Page 59 of Highland Treasure (Highland Brides 9)

“Anyway,” he said on a sigh. “As I said, ye’ve been lucky so far. But I suspect we’d no’ be as lucky the next time and am unwilling to take the chance.”

Elysande considered his words but she simply could not believe that Simon was her attacker. “I have known Simon for years, Rory. He trained at Kynardersley under Father from the time he was six years old. We grew up together. He is like family. I cannot believe he would betray me like that for whatever de Buci would offer. I just cannot.”

“He may no’ have been given a choice,” Rory said solemnly. “De Buci may have threatened someone he cares fer. A parent or sister.”

Elysande frowned at that possibility. Simon’s parents and sisters had been to Kynardersley several times to visit over the years. His father had been friends with hers since they were boys, and had remained close. It was why Simon had trained under her father.

“But it matters little if ye believe or no’, I did no’ expect ye to anyway,” Rory said now, drawing her from her thoughts. “However, yer mother tasked me with getting ye to Sinclair safe, and I plan to do that. I have no’ accused Simon outright, but I’m keeping an eye on him. Ye’ll no’ be alone with him again. Either Alick or I . . .” he began, and then his gaze slid to Conn and Inan. When both men nodded, he added, “Or Conn or Inan will be with ye at all times.” He waited a moment as if expecting a protest.

When Elysande didn’t say anything, he added, “And I want ye to stay in this room until we leave the inn for the Mary Margaret. We ha’e to keep up the tale that ye’re dying. ’Tis just one more day,” he said quickly when she started to protest. “And necessary. By now there is probably a small army o’ de Buci’s soldiers in Ayr. They’re biding their time because they think ye’re dying, but if de Buci’s as desperate as ye think, and learns ye’re no’ on death’s door, he verra well might attack the inn during the night and slaughter everyone, or simply bar the doors and set it afire.”

Elysande’s eyes widened. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might do something like that, but the man was desperate. He did not face a pleasant death if the king was warned. He would be found guilty of high treason for this plot. They would strap him to a hurdle, drag him through the streets to the place of execution so that people could hurl things at him along the way. Then he would be hanged, but not to death. He’d be cut down seconds before death could claim him and then he’d be unmanned and disemboweled, his organs and genitalia thrown in a fire in front of him so that it was the last thing his eyes saw. Then he would be quartered, and each part would be sent to decorate the four corners of the city as a warning to others not to follow in his footsteps.

Faced with all of that should he fail to stop her, Elysande supposed nothing would be beyond his capabilities at the moment. Even razing the city of Ayr itself, she suspected. Burning down the inn with all its occupants, including innocents, would matter little to him.

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Elysande nodded solemnly. “Very well. I will remain in the room and even pretend to be dying if I must.”

Relaxing a little, Rory nodded and then glanced to Conn and Inan. “Ye must be careful no’ to reveal by word or deed that she is no’ dying. If Simon even suspects she is recovering . . .”

“We’ll be careful,” Conn assured him.

“Aye,” Inan agreed, tearing his gaze from the hallway briefly to make the promise.

“It’ll no’ be so bad,” Alick said, speaking for the first time to address Elysande. “Ye’ll ha’e Rory and I to entertain ye most o’ the time.”

Elysande smiled reluctantly at the promise, but said, “I’d rather have food and drink.”

“That can be arranged,” Rory assured her.

“But not a visit to the privy,” she guessed grimly as she became aware of that need.

His gaze slid to a chamber pot on the bedside table, and Elysande barely held back a moan. But then she straightened her shoulders. “Fine. Then go out in the hall and talk to the men or something while I use it.”

“Lass, I do no’ think—” Rory began, but something in her expression must have made him realize he wasn’t going to win that argument. He stopped speaking, hesitated and then nodded and headed for the door, gesturing for the others to follow.

Chapter 15

“So, what brought about your interest in healing?”

Rory started to glance around at that question from Elysande and then caught himself at the last moment. She was in the bath. Naked. And he was seated in the chair by the window with his back to her. He was not supposed to look, and frankly he didn’t want to. It was torture enough imagining her in the bath without actually seeing it. He’d seen enough when he’d removed her wrappings to check her wounds. Both were healing nicely. The swelling was nearly gone from her head, and the cut had scabbed over, seeming smaller than the last time he’d checked it. As for the wound on her breast, it too was healing well. In truth, it was only a touch worse than a scratch. The knife hadn’t gone in far at all. He probably hadn’t needed to stitch it up. But on top of that, the bruising on her back and side had faded to a faint yellow and would be completely gone in a day or two. The same was probably true of the bruising on her bottom and legs, though he hadn’t been able to come up with an excuse to see that.

“Rory?” Elysande prompted.

“Aye, sorry,” he murmured, and then cleared his throat as he tried to remember what her question had been. When he couldn’t recall, he said, “Mayhap we should no’ talk while so far apart and with the shutters open.”

He didn’t point out that someone in the yard might hear her speaking and realize she wasn’t close to death. He didn’t have to. They’d been arguing about what she could and couldn’t do for most of the night and day, including her desire to take a bath. Rory had understood. He was a frequent bather himself and knew it must have been driving her crazy to have to go without. But arranging a bath for her meant Rory had to lie and claim he wanted a bath, and then they had to risk the servants carrying in the tub as well as bucket after bucket of water. He hadn’t worried about one of them attacking her, but about her ability to feign unconsciousness until they left, and he felt it was important for them to continue this ruse until he could spirit her away from the inn.

The lass was one hell of a stubborn woman. She’d pestered him about the bath almost nonstop while they’d consumed the food and drink Conn had brought up after telling the innkeeper’s wife it was for Rory and Alick. She’d continued her campaign through the games of dice, cards and chess that he and Alick had played with her to pass the time all day, and then again through the sup Conn and Inan had brought up for them to share with her. It was after the meal, when she’d threatened that if they would not arrange a bath for her, she’d just slip out and wash up at the horse trough once darkness fell. That was when Rory had given in. Partially because he wouldn’t put it past the lass to try it, and partially because she was becoming more angry and frustrated with him every time he refused. Rory found he didn’t like to disappoint and anger her.

So, he’d ordered her into bed, warning her not to open her eyes or change her expression in any way that might give away that she was awake, and arranged for the bath to be brought up. Now, he was sitting at the open window, peering out at the side yard and trying not to imagine Elysande reclining naked in the tub of water just feet away.

“Then close the shutters and come sit beside the tub so we might talk,” Elysande said more quietly, and it sounded almost like an order. When Rory didn’t respond at all except to freeze like a deer with a mad horseman pounding toward it, she confessed, “When we are not talking, my mind travels down dark paths. I think of my father’s crying out and stumbling from the table with de Buci’s dagger in his chest, and my mother screaming in agony as de Buci beat her, and my own helplessness in the face of their deaths and abuse as well as the beating I took. I—” Her voice broke, and he was sure that if he looked he would see tears in her eyes, but then she cleared her throat and said hoarsely, “When you talk, it all goes away, at least for a while.”

Rory stood abruptly, closed the shutters and picked up the chair to carry it to the tub. He did not look at her. That was just asking too much. He kept his gaze on the chair as he set it down with its back almost against the tub, and then he sat in it, and cleared his throat before asking, “What do ye wish to talk about, lass?”

“You,” she answered promptly, her voice lighter, though he suspected it was a forced lightness to cover the darkness her memories brought with them.

The chuckle he gave then was just as forced. “Well, I fear there is no’ much o’ interest about me. I spent most o’ the last ten years training in healing. Reading any treatise on it I could find, and talking to any healers who would speak to me.”

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