“Tell you what?” she asked without looking away from the fire.
“What worries ye?”
She shrugged and gave him another of her careful smiles. “Last time I slept out in the open, bombs kept me awake. I guess I was remembering that night.”
“Bombs?” he repeated slowly. “What are bombs?”
With a concerned furrowing of her brow, she stretched toward him and felt his forehead again. “You need an MRI.”
“Why type of herb isMRI?”
She flinched as she stared at him. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t think MRIs grow this far north.” She looked away, hugged her knees to her chest, and rested her cheek atop them.
“Is this yer pallet?” The thing he laid upon coddled him in a pleasant softness, like the finest spun wool. But he’d nay put her from her bed. He wasn’t that ailing. “Lass?”
“Yes,” she said without lifting her head and looking his way. “But I don’t need a place to sleep. I caught a few hours last night. I’m fine for a while.”
She must be one of the Fae to not need rest like a normal mortal.
“Are ye cold?” Worry for her took root and sprouted within him. Even if she was English, she had taken fine care of him. It wasn’t proper that she should suffer. “I havena seen ye eat anything. Ye didna give me the last of yer food, did ye?”
With her head still resting on her arms, she huffed out a small laugh. “I am quite fine, thank you. Don’t worry about me.”
“’Tis a man’s duty to worry after women.” He smiled. “Especially women such as yerself.”
She didn’t respond, just lifted her head, propped her chin on her folded arms, and stared into the fire.
“How come ye to be in these woods alone, Mistress Evie?” It was dangerous for a lass to travel the Highlands alone. And unusual, too.
That drew her attention away from the crackling flames but only rewarded him with her pensive scowl.
“Because none of my friends were banished to Scotland along with me.”
“Banished?” If she had angered the English enough to get herself banished, that proved she wasn’t a dangerous lass. “What caused them to banish ye?”
She returned to staring at the fire and shrugged. “I called the wrong person a murderous, penny-pinching bastard.” With a flip of her hand, she tipped her head to one side. “Or something along those lines. Suffice it to say, I insulted the wrong person—for a second time, as a matter of fact.” She gifted him with a genuine smile this time. “I say things I shouldn’t. A lot. It finally came to a head.”
“Ye angered a person of power?”
“You might say that.”
The more he learned, the more he decided he liked her, and this woman needed his protection. In fact, since she had saved his life, he was honor-bound to keep her from harm. “I admire ye spoke yer mind. Who were ye protecting?”
Her smile disappeared. “A patient.”
“Why does that make ye unhappy?” It amazed him how easily he read her. He had never possessed that talent with any woman before. But then, he hadn’t needed the trait. He was a chieftain. And an earl. Fathers seeking a profitable match flocked to him, practically tossed their daughters into his bed. Servants served him. For enough coin, harlots and pub wenches pleasured him. Sometimes even without the coin. Charm and a few kind words got him whatever he wished. But this lass intrigued him. “Tell me, Mistress Evie. What happened to thispatientof yours?”
“He died,” she said, then stood and tossed more wood on the fire. “All my fighting, cursing, and breaking the rules didn’t save the poor man after all.”
“I am sorry, mistress.”
“Evie,” she corrected. “Just plain Evie, all right?”
“I daresay there is nothing plain about ye.” He eased himself upright to a seated position, pleased to discover that the movement didn’t trigger as much misery as before. As he rolled to his knees and pushed himself to his feet, she rushed to him and took hold of his shoulders.
“Let me help you. Where are you trying to go?” She ducked under his arm and hugged his waist as if she thought him unable to walk.
“If ye must know, I need a piss.” Surely, she would nay wish to help with that.
