by Eliza Knight
“Nay,” he drawled out, and then glanced toward the cook.
“Would ye prefer he do it?” she whispered with a nod in the brother’s direction.
“Nay.” This response came quicker than the last.
“Then show me.”
Muttering something under his breath, Roderick gripped the hem of his faded brown robe. She held her breath, forcing herself not to stare too hard as he slowly drew the fabric up over his thigh, exposing pure strength beneath bronzed skin and the slightest sprinkling of inky dark hair. He removed the wet rag.
And then she saw it—a mangled scar as wide as her palm.
She’d not realized how deep her spear had pierced his flesh. The skin was silvery in parts and an angry pink in others. With the scar so wide, it had to have pierced bone, and permanently damaged muscle. Her stomach plummeted. She’d done this to him. It was one thing for injuries to be caused in the field of battle or when protecting someone from harm, but an accident—and a silly one at that… She’d been so determined to win the fishing tournament, she’d not paid attention to what was happening around her until too late.
Throat tight, she managed to swallow around the lump and find her voice. “I am so sorry, Grim.”
“Ye need not apologize again. I’m alive, and that is all that matters.” There was a strength in his voice that reached across the space between them to stroke her conscience, but it did little to soothe her heart.
“Ye’re lucky to be alive, and I am ashamed to have not been more careful.” She dipped her finger, scooping up a glop of salve. “Did it pierce bone?”
“Aye.”
Just as she’d guessed. The spear had gone deep into the bone and the wooden shaft had made the wound larger than if it had just been the actual iron spear tip.
“Ye’ve a powerful throw, my lady. Ye should be proud of that.”
Greer gaped. “How can ye compliment me at a time like this?” She shook her head and spread a thin line of salve around the edges of the wound, the puckered skin softer than she imagined it would have been.
Roderick hissed a breath at the touch of her finger, and she felt him tense beneath her touch.
Greer winced. “Does it hurt?”
With lips clamped closed, he shook his head. Greer scooped out more salve and massaged it into the wound with Brother Cook watching from a distance, no longer rolling dough into loaves but perhaps feeling as though he could not leave them alone, either.
She retrieved more salve and spread it over the wound until she determined there was enough, and then she discarded the spoon. As she massaged, Roderick closed his eyes, and the firm press of his lips eased.
“Are ye still doing all right?”
He nodded. “It feels good.”
She managed a small smile. “I’m glad.”
The salve was warm and slick, and as she rubbed it into his wound, she gently rubbed at the tension in his thigh muscle. Within a few moments, he was visibly starting to unwind. The tightness in his jaw relaxed, his shoulders fell a little, and the furrow between his brows smoothed out.
Greer considered him, sitting there fully trusting her. There were not many moments like this where she’d been able to study him before. He was always awake when she rose in the mornings, and she was usually so caught up in the spark in his eyes that she could look nowhere else.
But now, with them both quiet, and his distracting orbs closed, she took her time to run her gaze over his finely arched brows, finding a thin, silvery scar that ran vertically between his brows and down over the bridge of his nose. His bone structure was exquisite. There really was no other way to describe it. Though his beard covered a good portion of his jaw, the angles were sharp, and so were those of his cheeks. His lips were full and wide, with a subtle dip at the center top, and she imagined what it would feel like to touch the place her own lips had been.
She had to stop herself from doing just that. So instead, she perused the thickness of his neck, the angles of his collarbones that faded into broad shoulders. Even in this monk’s robe, he cut a fine figure.
“Tell me what ye see,” he murmured.
She glanced back up, noting the lines of brown lashes still firmly on his cheeks. “Who says I’m looking at anything?”
“I can feel ye.”
“That is because my hand is on your wound.”
“I can feel your eyes on me.”
“Ye’re full of yourself.”
He grinned, showing off a slight dimple in his right cheek beneath several days of growth. Fingers grazed over her knuckles, and then his grip stilled her movements.
“I feel much better now, lass. Thank ye.” He flicked his gaze toward the monk and back, lowering his tone. “If we dinna leave soon, I fear the brother will raise the alarm.”
Greer tried not to grin at that image. “It is no less than what ye deserve, Grim. To be sure, I feel obligated to do just this verra thing for the rest of our days. I had no idea how bad it was…”
His face darkened, growing serious. “That will be quite difficult given the distance between our lands.”
Greer turned away, wiping her slick palm on a wet rag, and then making a pretense of searching out the cork for his salve jar, but only because she didn’t want him to see her disappointment. Why did he have to point out how verra far they were from each other, as if she wasn’t already aware?
Or was he making another point? That he wanted her to know he would not be bringing her back with him. That anything that happened between them would be folly. That the one kiss they’d shared would be the last.
With a nonchalant shrug, she handed him the corked salve. “Verra true. I suppose ye’ll have to find someone else.”
The furrow in his brow deepened, but she couldn’t even try to imagine what it was he might be thinking at that moment. She needed to escape him. Escape the thoughts he put into her head. The cook stared them down as though he’d been watching two lovers.
One kiss did not make them so.
And she’d better start realizing that before she lost her head over it. Kissing Roderick had been incredible, even in his own words, but that didn’t mean anything. They were not anything. In fact, there was no they.
The sooner she realized that, the better.
She tossed the rag into a pile of laundry by the back door of the kitchen and left him without a backward glance, making her way through the cloister and toward the spare chamber, ignoring the soft call of his voice behind her.
Chapter Fifteen
The bells woke Greer for the dawn service. Her eyes felt heavy, but no heavier than her mind. They were still at risk from the Ross clan, and closer than ever to the enemy’s stronghold. She’d been restless all night, dreaming about Roderick. She relived that moment when her spear went through his flesh over and over and over again. Saw him thrashing in the water. The men jumping overboard to get him. How his pale face had stared hard at her in disbelief. The man was a powerhouse of strength. A lesser warrior would have lost consciousness with the wound and blood loss, but he hadn’t. Mayhap it was because he’d been so busy staring her down, or maybe it was the cajoling the men had been doing at his having been pierced by her.
She’d made a jest, trying to make light of it, but he’d not found humor in it. In fact, after that, he’d not spoken to her until she’d woken up in his bed two years later. After barely two days in bed at Dunrobin, he’d risen like the dead and used a thick wooden staff to walk all the way from the castle to the MacCulloch birlinn and disappear from her life.
Sutherland warriors still talked about him, saying it was inhuman, godlike even, for him to have risen so quickly—and walked.
How could anyone not admire him after that, even if it had been a matter of pride that forced him from bed.
Still, no matter of accolades from the Sutherlands, which he probably to this day didn’t know about, could lessen her guilt. There had been rumors he’d come to Dunrobin to ask for her hand, and despite a few quick flir
tations, of which she’d shared with several visiting warriors, there’d been no other signs.
Oh, why did her heart ache so much to think about never seeing him again? It wasn’t as if she was going to hop into her currach again and sail across the firth to end up on his beach.
The sound of the bell for morning services tolled again, and through the cracks in the shutter, she could just make out the hazy morning sun trying to push through gray clouds.
With a heavy heart, she climbed from bed and washed up, dressing in the same borrowed gown as the evening before as her MacCulloch wool was still slightly damp. Leaving the sparse room exactly as she’d found it, she followed the murmuring of the monks as they sang a hymn on the way to the chapel and took her seat in the empty row across from the men.
During the morning service, she tried to make eye contact with Roderick, but he avoided her gaze. When the service was over and they headed to the refectory, they did not speak other than formal greetings. He seemed distracted, but at least his limp had improved.
After breaking their fast in silence, Greer went back to her chamber, unsure of what else to do since the men had dispersed so quickly, Roderick with them. Was he avoiding her?
She changed into her now dry chemise and MacCulloch plaid and neatly laid the other one back on the bed for the next lady in need. She supposed it was probably too much to hope that her father would bring her one of her own gowns should they meet upon the road.
The rain had stopped at least. She looked out the tiny window in her chamber and could see a slight bit of blue marking the sky. Perhaps their ride today would be without rain. A knock sounded at her door, startling her. She leapt back from the window and opened the door.
To her surprise, her father, dressed in Sutherland colors, his golden-silvery hair pulled back in a queue, filled the entrance to her chamber.
“Daughter.” His voice was gruff, brow furrowed. “What have ye gotten yourself into this time?”
Despite his rebuke and gruffness, she tossed herself into his arms, never so glad to see him in all her life, except for perhaps when he’d come home from battle. “Da! When did ye get here? I didna see ye from the window.”
“Only just now.” His voice was softer now, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Glad I am that ye’re alive. We thought ye dead. Your poor mother searched for ye to the point of collapsing.”
“Nay! Is she all right?”
“Aye, she’s fine. As soon as we got MacCulloch’s message, she packed up a satchel and sent me on my way.” Her father wrapped his arms around her, and she breathed in his familiar scent.
“I’m so sorry. For the rest of my life, I will repent.”
“Ye scared us half to death. Look at my hair, ’tis nearly all silver now. And your mama…” He shook his head. “At least three new lines etched around her eyes. But I dinna think a lifetime of penance is necessarily.”
Greer shook her head. “I will never board a boat again, on that I swear.”
Magnus Sutherland held her at arm’s length. “Laird MacCulloch’s brother, Jon, said as much. But, Greer, ye canna give up on the thing ye love so much.”
“But it almost killed me, Da, and I have broken your trust by following my heart before. And I’ve put the MacCullochs in danger. Oh, Mama is probably so angry with me, do ye think she’ll ever forgive me? Will ye?”
“Ye’re already forgiven, sweet lass. And ye canna let a little thing like death scare ye. To have faced death and survived is to have really lived.”
Greer bit her lip. “Da, ordinarily, I would have agreed with ye, but in this, I canna.”
“Walk with me outside. I think the fresh air will help.”
“Fresh air willna change my mind.”
“If there’s one thing I know about ye, daughter, it is that ye rarely change your mind. But there is something else I know about ye, too, and that is that ye never give up and ye love adventure.”
Greer paused on the threshold, searching her father’s face. “I’m afraid, Da. I dinna know what I want, or who I want to be.”
A smile softened his features. “On the contrary child, out of all my offspring, ye know the most. Ye just have to search inside to find the answer.”
Those words, said to her not too long ago by Roderick, rocked her to the core. Even when Roderick had told her before, she’d known it, but she’d not yet had the time to really sit and listen to what her heart told her. As soon as they returned to Sutherland, she was going to make good on a vow to herself to search within.
Greer slipped her hand through her father’s arm and walked with him to the cloister where she could now see several Sutherland men, including her brother Liam, who was a younger version of her own father with sharp green eyes and golden hair.
“Brat,” he murmured against her ear as he pulled her into a tight hug. “Glad I am that ye’re still breathing.” Then he tugged her hair.
Greer pulled away, stuck out her tongue, and pinched him on the back of his muscled arm. Liam gave an exaggerated shout, and she rolled her eyes. Her gaze fell on Roderick, and the laughter left her.
Roderick gave her a curt nod, devoid of any attachment, as though he truly had been only her escort these past few days and nothing more. Disappointment flooded her, and she glanced toward the ground, not wanting to show anyone how she felt, or even give the slightest hint to her father of what might have transpired.
“I didna expect to meet ye so soon upon the road,” Roderick said as he took a firm grip of her father’s arm in greeting.
“Aye, well, when Jon arrived and told us what happened, I already had a birlinn prepared and was ready to search the seas again. As soon as I saw Jon, the first thing he said was Greer is alive.” He glanced at Greer. “Your little skiff surfaced on shore only an hour or so before Jon arrived. We took our leave immediately, in hopes of catching ye upon the road. We’ve been following for days.”
“And Jewel?”
“She is with Blair, and I’m certain both they and your mother are eager for your return.” Her father nodded toward Roderick. “I can take her home from here. My gratitude for saving her life. A reward will be waiting for ye upon your arrival back at Gleann Mórinnse.”
Greer’s heart fell. She’d barely been prepared to leave Roderick in a few days’ time. But now? Her mouth went dry. Liam elbowed her lightly in the ribs, and she glanced up at him to see he had a questioning expression on his face.
She just shook her head and tried to work the emotions from her face. But saints, it was hard to do such a thing. Not when she felt so strongly.
“With all due respect, my laird,” Roderick was saying, “there was something I was coming to Sutherland to discuss with ye. And I think once ye hear it, ye may wish us to continue on with ye.”
Magnus glanced down at her, concern etched in his brow. Greer hoped he would indeed escort them, but then as soon as she recalled just what Roderick would want to speak to her father about, her countenance fell once more. The Sutherlands might have arrived, but that didn’t mean the Ross warriors weren’t still in pursuit.
In fact, they could show up at any minutes.
A shiver of fear went up her spine. They needed to go. She knew that. “I can help ready the horses,” she said.
“I’ll help ye.” The expression on Liam’s face brooked no argument, and judging from his stubborn streak, he was going to try to get out of her whatever it was he thought she was hiding.
Which of course, was a lot.
The two men agreed and walked away. If the circumstances had been different, she might have been watching Roderick walk away to ask for her hand in marriage. But as it was, she was certain now more than ever that any dream of being with him had been just that—a fantasy.
Seeking a private spot in the nave of the church, Roderick wasted no time in telling Magnus Sutherland about what had transpired with the Ross clan and the information he’d gleaned from the shepherd.
“We thought ye were Ross men when ye w
ere following us. If we’d had any idea it was ye, we would have waited. As it was, we were being pursued on both sides, unsure if both caravans were enemies. Glad I am to be aligned with ye.”
“Aye, our alliance is strong, ye need not worry on that account. Hell, among my men, ye’re a legend.”
Roderick snorted. “Ye jest.”
Magnus chuckled and shook his head. “I strive to be talked of as ye have. They still talk about how ye got up and walked all the bloody way to the pier after getting your leg nearly torn off by a spear.”
Roderick kept his face void of any expression, but his chest did swell with pride. All this time, he’d though the men judged him weak. They thought him a legend? Impossible.
“A leader must remain a pillar of strength, aye?”
“Ye are that. An honor it is to be aligned with ye.” Magnus clapped him on the back. “And an honor it will be to go into battle with ye against the Ross men.”
“Sooner than ye may have thought. Ye were coming from the east, and the other party is coming from the west—Ross country.”
“Bloody hell. I thought we’d put that beast to rest.”
“As did we all.”
Magnus let out a low growl. “We need to get my daughter back to Sutherland. From there, we can form a plan of how to deal with the Rosses, gather our allies, and once and for all put them down.”
“I fear we’ll have more trouble this time now that she’s wed a powerful English lord.”
“’Tis nothing we havena dealt with afore now. She was married to an English lord a decade ago, as flaccid as he was.”
Roderick chuckled. “Aye, he was that. But he followed her lead. Now she seems to be following her new man.”
Magnus scowled and crossed his arms. “That is a terrifying thought, someone more scheming and evil than Ina Ross?”
“Exactly my fears, sir.”
Magnus dropped his head and let out a disappointed sigh. “The task before us will not be easy, but with all of our allies, we will defeat them.”
