Page 12 of Highland Treasure (Highland Brides 9)

Rory glanced down at that muffled request from Lady Elysande, realizing only then that when she’d dropped back down, her face had landed in the curve of his neck. He could feel her warm breath through the veil there, and the way her lips had moved the cloth against his skin as she spoke had been quite nice. Rolling his eyes at his own thoughts, he shifted his attention to Tom and Simon as they moved up on either side of him and bent to clasp her upper arms.

“Brace yourself, m’lady,” Tom said gently, and then glanced to Simon and said, “On three.”

The man then counted out the numbers aloud and they both lifted her by the arms at three.

Elysande did not cry out, moan or make any sound at all as they lifted her. But once on her feet Rory saw that her headdress was askew, leaving a bit of the undamaged side of her face on view. One look at the gray tone to her skin told him that she was definitely in agony and probably biting her lip to keep any pained sounds in.

Mouth tightening, he got quickly to his feet and then bent to retrieve the fur they’d lain on. He took his time rolling it up, and only after he finished the chore did he risk looking at her again. Much to his relief her skin tone was a little better already. Some color was leeching back into the visible bit of cheek.

“I need to . . .” Lady Elysande didn’t finish that sentence, but headed into the trees, carefully raising her hands to straighten her coif and veil as she went.

They all watched her go with concern, knowing she no doubt needed to relieve herself, but every one of them, he suspected, worried over whether she could manage the task on her own. She was walking like an old woman, her movements stiff, one hand at her lower back, and her spine slightly bent backward as if her muscles or skin could not bear to be stretched to get her fully upright. But she would not welcome aid with this task, and they all knew it.

When she disappeared from view, Rory finally turned away and handed the fur to Tom as he said, “Today is market day in Carlisle, I think, and we should reach there by late afternoon. If I can find some wolfsbane at market I will make a liniment from it that should ease her aches and pains.”

“That would be good. Thank you,” Tom said, and Rory noted the other men were nodding in agreement. None of them enjoyed seeing her suffer the way she was. It left a man feeling helpless and useless. Rory would rather suffer the pain for her, but since that wasn’t possible, he would do what he could to ease it for her.

Chapter 4

Elysande supposed she should be mortified at waking up plastered to Rory Buchanan’s chest, but she wasn’t. Well, she was a little embarrassed, Elysande acknowledged, but it wasn’t as if she’d done it on purpose. She must have rolled toward him in her sleep or something. And the man had made a very comfortable and warm bed, much nicer than the cold hard ground, even with the fur beneath her. She had slept better last night than she had since this whole horrible chapter of her life had begun. She hadn’t suffered pain, or nightmares, or wept in her sleep with grief as she had in the dungeon and then in the cart on the way to Monmouth. Also, for one moment when she’d first woken up, she hadn’t felt quite so alone as she had since de Buci had torn everyone she loved away from her. It had been nice.

Of course, then she’d woken up fully, recalled where she was, inhaled Rory’s woodsy scent and realized whom she was sleeping on. That was when she’d tensed and tried to get up. Her body had immediately reminded her of her injuries.

It was something she would try not to forget in the future, Elysande decided as she finally removed her gloves and turned her attention to her reason for being out in the woods. Much to her relief, the distance she’d walked while thinking had helped to work out some of the stiffness that had set into her back and legs while she’d slept. She even managed to take care of her personal needs without crying out in agony.

Hoping it was a sign that her injuries were improving, Elysande headed back to camp, arriving to find most of the men already mounted. Only Tom, Simon and Rory Buchanan were still on the ground.

“Are ye all right to ride, lass?” Rory asked with concern as she approached the three men standing by her horse.

A bit startled by the familiar address, Elysande flushed slightly, but didn’t comment on it. She merely nodded in response to his question as she paused before them.

Simon and Tom worked together to place her in the saddle. It was done quickly and efficiently, the men now quite adept at the chore. Still, she was embarrassed by the need for it and gave a start when a round, flat bread-type thing that she’d never seen the likes of before suddenly appeared by her mare’s mane.

Elysande blinked at it and then glanced to Rory in question as he held it up to her.

“’Tis an oatcake,” he explained gently. “To break yer fast.”

“Oh.” Managing a smile, she finally took it from him, noting that it was as hard as a biscuit. “Thank you.”

Rory nodded. “If ye tire or yer back pains ye and ye wish to ride with me again, give a shout.”

He waited for her to nod before moving away to mount his own horse.

The moment Rory’s back was turned, Elysande raised the oatcake to her nose to give it a sniff through her veil. It didn’t really have much of a scent. Curious, she slipped it under the veil and took a small cautious bite. It was a very hard, rather tasteless bread. But she supposed it would fill her stomach.

Glancing up to see that the men were all waiting on her, amusement on their faces, Elysande stuck the oatcake in her mouth to hold between her teeth, and quickly gathered her reins. She thought Conn grinned at her before turning his horse to head out of the clearing, but couldn’t be sure with the veil obstructing her vision as it was. She did know it was Inan who followed him with Alick behind them. Elysande then urged her own horse to follow when Rory waved her forward. Once she had passed him and was following the other horses, Elysande shifted the reins to her right hand and reached her left under the veil to pluck the oatcake from her mouth.

“Do ye no’ like oatcakes, Lady Elysande?” Alick teased, dropping back to ride beside her.

“I— ’Tis fine,” she said weakly, not wishing to insult anyone.

Apparently taking pity on her, Alick merely said, “They may be tasteless, but will give ye strength and fill yer belly so ye’re no’ hungry.”

He didn’t wait for a response, but urged his horse up in front of hers again so they all rode single file once more. Sighing, Elysande peered down at the oatcake in her hand and then took another bite. The flavor of it wasn’t offensive, just rather bland. But as Alick had pointed out, it would give her strength and fill her belly, so she’d eat it. But she had to wonder if they were always this hard, or the oatcake had traveled all the way from Scotland with them and was now stale after being weeks in some sack.

“Carlisle ahead!”

Elysande lifted her head from where it rested against Rory’s back, and glanced around at that shout. Sitting behind him as she was, she couldn’t see anything. Not until she lifted her veil to toss it over her headdress and leaned to the side to look around his arm. Then she saw what Rory was shouting about. Despite the driving snow that had been pelting them for hours, she could make out what looked like a church spire and a bunch of buildings that appeared almost to grow out of the wall that surrounded them. They were merely a dark silhouette against a gray and black sky, but it was a welcome sight nonetheless, Elysande decided as she tugged her veil back into place.

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