Page 27 of Highland Treasure (Highland Brides 9)

“You’re welcome, m’lady,” she said quietly as she handed over the pot. “I heard the men mention the snow was melting as quick as it fell and you’d most like leave tomorrow.”

“Aye.” Elysande had heard them say that as well.

“I know you need to if you’re going to warn the king in time, but I’ll still be sorry to see ye go. I enjoyed sitting and chatting with ye today and tonight,” Mildrede said gruffly, looking embarrassed at the admission.

“Even though it meant putting up with a bunch of Scots at your table?” Elysande teased.

“Aye.” She smiled crookedly and then grudgingly admitted, “They’re not a bad group of lads for Scots. They all look after you real fine and watch you with concern. Especially that Rory. He rarely takes his eyes off ye. I know he’ll keep ye safe like he promised.”

“Aye. I think he will do his best,” Elysande agreed, and meant it. Though she wasn’t at all certain he could succeed at the task. There was nothing more dangerous than a desperate man, and de Buci was as desperate as a man could be.

“I’ll say good sleep, then, and let ye be. I have some baking to do tonight ere I find my bed, but I’ll be sure to get up early. Don’t you leave without saying farewell to me first.”

“I will not,” Elysande assured her as they walked to the ladder.

“Good night, then,” the woman said before hurrying down to the stable floor.

Elysande watched until she’d bustled out of the stable, and then packed the bowl of liniment away in one of her bags. She considered going back into the alehouse to sit with the men, but then decided that if they were leaving on the morrow, she should probably get as much sleep as she could. While the liniment did a lot to ease her pains, it was still going to be a long day in the saddle.

She was just trying to decide if she should wrap herself in the tartan she wore as the men did, or leave it be and use the cloak as a cover, when she heard the stable door open again. Deciding to use the cloak as a cover so she wouldn’t have to struggle with the pleats in the morning, Elysande grabbed it from where she’d left it lying across a bale of hay and pulled it around herself, then quickly dropped to lie on the fur on her good side. She then closed her eyes. It just seemed easier to feign sleep and let the men settle rather than face the embarrassment of sleeping as they were. After a lifetime of sleeping alone in her own bed, she still found it a bit discomfiting to be sleeping surrounded by so many men. It didn’t help that she kept waking up plastered to Rory’s chest like she had a right to be there. The fact that it happened in her sleep, and that she couldn’t be held fully responsible, didn’t make it any less embarrassing for her when she woke up there. Elysande was just glad nobody had commented on it when they were awake. Tom and Simon had merely lifted her up off the man both times to save her back, and then gone about their business without comment or even a look to shame her.

“I ken ye canno’ be asleep, lass. Mildrede just left.”

Recognizing Rory’s voice, Elysande opened her eyes, and then pulled her head back slightly with surprise when he dropped to lie down next to her, but facing her rather than with his back to her as usual.

“How is yer back?” he asked, pillowing his head on his arm so he could look at her in the faint light cast by the torches below.

“Much better now. Mildrede helped me put on more liniment,” she admitted.

“Aye. I suspected it was paining ye after the sup,” he admitted, and when she raised her eyebrows in question, he explained, “Ye’d gone unnatural quiet and pale ere ye excused yerself.”

“Oh.” She grimaced. “’Tis good for hours after the salve is put on, but then the benefits fade. I should have thought to reapply it ere the sup.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, and then they fell silent, and stared at each other for a moment. Just when Elysande was starting to feel uncomfortable and considering rolling away from him, he said, “The swelling is gone on yer face and the bruising is more red than black now, with a bit o’ green around the edges. ’Tis healing.”

“Is it?” she asked with interest. She had no mirror here to check her face, and couldn’t see her back. She had managed to get a glimpse of her bottom and the backs of her legs by twisting about, but just enough of a glimpse to see that it seemed a little better. Her muscles were still sore from the beating she’d taken and had protested at the movement.

“Aye. Another few days and the worst o’ it should be done,” he assured her.

“’Twill be at least another week or more before ’tis gone completely though,” she said wryly.

Her words made him smile. “Ye do have healing knowledge. Yer men mentioned ye were skilled at it,” he told her.

“And you doubted it?” she asked, for his comment had sounded surprised.

“Nay. No’ exactly,” he said slowly, and then smiled wryly as he admitted, “I am just used to being the healer in most situations.”

“Ah. Mother did mention that you had earned quite a reputation for it,” she admitted.

Rory arched an eyebrow at that. “And how did she ken that?”

“Her sister,” Elysande said at once. “Aunt Bearnas wrote Mother often. In fact, that is how she knew you were at Monmouth. She said your sister—Saidh?” she queried, and when he nodded, she continued. “Saidh mentioned in a letter to my cousin Cam’s wife, Jo, that you were heading to Monmouth to tend the baron in exchange for a small fortune. And Jo told my aunt.”

“Who told yer mother in a letter,” Rory finished for her, and grinned. “I had no idea my goings-on were o’ such interest.”

Elysande shrugged awkwardly where she lay. “Your sister is proud of you. Aunt Bearnas often sent tidbits of news about your family in her letters.”

“Such as?” he queried with interest.

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