The Highlander’s Stolen Bride_Book Two_The Sutherland Legacy

by Eliza Knight

  Strath cleared his throat, feeling how dry it was. Lord, he could use a flagon of whisky right now. “Duff of Dornoch and Sutherland, ye are hereby charged with an attempt at mutiny and will receive a punishment of twenty lashes. Do ye confess?”

  “Aye. I confess, and gladly take my lashes, if my laird will forgive me for being a fool.”

  Strath gripped the sturdy handle of the whip and heard the leather creak. “Aye. Ye will be forgiven.”

  And with that said, he raised the whip.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Eva found him in his chamber, sitting in the dark and nursing a flagon of whisky.

  When he’d not joined them at supper in the great hall, she’d thought at first he must be late. Servants brought out trenchers of lamprey pie, roasted venison, green peas in garlic sauce, turnips in cream sauce, and fresh baked brown bread. Food was placed in front of her. Wine poured. The aromas and taste of the meal were delectable, better than anything she’d had at Northwyck. By the time everyone was served and had taken a few bites, the empty place across from her where Strath was supposed to sit stood out like a sore thumb.

  She’d determined he was not coming to supper, and this was made even more clear when Tomaidh returned and gave a subtle shake of his head after having volunteered to go and find out, at Jamie’s request.

  After that, the food tasted a little duller, and the conversation grew quieter, everyone consumed by their own thoughts.

  Eva couldn’t imagine what kind of pain Strath must have been enduring at that moment. If she were in his situation, she probably would have declined to dine too. In fact, she almost had. When she’d come out of the chapel, Duff’s lashing had ended, and she only knew that because she’d seen an ashen-faced Strath enter the castle and go up the winding staircase toward his chamber. He was so lost in thought that he’d not even glanced over to see her standing just a few feet away.

  Oh, but how her heart had lurched to see him in such pain. Having to dole out the punishment must have been hard on him, no matter how deserved it was. Duff was not an enemy that had to be vanquished on the battlefield, but a man he’d fought beside. And that’s when she determined to put aside her own confusion and fears so she could sit beside him at supper. Only, he wasn’t there.

  The situation was even harder on Duff, who’d had to give in and risk humiliation, risk being tossed out of his clan and be forever labeled a traitor.

  Which was why after finishing supper, Eva excused herself and gathered a few provisions from the kitchen larder where she’d seen a shelf devoted to healing supplies. She exited the castle, marching with purpose toward the barracks where she was certain the warriors would have taken Duff after his punishment concluded.

  Two men stood outside the barracks, leaning casually against the wall. They straightened to their full heights when she approached, giving each other side-eye glances as though they weren’t exactly sure how to react. And that was all the more evident when she was within feet of them, and they simply stared at her, speechless, as though their tongues had been cut out.

  “Good evening, sirs. Please, allow me inside.” Eva squared her shoulders, the basket of supplies balanced on her forearm.

  Finally, one of them spoke. “We canna, my lady. This is the soldier’s barracks. No women allowed.”

  “I know exactly what it is,” she said in her most authoritative tone. “I have come to tend to the warrior, Wee Duff.”

  At that, their eyes widened, and as though they’d passed some silent message, they moved closer together, shoulders touching, completely blocking her way.

  “Definitely not, my lady,” the second one said.

  Eva raised her chin and pursed her lips. She would not allow them to thwart her in her task. She used a soothing tone when she answered. “I will not harm him. I want to help.” She indicated the supplies she carried.

  They eyed the basket, and one of them poked his finger inside to move the contents around, not finding anything that would cause harm to his fellow warrior. “We are nae worried for his safety, my lady.”

  She opened her mouth and then closed it again, understanding he meant Wee Duff might hurt her. Or someone else. But it didn’t matter. She wasn’t afraid. Narrowing her eyes, she said, “Allow me to pass. I’m not worried for my safety, and if you’re so worried, you can escort me inside like true gentleman to make certain nothing happens to me.”

  While one shook his head, the second said, “I’m not certain the laird would approve of this.”

  “He would not approve of a man with a wound seeking attention from a healer?”

  “Well…” They eyed each other once more. “Ye’re a healer?”

  Eva blew out a disgruntled breath and stomped her foot. This had taken quite enough of her time. “Move out of my way.” She didn’t give them a chance to respond. She pushed her way forward, knocking her basket into their joined elbows.

  It was clear from their body language they considered blocking her and pushing her back. They resisted her for half a breath but then moved, choosing instead to follow her inside. Although the courtyard had been cloudy, inside the barracks was even darker, and she needed a few moments to let her eyes adjust to the lighting. The air was smokier than inside the castle, the ventilation for the fires not as good. She made out men surrounding several braziers. A few warriors were curled up sleeping on cots or just directly on the floor. Weapons lined the walls.

  The building smelled faintly of sweat and musk and the fires.

  She scanned the men, looking for Duff’s familiar face, but she didn’t see him. “Where is Wee Duff?” she asked them.

  No one answered, but plenty of them stared at her, perhaps wondering if they’d consumed too much whisky.

  Again, she was forced to show off the supplies she brought. “I’ve come to help him.”

  Tomaidh stood from where he’d been sitting in the shadows and approached her. Eva was grateful to see him. He’d been kind to her from the very beginning, and she considered him a friend.

  “My lady.” He glanced down into her basket, doing a similar perusal as the warriors had outside the barracks. When his eyes met hers, they were filled with questions. “Why would ye offer to do this?”

  Eva hadn’t realized how much questioning she would get for doing something kind. Were they all so cold in the Highlands that they didn’t help a man in need? “He is hurt, is he not?”

  “Aye. But by his own design.” He regarded her without revealing his impression. “He was punished, as I’m sure ye must know.”

  “Aye. But even the punished deserve to heal, no?” She wasn’t going to back down, no matter what they threw at her. Helping Duff was something she had to do.

  The room had grown very hushed, only the sounds of the crackling fires breaking the silence. Tomaidh pursed his lips, deep in thought. “Does Laird Dornoch or Laird Montgomery know ye’ve come?”

  She shook her head. “I came of my own free will. I did not think I needed permission.”

  Again, Tomaidh studied her, and Eva started to feel self-conscious. Was she supposed to have gained permission? She shifted on her feet, still confident in her own choice to help. “Certainly it is not unusual to care for the wounded in Scotland?”

  “’Tis unusual for someone in your situation to care for our wounded, aye.” He gave a curt nod, as if that explained it. That she was a simpleton for not understanding this, and perhaps now she would simply go away since he’d given her that information.

  “My situation is this, Sir Tomaidh, and the rest of you as well,” she said, looking pointedly about the barracks. “I am English, but I also have Scottish in my blood. I am the daughter of a man you suppose to be your enemy.” Why had she admitted the latter when she’d not yet found the will to tell Strath? Perhaps part of her wanted to see what the reaction would be? Whatever it was, she trusted Tomaidh, and she trusted these men who’d done nothing but befriend her and protect her. “I was to marry another man who is your enemy. But that wa
s not of my own free will, for he is my enemy as well. I beseeched your laird to take me with him in place of my father, not only as a dutiful daughter, but to escape my enemy. Your laird and I have become close. I am…fond of him. I care for all of you as well. So you see, to me, it is not unusual. Allow me to help, sir. Please.”

  She drew in a slow breath, counting the seconds as the silence dragged on.

  “I’ve never met another like ye,” Tomaidh said, and there was a murmur of agreement amongst the men, a newfound respect in their eyes. There was still a note of surprise in his voice, and perhaps a slight twinge of condescension. He likely thought she was an idiot. “Ye would offer your care to a man who might kill ye.”

  Eva had never been one to be fearful of the unknown. This was a gift her mother had taught her. Aye, she knew to be cautious, but to be paralyzed by fear? Never. And she was grateful for that now, as she kept her eyes steady on the warrior in front of her who’d just laid out the truth so bluntly. “He will not kill me. He’s had plenty of chances before now.”

  Tomaidh grunted as he observed her. “All right. Ye may tend him, but not without me present.”

  Relief flooded her, for she was certain that even though she’d been able to push past the two guards outside, she’d not be able to get past all of these men. “I will not harm him, you have my word.”

  “I’m not worried about ye harming him. Duff is… Well, he will not be so kind.”

  Eva raised her chin. “We shall see.”

  With a slight shake of his head, as though he couldn’t believe he was giving in, Tomaidh led her toward the back of the barracks and through a doorway to a small antechamber. There, lying on his stomach on a table, was Duff. He appeared to be sleeping. His back was laid open in fleshy, bleeding lines. Eva gritted her teeth at the sight. She’d seen worse, but even still, she knew it had to hurt something fierce. No wonder Strath had been so pale and deep in thought as he’d passed her. She couldn’t imagine being the one to inflict such pain on another human, and not because they were threatening a life, but because it was a punishment that needed meting out.

  Eva pulled a stool over to the table where he lay and set her supplies down on top of it. She withdrew a jug of whisky and poured a large cup.

  “He’s already had plenty of that to knock him out,” Tomaidh said.

  “All right.” Eva nodded and slowly poured the contents of the whisky onto Duff’s back.

  That woke him up. The man bellowed, back arching, head swiveling to face her. Accusation was written all over his face as well in the curses he tossed at her. Eva stood her ground, even as the venom shot arrows through her belly.

  “Get her away from me,” Duff shouted.

  “She has come to help ye, lad,” Tomaidh said in a soothing tone. “Lie down and let her finish her work. Dinna act the fool.”

  “Traitor,” he shouted at his mate and spat on the ground by her feet. “Sassenach bitch.”

  Eva drew in a deep breath through her nose and then let it out slowly, releasing with it the anger at his accusation. This was no less than she expected. The man had been beaten, and most certainly blamed it on her. On top of that, she’d just poured spirits on his open flesh. Well, perhaps she was willing to admit that pouring whisky on his wound to wake him was in bad form, but she’d call it even for him having spied on her. But instead of saying all that, which would only rile the warrior more, Eva schooled her features into calm authority.

  “There has been no one to come and tend your wounds,” she said softly. “Unfortunately for you, this Sassenach is the only one who has. So while you may be angry or offended by the nature of my birth and our connection, I can promise you I mean only to help.”

  Duff stared at her, seeming stunned she would not simply leave. That she had not exploded in a fit of rage at the way he’d treated her. She waited patiently, hiding her jumble of nerves and holding herself in place when she truly did want to run back to the comfort of her chamber.

  She could smell the blood of his wounds mixed with the whisky. The sour scent of it was enough to make anyone gag, but she held it in.

  In the dim light, she could have sworn she saw tears spark in his eyes. But before she could examine him closer, Duff dropped his head on his hands and muttered, “Get on with it then.”

  Tomaidh jerked beside her, no doubt stunned that the man had acquiesced so quickly. Eva had to hide her smile and the jig she wanted to dance at her victory, however small it was.

  She winked at Tomaidh. Though she’d hoped this would be the result, there had always been the chance that Duff would deny her help. All wounded animals were reluctant at first. Usually, all it took was a strong yet gentle hand to show them you meant well. In most cases, anyway. Sometimes they did try to bite you, and then you needed to simply walk away.

  “All right, then,” she murmured, reaching into her basket for the remainder of the supplies. The sooner she got started, the sooner she’d be done, and the less likely he’d be able to change his mind.

  Her hands trembled slightly when she grasped the clean linen, but she willed them to still. “Tomaidh, I need hot water to clean his wounds.”

  An hour or so later, Duff slept peacefully, his wounds cleaned. Eva had applied a healing salve topped by a poultice and gave Tomaidh strict instructions to keep the wounds cleaned and to find her if they started to puss.

  Once it was complete, she went to the kitchens and fixed Strath a trencher of leftovers with Frances’s help. Now she stood in the doorway of Strath’s chamber and stared at a man who looked like he’d spent the better part of the last few hours in torment. His chamber smelled of whisky, but mingled with the spirits was the scent of pine and leather.

  “We missed you at supper.” Eva didn’t close his door out of propriety’s sake, but she did walk in and take the other cushioned seat on the opposite side of the table. She placed the trencher she’d gathered in the kitchen down in front of him. “I brought you something to eat. The lamprey pie was delicious. Our cook was not as talented as your uncle’s.”

  He glanced down at the food. “Thank ye, lass.” His voice was gravelly, as though he’d not spoken in a while. It sounded a lot like hers did when her throat was tight with emotion.

  Eva cleared her throat, unable to meet his gaze. When she did chance a glance, he’d gone back to staring at his lap.

  “I went to see Duff.” There was no point in hiding it when he would find out sooner or later. No doubt, the men had spread it around the entire castle by now. What’s more, they would soon tell Strath that she was part Scots, a fact she’d kept from him and now regretted. The timing just never seemed right. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if they were interrupted at any moment by someone wanting to come and share the news.

  “What?” He set the flagon of whisky on the table as he sat forward, blinking as if he wasn’t certain he was seeing her there in reality. He looked as though he wanted to say more, to tell her how foolish she was perhaps, but he didn’t.

  “I treated his wounds.”

  Still, he said nothing. Is he angry?

  Eva chewed her lip and then kept talking, hoping he’d respond. “He was not happy about it at first, but then he allowed me to do it.”

  “Why?” he choked out.

  Eva blew out a shuddering breath. “I suspect because he didn’t want an infection.”

  “Nay, why did ye help him?” Even in the dark, she could make out his pained expression.

  “Because I am partly to blame for the situation, and because my mother trained me to care for others, and lastly, because I…care about you, Strath.” She should tell him now about her mother, but… she hesitated.

  At this admission, he sat back heavily in his chair, lifted the whisky and took a long pull. She was a little hurt he didn’t respond, but knew that he would need to process through the haze of all he had going on in his head.

  “Mind sharing?” she asked, leaning toward the table and extending her arm. Perhaps the whisky wou
ld fortify her.

  Strath raised a brow but passed her the jug.

  “I could have used this while I was dressing his wounds. I had some whisky with me, but it didn’t seem prudent to drink spirits while trying to garner his trust.” She let out a little laugh.

  “Ye’re amazing.” He stared at her, his burr slightly breathy.

  “Thank you, but I assure you, I am quite ordinary.” She took a sip of the smoky-tasting whisky, impressed she didn’t shudder this time. In fact, the warmth of the liquor as it slid down her throat was a welcoming comfort.

  Strath shook his head. “Ye’re too modest.”

  Eva passed back the flagon of whisky, and a shock of excitement raced up her arm as their fingers brushed. “I may not have a habit of self-congratulating, but I am by no means meek, and you must know this by now.”

  “I do. ’Tis part of what makes ye so fascinating to me.”

  Eva laughed. “All this flattery will give me a big head.”

  “Your head could be as big as that hearth over there, and I’d still find ye beautiful.” He set down the whisky jug and caught her hand, brushing his finger over her knuckles. “I’ve never met anyone quite like ye, Eva, I’m serious.”

  Eva’s gaze traced a path over the angles of his striking visage. “Funny, you’re not the first one to say that to me today.”

  “We speak the truth. This world is full of selfish people, and I’ve only seen ye be honest and try to help others.”

  Honest. How could she tell him now that she’d kept a big truth from him? “I have helped myself plenty. With you, I helped myself.”

  He chuckled. “I wouldna consider kissing me as helping yourself, but if ye do, by all means.”

  That was not what she’d meant. Heat flushed her cheeks, and she thought about pulling away from his grasp, but he held her fingers fast. How easy it was for them to slide back into their routine. How easy it had been for her to pull him from his melancholy just by talking to him. Just by being there.