A dull feeling of heaviness weighed down upon Adair, over him, around him, inside him. Every part of him ached, from the soles of his bare feet to the top of his head. Christ … his head. Where was Demon? Had he been hurt too? Throbbing, dark pain spiked beside his right eye. Why couldn’t he see? Why wouldn’t his eyes open? There. Faint slits of weak light. Too hard. Herbs. Fading. Pain. Darkness …
***
Keila jumped where she slept in her chair and rushed from sleep to wakefulness. She blinked and glanced about at her surroundings and remembered where she was and why. From the healing room doorway, where she’d moved her chair, she scanned the small chamber using the dim light from the three candles she’d left burning throughout the night. No light showed about the room’s closed shutter, proving it was still dark outside. Nothing moved and the only sound to be heard was the slow and deep breaths drawn in and released by the slumbering stranger. He still lived. A wash of relief eased the tightness in her chest. A healing sleep, she hoped. He might end up being the villain Moira believed, but no man deserved to endure the pain he must be feeling.
She drew her own long breath and sent searching fingers to the right side of her chair’s cushion, where she was rewarded by the feel of steel encased in leather. Pleased her dagger was where she’d placed it, Keila rose from her chair, stretched and then took a few steps toward the occupied pallet.
She studied the injured man’s face in the weak light, and while part of her was relieved he slumbered on, another part of her wanted to shake him awake so she could finally learn who he was and what had happened to him. Until she had such answers, she couldn’t relax or lower her guard around him.
Her gaze ran the shadowed length of him, which took some time. Tall and well built, he was to her mind perfectly proportioned. The thin candlelight flickered over his naked torso left bare by the woollen blanket that covered him from the waist down. Moira had seen more of him than she had. The older woman’s reasoning, Keila’s innocence. A justified excuse, but it didn’t calm the curiosity that had come with swift glimpses of the man’s bared thighs and hips. Nor how he’d earned the timeworn scars marking his right side and upper chest. Or the calluses marking his palms.
A slight movement caught her eye and her gaze darted to the second finger of his right hand, resting atop the blanket. But as she continued to watch, it was his thumb that twitched several times before settling back into place.
Keila searched his battered face and found no sign that he had woken. But with his eyes so swollen, would she be able to tell if he was awake? His second finger danced once more upon his hip and she wondered what memories, dreams or thoughts caused such minor yet agitated movements.
She stepped closer, and leaning forward, whispered, ‘You’re safe here now. Nae one will harm you.’ The urge to reinforce her claims was strong. She reached out to calm his agitated fingers.
‘You’d best keep your distance, Keila.’
She stilled at Moira’s warning, but the urge to touch the stranger didn’t lessen. Keila peered down at his twitching hand and covered it with her own. His flesh was warm, but not feverishly so. A good sign. ‘He’s unsettled,’ she said, searching his face while her palm rested on the back of his hand. His fingers stilled with her touch. ‘I just want to reassure him.’
Moira stepped up beside her. ‘I found coin inside his vest.’
Her friend’s discovery had Keila’s gaze searching the stranger’s misshapen features anew. ‘Definitely nae a robbery, then.’
‘Nae.’
‘I still need to reassure him.’
‘And you have, from what I can see.’ Keila kept her hand over his. ‘Saint Morulag save me. You’re a stubborn lass.’
Keila glanced over her shoulder at her friend. ‘I learned from the best.’
‘Just have a care not to let him hurt you.’
She looked at the man’s face once more and straightened, before finally lifting her hand free.
Keila grasped the older woman’s cool fingers that seemed so frail compared to the stranger’s. She really had been blessed the day Moira had been named her carer. How she wished the Countess had lived longer so that Keila could have thanked her. But she’d died when Keila was sixteen and it was only after her death that Moira had told Keila about the unusual start to her life. But she’d never told her why Euphemia Ross hadn’t ever allowed Keila to see her. And Keila was too frightened to ask. ‘Thank you for looking out for me.’
‘Someone has to.’ She squeezed Keila’s fingers in return. ‘And I am blessed to be that someone. Now, did you manage to get any sleep?’
Keila smiled at Moira’s slip into her mother-like role. ‘Enough.’
She hoped Moira didn’t hear the tension that had crept into her voice. This coming market day was their best opportunity to sell the most goods they could since before last winter, and with only three of them to prepare the goods, there was no time for idleness or guarding injured strangers when she had so much else to do.
Moira’s gaze brushed the man on the pallet. ‘It’s almost dawn and Rory should be here soon. I’ll prepare something to break our fast and send him in to take a turn watching over our guest.’
***
By noon it was clear Rory wasn’t coming. Keila’s throat ached for him. He couldn’t seem to control his good days and bad, but she selfishly wished it hadn’t been today. Her throat thickened as she paced to and fro in front of the doorway to the healing room. She had pots to fill with the unguent she’d made two days before.
‘Demon.’
Keila stilled and studied the battered face of the man who had spoken. Were his eyes open? She was too far away to tell. On silent toes, she crept toward the pallet and stopped. Her skin prickled and her gaze dropped to his mouth.
‘Demon,’ his voice rasped again.
Keila’s hand flew to her chest. She’d been so careful not to hurt him while she’d tended his injuries. Was he now insulting her after all she’d done to help him?
She peered down at him through narrowed eyes. ‘I’ll fatten the other side of your lip if you keep calling me such names.’ His swollen eyes still looked closed, but she was certain his mouth curved upward a little. ‘And you’d be wise to stop smiling, else your lip will start bleeding again.’
His lips parted as he attempted to speak again, but his voice sounded like a fallen sun-dried leaf she’d stepped on. She straightened, and with a pointed look at him, she walked to the small table by her chair and poured a cup of water from the jug. Not once did she turn away from him.
He was awake yet hadn’t attacked her. Either because he didn’t mean her harm or due to him being too weak to overpower her. Whatever the reason, she’d ensure nothing stood between her and the doorway. He didn’t move. Had he fallen back to sleep?
She approached his pallet, and keeping an arm’s length between her feet and the pallet, leaned toward him. ‘Here’s some water.’ She held the cup higher before his eyes and witnessed his lips part a fraction in readiness to take a drink. ‘Start with a sip,’ she said, taking a small step closer and holding the wooden cup to his mouth.
His head lifted from the bolster. ‘Poison?’
He sipped and swallowed before she could answer and she watched his tongue run the inside length of his upper and then his lower lip. ‘You’d be done for if it was.’
A short sigh escaped his open mouth as his head eased back to the pillow. ‘My thanks.’
Gratitude laced the words and made her believe he was thanking her for more than just the drink. Keila tilted her head to one side. Despite his recent insults, he was well mannered, appeared to have a sense of mirth and had an air of confidence about him in spite of his circumstances. She straightened and retreated one step. ‘Who are you?’
***
The right side of Adair’s head pounded as he peered through his aching, swollen eyes at the blurred shape of the woman standing over him. He could tell it was a woman by the music in her voice. She’d even managed to make her threat to fatten the other side of his lip sound pretty, though he had no clue as to why she made the threat to begin with. She appeared to be caring for him, but he didn’t know who she was and or where he was and a heaviness he’d never experienced before was weighing on his thoughts and his eyelids, no matter how hard he fought to ward it off.
Never in his life had he felt so vulnerable, so open, so exposed. Never in his life had he been afraid. Except …
‘Who are you?’
Adair heard her repeated question, but she was fading from view. He didn’t know her. He couldn’t trust her. But he needed her to keep watching over him.
‘Don’t know …’
The sound of hoof beats thundered loud and clear from outside before the fog of darkness enveloped him once more.
***
‘The lass is busy preparing goods for market.’ Moira’s voice sounded through the open shutter as she spoke to the three mounted men.
Keila stepped back from the window as Leith of Drummin’s dark eyes shifted from Moira to the sitting chamber’s window. She’d weathered the weight of Leith’s onyx stare many times and his attention wasn’t something she longed for. He was in his thirtieth year, but the hardness tightening the skin about his mouth and deepening the black depths of his eyes made him look older. His brown hair brushed the top of his wide shoulders and his broad chest tested the fabric of the pristine white linen shirt beneath his leather vest. He was tall, but even though she hadn’t yet seen the injured stranger standing, something suggested Leith wasn’t as tall as the man sleeping beneath her roof.
She’d loathe to suffer Leith’s fury if he’d been wronged. Whispers and shouts of his relentless efforts to gain his father’s approval abounded. But nothing he’d done thus far had impressed the Earl of Buchan enough to claim his bastard son.
Keila had never met the earl, but Moira had resided beneath the same roof for many years leading up to Keila’s birth. Moira’s tales caused Keila to worry that Leith was becoming so desperate to gain what he wanted he’d match his father’s feats of terror and cruelty throughout the Highlands.
She looked over her shoulder and in through the healing room’s entrance. She hoped the stranger didn’t wake from the sleep he’d suddenly fallen back into while Leith was visiting. Leith wouldn’t care if the man didn’t know who he was. He’d demand to know anyway. Or did Leith already know the stranger was here and had come to find out more?
‘Too busy to stop what she’s doing and say hello to her neighbour?’ His voice was deep; but even words spraying flattery sounded cynical, due to an underlying edge of menace.
Keila turned back and worried her lower lip with her teeth. Should she speak with Leith or remain inside? Leith wore his usual serious expression, as did his two mounted companions who rarely left his side. Both men had dark hair, hardly ever spoke, but were powerfully built, and both usually wore a permanent sneer on their weathered faces. Her usual shudder at the sight of them was dismissed by Moira’s next words.
‘There are only three days until market and we’ve much to do,’ Moira said in a dismissive tone. ‘I bid you—’
Saints above. Keila strode to the door and stepped outside. ‘There is always much to do,’ Keila said, interrupting Moira and drawing Leith’s dark gaze from her friend to herself. ‘My thanks, Moira.’ She nodded and turned from her companion to their visitor. ‘’Tis good of you to call, Leith.’
‘You look as beautiful as always, Keila.’ She forced a smile while suffering his lengthy appraisal that, as always, lingered on her chest. ‘Is there anything I can do to assist you,’ he had a way of dragging out an offer to help, ‘in any way?’
Keila understood his offer concerned things other than preparing for market. She wanted to look away, to gaze upon anything other than the man standing before her. She forced her eyes to remain on his. ‘All is well, but as always, I appreciate your kind offer.’ His eyes darkened. ‘But if I ever do need assistance, I know where to find you.’
‘And I you. I shall see you at market.’
‘Good day, Leith.’
‘Keila.’ He bowed and raked her form with one last long look that left her feeling bare and chilled. He turned away and mounted his horse. Keila forced her feet to hold still and not dash inside Drummin House. With a final glance, he rode toward nearby Drummin Castle where he and his fellow caterans resided. Her shoulders relaxed into a comfortable position and she licked her lower lip, left tender by her worrying teeth. Would he ever leave her be?
‘Are they gone?’ Moira said from inside the doorway.
‘For now, but I fear not for good,’ Keila said approaching the open door.
‘He believes he will eventually win you over,’ Moira said, coaxing her forward with a beckoning hand. ‘Foolish man.’
Keila stared at her friend, silently thanking her for her support for the thousandth time. She truly had been blessed the day she was born and the Countess of Ross made her most trusted lady’s maid Keila’s guardian.
She cleared her throat. ‘He woke.’ She walked to the healing room doorway. ‘I asked him who he is.’
‘And?’ Moira prompted, stopping beside her.
Keila looked at her friend and then stared across the room at the sleeping stranger. ‘He doesn’t know.’