cards to pass the time as ye like,” he suggested. “I’m taking Tom, Conn and Inan with me, but I’ll tell Fearghas and Donnghail to replace ye in an hour or so if I’m no’ back by then.”
“Where are ye heading?” Alick asked.
“I want to go see about spare horses,” Rory admitted. “’Twould speed up the journey if we had horses to switch to halfway through the day, and the sooner we get Elysande to Sinclair, the better. We need to get her mother’s message to the king.”
Alick nodded and said, “Good luck,” as Rory headed for the stairs.
Chapter 13
Elysande waited a moment after Rory left, and then stood on her good foot and hopped to the bags against the wall. She dug through them until she came across the weeds for making the liniment, as well as the mortar and pestle she’d bought at the apothecary shop there. Once she had everything, she turned to glance around the room, and then called out to the men. She wasn’t at all surprised when the door immediately opened and Alick stuck his head in.
“I need you two to help me,” she admitted, and thought to herself, See, I’m not too stubborn to accept help.
“O’ course.” Alick pushed the door open and led Simon in. “What do ye need, m’lady?”
“Would you please move the bedside table and that chair over by the fire?” she asked, and as the men quickly moved to grab a piece of furniture each, she began hopping toward the fire with the items she’d gathered.
Cursing, Alick set down the table he’d just picked up and rushed over to grab her arm. “Ye should no’ be on yer feet at all, but hopping around like that— If ye fell and hit yer head . . .” He shook his own head, and then scooped her up and set her down in the chair the moment Simon finished moving it.
Elysande bit her tongue on any protest. The man was trying to help, after all, so she remained silent and waited as Simon brought over the table.
“Thank you,” she murmured the moment they were done, and then set her things on the tabletop as the men started to leave, only to blink at the items as she took them in and then squawk in alarm, “My bag!”
Alick and Simon stopped at once and turned back.
Elysande stared at them wide-eyed. “The wolfsbane and comfrey we went out to purchase. I must have dropped the bag when I fell. You rushed me away so quickly I did not realize.”
The two men looked at each other, and then Alick sighed, and headed for the door.
“I’ll go back and see if the bag is still there. If no’, I’ll purchase ye more wolfsbane and comfrey. I remember the quantities ye got the first time,”
he assured her, and then glanced to Simon. “I’ll be as quick as I can. Stay and guard the door until I get back.”
Simon nodded as he followed him out of the room.
Once they were gone, Elysande began to measure out the items she did have into the mortar. She had about half of the wolfsbane she needed, but no comfrey. She did have the willow bark and other weeds though. Once she’d added what she could to the mortar, Elysande stood on her good foot, picked up the pestle and began to grind the weeds into a fine powder. She hadn’t been doing it long when she suddenly stopped and called out for Simon. The door opened at once and he stuck his head in.
“Aye, m’lady?”
Elysande smiled apologetically. “I need you to fetch a bucket of water from the well, and then see if you can borrow a pot about yea big”—she used her hands to show him what she needed—“from the kitchen. One with a handle I can hang over the fire.”
Simon hesitated, and then pointed out, “I’m supposed to be guarding the door.”
Elysande grimaced with irritation. “I will be perfectly fine for a few minutes, Simon. Even if de Buci’s men did track us here to Ayr, they have no idea where we are staying, or what room I am in,” she pointed out, and when he shifted uncertainly, she narrowed her gaze and reminded him, “I am your lady, Simon. Please do as I requested. You may tell them I ordered you to do it should Rory or anyone else find out. But I should like to get the water warming before Alick returns with the rest of the weeds.”
Giving in, Simon nodded. “I’ll be back as quick as I can,” he said, and then warned a bit irritably, “But I will be blaming you if I get hell for this.”
Elysande went back to her grinding as he pulled the door closed with a snap.
“Spare horses we could switch to halfway through the day would certainly speed our journey along,” Tom commented with a nod, but then said solemnly, “But ’tis a large expense, and not to be indelicate, but I know you are not a first son, or even a second or third, and Lady de Valance did send coin with Lady Elysande. I think she should—”
Highland Treasure EPB Page 19