Page 65 of Highland Treasure (Highland Brides 9)

“Ye can do that?” Alick asked with interest.

“If he has the right weeds for it,” she said, and then began to paw through the various items in the bag, murmuring the name of each she found that was needed, “Fennel, root of ginger, chamomile blossom . . .”

“I wonder why Rory has ne’er heard o’ this tincture?” Alick muttered, taking the weeds she was passing him and holding them as she searched for the next.

Elysande shrugged as she continued pulling out items. “My mother and I learned it from the wife of one of our soldiers. She came from a coastal village and her father was a fisherman who suffered a sore stomach when he worked on the water. Which was rather inconvenient for a fisherman,” she pointed out. “But she said this helped and I never forgot the ingredients she listed off. There,” she finished with relief. “He has everything I need.”

Closing the bag, she glanced around with a frown. “Is there somewhere to boil water on this ship?”

“O’ course,” Alick said with amusement. “They have to feed the men on voyages. Follow me.”

“How do you feel now?”

Rory opened his eyes and peered at the angel hovering above him. Elysande. She’d made a tincture, and bullied him into drinking it, which he’d at first refused to do for fear of just giving his stomach something else to reject. Once she’d convinced him to down it though, she’d settled on the wooden deck and eased his head into her lap. They’d stayed that way for the last half hour, with her running her fingers soothingly over his forehead as they waited to see if he could keep the tincture down. It had been touch and go at first, but Rory hadn’t tossed it back up, and now his stomach was actually settling, the queasiness almost completely gone.

“Better,” he admitted. “Thank ye.”

“You are welcome,” she said, a relieved smile curving her lips. “Now, why do you not get some rest? You got little sleep last night and could only benefit from a nap.”

“Aye.” He turned his head in her lap to look for Simon and spotted him sitting with the other men about halfway between where he and Elysande sat and the horses. Conn, Inan and Alick were playing cards with the English soldier. Rory watched Simon briefly, but then—deciding the men would keep an eye on him—he sat up and leaned to the side to grab the rolled-up fur that lay next to their bags. Standing, he spread it out on the floor, and then offered Elysande a hand to help her rise.

“What are we doing?” she asked as he urged her onto the fur.

“We’re taking a nap,” he announced. “Ye got no more sleep than I did last night and we would both benefit from a rest.”

She didn’t comment, but he noted the pink blush that crept up her face and knew she was recalling the reason for their lack of sleep. It made him think of the hours of loving they’d enjoyed too, and when his cock stirred under his plaid, Rory started wishing they had their own cabin. But the only cabin on this cog was the captain’s and he hadn’t been willing to give it up. Rory hadn’t minded when he’d been negotiating this trip. He’d actually thought it was probably better for them all to stick together in the cargo hold. But now he was wondering how much coin it would take to convince the man to give up his cabin.

“Are you not going to lie down too?”

That question from Elysande drew him from his thoughts to the realization that she had lain down on the furs on her side with her head on her arm for a pillow. Leaving the possibility of a cabin for later, Rory stretched out on his side at her back, and then wrapped his arm around her and pulled her possessively back against his chest. When she released a little sigh, and wiggled her bottom back against his groin before settling down, Rory found himself smiling and pressing a kiss to her ear.

He had her safely on the ship. They’d reach Sinclair in a few days, and probably stay there until the English king dealt with his conspiring lords. It was the safest place for her until then and he had nothing pressing to drag him away from her. They could spend the time planning their future. Either working out what they would need to do to set Kynardersley back to rights, or design the castle he’d planned to build. He was hoping for the latter. Rory would live in England if he had to in order to have Elysande . . . despite disliking the country. But he didn’t think it would be good for her. Kynardersley would never again be the happy childhood home where she’d grown up. Not after watching her parents die there, he thought. She would see that again in her mind every time she entered the great hall. He didn’t want that for her. The shadows were only now starting to leave her eyes; he didn’t want her to live somewhere that would bring those shadows back several times a day.

“I love you, Rory.”

The words were so soft he barely heard them, but they were powerfully strong, sending a rush of warmth through him that made his arm tighten around her.

“I love ye too, lass,” he growled, and pressed a kiss to her ear before closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift off to sleep.

Elysande was muttering to herself most unhappily as she made her way to the steps out of the ship’s heads. This was her first trip on a boat, and she was determined it would be her last.

There was no privy on the cog.

That had been a shock, but even more shocking had been what a person was expected to do to take care of such matters. Good Lord, traveling by horse was bad enough with its lack of amenities. But it was worse on the Mary Margaret. On the ship, everyone went to the foredeck and climbed down into an area they called the heads, which was under the bowsprit of the ship. There they either pissed through the slats, which were several inches apart, or sat on a plank hung over the side of the ship for their other business. Of course, that was how the men did it. She had to sit the plank for both, her bare bottom hanging out over the water far below.

Elysande found it nerve-racking, especially when the water was rough and the wind was high and the risk of tipping—or being blown—off the narrow plank and falling into the sea far below increased. But she also had the strangest thoughts while sitting there. She worried over whether sharks could jump high enough to bite her bare bottom. Nay, no more sailing for her. At least on land, you didn’t risk your life every time you had to relieve yourself.

“M’lady.”

Elysande stopped abruptly, her wary gaze rising to Simon as he stepped down into the heads, blocking her exit. It had been two days since they’d set sail, and nearly as long since she’d had to speak to the man thanks to Rory and the others running interference. But they were supposed to reach Thurso sometime on the morrow and she was very aware that if Simon was behind the stabbing, and even pushing her in front of the horse and cart, then he would want to finish the job before they reached Sinclair. He was running out of time.

“I wanted to have a word with you, but it has been hard to get you alone,” Simon said pleasantly. “The Buchanan doesn’t usually leave your side.”

“Nay. He is very protective, but he was sleeping and I did not wish to disturb him,” Elysande murmured. She hadn’t wished to disturb Rory because she found it humiliating to be sitting there with her bare arse hanging out in the wind and him guarding her. He might have seen her naked, and touched nearly every part of her body the night before this journey on the Mary Margaret, but that was not the same as watching her perform such personal functions. So, when she’d woken up with a desperate need to relieve herself, Elysande had left him sleeping with the rest of the men and crept out of the cargo to make her way to the heads alone. It had never occurred to her that Simon might wake up and follow her. But then, it wasn’t something she would have expected. No one followed her when she went to the heads except Rory. Even the sailors stayed away and allowed her privacy.

Simon was still moving slowly closer, and Elysande had nowhere to go unless she wished to sit or step back onto the plank, so she held up her hand in a silent order to stop. Much to her surprise, he did. Then they stood there for a minute just looking at each other. Elysande took in his grim and miserable expression, and noted that his hand was on his sword, clenching and unclenching as if he was waging an inner war, and she just knew that Rory had been right about everything. Simon was working for de Buci.

The realization was a depressing one. It also hurt her a great deal. She had lost her mother and father to de Buci’s cruelty and perfidy, not to mention every soldier at Kynardersley but Tom and Simon. She could not understand how he could betray her to such a man. Had he cared so little for her parents, who had shown him nothing but kindness and caring? And what of the soldiers who had been his comrades?

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