by Lynsay Sands
“We’ll stop as soon as we meet up with Alick, Donnghail and Fearghas so ye can apply more liniment,” Rory said as they fell into line behind Conn and Tom.
Elysande appreciated the thought, but shook her head. “I would rather wait until we cross into Scotland.”
“Are ye sure?” Rory asked with a small frown.
“Aye,” she assured him on a regretful sigh, for truly the idea of applying the numbing cream was an attractive one, but . . . “I would rather not stop with de Buci’s men so close. They might finish their search and follow us at any time. Or . . .” She hesitated, and then admitted, “A good many people knew about our being there and our leaving. If even one of them is tempted by coin to talk . . .” She shrugged. “I would rather not tempt fate and hang about. Let us just get to Scotland and then worry about it.”
To give him credit, Rory didn’t say I told you so, or point out that was what he’d been worried about when it came to her telling Mildrede and Elizabeth about de Buci. He merely nodded and let the subject drop.
They sped up to a gallop after that, and Elysande ground her teeth and resigned herself to at least a couple of hours of constant pain before they would stop for a break and she could apply the liniment.
Alick and the other two men had done as Rory had asked and it was a good quarter hour later when they met up with them. They stopped just long enough for greetings and for Elysande to pass out the pear-filled pasties Mildrede had packed in the bag she’d given her. They then set off again, breaking their fast in the saddle as they rode.
“Remind me to tell Mildrede she is a fine cook when we visit her after this is all over,” Rory said as he finished off his pasty.
Elysande smiled and nodded at the suggestion, but in her heart she didn’t think that visit would ever come about. At least not with Rory taking her. If she survived all of this, she would no doubt return to England and Kynardersley, or what was left of it. And she would try to make sure whoever escorted her back allowed her to stop in Carlisle to see Mildrede and the others. But once he got her to Sinclair, Rory wasn’t likely to stick around for the weeks and possibly months it would take to resolve this situation. Rory had a family and a life, and people who required his healing skills. Nay. She suspected that, despite his promise to Mildrede, he would be long gone by the time she made her way back into England again.
Chapter 10
“Will she be able to apply the liniment on her own?”
Rory tore his gaze away from where Elysande was disappearing into the woods with the container of liniment and glanced at Tom. It had been what he’d been worrying about just now too.
“Probably no’,” he admitted unhappily.
“Well?” the man said when Rory just stood there.
“Well what?” he asked with confusion.
“Well, should you not go help her, then? You’re the healer,” he pointed out with exasperation.
“Oh, aye,” Rory said with surprise, and headed into the woods after Elysande. It was only then he realized he hadn’t been thinking like a healer. He’d been thinking like a man . . . who had no right to be looking on her naked back and buttocks and smoothing his hands over all that soft, warm flesh.
“Healer,” he muttered, blinking his inappropriate thoughts away. “She needs yer help, no’ yer lusty thoughts.” And much to Rory’s surprise, his thoughts were quite lusty where the lass was concerned. It was sleeping with her half on top of him that had done it, he supposed. Waking every morning to her scent in his nose, her warm body nestled against him, her leg rubbing over him . . . Aye, he didn’t feel much like a healer at those times. But that’s what he was and what she needed, so Rory tried to adjust his thinking now as he hurried to catch up to her. She was just another ailing lass who needed his care. He would spread the liniment on her back, bottom and legs as quickly and adeptly as he would any other patient and then leave her to dress in privacy.
“Oh!” Elysande’s startled gasp drew his attention to the fact that she’d glanced back to see him following and stopped.
Pausing as well, Rory nodded and tried for the usual calm attitude he used when healing others. “Ye’ll need help applying the liniment, lass, so I’ve come in my capacity as healer to help ye. Because I’m a healer. And ’tis my job. To heal ye. And put on liniment fer ye.”
The way Elysande blinked and then peered at him a little oddly told him that he might have overstated his case. Sighing, Rory swung around so his back was to her. “I’ll give ye privacy to undress. Let me ken when ye’re ready.”
There was a moment of utter stillness where he suspected she was going to protest, but then he heard her give a small sigh. It was followed by the rustle of clothing that told him she was moving . . . or undressing. Probably undressing, he told himself as he listened to the sounds. He hoped she was undressing. Purely because it meant she trusted him to tend her, he told himself, though in his mind he was recalling her laid out on Mildrede’s kitchen table, her naked body on display, and his hands flexed at the thought of smoothing over all those rounded curves.
“I am ready.”
Rory gave a start at the soft call, and spun around, disappointment claiming him when he saw she was lying on her cloak, with only her bare back on display. She was covered from the waist down by the plaid, her gown and probably her breeks. She’d merely slid her arms out of her gown and removed her tunic, and then lain down.
“I will no’ be able to spread the liniment everywhere ye need it like that,” he muttered, not moving closer.
“I can get my legs and bottom myself. ’Tis only my back I need help with,” Elysande said. Her voice sounded unconcerned, but her face, the undamaged side he could see since she’d rested her forehead on her hands with the bruised side of her face down, was bright pink with a blush.
“Oh. Aye,” Rory said, and then realized how disappointed he sounded, and gave himself a mental shake as he moved forward. Healer, he repeated to himself firmly. Think like a healer, not the man who’s held her in his arms each morning.
Elysande had unwrapped the container holding the liniment. It sat on the fur next to her hip, so he knelt beside her and let his gaze slide over her back as he scooped out some liniment. Like her face, her back and side were more purple than black now, with red and then green toward the edges. She was healing, but it still looked damned painful. It made him feel bad for not insisting they stop sooner.
With the path a boggy mess from the melting snow, they hadn’t traveled as quickly as Rory had hoped and it had taken longer to cross the border into Scotland than he’d expected. Then they’d ridden for a while before finding somewhere to stop that wasn’t a swamp of mud and wet snow. Which meant they’d had to wait until they reached higher ground. It was well past the nooning now.
“What are you doing?”
Rory blinked at the question, and then explained, “I’m warming the liniment between my hands so the cold does no’ shock ye.”
“Oh. That is very kind,” she murmured, relaxing a little on the fur.
“I’m a kind maun,” he responded, and then actually winced at how pompous and ridiculous he sounded. Good Lord, the lass chased his good sense away by just being near. Sighing, he leaned forward and began to smooth the liniment over her back.
Rory started out just spreading it, but when she sighed with pleasure, he began massaging it into the damaged muscles.
“Oh, that is lovely,” Elysande breathed, seeming to melt into the fur under his touch.
“I’m no’ hurting ye?” Rory asked with concern. He knew it shouldn’t hurt—his hands were already numb from the cream so the skin on her back should be as well—but he wasn’t as sure that the muscles underneath her skin wouldn’t be paining her under his touch.
“A little, but ’tis nice too,” she said, and then gave a small laugh and admitted, “Which probably makes no sense, but when you knead the muscle like that it hurts a bit, but when you move on to another muscle, the first feels better than it did ere you pressed on it.”
“Because it encourages fresh blood to come to the area, which is supposed to help with healing,” he explained, watching his rough hands move over her soft skin.
“Really? Mother never told me that. Where did you learn it?”
“Ibn al-Nafis.”
“Where is that?” she asked with curiosity.
“No’ where, but who,” he said with amusement. “He was a physician in Egypt during the last century. A fascinating man who dissected the dead and wrote over a hundred volumes on what he discovered about blood and its circulation through the body. Aulay gave me one of his books fer Christmas some years back, though I do no’ ken how he got his hands on it. It was probably brought back this way by a crusader in the last century and Aulay bought it from a trader or perhaps another lord who had ended up with it.” He shrugged. “I do no’ ken, but ’twas fascinating reading.”
“It sounds it,” Elysande murmured, sounding almost sleepy now, and then she stirred herself to ask, “The church allowed this healer Ibn to dissect the dead?”
He wasn’t surprised by the question. That kind of thing was prohibited by the church. Even reading about his work would probably be frowned on by the church, but Rory had learned a lot from it. “They follow a different religion in Egypt. I presume ’twas allowed there or he would no’ have been able to write about his work.”
“I suppose, aye,” she agreed. “Do you think—” Whatever she’d been about to ask ended on a gasp and she went still beneath his touch.
Rory had moved on to working on her side, and his hand had brushed along the edge of her breast, startling her. She wasn’t the only one who reacted to it either. His body quite liked the unintended caress and wanted him to do it again. Actually, it would prefer he slide his hand under and cup the soft globe his fingers had just brushed against. Repeating the word healer in his mind, Rory resisted that urge and moved his hands lower to massage her waist briefly and then pulled his hands back and straightened.
“All done,” he said abruptly, and stood. He had intended to offer to apply the cream to her bottom and the backs of her legs again, but that no longer seemed like a good idea. If just brushing the edge of her breast was enough to have his mind run off on a tangent of other things he would like to do to her, he did not wish to know what actually cupping the round curves of her bottom might spur him to do.
“I’ll return to the others and let ye dress and apply liniment to yer legs and . . .” Nay, he wasn’t even going to mention her bottom, Rory decided, and simply turned and strode back through the trees to the safety of the other men.
Rory briefly considered that it might be best if he didn’t sleep beside her tonight when they stopped for the evening. Waking up with her in his arms was apparently giving him ideas. But he knew Elysande cuddled up to him in her sleep and was embarrassed when she woke up to find herself on his chest as she had each morning. That being the case, she’d probably do the same with whatever man took his place next to her, and the idea of her cuddling up to another . . . Well, Rory just wasn’t having that.
He was still irritated at the very thought of that happening when he stepped out of the woods and joined the others in the small clearing.
“Everything all right?” Tom asked, approaching him the moment he appeared from the trees.
“Aye. I applied the liniment to her back. She is just taking care o’ the other areas and then will join us,” he said grimly.
Tom raised his eyebrows at his grumpy tone, but merely nodded. “Good. Then riding should be much easier for her for the rest of the day.”
“Aye,” Rory agreed, relaxing a little at the thought. He’d finally been able to do something to help her, even if it was only applying the liniment she’d made. Of course, that meant he probably wouldn’t get to enjoy having her ride at his back with her arms around his waist later today. The thought made him grumpy again.
It was pain in her back as something pressed against her that woke Elysande from a dead sleep. Instinctively shifting forward to escape the pain, she pressed up against Rory’s back and glanced over her shoulder. She was just able to make out Tom’s outline in the faint light cast by the embers of the fire they’d enjoyed before retiring. He’d rolled toward her in his sleep, bumping her back. It made her wonder if that wasn’t the reason she’d ended up on top of Rory each morning, an effort to escape Tom bumping and paining her back.
Sighing, she lay there for a minute, debating what to do. Her back had still been fine when they’d stopped for the night. She’d considered applying some more liniment anyway before going to sleep, but then Rory had suggested it, and she’d known he would insist on doing her back for her, so she’d said it was fine and lay down to sleep. She hadn’t wanted his help . . . not when he was so grumpy, and she was still confused about the feelings his helping her the first time had caused her.
Even now, Elysande could almost feel the warm tingling that had raced through her when his hand had moved along her side and brushed against her breast. She’d never experienced anything like it before and had been shocked, but she’d also liked it and the excitement it had aroused in her.
Elysande had held still after that, hoping he would do it again, but he’d quickly spread the liniment over the rest of her side, and then headed back to camp as if nothing had happened. That made her suppose the touch had just been a part of his spreading the liniment and he hadn’t experienced any of the tingles and excitement she had. He’d also been short-tempered by the time she returned to camp, and had stayed that way the rest of the day. So, when they’d stopped and he’d suggested more liniment should be applied, she’d shook her head and said, no, she was fine.
She was paying for it now though, and the question became, did she really want to crawl from her warm spot on the fur and traipse through the cold to apply more liniment? Especially when she couldn’t reach the better part of her back?
Aye, Elysande decided when Tom shifted and nudged her again. Fortunately, it was the undamaged side of her back he brushed against this time, but it might not be next time. Holding her breath, she eased up onto her elbow, trying to figure out how to escape the center of the nest without waking everyone.
“Is it yer back?”
Elysande glanced around to see that Rory was awake and peering over his shoulder at her. When she nodded, he was suddenly moving, and she couldn’t help noticing that he didn’t seem to have any trouble getting to his feet without disturbing anyone. But then it looked like Inan had left a good deal more space between himself and Rory than Tom and Rory had left her, Elysande thought before she had to bite back a startled yelp as she was suddenly caught by the upper arms and lifted to her feet.
Well, not exactly to her feet, she acknowledged as Rory stepped over Inan while holding her a good foot off the ground. He didn’t set her down until they were outside the circle of bodies, and then he settled her on a log next to Donnghail, who was stirring the dying fire back to life.
“Wait here. I’ll get yer liniment,” Rory said in a low voice, and then headed off in the direction of the horses.
“Yer back’s paining ye,” Donnghail said quietly as he propped the stick he’d been using against the log and relaxed.
“Aye,” she confessed with a little embarrassment. “I suppose I should have let Rory put some more on before going to sleep as he suggested.”
“Grumpy as he was?” Donnghail asked with amusement and shook his head. “I would ha’e said nay too.”
Elysande beamed at him, feeling justified in her earlier refusal, but she merely asked, “Do you know why he was so grumpy?”
“I was going to ask ye that verra question,” Donnghail admitted. “He was fine when he chased off after ye into the woods, but came back like a man with a hot poker up his arse.”
Elysande blinked with bewilderment at the description, and then guessed, “He was moving fast?”
“What?” he asked with confusion, and then frowned. “Nay, he was cranky.”
“
Oh. I see,” she murmured, and then explained apologetically, “I just thought if he had a poker up his—well, he would be moving quickly. But most like toward the nearest river or loch to cool the poker so he could pull it out.”
“He might,” Donnghail allowed with amusement. “But he’d also be cranky.”
“Aye,” Elysande admitted, and then frowned and said, “I do not know why he returned cranky. Though I did not get the chance to thank him for applying the liniment as he left so quickly. Do you think it could be that?”
“I think ’tis more likely touching ye that made him cranky,” Donnghail said.
“Really?” she asked with alarm. “But—” Pausing, she bit her lip and then said, “I am pretty sure he will think he should put it on again now. However, if ’tis such an unpleasant chore for him and makes him angry, I would rather he did not. Mayhap you could put it on for me instead,” Elysande suggested, and then frowned and said, “Nay, I am sorry. If ’tis so unpleasant I should not even ask you.”
“Ye definitely should no’ ask me,” Donnghail agreed with a soft laugh. “I suspect my putting liniment on ye would make him crankier still.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake! Why would he care so long as he does not have to do it?”
“Ye misunderstand, m’lady,” Donnghail interrupted gently. “’Tis no’ that he did no’ like putting the liniment on ye. I suspect he got cranky because he liked it too much. He’s attracted to ye,” he added solemnly.
“Do you think so?” Elysande asked with surprise, and then shook her head before he could answer. “Nay. He cannot be. I look awful.”
“Aye, ye do,” he said honestly. “And yet, he does no’ let ye out o’ his sight. Worries about ye more than he’s a right to, and wakes every morning with ye in his arms and a smile on his face.”
Elysande considered that, and then waved it all away with one hand. “That means nothing. He is merely trying to fulfill my mother’s dying request and see me safely to Sinclair.”