by Lynsay Sands
“Buchanan?” Alick asked with surprise. “I thought we were headed to Sinclair?”
“Aye. Well, Buchanan is closer. A little more than two days’ ride compared to more than two weeks to Sinclair,” Rory pointed out grimly. Much as he hated to admit it, he feared he was going to fail at the task he’d promised to perform. Now, his main concern was keeping Elysande alive. “We’ll never get her to Sinclair alive with de Buci’s men hounding us. But we could take her to Buchanan and send a messenger to Sinclair. Then Cam could come to her at Buchanan, and take care of getting the message to the English king.”
“Hmm.” Alick considered that and then shook his head. “I suspect she’ll fight ye on that. The lass is determined to fulfill her mother’s last wish.”
“Her mother wanted her safe,” Rory countered firmly. “She would be safe at Buchanan.”
“Aye, well, just do no’ be surprised if Elysande leaves us behind to head fer Sinclair on her own,” Alick warned, and then smiled wryly and added, “Or mayhap she’ll head fer court instead, to deliver the warning to her king personally. But either way, I’m thinking she’ll not sit idly by at Buchanan, safe or no’.”
Rory didn’t comment, but suspected his brother was right. Elysande would not be happy to simply go to Buchanan and wait safely there for Sinclair to come to her. Especially not when they were under such a tight time constraint to get the warning to the king. That meant he’d have to come up with another solution, Rory thought grimly as he finished binding her and eased her back on the bed.
He turned his attention to cleaning her head wound then, his mind preoccupied with the more immediate concern of keeping her safe while they were at the inn, and after a moment, he said, “I want either you, or I, with Elysande at all times from now on.”
He was aware that Alick was watching him with a troubled glance, and wasn’t surprised when he said, “None o’ our men would hurt her.”
“I ken that,” Rory assured him.
“Well, neither would Simon or Tom,” he added. “She would no’ even be alive if no’ fer them.”
“I ken that too,” Rory said. “But she can order Simon and Tom away as she did today, and while I trust all our men, I trust ye more.”
Alick seemed to accept that and didn’t question him further.
Rory finished cleaning the head wound, relieved to see that, as he’d suspected, it was more bluster than wound. Still, she had a bump and a cut from where she’d hit the edge of the stone hearth of the fireplace. Elysande would have a sore head when she woke up, and despite what he’d said to Tom, he was pretty sure she would wake up. While she hadn’t woken as he’d sewn her up, she had twitched a couple times, as if struggling to wake.
“Does she really need her head wrapped?” Alick asked when Rory finished smearing salve on the wound and picked up the linens to start wrapping her head.
Rory shrugged. “’Tis best in case some of the powder did get on the bed and fell off the furs when ye folded them up. The bandage will keep it from her wound.” He didn’t add that it would make her look more poorly than he thought she really was, and he wanted that. He was hoping that if they let everyone think she was on the brink of dying, it would delay another attempt on her life long enough for him to figure out a way to either get her safely to Sinclair, and quickly, or alternately, get her safely to court to give the king her mother’s messages.
Once he finished wrapping her head, Rory straightened to peer at Elysande. Alick had tugged the linens up to cover her bandaged chest, but she still looked pale and weak in the bed, her skin whiter than the off-white bandage and linens covering her head. After a minute, he glanced to Alick and said, “Ye did no’ finish yer nooning meal before I ordered ye up here to guard the lass earlier. Go on down, rinse yer boots off and get something to eat. If the men ask how she is, just shake yer head and say it does no’ look good.”
Alick considered him briefly, and then nodded and headed for the door, promising to be quick.
Rory eyed Elysande for another moment, and then glanced around the room. She’d obviously been at the table by the fire, grinding the weeds, when she was attacked. Either she’d bumped the table trying to avoid being stabbed and that had knocked the mortar to the floor, or her hand or something else had hit it and sent it tumbling. He suspected she’d bumped it as she’d tried to get out of the way of the knife coming at her, because she’d fallen several steps past the table and spilled powder, and closer to the fire.
That made him recall her hand being in the ashes of the fireplace and Rory picked it up now to examine it, but the ash from the fire prevented his seeing much. Grabbing the damp linen he’d used to wash the blood from her head and chest, he rinsed it, wrung it out and then wiped the ash away from her hand and fingers. Much to his relief, her fingers were a little red and dry, but there was no blistering or scorching. She hadn’t suffered more of a burn than one got by being out too long in the sun.
Sighing, he set her hand back and then glanced to the door when it opened. When Tom entered with a mop and bucket, he slid off the bed and walked over to move the table back to the other side of the bed. He then returned for the chair and carried it over to set up against the wall.
“No one was seen coming or going through the kitchens and the servants’ stairs,” Tom said glumly as he began to mop the floor.
Rory straightened from setting the chair down and then moved to the window and opened the shutters, wincing at the loud screech it made. He leaned out then to peer down. He could see the stables to his left, but the area directly below was open and unused. Unfortunately, while snow had been falling when they arrived the night before, it hadn’t stuck around and there was nothing but grass below. No nice prints in mud or snow for him to follow. He’d take a closer look when he went down to rinse off his own boots though.
Rory closed the shutters, grimacing at the loud sound it made, and then paused briefly before opening them again, bringing about another squeal of protesting metal.
“He couldn’t have come in the window. Lady Elysande would have heard him and been able to run out of the room before he climbed in,” Tom commented, saying what Rory was thinking.
“Aye. But he could have escaped this way. We would no’ ha’e heard their squeal below,” Rory murmured, and closed the shutters again and then turned to survey the room thoughtfully.
“So,” Tom said, dipping the mop in the bucket and then pulling it out to sweep it across the floor. “Her attacker came up either the front stairs or the servants’ stairs unnoticed, attacked m’lady and then panicked and went out the window because she screamed and he knew we would come.”
“Or he fled out the window when he heard us pounding up the stairs, or Simon running up the hall,” Rory suggested, and paused to consider his own words.
“But how did he get up here without anyone in the kitchens or the taproom seeing?” Tom asked in a frustrated growl.
“Mayhap he was already above stairs,” Rory suggested quietly.
Tom stopped shoving the mop around at that suggestion, his eyes widening and imagination taking over. “Aye, he could have come above stairs earlier, mayhap while you and I were still sleeping. He could have been hiding in one of the rooms, or in the servants’ stairwell, just waiting for an opportunity, and then you brought Lady Elysande up here and left Alick and Simon to guard her, but Alick left and then Lady Elysande sent Simon for water. He saw his chance, slipped into the room and attacked.”
“’Tis possible,” Rory allowed.
Mouth tightening, Tom snapped, “Damn de Buci! If she dies and the king is never warned—” Pausing, he shook his head and growled, “Edward III is a good king. Better than the alternatives. No matter what, we have to warn him,” he said firmly. “I’ll take the damned messages meself if I have to.”
Rory blinked at the words, and then nodded slowly as he turned them over in his head. His voice was considering when he said, “I’m thinking ye may just ha’e to do that.”
; When his words made Tom cast a stricken look at Elysande, Rory realized he’d misunderstood him, and almost explained that he hadn’t meant the man would have to go because Elysande was near death. But then he changed his mind. He wanted people to think Elysande was at death’s door, after all. This could only help. Still, it made him feel bad, but he pushed those feelings away and took the mop from him. “I’ll finish this, ye go check on Simon and see if he’s done washing the hall and stairs. If he is, tell him to go get some rest, and then find Conn and Inan and tell them the same thing. The three of them will be guarding Elysande tonight and I want them alert.”
Tom hesitated, his gaze sliding to Elysande, and then he nodded and slipped from the room, pulling the door silently closed.
Rory started swishing the mop over the floor then, his mind only half on the job, as he considered the plan that had started forming in his mind since Tom had made the comment about delivering the warning to the king himself. The idea actually had merit and he considered it as he cleaned the floor.
Once he’d finished, Rory stuck the mop back in the bucket and strode to the rolled-up fur Alick had set beside the bed. He quickly unfurled it on the floor. The remains of Elysande’s plaid, gown and tunic rolled out with it. His gaze slid over the bloodstains, and then he began to run his hand over the skirts until he found what he was looking for between the layers of cloth. Pausing, he began to shift the material until he found a long narrow pocket sewn to the inside of the skirt. Opening it, he plucked out the thick, stiff scroll inside and stared at the de Valance seal for a moment, imagining Elysande pressing her mother’s ring into the wax. Then he slipped it into his plaid and rolled up the fur and cloth again.
Straightening, Rory then turned his mind to Elysande’s attack, and walked to the window to open the shutters again.
The squeal of metal seemed loud in the room, but he hadn’t heard it from below. Elysande would have heard it in here though. Her attacker definitely hadn’t come in through the window. He peered down at the ground below for a moment, but then closed the shutters once more. Finally, he moved to the bed, and settled next to Elysande.
Leaning his back against the wall, Rory closed his eyes and tried to recall what the room had looked like when he’d entered, and then replayed everything that had happened from the time he heard the scream until now. Somewhere in there was a memory of something that had bothered him.
He was still going through his recollection of events when Alick entered the bedchamber, looking a bit upset.
“Tom told Simon, Conn and Inan that ye said they should go to bed and sleep. That they’d be standing guard tonight,” he said, and then raising his eyebrows, he added, “I thought ye trusted only you and me fer the task?”
“Aye. Well, I trust only us in the room. But Conn, Inan and Simon can stand in the hall.”
“Oh.” Relaxing, Alick nodded and moved to the bedside to peer down at Elysande. “She has no’ woken?”
“Nay.” He peered at her solemnly, and then leaned down to feel her forehead. It was cool and dry, but that didn’t really mean anything. It could take a full day and up to three for fever to set in. Straightening, he asked, “Are the men resting?”
“Aye,” Alick said. “Well, they were going as soon as they finished their drinks. Which should be soon.”
Rory nodded and then announced, “I need more linen. Between the lass’s chest wound, head wound and my binding her ankle, I’ve used up nearly all o’ mine. I’ll need more to change her bandages later.”
“Do ye want me to go to the shops and—”
“Nay,” Rory interrupted, getting up off the bed. “I’ll go. I need some more weeds anyway. I’m taking Tom, Fearghas and Donnghail with me. Do no’ leave Elysande’s side while I am gone. No’ even for a moment. No’ even if one o’ the other men offers to stay with her. Understand?” He waited for Alick to nod before heading to the door, assuring him, “I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
“Rory?” Alick said as he reached and opened the door.
Rory paused, and glanced back in question.
“What are ye no’ telling me, brother?”
He hesitated, and in the silence heard footsteps approaching up the hall. Rory didn’t turn to see who it was, and spoke in normal tones when he said, “We obviously canno’ leave tomorrow as I planned. I’ll have to pay fer the extra time here. I’m thinking to send a couple o’ the boys to Buchanan to fetch back some coin to cover our stay here just in case. Probably Donnghail and Fearghas, and maybe Tom too.”
Alick blinked in surprise and opened his mouth, probably to protest that he couldn’t possibly be out of coin. The Baron of Monmouth had paid him a small fortune, but Rory gave him a warning look that silenced him, and after a hesitation, Alick merely said, “That’s probably a good idea.”
“Aye. The lass could linger fer a while,” he said grimly, and then repeated, “I’ll be back as quick as I can,” before pulling the door closed and turning in the hall to find Simon standing before him, a stricken look on his face. Conn and Inan were a couple of steps back, their own faces grim.
“You think she will die?” Simon asked, looking half-dismayed and half-guilty. “I never should have let her send me down to the kitchens.”
Rory considered him briefly, and then moved past him, saying only, “I do no’ ken. She’s in God’s hands now. Get yerselves to bed. I need ye to guard her later.”
He left the men in the hall and headed down the stairs.
Chapter 14
Elysande woke up with a splitting headache and that was the only thing she was aware of when she first opened her eyes. Groaning as the light in the room added to her pain, she closed them at once and raised a hand toward her head, only to grimace and let it fall back to her side as moving her arm caused pain in her chest.
“Elysande?”
She frowned slightly at that voice, and then forced her eyes open again to find Alick Buchanan’s face hovering over hers, his expression one of both worry and relief, which seemed an odd combination to her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she murmured groggily, and then squeezed her eyes closed and groaned, “And who kicked me in the head?”
“I think we were all hoping ye could tell us that,” Alick said, and she could hear the wry tone in his voice, and then amusement entered it as well as he added, “And Rory is going to be verra angry that he was no’ here when ye woke.”
Elysande scowled at those words, oddly annoyed by the news that Rory wasn’t there. Her head was pounding, her chest and back hurt and when she shifted her legs her ankle gave a twinge of pain to remind her it hurt too. Frankly, she was sick and tired of hurting. And for some reason, all she wanted in the world was to curl up against Rory and sleep. She always felt better when he was around.
“Where is he?” she asked testily.
“I’m no’ sure,” Alick admitted, and now there was an odd tone to his voice, almost troubled. “He said he needed more linens and weeds, but then he said he was sending Donnghail, Fearghas and Tom to Buchanan to bring back more coin to pay for the inn. I’m no’ sure what he’s up to. But I suspect he has an idea who stabbed ye and is—”
“I was stabbed?” Elysande squawked, blinking her eyes open with alarm, and then her mouth made an O as the memory returned to her.
“Do ye no’—” Alick broke off and stood abruptly, his hand going to his sword as the door opened, but he relaxed when Rory appeared.
Rory looked worried and exhausted, Elysande thought as she watched him enter. He carried a cloth sack in one hand, while his other was running down the back of his head and along his neck as if he was trying to rub away some stress that was troubling him. He let the hand drop away now to push the door closed and then turned to survey the room, his gaze finding Alick just as the younger man let his hand slip from his sword. She saw a smile tip his lips and then his gaze moved to her and he froze. As she watched, his eyes brightened and his lips split with delight and relief as he qui
ckly crossed the room to the bed.
“Ye’re awake,” he said as he dropped the sack on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Aye. She just woke up a moment ago,” Alick said when she didn’t respond right away.
“How’s yer head?” he asked solicitously, his gaze shifting between her eyes. Checking her pupils, she suspected.
“Sore,” Elysande said, and then grimaced at how cranky she sounded. But then she was cranky. Being in constant pain did not make one cheerful.
“I’ll make ye a tincture,” he assured her, and stood up to begin fiddling with something on the bedside table that she couldn’t be bothered to turn her head to look at. She was hoping if she held her head completely still, it would eventually stop pounding.
“Did ye get yer weeds and linen?” Alick asked, moving around the bed to Rory’s side.
“Aye, and a new plaid fer Elysande,” Rory answered absently as he worked.
“What happened to my other one?” Elysande asked with irritation. She’d liked the colors of the plaid she’d purchased in Carlisle.
“It got blood on it and needs washing,” Rory explained as he settled on the edge of the bed next to her again. “I got one similar to it though. At least it has the same colors, deep blues and greens and red.”
Elysande relaxed at that, touched that he’d bothered.
She saw Alick grab the bag and open it, but then was distracted when Rory eased her up to a sitting position so she could drink the tincture he was now pressing to her lips.
Elysande didn’t refuse or argue and swallowed all of it one gulp after another. She closed her eyes with a small sigh when it was gone and he eased her back down to lie in bed.
“’Tis almost exactly the same as the one she had.”
Elysande opened her eyes again at that comment from Alick, and saw the plaid he was holding up. He was right. It was almost exactly the same. Only there was a little more blue to it. She actually liked it better than the first, she decided, and smiled as she let her eyes slide closed. The men’s voices drifted over her as she allowed the tincture to take effect and urge her toward sleep.