Page 6 of Highland Treasure (Highland Brides 9)

“All she needs do is follow me,” Rory pointed out with unconcern. “The veil obviously does no’ blind her so much she canno’ do that.”

“Hmm.” Alick shifted unhappily in his saddle. “We do no’ even ken why she needs our escort. Why has she not a large retinue with soldiers and servants to see to her well-being? She has no’ even a maidservant to act as chaperone.”

Rory grunted at the comment, for it was something he’d pondered himself and had no answer to. There had been no time to ask back in the clearing once he’d realized soldiers were headed their way. He knew the soldiers would have continued on the northeast road from Monmouth while their party was now heading northwest. He’d decided they would use the less traveled route to Scotland. It would reduce the likelihood of encountering the soldiers who may or may not cause trouble, and also remove the risk of bandits as well since such ruffians preferred to ply their trade on the busier routes where there were more travelers to attack.

“Why do ye think— Damn,” Alick interrupted himself, and slowed his horse, allowing it to fall back behind Rory’s and drawing his attention to the fact that the path was narrowing again. It was also growing steep, he noted, slowing his mount to avoid bumping into Inan’s as he and Conn reduced speed in front of him to manage the steep descent.

The path was taking them down into a valley with an ascent nearly as steep on the other side, Rory saw, and decided they would stop in the dale to eat and let the horses rest before continuing up the incline on the other side. It would give him a chance to ask Lady Elysande those questions that had been tumbling through his mind since the clearing. It might even give him a chance to see the woman’s face. Surely she’d have to remove her veil to eat?

Thinking to tell her his plans, and perhaps discover if Alick was right and she was struggling to maintain the pace he’d set for this ride, Rory urged his horse off the path to allow Alick’s mount to pass and waited for Lady Elysande to reach him. It was the only reason that he noted her trouble and was able to grab her up before she tumbled out of the saddle and to the ground.

Chapter 2

“M’lady!”

It was a wonder Rory heard that shout over Lady Elysande’s scream of pain as he pulled her into his lap, but he did. Glancing around to see the English soldier trying to maneuver around the riderless mare to reach them, Rory barked, “Get her horse!” even as Lady Elysande went limp in his arms.

Much to his relief the man obeyed at once, pausing to gather the reins of his mistress’s horse, though his expression was dissatisfied and anxious as he did.

Rory lowered his gaze to the woman lying unmoving in his arms. Her veil had shifted, revealing half of one cheek, and the swollen skin there, black with bruising. Mouth tightening he shifted her to a more stable position in his arms and urged his horse to continue down the steep pass into the valley. He would have to wait until they reached the valley floor to examine her and he now wanted to get there as quickly as he could. Someone had beaten the lass. She needed tending.

It was a good twenty minutes before they reached the valley floor and stopped. Elysande was beginning to stir by then, but hadn’t woken fully. She was moaning though, a low, pained moan between gasps for air that he knew spoke of agony. Rory didn’t understand what was paining her until Tom and Simon leapt from their horses and rushed to his side to take Elysande from him. It was the way they handled her that told him it was more than her face that was injured. They were careful to grasp her from each side, holding her upright by her upper arms as if she was walking, though she hadn’t yet regained consciousness. They carried her to an open area like that and set her slowly and cautiously down on her left side. To him that meant there was something wrong with her back, or perhaps her right side, or both.

Cursing, Rory dismounted.

“Let me see her,” he growled as he reached them. “I’m a healer. I can help.”

Much to his surprise, Lady de Valance struggled to sit up, saying, “I do not need a healer.”

Rory stopped at her feet and stared down at the top of her coif at that soft growl. She was awake.

“Ye’ve bruising on yer face,” he said finally when not one of them looked up at him. Tom and Simon were crouching on either side of their lady, both eyeing her with concern as she stared down at the hands she held clenched in her lap. Regaining her composure was his guess, or waiting for pain to end. He’d seen it often enough with the wounded. The utter stillness, almost not breathing, as they waited for their agony to ease.

Rory guessed that the worst of it had finally passed when she sighed and seemed to sag a bit where she sat. After a moment, she raised her head, peered at him through the filmy veil and said wryly, “I have bruises everywhere. But there is naught you can do about bruising, is there? Besides, ’tis not your healing I need, my lord, but your escort and your sword arm if there is trouble.”

Rory blinked at the words. He wasn’t used to being needed for anything other than his healing abilities. In fact, he could not recall ever having someone require something else from him, especially not a strong sword arm. It wasn’t that he was not good in a battle. These last few years his brothers had insisted on his training with them in the practice field. Considering all the trouble his clan had encountered of late, he’d seen the wisdom of the suggestion and had set himself to the task. The activity had increased his bulk and he was now nearly as good as Aulay with the sword. He was just not used to anyone having a need of that new skill. It left him feeling a little taken aback, and yet he felt his chest puff up a bit at the same time. She needed his escort and protection.

“Right,” he muttered aloud with a nod, then shifted uncertainly on his feet, before adding, “Ye’re probably hungry. I’ll fetch ye an oatcake to—”

“We have food,” she interrupted, and then turned toward Tom and instructed, “Fetch the sack with the chicken and cheese. We shall share it with the Buchanans.”

There was more than chicken and cheese in Lady Elysande’s sack. It held two roast chickens, cheese, bread and apples. Enough for all of them to eat well for the one meal at least. There was even a little left over when they finished and remounted.

Rory watched with a frown as the English soldiers argued briefly with their lady about how to go about getting her in the saddle before she finally gave in to the necessity of allowing them to lift her onto it. He wanted to offer to have her ride with him, but suspected she wouldn’t appreciate the offer, so held his tongue.

“Will she be all right?” Alick asked softly beside him as they waited for the two English soldiers to mount up and follow their mistress to them.

Rory shook his head, not sure of the answer himself. If her back had been abused as badly as her face had appeared to be in the glimpse he’d got, riding could not be comfortable.

“We’ll go slowly,” he decided, but Elysande heard him as she approached on her mount and shook her head.

“Nay. Do not slow for me. I want to reach Sinclair as quickly as possible,” she said firmly.

Rory scowled slightly, thinking that would be a mistake, but didn’t voice his concern. Shifting his gaze to Conn, he shrugged and said, “Ye heard her.”

Nodding, Conn took the lead out of the small clearing. Inan immediately followed, but this time Rory had the lass and her men fall in next so that he and Alick rode behind with Fearghas and Donnghail. He wanted to keep an eye on Elysande to judge for himself how she fared. If she showed signs of having trouble keeping up the grueling pace, he would signal Conn to slow. Or take her on his horse whether she liked it or not. Although, Rory supposed, sitting leaning back against him would not be comfortable for her either if her back was paining her.

He contemplated that problem over the next two hours as they galloped through the early afternoon. It had been cold when they left Monmouth, but was growing colder still as the day drew on. It was quite frigid by midafternoon when Lady de Valance began to sway in her saddle again. Rory whistled to signal for Conn to stop and urged his horse up past the English soldiers to reach the mare’s side.

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