Page 22 of Highland Treasure (Highland Brides 9)

“Aye,” Elysande breathed the word. “Is life not funny that way?”

“How is that, m’lady?”

“Well, I was just thinking . . . Truly, the murder of my mother, father and all of our soldiers was the most unfortunate event of my life. But encountering our new Scottish friends was, I think, the most fortunate. And both happened one behind the other.”

“The best and worst of life all rolled into one incident,” Mildrede said sadly. “Life never seems to be able to give you one without the other.”

“Aye,” Elysande murmured solemnly.

They were both silent for a minute, and then the alewife backed away from the table, wiping her hands on a cloth that hung from her waist. “There. All done.”

“Thank you,” Elysande said, easing into a sitting position with her back to Rory. “’Twas very kind of you to help me.”

“Nonsense,” the alewife said firmly. “But ye must give me the recipe. ’Twould come in handy when my bones are hurting if it can get that deep. Sometimes they ache so bad I just want to sit down and weep.”

“Of course. But remember that wolfsbane is poisonous, so you must be careful while handling—”

Rory didn’t hear anymore. He’d backed out of the room and eased the door closed for fear one of the women would look over and catch him standing there gawking. But he’d heard enough. Elysande obviously knew how dangerous wolfsbane could be, and must have used the correct amount in her liniment, because there was enough cream slathered on her that she’d already be dead if she’d got it wrong. And, God in heaven, that would have been a crime. Elysande had a beautiful body, all soft curves and pale pink skin where she wasn’t bruised.

“That’s better. I knew ’twas too short before.”

Rory turned at Tom’s grim words to see that the men had finished fixing his plaid and were now working on Simon’s. Tom’s plaid now reached almost to his knees, as it should. Although he didn’t seem all that much more happy with it, Rory noted. Tom kept bending to look at his knees and frowning. It would take him a while to get used to it, Rory supposed.

“It seems the lady did no’ need yer healing skills.”

Rory grimaced at that comment from Conn as the man moved up beside him. “Nay. She has those skills herself.”

“Aye,” Conn murmured, but there was sympathy in his eyes, as if he knew how disappointed he was.

Rory tried to shrug it off. “’Tis fine. It gives me a break from tending to everyone’s wounds.”

“She’s an interesting lass, is Lady Elysande,” Conn commented. “Brave as our Lady Saidh, skilled at healing like Laird Sinclair’s wife, Lady Jo, and kind as all yer brothers’ wives. I think she’ll be lovely like all o’ them too once she heals,” he added. “In fact, at one point this morn while visiting the shops, she briefly forgot her sorrows and smiled and laughed and I saw a hint o’ the beauty the bruises are shadowing.”

Rory immediately felt envy twitch at him a bit. He would like to see the lass smile and laugh.

“Oh, you’re up.”

Rory turned toward the door to the kitchen to see the alewife peering out. Offering her a smile, he said, “Aye. Good morn, madam. Thank ye fer the bread, cheese and ale. ’Twas appreciated.”

“Well, I could hardly let ye go hungry after Lady Elysande explained ye’d sat up all night to guard her and your men against those nasty villains who attacked her.”

Rory blinked at the words and glanced to Conn, who was nodding solemnly, a twinkle in his eyes. Apparently he was aware of the lie Elysande had told to cover for his sleeping in. One that made him look better than he deserved, he thought as the woman began to speak again.

“And ’tis handy you’re here, because we need some help with the plaid,” the alewife said with a slight frown. “I’ve done me best, but m’lady suggested I fetch you if you were up, or your brother if you were not.”

“I’d be pleased to help,” Rory said, and moved toward the door when she gestured for him to follow.

When he entered the kitchen this time, Elysande was fully dressed in not just her own gown, probably her breeks and tunic still under, but now she also had a strip of plaid over it and belted around her waist with a bit of rope. The hem though was a bit lopsided, the pleats uneven and the part above the rope at her waist had just been pulled around her shoulders like the blanket it was.

“I fear while I’ve seen a Scottish lady or two wearing the plaid over their gowns, I wasn’t sure how they managed it,” the alewife said fretfully. “I couldn’t seem to get the pleats right and—”

“Actually, ye did well fer yer first try,” Rory assured her kindly.

“I told you, Mildrede,” Elysande said at once, smiling at the woman. “It just needs a tweak or two.”

Rory stared at her blankly, losing his train of thought at the sight of her smile. Elysande was at a slight angle to him with the bruised side turned away and when she smiled kindly at the alewife, or Mildrede as she called her, he was stunned to see just how pretty she was under all that damage.

“Is that not right, my lord?” Elysande prompted him, making him realize he was just standing there gaping at her.

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