Sands, Lynsay - Highland Treasure

Rory’s eyebrows rose at the sight. While he’d seen many a woman in a headdress and veil, the veil usually hung below the face. This one completely covered the face so that she must be having trouble seeing them. He certainly couldn’t make out any of her features.

“Lady de Valance?” he guessed, thinking the woman had come herself to deliver the treasure into their hands.

“Aye.”

Her voice was a soft whisper and he found himself leaning forward over his horse’s neck to better hear her if she spoke again.

“I am Rory Buchanan and this is me brother Alick,” he announced when she said nothing more. “Ye requested our aid in getting a treasure to Sinclair?”

“Nay.” Despite his leaning, Rory barely heard the word, but then she cleared her throat and said with a little more volume, “’Twas my mother, Lady Mairghread de Valance, who wrote to you. I am Elysande de Valance. ’Tis me she wanted you to see to Sinclair.”

Rory sat back as her words rushed over him. Lady Mairghread de Valance’s greatest treasure was her daughter and she wanted him to escort Elysande north to Sinclair.

A glance at Alick showed that he was not the only one stunned by this news. While he was still digesting this information, she added, “I felt sure that Tom and Simon here would be enough to escort me north. We could ride fast as a small party. However, Mother seemed to think it would be better to have Scots with us. She said the English are not well liked in the Highlands and ’twould be safer to have Scots for escort as well.”

When Rory was slow to respond, she shifted slightly and added, “Mother also said, as a friend to our kin the Sinclairs, you may be willing to aid us. Howbeit, I understand if you do not wish the trouble. We will do fine on our own.”

“Nay,” Rory said abruptly when she began to gather her reins as if to leave at once. “The Sinclairs are good friends. We would be pleased to see ye to them.”

Rory noted the way her shoulders seemed to ease a bit at his agreement, but she offered no gratitude, merely gave a stiff nod and said, “Then shall we?”

Rory hesitated the briefest moment, pondering the fact that it apparently hadn’t even occurred to her that there might be some reason he could not leave at once. For surely there was no way she could know that he’d planned to leave this morning anyway. But more important to him was the fact that she offered no explanation for this journey and he knew there must be an interesting one. Usually a simple trip to visit relatives would have included a large retinue of soldiers and servants, along with wagons to carry tents and such for the lady’s comfort. It definitely would have included other women to accompany her. But she was alone with two soldiers.

Before he could ask any of the questions now rushing through his mind, a sharp whistle drew his attention to where he’d left Conn and Inan at the edge of the woods. Their number had doubled. Fearghas and Donnghail were now with them and the foursome was moving into the clearing to approach.

Eyebrows rising, Rory rode to meet them, knowing that only trouble would have made Donnghail and Fearghas follow them when they had been ordered to stand guard.

“Riders,” Fearghas announced once Rory was close enough to hear. “A large group. At least twenty riders, but I’d guess more from the noise they’re making. I’m thinking ’tis the soldiers we saw approach Monmouth as we left.”

Rory frowned and then glanced back to the woman and her two men to see that one of the soldiers was grabbing up the last two bags and the fur from the cart. He passed the fur to the other man to roll up and tie to his saddle, while he hung the bags from his own. It made Rory realize that he still held the second bag he’d picked up. Hooking the tie to his own saddle with the first, Rory considered the situation. He had no idea if the contingent of soldiers they’d seen approach Monmouth were looking for the lass, but it didn’t matter. He’d rather avoid them either way. Soldiers en masse could be trouble on the road and something he’d like to avoid when they had a lady in their midst.

“We’ll stay away from the main road and travel as fast as we dare through the woods,” he decided as he straightened in the saddle. He didn’t wait for agreement, but led them to the English trio to tell them of his decision. The grim expressions of the soldiers and the way the woman stiffened at the news of a troop of soldiers approaching told him they were expecting trouble, but he didn’t question them. There was no time now. He could get the answers he needed later, Rory decided, and got them moving at once.

“Are you all right, m’lady? Do you need a rest?”

Realizing she had begun to slouch and sway a bit in the saddle, Elysande straightened abruptly and scowled despite knowing Tom couldn’t see her expression through her veil. Or perhaps only because he couldn’t. She knew the soldier only asked the question out of concern and she surely would have appreciated it if it didn’t simply make her focus on the pain she had been trying to ignore for the last several hours of travel.

The truth was, Elysande was not all right. In fact, she was weary and in agony and there was nothing she wanted more than to stop and rest. But they could not stop. She would not be safe until they reached Sinclair. She could rest then—and even sleep for a week if she wished.

But dear God, she was racked with such agony right now that all she wanted to do was lie down and die. And the pain was not all just physical. Her mother and father—

Elysande cut off her thoughts lest they lead to tears, and forced herself to stiffen her spine. She would not die. At least, not without one hell of a fight. She would survive her losses and this hellish ride, and get to Sinclair. It was the last thing she could do for her mother.

“I will tell Buchanan you need a rest.”

Tom’s voice drew her from her thoughts and she shook her head at once. “Nay. I’m fine. No stopping.”

The soldier hesitated briefly, but then sat back in his saddle with a dissatisfied grunt. She wasn’t surprised. Tom knew just how badly injured she was. He’d had to carry her from her mother’s bedchamber, using the secret passage to deliver her down to the cart and horses he and Simon had waiting in the woods outside the castle walls. He’d laid her gently in the cart and then they’d been away, and while she’d tried, she hadn’t been able to wholly stifle her moans and cries of pain as she was shaken and jolted about on the ride to Monmouth.

They’d arrived a couple of hours before dawn and Elysande had rested until the sun rose, only mounting her mare after Simon had returned from delivering her mother’s message to Rory Buchanan. The two men had both protested the move, insisting she should travel in the cart, but Elysande had been equally insistent that she would ride. She had not wanted to meet the Buchanans on her back. She hadn’t wanted them to know that she was injured, nor suffer the humiliation of their seeing her men helping her mount. Tom and Simon had pretty much had to place her in the saddle. She hadn’t been able to manage it on her own, but once seated she’d actually felt a little better. The cart had shaken and jolted horribly on the journey to Monmouth, causing her constant agony. But seated upright on the saddle she’d felt better. At least, she had until they’d started to ride. Now it was nearly as bad as the ride in the cart had been. At least there she hadn’t had to use her trembling muscles to keep her seat.

Tom suddenly dropping back behind her again drew her attention to the trail ahead to see that it was narrowing once more, forcing them to ride single file. If it could be called a trail, Elysande thought. Half the time the lead Scot seemed to be beating a path through the woods. But then perhaps that was normal. She had no way of knowing; Elysande had never traveled beyond the forest around Kynardersley castle until now, while the Buchanans were from Scotland and surely knew their way home.