Sands, Lynsay - Highland Treasure

Grunting acknowledgment that he’d seen her, Rory started slowly forward again, thinking that he would just ensure himself she was all right, and then retreat if she wished it.

He was just ten feet away when a splash of silver blue drew his gaze to the clothing lying in a pile next to her, but then movement drew his gaze back to Elysande. She had straightened and was now removing the tunic she wore, pulling it slowly up to tug it off over her head. Rory jerked to a stop, stifling a startled mutter when Tom didn’t stop fast enough and bumped into his shoulder. They all stood silent then, watching as Lady Elysande’s back slowly came into view, revealing inch by painful inch of the mottled red and black color that covered most of her back and her right side, leaving only a strip of pale unblemished white skin on her left side.

In all of his years of healing, Rory had only seen damage that extreme once. It had been on a village woman whose husband had beat and kicked her for hours. She’d been barely alive when she was brought to him, and had died shortly afterward from what he’d suspected was inner damage he hadn’t been able to see or heal. As he recalled, she had been in so much pain she had prayed for death before it came, and welcomed it with relief as the life left her eyes.

Rory had almost forgotten the men were with him when Tom murmured, “I knew she was badly beaten, but . . .”

“Aye,” Simon breathed when the other man fell silent. “How the devil has she sat the horse at all?”

Rory didn’t respond to the man’s question. It was something he was wondering himself.

“What is she doing?” Simon asked as they watched Lady Elysande lean forward to lower and lift the tunic she now held in her hands. It was only when she raised it that he realized she was kneeling at the river’s edge. They all watched silently as she wrung out the now dripping cloth and then covered her face with the cold damp material. It was only then he recalled the bruising he’d seen on her face when her veil had moved a bit.

“What happened to her?” he asked grimly, keeping his voice low.

There was a moment of silence and then Tom said, “Baron de Buci had one of his men take his fists and boots to her.”

“And her father allowed this? Is de Buci her husband?” Rory asked at once, for only husbands and fathers could get away with such abuse.

“Nay. De Buci is no relation at all. He was a friend to our lord and lady ere all this happened,” he added grimly.

“What is ‘all this’?” Rory asked as he watched Elysande remove the cloth from her face and bend to dip it in the water again.

A moment of silence passed and he could almost feel Tom and Simon exchanging glances behind him to ask each other how much they should reveal, and then Tom finally said, “We are not sure. We were on a task for our lord, Robert de Valance. Gone near a week and then returned to find everything in chaos. We were told that de Buci’s men guarded the keep, that our lord as well as most of the Kynardersley soldiers were dead and that our lady was abed, fighting for her life while Lady Elysande lay beaten and broken in the dungeons.”

“We no doubt would have been killed too if we’d ridden up to the castle,” Simon put in. “But several servants had fled the keep during the chaos and were hiding in the woods. They stopped us and told us what was happening. Warned us against approaching.”

Tom took up the tale again. “We were going to ride to our closest neighbor, Lord Grenville, and request his aid for Lady Mairghread and Lady Elysande, but thought it best to take a message from Lady Mairghread to convince Grenville to act quickly. So we sent one of the escaped servants, a kitchen boy named Eldon, into the keep to try to get to Lady Mairghread for such a message.”

“He was gone for hours,” Simon told him when Tom paused. “We were just starting to think he had failed and been captured when Lady Mairghread’s maid, Betty, found us. The boy had succeeded at his task and reached Lady Mairghread. Our lady had sent Betty out to find us. She had a message, but not for Grenville, for you. We were to smuggle Lady Elysande out of the keep and take her to you. Which we did.”

“But this is the first time we have seen the extent of Lady Elysande’s injuries,” Tom said solemnly as they watched Elysande wring out the tunic again. This time she didn’t press it to her face when she was done, but began to pull it on over her head in slow, torturous moves.

Rory instinctively started forward again, intending to stop her, but paused after only one step. Putting on a cold, wet tunic in this chill weather was a bit risky. Falling ill to a lung complaint was the last thing she needed. On the other hand, it would dry quickly against her body and if it eased her pain it was worth the risk. He would just have to make sure she was kept warm tonight, he thought, and then realized Tom was talking again.

“She’s been mostly silent since we left Kynardersley,” Tom said, eyeing the woman with pity as she tugged her gown on over the tunic and breeches in slow, methodical movements. “I think her spirit has broken. ’Tis a shame that. She was always a happy girl ere this. Always smiling and laughing, kind to everyone. She treated us all like family—servants and soldiers alike. I worry she will not recover from this.”

Rory didn’t comment. He’d have been amazed if something like this didn’t change the lass. But he agreed it was a shame. In his mind he was thinking of Saidh, and how she might have been affected by such events. She might have bounced back, but she also might have pulled into herself and become altogether different. Harder, perhaps, or bitter.

Rory watched Lady Elysande finish with the gown and reach for the cloak next. The way she huddled into it and fumbled with the clasp under her chin told him how cold she must be. Giving up his position in the trees, he strode forward now, determined to help whether she liked it or not.

Chapter 3

Elysande’s hands were stiff and shaking so with cold that she couldn’t fasten the clasp at her throat. She was just thinking to give it up when the sound of a snapping branch made her whirl on her feet. Her eyes widened when she saw Rory Buchanan step out of the trees with Tom and Simon at his back.

“Ye took so long we began to worry,” the Scot said mildly as he approached.

Elysande stood stock-still, her heart suddenly hammering rapidly in her chest. She knew he was no threat to her, especially with her men there, but he was a huge man and with the memory of the beating she’d taken still fresh in her mind she was hard-pressed not to back instinctively away from him. Elysande was still struggling with the urge when he stopped before her and quickly fastened the clasp of her cloak. It was done so swiftly she didn’t get to embarrass herself by pulling away or even stiffening in response before the task was done and he was bending to pick up something.

It was only when he straightened and held out her coif and veil that she realized her face was still uncovered. Taking the item from him, she quickly redonned it, a small sigh of relief slipping between her lips once she was hidden behind the veil again. Elysande had no idea how bad her face must look at the moment, but it felt lumpy and was swollen to the point that her skin hurt, so she feared she must look like a monster. She didn’t mind that so much. She wasn’t interested in looking pretty for him, but she’d hidden her face in the hopes of avoiding the pity and dismay she feared it would elicit from anyone who looked upon the damage. She’d also wanted to give the appearance of being strong and well, fearing that if the Buchanans had realized the shape she was in they might decide she was more trouble than they wished to take on and refuse to escort her to Sinclair.