X Marks the Scot (6 page)

He peered down at her intently, and when he spoke, his voice cut through the silence, edged with steel. “Healer, ye just became acquainted with the
diabhal.
”
Devil
.

“Diabhal? Chan eil mi a’ tuigsinn.” I
do not
understand
. Liadain stammered in confusion.

Declan needed time to think. Rosalia’s mother. Here. At court. Was the fiery dragon here alone? Doubtful. Furthermore, he could not help but wonder if Dunnehl was with her. There were too many questions that he wanted the answers to.

“Come with me.” He needed to know what the healer had said to the fiery beast—and quickly. He practically dragged her to a secluded bench in the garden.

Her eyes widened with uncertainty. “MacGregor, ye are frightening me.”

Declan gently caressed the back of his hand across her cheek. “Donna be frightened, but this is verra important, lass. I need ye to tell me everything that ye said, even if ye think ’tisnae important.” Lowering his hand, he gave her a reassuring smile.

“When I heard her name, I thought of Rosalia and I asked if she was a relation. At first, she seemed almost startled. Then she declared that Rosalia was her daughter. I believe she asked me how we were of acquaintance. I stumbled for the truth and didnae want to admit that Archie…”

“I understand. So what exactly did ye say?”

“I merely conveyed that I had known Rosalia from her time at Glenorchy.”

Declan involuntarily groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. Placing his elbows on his knees, he cast a troubled glance. “What else did ye say?”

Hesitating, she eyed him with concern. “She wondered if Rosalia was still at Glenorchy because the last she had heard from her daughter, she was still traveling. I told her I wasnae sure, but I thought so. Then she asked where Glenorchy was. She ended the conversation rather abruptly and then took her leave. That was all. Please, MacGregor, what did I do? Ye must tell me.”

Sitting up, he ran his hands through his hair and sighed. The healer was not at fault. How could she have known? The English dragon now knew Rosalia’s whereabouts. How dangerous could this be, and what trouble could the woman bring to his clan? Feeling the healer’s gaze upon him, he stretched his back and rolled his neck.

“MacGregor,” she said with impatience.

“Ciaran and Aiden were attending court at the end of last summer’s solstice. On their way back to Glenorchy, they found Rosalia dressed as a stable lad. She had cut her hair and was bruised from head to toe. At first, they didnae know she was a woman, but obviously they found her out. From what Ciaran said, the Armstrongs’ coffers were empty and Rosalia was to wed an English lord.”

Declan explained, “Rosalia refused to wed this man and her father beat her horribly for her insolence. From my understanding, that wasnae the first time for such a thrashing. She had suffered many years of abuse at her own family’s hand.”

He paused. Perhaps he should ask the healer for a remedy for his aching head. He continued, “Ciaran brought Rosalia to Glenorchy and cared for her wounds. ’Tis how she came to be at Glenorchy. Eventually, he was to escort her to Glengarry to her
seanmhair.
”
Grandmother.
Declan shrugged.

“Since we are still here, I donna know if Ciaran did or nae. I cannae imagine my brother would ever…ne’er mind my words,” he said, shaking his head. “A few months past, the stable master and cook from Mangerton arrived at Ciaran’s gates to report that the English lord Rosalia was to wed had killed her father.”

The healer gasped. Reaching out, she clutched his hand. “I didnae know her father was killed. ’Tis tragic.”

He shook his head. “Nay, healer. What is tragic is that Rosalia’s mother took her leave with the English arse freely.”

“
Freely
?”

“Aye. Rosalia’s father was Scottish, but as ye know, her mother is English. Rosalia said that her mother didnae love her father and detested everything about Scotland. Well, she found her means of transport back to England and she clearly took it. Now she knows where Rosalia is, and I donna know if she will bring trouble to Ciaran’s door.”

“Mayhap Ciaran has already taken his leave to Glengarry and Rosalia is safe
.
”

“Aye. And what if they didnae?”

***

Liadain stared pensively into the darkness. Rosalia had run to escape abuse, and now Liadain had brought it straight to her door. Hell, she pretty much had opened the door and let it in. What was she thinking? She was a healer. She was to help. She was not meant to hurt others or to place them directly in harm’s way.

“There has to be something I can do to fix this. Just tell me, MacGregor. I will do anything.”

“I need to inquire if the English dragon is alone at court or if she is here with Dunnehl.”

“Dunnehl? Please donna tell me he was the English lord Rosalia was to wed, because he is here.”

He paused. “How do ye know this?”

Liadain was thankful for the darkness. It was the only way she could escape his scrutiny—although she could feel his eyes upon her. She shifted restlessly on the bench.

“Healer?” he demanded.

“Please, MacGregor, I donna want to battle with ye. We have more than enough to be concerned about.”

“I told ye. I need to know all of it. Now,” he ordered.

She did not understand why he would want to know the particulars of her encounter with Dunnehl, but the man sat wordlessly and she discerned that he was not going to give up any time soon. “When ye took your leave for the village, I supped, and as I walked back to my chamber, he approached me.”

There was a heavy moment of silence.

If MacGregor required the entire truth, she would have to enlighten him about Dunnehl’s churlish behavior, not thinking it would make much of a difference anyway. But she was uneasy about elucidating the details to MacGregor. She would just blurt it out quickly, like ripping a bandage off a wound.

“Dunnehl introduced himself and planted a kiss—a verra wet kiss—on the top of my hand. I tried to excuse myself and told him I would be retiring. At first, he restrained me and wouldnae let me pass. He then asked if I would be retiring alone. There. Ye have it all. There is nay more to speak of.”

MacGregor stood but did not move. He was silent and all she could hear was the sound of laughter in the distance. That was why she jumped when she heard the sound of his voice. “Is that all, healer?”

Liadain rose and reached out, touching his hard back. He flinched but did not turn toward her. Positioning herself in front of him, she grabbed both of his arms. “MacGregor, there is nay more to tell.”

“Did he hurt ye?” he asked, his voice hard. “I will have the truth.”

“Dunnehl? Nay.”

MacGregor grabbed her by the elbow, leading her out of the garden. How he could see in the darkness was beyond her, but he clearly knew where he was headed. “I need to think upon this. I will escort ye back to your chamber and we will speak on the morrow.”

For once, Liadain agreed with him. If she could retract her words she would, but the damage was already done. She had certainly made a mess of things. Not wanting to make matters worse, she would wait until MacGregor told her what to do.

***

Declan’s thoughts raced as he walked the healer back to her chamber. He would need to find a way to warn Ciaran, but how, when he trusted no one? Even more disturbing was the picture that continued to display in his mind, torturing him.

Dunnehl
placed
his
hands
on
her.

The thought gnawed at him more than he cared to admit. He had not been there to protect her. After all, that was the sole reason he remained at court. He had failed her.

Sure enough, he had made another wrong choice. He had willingly traveled to the village—yet again desiring drink more than fulfilling his responsibility to the lass. Perhaps Ciaran was right and one day Declan’s recklessness would harm another. The truth to that fact pushed upon him like a heavy weight. The situation could have been much worse, and he would not have been there to safeguard her.

They reached the hall to her chamber and had yet to say a word to each other. Casting a sideways glance, he saw that the healer’s gaze studied the floor.

“Ye arenae at fault and I donna want ye blaming yourself,” he said softly.

She nodded and looked away from him.

They passed two chambermaids in the hall and his eyes widened. One maid mumbled something he could not quite hear under her breath, while the other clearly made a dramatic attempt to step out of their path. The healer was still deep in thought and did not pay the women any heed.

As they reached the healer’s chamber, a loud gasp escaped her. Her eyes shot up in surprise and she scrunched her features.

“What is that
smell
?” asked Declan as a pungent aroma filled the air.

Her door was ajar, the putrid scent coming from within.

He pushed open the door and immediately covered his mouth and took a leap back. “God’s teeth! It smells as though someone has surely died,” he choked out.

Reluctantly entering the lass’s chamber, Declan glanced around. The room had been ransacked, with clothes, books, and some kind of herbs thrown in disarray. Cut-up plants were tossed all over the floor and the bed.

She followed him in. “’Tis carrion flowers. Why would someone do this?” she asked, covering her mouth and nose with her hand.

That was a reasonable question, but not one he wanted to contemplate while in the middle of the rancid odor.
Damn!
That was the foulest stench he had ever encountered. “Try to grab whatever ’tis ye need for this eve with much haste.”

The lass did not hesitate. Her belongings were tossed about, but she quickly gathered what she needed, making a mad dash to the door.

Declan did not need prodding to follow. As if his arse were afire, he shot through the door, pulling it closed with haste behind him. They both walked with purposeful strides to the end of the hall. “Breathe,” he ordered.

Her breath was uneven. “’Tis truly terrible. My eyes even weep,” she said, rubbing her eyes and blinking back the tears. “I donna understand. I donna know if I should be frightened or verra angry. Why do ye think someone would do this to me?”

There had been something odd about the behavior of the two maids in the hall, and an unsettling feeling gnawed in his gut. But he wasn’t about to cause the lass more worry. Until he knew for certain, he would keep such things to himself. “Whatever the reason, ye cannae stay in your chamber this eve. Do ye have a woman ye can stay with?”

“I suppose I could stay with my maid.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “With a bunch of feeble lasses? Aye, they would certainly offer ye protection. Ye are a lady and cannae share quarters with the maids. Ye donna know of another woman?”

“Umm…I havenae actually attempted to make an acquaintance of any of these women at court, lest ye count Lady Elizabeth or Lady Caroline. Frankly, I donna believe I would wish to stay with either.”

“Then we can take our leave to the inn.”

Her voice rose in surprise. “I am a ward of the court. Are ye going to interrupt His Majesty and ask permission to escort me to an inn because some daft fool ransacked my chamber? The king would place me under constant guard. I would be—?”

“I cannae say that I blame ye.” Hesitating, Declan knew he could not leave her unattended. He wouldn’t leave her to sleep with the maids and pray they could fend off an attacker with a broom. And he most certainly did not want to alert the king. No matter that he had left her once before; he would not fail her again. The lass was his responsibility. Just this once…he would have to break his most sacred rule.

God
help
him.

He did not make this decision lightly. “We have nay choice. I will pay someone extra coin to clean your chamber and make certain they keep their mouth closed. And ye will stay with me.”

Her eyes widened with shock. “Och, nay, MacGregor. ’Tisnae proper,” she said firmly.

Closing the distance between them, he cast a roguish grin. “What is the matter, healer? Ye donna trust me?”

***

How was Liadain to say that she did not trust herself? Sleeping in the same room as MacGregor—she shivered at the thought. She could not deny the spark of excitement at the prospect of sharing such personal space, but her cynical inner voice cut through her private musings.

She was nothing to him.

Liadain shifted from foot to foot. “MacGregor, we cannae reside in the same chamber. We clearly cannae.”

He simply raised his brow. “’Tis late, healer, and ye donna take any of my suggestions. Where do ye plan to sleep?” He paused. “If ye willnae seek Lady Cranborne, ye have nay choice. Ye will stay with me. Ye can trust me. I will sleep on the floor.”

“
Trust
ye? ’Tisnae about trust, MacGregor. ’Tis just nae proper that we share quarters.”

Folding his arms over his chest, he stood to his full height, towering over her. “I am nae going to stand here all eve and debate what is proper or nae when I only look after your safety. Suit yourself, healer.” He turned abruptly and strode away from her.

She quickened her steps to catch up with him. “Wait! Where are ye going?”

Turning, he threw up his hands in the air. “I told ye. I seek my bed. If ye are too stubborn to stay with me, mayhap I will seek a willing lass or
two
.” He turned up his smile a notch.

The man knew he had her cornered. What was she to do? Ask Lady Cranborne? She wanted to stay as far away from Robert as physically possible. She was completely irritated, and MacGregor irked her more than anything.

Before she realized what she did, she threw her sack at him, hitting his massive chest with a thump. “Ye will sleep upon the floor,” she insisted, poking him in the chest.

MacGregor’s smug expression lasted the entire way to his chamber. Pushing open the door, he gave her a roguish grin. “Welcome to my chamber, my lady,” he said in a silky voice and gestured her in.

“More like the lion’s den,” she muttered, brushing past him.

Liadain wondered how she could be expected to stay here. The room even smelled of his spicy scent. She would just need to keep reminding herself that he was a rogue—a very handsome one, but a rogue nonetheless.