“Constable!”
The interruption made him growl. He turned to seek the owner of the shout and immediately tensed. Edrid, a man better than a dog on the hunt when it came to sniffing out secrets, limped toward him with blood streaming down the side of his face and an arm clutched across his middle. “What happened to ye, man?”
“Northmen.” He winced as he wheezed in a gasp of air. “East of here past the ridge.” He bent and spit out a mouthful of blood, keeping himself upright with one hand propped on his knee. With a painful whistling sound, he struggled to draw in enough air to speak. “More than last time, but not all Norse. I think I recognized some from Craignure.”
“He promises the villagers aid from Norway,” Adellis said. She stepped up to the man and examined his head wound. “Empty offers of silver. More land. Goods. Trading.” She slowly shook her head. “Alrek tells them whatever they wish to hear.” She lightly rested her hand on the arm Edrid held locked across his body. Bending closer, she forced him to look her in the eyes. “Is it your arm or your ribs you protect? Which is hurt?”
“Ribs,” the spy hissed through clenched teeth. “I canna breathe since one of the buggers caught me with his feckin’ club.” He tried to pull away, but she held fast, holding him in place as she checked him over. With a frustrated look at Thorburn, he tipped his head in her direction. “I thought she was yer prisoner?”
“Not any longer.” He wouldn’t go into details with Edrid. More important matters demanded his attention now. “I suppose they are moving on to Duart to tear down what’s been rebuilt after their last treachery?”
“Aye.” Edrid spit out more blood.
Her mouth a tight, stern line, Adellis stepped back. “The head wound is not severe. Merely needs cleaning.” Then her expression became pained. “But the blood he spits is worrisome. He is hurt inside. We can do nothing for the broken ribs other than bandage them. If either of your knaves have any sage or thorn apple, the smoke might ease him some. Help him breathe. Other than that, nothing will aid him but rest.” She shrugged. “And whisky for the pain.”
“Hendry will help ye tend him.” He motioned toward the camp. “To my tent with ye, Edrid. Ye’re a valuable man. I canna have ye out of commission for any length of time.”
“Thank ye, my constable.” The man gave a respectful nod, then limped away.
Before Adellis followed, Thorburn caught hold of her arm. “I thank ye for tending him while we go to meet yer brother in battle.”
She frowned. “I will tell Hendry what to do, but then I shall come with you. Or follow if ye must leave now.”
“Come with us?”
“Of course.” She squinted toward the east, shielding her eyes from the sun. “I can help. I know Alrek’s tactics.” With a proud upward jut of her chin, she added, “And I can fight. You know that.”
He shook his head. “Out of the question.” Frustration mounting, he pointed at his tent. “When ye came under my protection, ye also came under my word. Ye will do as yer told, m’lady. To the tent with ye. Now. To stay.”
“I will do as I will,” she informed him in a low growl. His warrior princess’s fire had returned in all its glory. “I did not escape one keeper to become imprisoned by another.”
“It was yer choice,” he said in a voice louder than he meant to use. How she could she be so unwise as well as so ungrateful? “Ye wished capture to escape yer bastard of a brother, and now it is done. Ye are now under my rule, m’lady. Get thee to the tent and be thankful for it, ye ken?”
“I will not take orders from a bloody Scot!”
God’s beard!Was he going to have to have her chained again? He scrubbed a hand down his face, wondering which of his sins had cursed him with being tempted by such a stubborn wee hellcat—and how in blazes could she still be so bloody enticing even while angering him beyond reason?
“Has it not occurred to ye that ye would be safer here in camp?” When she didn’t answer, he gritted his teeth to keep from roaring. No one disobeyed his orders. Not ever. “In the thick of battle, ye could be reclaimed without us knowing until it was too late. Did ye not think of that, my thick-headed beauty?” That won him an angry tightening of her eyes, but at least the hard set of her jaw appeared to soften the slightest bit. Perhaps his reasoning was finally worming its way through her wall of unyielding bullheadedness. “I understand ye could never depend on anyone other than yerself before, but I swear, ye can depend on me now.”
“Why?” She spit the word at him, but her tone wasn’t as sharp.
“Because I admire ye. Surely, ye know that.” How could the woman be so blind? “And I am drawn to ye, damn ye. I want more time at yer side.” He flipped a hand as though swatting at his fumbling words. “I am nay just speaking about ye warming my bed, but time to know yer ways and learn how ye think.”
She didn’t answer nor reveal the workings of her mind, just maintained her infuriating silence and icy glare.
The ease with which she riled him struck something akin to fear deep in his soul. He stabbed a finger into the air again and shook it at her. “Or maybe it’s because ye’ve bewitched me into being a foolhardy eedjit. How the hell do I know why I wish for ye to depend on me? Just be thankful I do, ye ken?”
Her icy demeanor melted, warmed by a faint smile. After a mocking curtsy, she inclined her head. “By your leave then, Constable.” She spun and strode away, the mouthwatering sway of her comely hips reminding him to speak to Hendry about finding her some proper clothing that would be a mite more modest.
His fists tightened until every knuckle popped. This woman would be the death of him. He felt certain of it.
*
“He needs acloth draped over his head whilst he leans over the bowl. The steam must surround him, so he breathes it in.” She decided against burning the herbs and having the man breathe in the smoke. It could make him cough, and that would be excruciating with those broken ribs. But inhaling the warm steam as the herbs steeped in the hot water might ease him well enough. At least, she hoped so.
He had ceased spitting blood, but his color had gone a disturbing gray. The longer she watched him, the more she feared it didn’t really matter what they did for the poor man. The ultimate outcome would be the same. She wondered if Thorburn carried the bodies of his dead back to Scotland or buried them on Mull. Alrek always dumped his into the sea, no matter what their family wished. No fine Viking funeral. Not even any words said over the bodies before he tossed them out. Alrek reveled in heartless disrespect. Considered it a strength of leadership.
“Here is a linen, m’lady.” Hendry’s expression revealed he possessed the same worries about Edrid.
