Sands, Lynsay - Highland Treasure

That thought drew her gaze to the man riding in front of her as her eyes slid over the dark plaid he wore. Rory Buchanan. She’d been a bit startled when he’d appeared in the clearing. The man was much larger than Tom and Simon. He was also wearing a scandalous outfit that left his knees and lower thighs bare between the tops of his boots and the bottom of the skirt he wore. Elysande had blinked at the sight and then forced herself to keep her eyes on his face for propriety’s sake. Not that that had been a hardship. Even through her veil she’d been able to see the man was handsome with a nice face, bright green eyes and long dark hair shot through with red. He was also large and muscled, but not overly bulky with it, and apparently that was a shape she quite liked. Although for some reason that same shape on the other Buchanan brother hadn’t affected her quite the same way. Alick, she recalled, and guessed by the way he deferred to Rory that he was the younger of the two Buchanan brothers. He actually looked very like the older, with the same auburn hair and green eyes. They were both handsome, but Rory Buchanan had an air of confidence about him that was missing with the younger man. Perhaps that was why she found him more attractive.

As if her thoughts had drawn him forward, the younger brother suddenly rode past her as the path widened again. She watched with curiosity as he moved his horse up beside his brother’s and began to speak. She could hear the soft rumble of his voice, but couldn’t make out his words. Elysande knew it must be about her, however, when Rory Buchanan suddenly glanced back at her.

She immediately forced herself to sit up a little straighter, realizing only then that she’d started to slump in the saddle once more. Ignoring the way her muscles and her very skin cried out at the action, Elysande held herself stiff in the saddle and raised her chin. She would not show weakness. She could manage this. Besides, it must be nearly midday by now, she reassured herself. They would stop soon if only to eat and relieve themselves. She hoped.

Rory let his gaze slide over the veiled figure behind them. Lady Elysande had been riding slouched in the saddle when he first glanced back, but had straightened when she realized he was looking. There was little to see but the headdress and veil that hid her hair and face from him, and the rich, warm cloak she clutched closed against the cold with one gloved hand while handling the reins with her other. In truth, she could have been a corpse or a man under the outfit, but there was nothing alarming in the way she sat her mare.

“She looks fine,” Rory said finally as he shifted his attention forward once more.

“Aye. Now she does,” Alick said with irritation. “But I am telling ye there is something wrong. She was slumped and swaying slightly in the saddle until ye looked back.”

Rory looked back again, but she was still sitting upright, seeming perfectly fine.

“Why do ye think she wears the veil like that?” Alick asked suddenly.

Rory just shrugged. He had no idea.

“Think ye she is so ugly her mother feared we would refuse to escort her did we see her face?”

That brought a startled laugh from his mouth, and Rory raised his eyebrows at his brother. “What difference would her face make? We are doing this as a favor to the Sinclairs, not because of what the woman looks like.”

“Aye,” Alick agreed on a sigh. “Still, it seems fair strange that she would cover herself wholly like that. It must make it hard for her to see where she is leading her mount.”

“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.