Page 11 of Highland Treasure (Highland Brides 9)

Elysande considered the question and then shook her head helplessly. “I do not know. As I said, he used to be a friend to us. My mother or father or even I might have mentioned our Scottish relations at some time.” She paused briefly and then admitted, “But I worry about Betty and Eldon. I tried to convince them to come with us, but Betty insisted she would stay and see Mother buried properly first, and young Eldon decided to stay in the woods to keep an eye out for her and be sure she got away. He determined he would use the secret passages to get her out if there was trouble.” Elysande bit her lip unhappily. “But what if de Buci figured out that my guard in the dungeon was drugged and found out that Betty was the one to take the meal to him? He would know she was involved in my escape. And if he started taking his fists and boots to her as he did my mother . . .”

“She might have told him all,” Tom said worriedly.

“He would have had to beat her horribly to get the information,” Elysande said miserably. “I should have insisted she come with us. Both of them. I should have made them come,” Elysande muttered, angry at herself that she hadn’t. Betty had been a good and faithful maid to her mother for many years. More like family than a servant. She should have made her and Eldon leave with them, ordered the pair to, but she’d been so tired and weak . . .

“The soldiers we saw might not be de Buci’s,” Rory said now. “But whether they are or no’, by continuing on this trail to Scotland we should be able to avoid them.”

“Aye,” Alick agreed. “Those soldiers, whoever they are, will most like continue on the main road. This path is much less used.”

A moment of silence passed and then Rory stood. “We should eat and bed down for the night. Tomorrow is another long day for us if we wish to reach Scotland ere we stop.”

“I am not really hungry,” Elysande said quietly, bringing the men to a halt.

She thought Rory Buchanan was frowning at this, but his voice was gentle when he said, “Ye really should eat. Ye need yer strength fer healing.”

“Aye, but . . .” Elysande grimaced. The truth was that recounting all that had happened had stolen any appetite she might have had and she feared she might be ill if she tried to eat now. But she simply said, “I will eat when I wake up.”

When Rory didn’t argue further, Tom stood and offered his hand to help her up. Glancing to Simon, he said, “Lay out the fur for her to sleep on.”

Elysande accepted the help, and was grateful for it when her abused muscles protested their use as she got to her feet. Her movements were slow and stiff, and Simon had the fur unrolled and laid out by the time they reached him. Elysande then grasped Tom’s hand tightly and used his strength as she lowered herself to the fur. She lay down on her uninjured side, tugged the cloak around herself and pulled a corner up to cover her face. It had been cold all day, but was growing colder still as night fell.

The damp tunic she wore beneath her dress was not helping. It had soothed her bruises at first, but was now merely warm and damp against her skin. She knew it would dry eventually, but couldn’t imagine being able to sleep like this. In truth, damp tunic or not, she suspected she would have trouble sleeping. Elysande had never slept outside of her own chamber at Kynardersley where a nice fire and several furs kept her warm the night through in her bed. At this moment, she would have given a lot to be back in that bed, with her mother and father safely tucked away in the next chamber. She was still having trouble accepting that her life had changed so drastically and so quickly. It was like a nightmare, and she felt very cold and alone inside.

That thought had barely slipped through her mind when something pressed up against her front. Stiffening, she tugged the cloak away from her face and blinked at the figure in front of her. It was growing dark enough that she couldn’t be sure, but she thought it was Rory Buchanan who had settled on his side in front of her with his back to her chest. He was close enough that she could feel his warmth through his plaid and her cloak, and smell the woodsy scent she recognized from riding with him.

Movement at her back distracted her, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Tom settling himself down behind her, leaving a couple inches between himself and her sore back, but close enough that she could enjoy his warmth too.

“Sleep, m’lady. We will guard you well,” the soldier said solemnly when he saw her looking.

Having no idea what to say, Elysande merely nodded, then glanced around at the other men as they lay down around them. Simon was settling himself lengthwise at her feet so that her toes pointed at his chest. She could tell that it was he by his silhouette. He was the only one besides Tom not wearing a skirt. She tilted her head upward then as another man lay lengthwise above her head, and recognized Alick Buchanan’s voice when he whispered, “Good sleep,” as he curled up in his plaid. Three of the other Scottish warriors were arranging themselves around the other men, doubling the barrier between herself and anyone who might approach from the sides or above. But she could see the last man had moved to sit on the log they had just left. To keep watch, she guessed, and supposed the men would take turns at sitting watch, each of them doing so for a couple hours before waking someone to replace them.

“Cuddle closer if ye’re cold, m’lady. The last thing we need is fer ye to fall ill during this journey.”

Elysande lowered her head to peer at Rory Buchanan’s back at those words. She was very tempted to do just that, slip her arms around his waist and lean her face against his back as she had on the horse. But it wouldn’t be proper, so she merely pulled her cloak back over her face to keep it warm and tried to relax. She was positive she wouldn’t sleep, but at least she was warming up, Elysande thought just before drifting off.

Rory woke up on his back, his face cold but with a warm weight on his shoulder, chest and legs. Not the sort to take women to his bed for a night, he blinked his eyes open with confusion, and started to turn his head, but froze when his lips brushed against Lady Elysande’s coif. The contact made him stiffen and then he pulled back slightly to stare at the sleeping woman now draped over his body. Her head rested on his shoulder, her chest half on his with her arm and cloak wrapped around him. She had also cast one of her legs over both of his. They were as entwined as lovers, and he couldn’t say he minded, but suspected she would when she woke.

Unsure how to extricate himself without disturbing or inadvertently hurting her, he glanced around the clearing and grimaced when he saw that he and Elysande were the only ones still sleeping. The other men were all up and about, going about the business of starting a fire and tending the horses, even the two English soldiers. Although he noticed that Tom and Simon kept casting worried glances to where he and Elysande slept, as if unsure what to think or do about their cozy sleeping position.

It was completely improper, of course, Rory acknowledged. But then little about this journey was proper. The lady was traveling alone with eight men due to circumstances beyond anyone’s control. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d deliberately arranged this. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep on his side in front of the woman. He had no idea how he’d ended up on his back with her snuggling into his chest like a sleepy kitten. The fact that he quite liked waking to find her there was a bit disturbing though.

That thought was enough to make Rory decide he should try to ease out from under her. He was tensing in preparation of attempting just that when she murmured in her sleep and shifted her leg, sliding it up his thighs to rest over his groin. A most unfortunate event, Rory decided grimly when his cock stirred with immediate interest.

Rory was lying as still as death, taking deep breaths to try to calm his body so he wouldn’t embarrass himself when he did manage to get out from under her, when she shifted again. This time her hand slid across his chest under the cloak, even as her leg moved down a bit and then up again, rubbing against his growing erection.

Oh, this was bad, Rory thought, and then tilted his head to look down at Elysande, when she suddenly stiffened against him. For a moment he wasn’t sure if she was waking up to their situation, or merely suffering a nightmare. He got his answer when she suddenly gasped and pushed herself upward, then cried out and flopped back onto him, panting for breath as she fought against the pain her abrupt action had obviously caused her.

“Breathe,” Rory instructed, his voice rough from sleep as he clasped her upper arms to keep her from moving again too quickly and causing herself more pain.

Elysande whimpered in response, but then released the breath she’d been holding and took in a fresh one.

“What can we do to help?”

Rory glanced up to find Tom and Simon standing over them, concern on their faces as they watched their lady struggle with her pain. Alick and the other warriors were right behind them. It seemed that while he had only noticed the two Englishmen glancing their way, the others had been just as aware of them the whole time. Now they were all there, wishing to help.

The hell of it was, they couldn’t. Even he couldn’t. He had nothing to take away her pain except that sleeping draft she’d refused to take.

“Lift me up, please.”

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