‘As well as can be expected.’ Moira poured water from the jug she held into the washbowl on the small table at the foot of Keila’s bed. ‘Though I believe he’ll be sore and sorry when he wakes the morn. I fed him and sent him on his way before the sun goes down. He says he’ll return at dawn, but we’ll see.’
Keila sipped her ale. She wanted to ask how the injured stranger was, or rather, how Mac was, but she didn’t want to appear too eager. ‘How did the rest of the day go?’
‘Well enough,’ Moira said, fetching cloths from the timber shelf and placing them on the bed. ‘But there’s more to do.’
Keila caught her hand and gently pressed her bony fingers. ‘You don’t need to wait on me.’
‘I know, lass.’ She gently squeezed Keila’s fingers in return. ‘I’m not.’ She released her. ‘Now wash while the water is warm and come below to share the meal I’ve prepared.’
Keila drained the last of the ale and washed and changed her shift and gown. She and Moira sewed their own clothes, and all were of a practical style that one could don without help. They were made of good quality fabrics and with thoughts of working without fear of mishaps, such as tripping on trailing skirts or having long, wide sleeves dangling in barrels of ale or gathering clumps of soil while working in the gardens. While she liked some such gowns she’d seen ladies wearing at market, she was content with her simple style and it suited her needs.
Keila laced up the green woollen gown down the front and slipped her feet into her short leather boots. Not expecting to climb beneath the covers until sometime the following day, she straightened her bedding, collected her empty cup and went to join Moira.
At the base of the narrow stairway, she paused to listen. Apart from the creaking moan of the roof shingles shifting as the outside temperature dropped with the lowering of the sun, she heard naught. Where was Mac? Had her thoughts been right and he’d returned to the healing room to rest? Keila was impressed that she hadn’t mentioned him to Moira, but the sight of the healing room doorway, so close, was too much to ignore. She only wanted to ensure he was alright. She’d thank him later for rescuing Rory and for saving her from possible harm.
She accepted her excuses with a purposeful lift to her chin and strode across the sitting room, remembering the last time she’d come to a sudden stop in this doorway and the sight that had greeted her. Her heartbeat quickened. Though this time there’d be no reason for him to be wearing naught but a blanket about his lean hips. She’d given him back his clothes. Keila ignored the hitch of disappointment that settled her heart back to its normal beat. She neared the opening. Hope flickered anew.
Bonny saints. She needed to stop such wayward thoughts.
She halted in the doorway to the empty healing room. The blanket that had draped his lower body was neatly folded at the foot of the pallet where he’d slept.
‘I knew it was a struggle.’
Keila jumped at Moira’s voice from behind and placed the flat of her hand over her heart. ‘Mother Mary save me. You startled me.’ She turned and found her friend standing in the kitchen doorway with her silvered brows riding high on her lined forehead. Keila frowned. ‘You knew what was a struggle?’
‘For you nae to ask about Mac.’
‘It is a common courtesy to enquire about a guest staying beneath one’s roof,’ she said as she made her way toward her friend.
‘It is,’ Moira agreed, stepping to one side and waving Keila past her and into the kitchen. ‘And you, lass, are the most courteous person I know.’
Keila gave her a knowing smile as she glided passed. ‘As I keep saying, I learned from the best.’
‘And as I keep saying,’ Moira added, following her into the kitchen, ‘I know.’
Keila looked ahead and stopped at the sight of another empty room. Two bowls of steaming soup sat side by side at the long trestle and two wooden cups. Only two. She couldn’t help herself. ‘Where is Mac?’
‘Mac has already eaten and has gone to see to his horse and to ours.’
Keila held silent to hide her instant disappointment.
‘Now will you kindly sit yourself down and eat too so I can find my bed. It’s been a long day.’
‘Of course, Moira,’ Keila said, moving to the furthest stool and pulling the other out. ‘Please sit.’ Once Moira sat, Keila did too. She lifted a chunk of bread and broke it in half before dipping it into the bowl of steaming vegetable soup. Before she took a bite she said, ‘How long has he been gone?’
Moira swallowed her mouthful and scooped up another spoonful. ‘He walked out that door,’ she said indicating the back entrance with an incline of her head, ‘along with Rory when he left for home.’
Keila chewed slowly. ‘You’re not worried he took the horse and rode away?’
Moira met Keila’s stare. ‘Although having him and the four-legged beast gone would give me one less thing to worry over, I doubt it. But it seems you are.’ Whether the relief that rushed through her was obvious in her expression, something prompted Moira to add, ‘I’ve warned you about that one, Keila. He has a smooth tongue and is naught but trouble.’
‘I only wanted to thank him for rescuing Rory,’ Keila said far too quickly, and even to her ears her voice sounded defensive.
‘Aye, lass, never fear. Something tells me you’ll get your chance.’
Just as Moira spoke the last word, a firm knock sounded on the back door.
Keila tried her best to hide the spike of excitement that shot through her, but the slow shaking of Moira’s head when she jumped up from her chair, about to run to the door, told her she’d failed miserably.
Moira’s hand flattened over hers where it rested on the table. ‘Sit, lass. I told Mac to knock and then let himself in.’ Keila met her gaze. ‘I was tired of answering the door.’
Keila lowered herself back onto her stool as the door slowly opened inward and Mac stepped inside. She caught the scent of horses and man, and despite his battered appearance and the lateness of the day, he brought with him a feeling of light and pushed the shadows back into the corners of the room. He paused to look at Moira and Keila as if waiting for further instructions, as if he felt he didn’t belong there. Keila understood that uncomfortable feeling but hadn’t suffered it since she’d moved from County Ross to Drummin House.
‘Come in, Mac.’ She smiled, hoping to make him feel more welcome than he looked. He didn’t look like a Mac to Keila. Not that she could see his features clearly, due to the hint of swelling that remained and the different shades of bruising now colouring his face. But it was only a temporary name until he remembered his own, and appeared to be special to Rory.
He nodded and closed the door, looking out of place in the confines of the kitchen. Keila had no trouble imagining him mounted on the powerful horse he’d rescued Rory from. Keila lifted her spoon. ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘Nae.’ He stepped further into the room. ‘Moira has already seen to my needs,’ he said with a wink.
Moira rolled her eyes and cleared her throat.
‘I fed and watered Demon and your two horses. They seem content sharing their stable, though I’ve kept an empty stall between the three. I’ll find my bed.’
‘I can make you a potion for pain, if you need it,’ Keila offered.
He slowed his steps as he walked across the room. ‘My thanks but,’ a smile hovered about his split lip, ‘sleep will be enough.’ He resumed walking.
Keila found herself watching him until he’d left the room. His stride was even and smooth and his hips moved just enough to send his plaid into a rhythmic sway. His broad shoulders appeared slightly hunched, as if curling in to protect his chest or ribs or both. He was in pain.
‘Stubborn man,’ she whispered and turned back around on her seat.
Moira’s disbelieving gaze locked with hers.
‘What?’
‘Saint Morluag save me from battered strangers and hungry lasses. I’m off to find my bed, too.’
&nb
sp; Keila glanced down and was surprised to find Moira had finished her soup and bread, while she’d barely touched hers. ‘Leave it, Moira. I’ll clear them away when I’m done with mine.’
‘Aye. Do what you must, Keila, but don’t be staying up too late. We’ve the morn to complete anything left unfinished.’
‘Sleep well, Moira.’
‘I plan to,’ Moira said, without a backward glance.
Left alone in silence, it was then, while she ate her meal, that she saw the boxes made of wooden slats were filled with leeks, carrots, turnips and onions all stacked against the side wall leading into the sitting room. No wonder Rory had gone and both Moira and Mac had retired and the sun had yet to fully set. The three had had a full day, while she’d been sleeping.
She’d have to find a way to show them all how much she appreciated their hard work. But the work wasn’t done yet. The cabbages still needed to be washed and packed. But that could wait until tomorrow. There was one job that she alone must finish. A chore Moira didn’t know how to do. A task Rory refused to do, despite teaching Keila all he knew. An undertaking she enjoyed more than any other.
Keila stood and gathered the used bowls and spoons, and was placing them on the bench by the large tub they washed their dishes in when a knock sounded on Drummin House’s front door. She turned and hurried into the sitting room, wondering who it could be. Aside from strangers, Leith was the only person who came to the front door. But he’d said he’d see her at market. Who else could it be?
***
Sleep called him and Adair slowly sank into her welcoming arms. A full day of washing dishes and vegetables and packing the latter into timber slatted boxes had taken its toll. Christ! He couldn’t believe how tiring he’d found such menial tasks. The shameful thought dragged him up and away from slumber’s embrace. He’d be back in the saddle dispatching English reivers from Scotland’s Borders as soon as his bruised and aching body healed.
‘God, help me,’ he muttered to himself and once again gave in to sleep’s beckoning—
A soft feminine voice spoke in a whisper and Dair’s eyelids strained open. He lay on the pallet he’d first woken up on in the small room that smelled of herbs and reminded him of pain and emerald eyes. He wore his plaid about his hips and naught else. There was no sign of Keila, but he swore it had been her musical voice he’d heard.
Knowing he wouldn’t sleep until he made sure Keila didn’t need his help, he braced his arm across his naked middle and sat up on the side of the pallet. And waited. Staring down at his bare feet, moments later he was rewarded with the sound of her lilting tones, swiftly followed by an unfamiliar masculine voice coming from the front of Drummin House.
Dair held in his next breath and stood, before making his way to the shuttered window. He stopped and listened, but the pair spoke too quietly for him to decipher what was being said, though their even tones suggested all was well between Keila and her visitor. But after discovering his attack hadn’t been a robbery, Dair needed to learn all he could about anyone and everyone.
With careful fingers, he prised one side of the wooden shutter inward in the centre, hoping it didn’t creak, until he could see outside clearly through his still slightly swollen eyes. The sun was finally setting in the west, its dimming rays washing over Keila’s slender form, casting her hair a deeper shade of fiery red.
She conversed while standing an arm’s length away from the man who appeared to be of a similar height and build to Dair, but whose hair was brown and left loose to brush the tops of his shoulders. Dressed in leather pants and vest, with a linen shirt beneath, the visitor spoke, leaning forward as he did so, his dark gaze fixed on Keila’s chest.
Dair suffered an instant dislike toward the lecher. As if sensing Dair’s agitation, the man’s dark gaze shifted from Keila’s breasts to the healing room window, repeatedly. Dair’s heartbeat thumped as he continued to watch the exchange, careful not to draw attention to his presence. Did the cur already know Dair was inside Drummin House? Did he know anything about the attack?
With a nod, the dark eyes slid to the window one last time before the man turned and mounted the powerful, dark brown horse grazing a short distance away. Without a backward glance, he joined two other mounted men, who until now had been out of Dair’s limited view, and the trio galloped north. Dair’s gaze settled on Keila as she hurried toward her home’s front entrance.
Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping again, Dair found his pallet and lay down just before the front door closed and footsteps sounded in the next room. He opened his eyes and waited for Keila to appear. But after several moments of quiet, Keila’s soft footfalls faded as she headed in the opposite direction.
He’d wait until he saw her next to ask about her visitor, but he very much doubted he find sleep now.
***
Adair woke to silence and the scent of herbs. The fat candle cutting a dim light in the darkness had burnt low since he’d returned to his pallet and fallen asleep within moments. He’d obviously been more tired than he’d imagined and now felt well rested and wide awake. The memory of Keila speaking with the dark-haired man who appeared to have trouble lifting his eyes higher than Keila’s graceful neck rushed back now.
Placing his arm across his middle, he swung his legs over the side of the heather-ticked mattress and pressed his feet into the floor. With a slow exhalation, he measured the level of pain surrounding his ribs, pleased it didn’t seem to have worsened. He donned his boots and shirt, and clenching his jaw, he stood, relieved the dimly lit room again stopped moving when he did.
Dair walked from his makeshift room into the next, but there were no candles burning and no sign of anyone. He followed the dull glow lighting the kitchen from the single torch left burning beside the doorway, but again found the usually occupied room empty. He looked about at the crates he’d helped to fill and stack and the bench running along the wall that had been overflowing with dishes and pots, until he’d washed them. Yesterday had been a day of doing new tasks, tasks he’d never done before or had ever dreamed of doing.
He was sure Duff and Callum would find the sight of him, sleeves rolled up, washing dishes, humorous. Lachlan and Lundy would likely find the scene so hilarious, they’d be rolling on the floor with laughter. He smiled at his own imaginings. He’d have to ensure none of them found out.
He was supposed to meet up with his friends at Braemar and time was running out. But he wouldn’t be going anywhere, including returning to the Borders, until he discovered where he was and what had happened to him. If his attack was personal, he couldn’t put those he loved at risk by leading danger directly to their doorstep.
With no one in sight, he assumed both women had retired for the night. But having slept well, he preferred not to return to his bed just yet. Heading to the door that led outside, he’d visit Demon and ensure his mount remained settled inside the stable and hadn’t upset the other horses.
Cool air washed over his face and the scent of rain-washed surroundings rose up to greet him as he stepped outside. The clouds blanketing the night sky were beginning to thin, allowing the stars to shine through. Despite the recent rainfall, summer had arrived quickly and Adair was one of many who welcomed the warmer season. Perhaps if he had a wife to snuggle up to each night, he wouldn’t dislike the long winter nights so much. Not that he spent his nights alone. He’d found many a willing woman to pass the cold nights with, as well as the warmer ones.
But until he discovered who he was, there’d be no change in his weather preferences for sleeping and he doubted he’d ever take a wife. Adair loved women and enjoyed them as often as he could, but if his own mother disliked him so much she’d abandoned him in a strange place, all alone, when he was only four, he doubted he knew how to keep a wife happy enough to stay with him for the rest of his life. And he’d sworn long ago never to give another woman such a chance.
The unwarranted attack had not only battered him physically, it had also put on hold his reason fo
r coming to the Highlands. Adair hoped Duff and Cal had been more successful than he had been, but he also believed they were searching for their origins for the sole purpose of marriage. Adair simply wanted to find that he was someone of import, someone worth knowing, someone no one would dare abandon again.
Dair used the light from the half-moon’s glow to walk between the two garden beds, and headed toward the stable to the right. His thoughts turned to the old man who had returned Demon to him and he hoped Rory wasn’t paying too high a price for his wild ride.
An odd sound reached his ears, stopping him in his tracks. He cocked his head to one side, trying to catch the sound again and hoping to determine which direction it came from. There. He heard it once more and turned and stared at the smaller outbuilding. There were no windows or doors that he could see from where he now stood, but the noise that had caught his attention had sounded like a combination between a grunt and a pain-filled call for help.
Adair immediately searched for the hilt of his sword he usually carried at his waist, but his weapon wasn’t there. Another reminder of what the attack had cost him. He braced his ribs momentarily and bent to retrieve his dirk from inside his boot, left damp from the wet grass. He straightened and drew a long deep breath. He may be without his sword, but his dirk was weapon enough and he was also skilled with his hands. The graze on his knuckles pulled as he clenched his fists. He couldn’t let the unexplained sound go unchecked. After all Keila and Moira had done for him, what if they were innocent and he’d unwittingly brought danger to their doorstep?
He cast one last glance at the stable, wondering if Demon had been affected by the unsettling noise, and quietly retraced his steps, scanning his surroundings as he went. All was still and silent, except another muted groan sounding from the thatch-roofed structure. Adair made his way toward the building, and as he neared he spied a closed door in the middle of the timber wall facing Drummin House. A single small window was cut out of the same wall, but further along. A shutter or hide must have been used to cover the window, for no light showed about the edges.
The Rogue Page 6
