He let out a soft grunt at her touch. Pulling her hand away, she blotted the wound with a gentler hand. His skin under her fingers was surprisingly as soft as a wee bairn’s. Letting out the breath she had been holding, Fallon dipped the cloth back into the water to start again. He remained quiet as she ministered to the wound.
Fallon could feel the weight of his stare as he watched her carefully. Their eyes met as she lifted her head to look at him. She was nearly mesmerized by his penetrating stare. They were as dark and velvety as the wings of a brown falcon. His lips curled into a hint of a smile. Fallon diverted her eyes back to her task.
She replayed their introduction again in her mind. He mentioned he served the King. Perhaps he was a knight in the King’s army. After all, he did mention something about being some sort of protector. Standing up to fetch some bandages and salve out of the cupboard, she wanted to learn more about her strange, unannounced visitor.
“Yer wound is infected. I am no healer, but I have a few remedies that may help.” Clearing her throat, she continued in a more subdued tone, “By the way, my name is Fallon. I dinna catch yers.”
“I did no’ give it,” he replied.
Fallon turned toward him with her lips pursed together, unhappy with his brazen response.
“My name is Rylan.”
“Well, tis nice to meet ye, Rylan. May I ask where ye are from?”
“North.”
“As in the Highlands?”
“Aye.”
Hearing he was a Highlander explained a lot, for she, too, grew up in the Highlands and was well aware of both the region’s attitude and ignorance.
“Here, dab this on. Just a bit,” Fallon said giving him the salve.
Once he finished, she helped wrap a fresh bandage tightly around his arm. She couldn’t help her curiosity as to how he had injured it. Biting her bottom lip, she was reluctant to ask, but against her better judgement did so anyway.
“May I ask how this occurred?”
“Ye ask a lot of questions.” He glanced up at her without raising his head.
“I only wish to know who it is I have let into my home.”
“I injured my arm in battle,” he replied.
“Well, the infection does no look too bad, but I am concerned ye could catch fever overnight. I also noticed the bruising around yer ribs. By the look of it, ye may have a fracture or two. I dinna think riding a horse in yer condition right now is a verra wise decision. Ye clearly need to heal and rest.”
“My time is limited. It’s imperative that I leave at once,” he reminded her as he stood from his spot.
“Well ye are in no’ condition to be traveling. Now sit,” she ordered, pointing her finger at the seat of the chair.
Rylan was stirred by the lass’s feistiness, even though his arm throbbed like the devil. Of all the times for a cockstand, this was not it. But hell, he was injured, no’ dead.
Just then, the door swung open. Standing in the doorway stood a dripping wet young lad. His face looked guilt-stricken as water began to pool beneath his feet. His mother did not look pleased. As she bent down to her son’s level, Rylan tipped his chair back slightly, to admire the curves of her backside. Rylan growled in the back of his throat.
“What happened to ye?” the lass, Fallon, asked.
“I fell into the river,” the lad said through chattering teeth.
“I can see that,” she said. “Well come inside and get cleaned up for supper. We have an unexpected guest joining us. And later, we will discuss yer punishment for disobeying.”
“But mama.”
“Dinna but mama me. Now go!” she said, lightly smacking him on the back of the head as he walked passed her to his room. “Now, as fer ye,” she said turning her attention to Rylan. “I will have Leoric bring ye soap and water to wash, but keep yer bandage dry. Leoric is my servant and my protector. Ye may rest in the barn until I have finished cooking. There should be plenty of fresh hay to sleep on. Once ye have healed, I will allow ye to borrow my horse and ye may continue yer journey. Do we have an agreement?”
“It appears ye leave me no choice,” Rylan said, letting his injured arm hang by his side and adopting a nonchalant stance. For some reason, he was determined not to show any weakness before the woman. God’s bones. Since when have I preened before a woman?
Chapter 4
Even at night, the air was as dry and sweltering as a pit of smoldering ashes. After nearly two months of draught, nearly everyone in Scotland prayed for rain.
One night. That was all he was promising.
Rylan felt conflicted. James had sent him here, but why? Who was she, and how did she provide the answer to his clan’s quarrel with the Sutherlands? He wanted desperately to ask before her son interrupted them, but he decided to bide his time and wait for another opportunity to discover the truth. With his mind full of questions, he entered the barn.
As Rylan closed the door behind him, a noise sounded from somewhere within the darkness. Caught off guard, he searched the dark barn, unable to pinpoint where the sound had come from.
“Who goes there?” a male voice called to him.
His voice was as raspy as the grit of a grinding stone.
“Excuse me, I dinna mean to disturb ye. My name is Rylan. I have spoken to yer Mistress and she has offered me accommodations for the evening. She has also given me permission to borrow one of her horses so I may continue my journey in the morning.”
By the light of the moon shining in through the window, Rylan could see a small figure coming out from one of the horse stalls along the far back wall.
“Forgive me, but that does no’ sound like somethin’ my Mistress would offer freely,” he replied.
“Well, I can assure ye what I say is true.”
“Well, in that case, ye be wantin’ to take the mare. She be a fine horse,” he said.
“The horse will do nicely. Thank ye.”
Hanging a stiff-bristled brush up on a hook, the man slowly crept toward Rylan, who was favoring his left side.
“Are ye acquainted wit’ Lady Fallon?” he asked.
“Nay. I am just passing through.”
“Yer accent. Yer a Highlander?”
“Aye, that I am.”
“Then I know ye can be trusted,” the man said as he came into the light. “I was a Highlander myself, once upon a time.”
He was an old man, nearing seventy by the looks of him. His long, silvery hair covered his shoulders and his beard reached the middle of his chest. His eyes, however, were such a pale blue they were nearly colorless.
Rylan could not help but notice that something was not quite right about this man. The barn was as black as coal, yet he tended to the horses without lighting the lantern that hung on the wall. And when the man spoke, his head and eyes averted elsewhere. Suddenly, it dawned on Rylan like a flash of lightening. The man was blind.
This was the man she called her “protector”? An old, blind man?
Rylan pinched the bridge of his nose where a slight headache was beginning to form. Wiping his hand down his face, he shook his head. It was clear the lady of the house had no sense. No sense at all. The idea of a woman living alone with utterly no protection seemed as pointless as building a house without a roof. How has the lass been surviving on her own with a wee lad and an old, blind man protecting her?
“My name is Leoric Fraser,” he continued. “I have served Lady Fallon fer the last seven years. She is a good woman and I am verra protective of her. She be like a daughter to me,” he said proudly before he continued. “Well, I suppose ye must be wantin’ to wash fer supper. I can fetch ye a few pails of hot water if ye dinna mind pullin’ out the tub o’er there in the corner fer me. These old bones are no’ what they used to be.”
“Of course,” Rylan replied as Leoric left the barn to fetch the water.
Rylan found the tub Leoric had referred to stacked in the corner of the barn, covered in hay. With only one good arm, pulling the heavy, circula
r wooden tub was a task easier said than done. Grunting, he moaned in pain as he pushed and pulled on the tub.
“God’s bones!” he swore as pain pulsated up his arm to his chest and fractured ribs.
Taking a breath, he tried again. Once the tub was set away from the wall, Rylan went in search of his sack to gather the tinderbox to light a candle within a lantern he’d found. Soon, Leoric returned carrying with him two large buckets of hot water. Rylan quickly rushed over to help carry one of them. Each man took his turn pouring the steaming water into the tub. After four more buckets of water, the small tub was nearly full. Rylan was impressed with Leoric’s ability to maneuver around the barn without sight.
“Will ye be needin’ anythin’ else of me?” Leoric asked.
“Nay. This will be fine. Thank ye,” Rylan replied.
“Verra well then. Once food is ready to be served, I will return wit’ a platter fer ye.”
Rylan bit his tongue, unsure how much the servant would reveal about his mistress, but that wasn’t going to stop Rylan from prying. “If ye could thank yer mistress fer me again, I would verra much appreciate it. I dinna catch where the lass hails from.”
“Our young Lady Fallon is originally from Ayrshire.”
“And her family?”
“Oh, they are still there. She dinna talk about ‘em much and she does no’ visit ‘em often, but it is no’ my place to pry. Her uncle is Duncan Montgomery, the clan’s chieftain.”
Upon hearing which clan the lass hailed from and that she was the laird’s niece, it made perfect sense. He knew from the start she was a Lowlander and her attitude had high-born written all over it. But what role she played with the Sutherlands was still a mystery.
From what Rylan could recall, Clan Montgomery played a minor part in James’s politics and had no relations with the Sutherlands, not unless Duncan had betrayed his King, but somehow that was doubtful. Rylan had several pieces to this puzzle, but what baffled him was none of the pieces seemed to fit.
“The Montgomery, ye say? I am familiar with their clan and have met Laird Duncan on several occasions. They are good people.”
“Aye, and Lady Fallon be the best of ‘em. If that will be all, I will see to yer meal.”
“Thank ye,” Rylan said as he bid Leoric his leave.
Kneeling over the edge of the tub, Rylan sifted through the water with his fingers, removing bits of straw that had been nestled near the bottom that were now floating on the top. Heat from the water licked his skin like melted wax from a burning candle.
Removing his tattered kilt, Rylan stepped into the tub and sat down. Steam floated around him like a cloud of smoke. Gently, he began to clean around the bandaged wound. He imagined it would be days before it would properly heal. But no matter, he had suffered worse.
Cupping water in his hand, Rylan poured it over his hair, washing out the dirt and grime from the long journey. The hot water trickling down his back started to soothe his muscles, allowing them to calm and relax. He waited until the water grew cold before he stood to dry off.
Leoric returned soon after with a platter of food and quietly set it down on the floor near Rylan’s pallet of hay before bidding him good night.
Rylan’s neck prickled. How does he do that? He wasn’t here when I made my pallet. The old man is no’ normal.
With a towel wrapped around his waist, Rylan sat down on the lump of hay and picked up the platter. The round wooden trencher was full of bread, cheese, a hearty bowl of stew, and a tall mug of ale.
With his belly full, he slammed back the entire mug of the honeyed ale. He rummaged about in his bag and found his whittling knife and the stick before settling down on his pallet. He lay back and took up his whittling where he had left off the night before. As he chipped away at the wood, Rylan mapped out the next several days of his journey. He was not happy about this unexpected detour as he was anxious to take leave and be on his way to Boreland to meet with the Duke that resided there. After that, he could leave the Sassenach-filled Lowlands and return home to the Highlands where he belonged.
His eyes grew heavy. Heavier than normal. He tried to sit up but his head grew dizzy with each passing second.
“What is happening?” he mumbled aloud from his dry lips. When had he not been able to hold his liquor? “Has that spiteful woman poisoned me?” he rasped.
Within moments, he was sound asleep.
Seated on the armchair near the fire, Fallon’s head rose, pulling her eyes away from her embroidery when Leoric returned with the empty platter.
“Did he finish it?”
“Aye, my lady. I believe so.”
“Good. I was afraid he wouldn’t drink it if we told him what it was.”
“My lady, ye shouldnae go around slipping yer remedies into a mon’s drink.”
“Oh, Leoric, I can assure ye it is safe. He wouldn’t even have tasted it. It is only to help him sleep. I dinna need him wanderin’ ‘round while we are sleepin’ and no’ keepin’ an eye on him.”
Leoric smirked and shook his head.
“Will there be anything else, my lady?”
“Nay, Leoric, that is all. Thank ye.”
“Then I will bid ye good night, my lady.”
“Good night.”
Fallon sat back and returned to her embroidery. She felt rather proud that she had been able to subdue the giant Highlander with such a small mixture of the sleep-inducing elixir. She had picked it up at the market during her last visit. She would have to remember to keep a small vial on her in case she needed it again. Lord knows a Highlander would never refuse a drink. Her elixirs were the only weapons she had.
Sleep eluded her. For several hours, she worked on her embroidery, then baked a loaf of bread and swept the kitchen floor. As Fallon sat to rest, she glanced over at Rylan’s dirt-stained shirt still lying on the floor.
Leaning over her chair, she snatched it from the ground and placed the tunic over her lap to see if it was salvageable if she stitched the tears and holes. As the neckline of the shirt draped over her lap, a loud clanging sounded as something hit the floor, surprising her. Looking under her chair, she spotted a shiny, golden medallion attached to a silver chain.
Instinctively, Fallon glanced around the room, feeling apprehensive about picking it up, as if it were forbidden to look at it. But with Braeden and Leoric asleep, she was alone and free to examine it.
Curiosity nipping at her, Fallon picked up the medallion and placed it in her palm. It was small, but heavier than she had imagined it would be.
The impression on its face was a crown with two swords that crisscrossed behind it. It must have great importance she thought as she remembered Rylan trying to convince her that he was some sort of a protector to the King. She felt pangs of guilt for the way she had treated him. She had acted no better than he had.
Placing the medallion in the pocket of her apron, she was about to head to bed when she heard howls coming from the barn. Searching for her robe, she slipped it on and ran out into the darkness.
Like heat from the rising sun, Rylan felt his skin burning.
Fever had set in.
Bathed in his own sweat, water dripped down his face as if he had just engaged in battle. His long, dark brown hair stuck to his face and matted in the back like a large bird’s nest. Brushing his hair out of his eyes with his fingers, he sat up, allowing his mind and body to fully wake, though he felt as if he hadn’t slept at all.
Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he ached in pain. His muscles were sore and his head pounded. His body trembled from a cold sweat as a slight breeze blew in through the cracks in the walls.
Rylan could not remember feeling this terrible since he’d woken up buck-naked in Angus’s barn last summer, with an empty bottle of whiskey wrapped in one arm and a homely French widow named Philippa in the other. Curse the drink, for that was the worst hangover he had ever had.
Rylan had to rid himself of the towel he had kept around his waist. Glancing around the b
arn, he spotted the tub still full of water from hours before. Stripping down, he stumbled over to the tub and plopped in. The water had cooled, but it felt refreshing. Dunking his head underwater, he laid there, listening to the pulsating blood flowing in his ears.
After a few minutes, Rylan stood from his bath. The moment he stood, fully exposed to the air, he heard a woman’s gasp behind him. Spinning around, he found Fallon’s face was as red as a newly bloomed spring rose.
Suddenly a wave of dizziness came over him. His vision blurred and his knees gave way, buckling underneath him. Rylan collapsed to the floor. Fallon immediately rushed to his side.
“Are ye alright?” she asked.
Rylan could hear the concern in her voice.
“I’m fine!” he growled as his sight slowly returned. “There’s no reason to fuss o’er me.”
Rylan pushed himself up off the ground, embarrassed he had swooned like a weakling.
“Let me help ye,” she offered, grabbing his arm. Helping him to sit down on the pallet, she quickly covered his groin with the towel that laid on the ground. “Ye have a fever.”
“Tis nothing.”
“Like hell tis nothing. I am going to return to the croft and get ye somethin’. Stay here.”
“I dinna know where else I would be going,” he sarcastically replied.
Fallon raced to the door and quickly slipped out. Rylan had to wait only minutes before she returned with a ceramic cup full of liquid.
“Oh, no! Ye poisoned me the first time I drank somethin’ ye offered.”
“Oh, dinna be silly!” she replied, handing him the cup.
“What is this?” he asked looking down at the moss-colored beverage.
“‘Tis a recipe of my own concoction. Made of honey, vinegar and a few herbs from my garden. We must do all we can to get yer fever down,” she said sitting down on the edge of the pallet. “Stop being such a grumbler and drink it. It will help.”
Rylan took a large sip. His face cringed the moment it touched his lips. Immediately, he spit out the mouthful onto the floor near her feet.
Heart of the Highlands: The Wolf (Protectors of the Crown Book 2) Page 3
