Page 49 of Highland Treasure (Highland Brides 9)

“I have to examine it,” he said firmly, but released her skirts and gestured toward the room they’d slept in last night. “Take her to our room and I’ll examine her there.”

“Nay!” Elysande squawked when Alick continued up the hall. “’Tis not proper to have a bunch of men in my bedchamber.” She was glaring daggers over Alick’s shoulder at Rory as she said that. Turning a kinder face to his brother, she added, “He may look at me in the taproom below where we can all have some food and drink. You did mention you were hungry just before the accident happened and now so am I. But I can walk,” she added when he turned back toward the stairs. “Please put me down.”

When Alick hesitated and glanced at him, Rory considered Elysande briefly and then nodded.

He didn’t miss Elysande’s little sigh of relief when Alick released her legs so she could stand on her own. He also didn’t miss her gasp of pain and the way she wobbled when she tried to put weight on the injured ankle. Alick caught her arm at once and then stepped back when Rory scooped her up.

“Ye’re injured,” Rory said firmly when she opened her mouth in protest. “Stop being so bloody stubborn and accept help when ’tis offered.”

“I am not stubborn,” she said with irritation as he started down the stairs. “And I have been accepting help. Are you not escorting us to Sinclair? And did I not let you put liniment on my injuries?” She nodded grimly. “Aye, and just look where it has landed me. You took liberties, crawled into my bed, and now my reputation is in ruins,” she complained.

“I did no’ take liberties,” Rory said with dismay, and then frowned as he realized that yes, he had . . . though not last night in the bed. Scowling at his own thoughts, he said defensively, “Tom was there last night too.”

“Aye, the Judas,” she growled, glaring over his shoulder, probably at Tom, he supposed. “And his being there just makes it look worse.”

“Lass, ye’ve slept between us every night since we met in the wood outside Monmouth and I accepted the request to be yer escort,” he said firmly.

“That was in the cold dark woods, my lord. We were all fully clothed and bundled in our own cloaks and plaids, not the bed of an inn.”

“We were all still fully clothed last night, and ye were under the furs while Tom and I were above them,” he pointed out, feeling righteous.

“You were not,” she denied hotly. “You were under the furs with me.”

“I was no’,” Rory denied vehemently. He distinctly remembered curling up on top of the furs next to her. The first thing he’d done after returning to the room with Tom was take advantage of the still-warm bath and bathe himself. It had left him a bit chilled when he’d got out and he’d approached the bed thinking it would have been nice to crawl under the furs with her to warm up. But he hadn’t. He’d curled up in his plaid on top of the furs and shivered himself to sleep.

A soft “ahem” made him pause on the bottom step and glance back. Tom was directly behind them with the other men filling the stairs behind him, Rory noted, and then tilted his head back to focus on Tom, who had one eyebrow raised. The man shook his head once their eyes met, and told him, “You were under the furs with her this morning and she was plastered to your chest as usual when the maid arrived.”

“See! I told you,” Elysande said at once, and then sighed unhappily. “Why could you not have slept on a pallet? Or just told me you planned to use the bed, then I could have used a pallet. Now I am ruined.”

Rory frowned at her desolate tone and then heaved a sigh and stepped off the stairs and carried her into the taproom. Angus was standing by the table he and Tom had been seated at earlier, two drinks in hand and uncertainty on his face, but he brightened when he saw them returning and set down the drinks. “Yer food’ll be right out.”

“Good. Thank ye, Angus. I suspect Elysande and the others will be wanting food and drink now as well,” he said. And when the innkeeper smiled widely and started to head back to the kitchens, Rory called out impulsively, “Angus?”

The innkeeper turned back at once, one eyebrow raised in question.

“We were so tired when we rode in last night, I do no’ believe I introduced ye to me wife.” He nodded to Elysande in his arms and said, “Lass, this is Angus, the finest innkeeper in Scotland. Angus, this is me wife, Lady Elysande Buchanan.”

“Oh, ho!” A broad grin claimed Angus’s face. “Finally found the right lass to settle down with, did ye?” he asked. “Lady Jetta and yer sister must be well pleased.”

“Aye,” Rory agreed as he squeezed Elysande in warning. She’d stiffened against him at his words, but now quickly changed her expression from shock to a poor attempt at a smile as Angus bowed to her.

“’Tis a pleasure, m’lady,” the innkeeper said sincerely as he straightened. “Ye’ve a good man there. The finest healer in all of Scotland.”

Rory was just puffing up a bit at the words when Elysande said, “So I have heard. However, I am more in need of his other talents, so let us hope they are just as fine.”

Rory knew she was referring to his sword arm and escorting her safely to Sinclair, but Angus had no idea she would need either and his eyes twinkled with wicked merriment as he gave her a wink and said, “Well, I’m sure he’ll no’ let ye down there, m’lady. Now I’ll fetch drinks fer the rest o’ ye, and see about food as well, shall I?”

A chorus of ayes from the men was enough to send him on his way. The moment he was gone, Elysande asked Rory, “What talents did he think I was referring to? It was not your sword arm, was it? And why on earth did you tell him we were married?”

“To save your reputation,” he answered the last question, happy to use it as an excuse to avoid the first two.

“How does claiming me as your wife save my reputation?” she asked with surprise as he set her down sideways on the bench, with her legs out.

“It excuses me presence in yer bed,” he pointed out.

“Aye. But not Tom’s,” she pointed out with exasperation. “And besides, once he learns you lied— What are you doing?” she gasped, trying to snatch her legs away when he started to push her skirts up to her knees.

Rory grabbed her legs by the calves to hold them in place. “Settle. Ye’re wearing breeks. ’Tis fine. Now, which ankle did ye hurt?” he asked, ignoring her outrage.

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