Page 29 of Highland Treasure (Highland Brides 9)

“What?” he asked, his eyes narrowing on her expression.

“Nothing,” she assured him quickly, but then couldn’t resist saying, “I mean, I do understand. It must be terrible having so many people who love you and put themselves out to try to see you happily settled in an advantageous marriage.”

“Well, when ye put it like that, lass,” Rory said with a wry smile, and then his smile faded. “It must have been lonely growing up without any brothers or sisters.”

Elysande lowered her gaze to the fur. It had been lonely. Growing up, she’d often wished she had a sister to play with, or share secrets with, but she was only now realizing what else she’d missed out on by being an only child. Unlike Rory, she didn’t have any siblings who cared and wished to see her happily settled in marriage. She would have liked that, but merely said, “’Tis for the best that I did not have any brothers or sisters. De Buci would have just killed or abused them too, and ’tis doubtful we would have escaped if there had been more than just myself.”

“Aye,” Rory said with a frown, examining her face solemnly.

Elysande withstood it for as long as she could and then shrugged. “I am sure whomever I marry will have them though, and perhaps can share them with me. Well, if I marry,” she added with uncertainty.

“Why would ye no’ marry?” Rory asked at once, and then added, “Why are ye no’ married already, lass? Ye’re old enough to be wed. And surely yer father arranged a betrothal contract fer ye when ye were a child?”

“Aye, he did,” she assured him. “But the boy I was to marry died when I was eleven.”

“And yer father did no’ arrange another marriage contract?” Rory asked with surprise.

“He was going to, but said most of the good prospects were already contracted to others.” She grimaced. “And then too, what he wanted for a husband for me had changed by then.”

“In what way?” Rory asked.

“Well, when he made the first contract, I was just a bairn. He chose the eldest son of a wealthy lord who had his own castle to leave him. Father had assumed he would have a son someday to take over Kynardersley,” she pointed out. “But by the time my betrothed died when I was eleven, he was resigned to the fact that I would be his only heir. He no longer wanted a titled lord with his own castle. He said he needed a special man, someone without his own estates to distract him, but with the skills to keep Kynardersley safe and prosperous, and who would also treat me well.” Elysande smiled wryly. “Apparently that was not an easy man to find. He was still looking.”

“I see,” Rory murmured thoughtfully.

Elysande shrugged. “I suppose the king will have to arrange my marriage now. Or assign another lord to the task.” She grimaced and muttered, “Which is unfortunate.”

“Why is that?” Rory asked.

“Because I doubt the king or anyone he saddles with the duty will be as concerned as my father was that any prospective husband would treat me well,” she pointed out quietly.

Rory’s eyes widened slightly with realization at her words, and then his mouth turned down. “Elysande—” he began, and then broke off as they heard the stable door open. In the next moment, he’d leapt to his feet and moved to look down into the stables. It was only when his shoulders relaxed and the hand holding his sword dropped to his side that she realized he’d grabbed it from the floor where it had lain while they’d been talking.

“’Tis fine. ’Tis the men,” Rory assured her, and moved to the ladder to greet them as they began to climb up.

Elysande didn’t comment, merely closed her eyes and tried to relax, hoping sleep would come. Her last thought as the men began to settle around her was to wonder what Rory had been going to say before the men had arrived.

Rory was the last to lie down after the men returned. This time he settled with his back to Elysande as he usually did. The men’s presence wouldn’t allow for a continuation of their conversation. Probably a good thing, Rory thought. Because he’d been about to say something utterly ridiculous. He’d been about to suggest that she marry him. The idea had struck him out of the blue. A response from his gut to the idea of her being married off to someone who wouldn’t treat her well. Elysande was smart, sweet, caring and brave. She deserved a man who would care for her and treat her well. But he doubted the king would concern himself much with that consideration, despite her present efforts to save his life.

Still, offering to marry her was a ridiculous sacrifice to make for a lass he barely knew, Rory acknowledged. Good Lord, he didn’t even know if she would be married off to someone cruel or careless. The English king might choose a good, kind and honorable man for her to marry, Rory told himself. Which, oddly enough, didn’t comfort him much as he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 8

“M’lady. Psst. M’lady.”

Elysande opened her eyes sleepily and blinked around, trying to understand where the sound was coming from.

“From below, lass,” Conn’s deep voice said from somewhere over her head. He sounded very alert, and since she knew none of the men stood guard at night here, she suspected he’d woken at the sound of the stable doors opening and shifted into immediate wakefulness.

“Thank you,” Elysande mumbled to the man, and then, still half-asleep, she planted her hands and started to push herself up only to cry out and drop back down again as pain shot through her back. Her cry was joined by Rory’s as she apparently did him some injury and it was only then she realized she was lying on the man again as she had been every morning since the Buchanans had agreed to escort her to Sinclair.

“M’lady?”

“She’s comin’,” someone whispered down to the woman just before Elysande found herself grasped under the arms and lifted off Rory . . . by Conn, she realized when a torch suddenly burst to life in the lower part of the stable. The big warrior smiled at her bemused expression and then twisted his upper body to set her down away from the other men now stirring and starting to sit up.

“Thank you,” Elysande managed through gritted teeth as she rode the wave of pain still pulsing through her. She started to turn then toward the ladder, only to find Rory in her way. He was wincing and standing funny, but the wince was replaced with a frown as he took in her expression.

“Sit,” he said firmly, urging her to one of the bales at the side of the loft. Pushing her onto it, Rory then walked to the ladder.

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