“Some Murray men stayed behind,” Noah responded grimly, relaxing a little. “They no doubt hoped to do more damage. Are the tents set up?”
“We’ve just begun. Only yer tent is set up right now, but the rest will be done by nightfall. There’s a fire, and the healers are getting to work.”
“I must get to work, too,” Senga added, drawing in a ragged breath.
“Rest first,” Noah ordered firmly. “I mean it. Look, yer hands are shaking.”
Senga glanced down at her hands, her fingers green-tipped from years of handling herbs and plants to make into medicines. Theywereindeed shaking, but she curled them into a fist.
“I’ll rest when the work is done,” she stated firmly, meeting his eye. “Not before.”
Noah opened his mouth, as if planning to argue, then shut it again. He turned to one of the soldiers.
“Have her speak to old Serafina. She’ll know whether she needs to rest or not. Will ye abide by what Serafina says, Senga?”
Senga hesitated. Serafina was, of course, the older healer, the woman who’d identified that terrible grieving wail. She didn’t want to rest. There was work to be done, and if she rested, she’d just sit still and think about her father.
He really won’t rest until he has me in his clutches again.
But Noah was looking at her, waiting for her answer. Senga sighed.
“Aye, I’ll do what Serafina suggests.”
Serafina made her rest.Senga was told to go to the only tent set up at that moment and obeyed with bad grace.
The tent was sparsely laid out, with a pallet bed tucked in a corner and a rug spread out on the ground. There was a wooden chest that doubled as a seat and a storage space for something. She remembered, a moment too late, that this was Noah’s room.
That made things a little strange, somehow. Not wanting to sit on the bed, she perched on the chest.
A moment later, the tent flap pulled back, and Noah ducked inside. He carried a jug of ale, two wooden glasses, and a plate with bread, cheese, and a hunk of meat.
“It’s hardly a feast, but it’ll fill ye,” he remarked, holding up the plate. “Here, take it.”
“I cannot believe ye wouldn’t let me help,” Senga muttered, the old annoyance surging up.
“Ye heard what Serafina said. Ye have had a shock, and ye are no good to anyone until ye rest. Relax, lass.”
“I came all this way and accomplished nothing.”
“Not quite,” Noah observed, crouching beside her. He pushed a cup of ale into her hand, and she took a gulp. “We learned that Laird Murray will do whatever he must to get ye back. We have to wonder why, eh?”
“He can’t stand that I escaped.”
Noah shook his head. “Nay, it’s more than that. Ye escaped him for years, and he did not seem to care. What has changed? If we can find out what has changed, we might learn something about the clans’ dealings with each other. Laird Dickson is behind this, I warrant.”
“He probably wants to marry me off,” Senga remarked bitterly. “That was the reason my father wanted me before, too.”
The reminder of their shared past hung in the air between them. Senga felt a prickle of unease creep over her skin. She glanced at Noah, drawing her lower lip between her teeth.
He kissed me. That means he still has some feelings for me.
I don’t know how I feel about that. What does it mean for us? Does it mean anything?
“This is all my fault,” Noah stated flatly, breaking the silence.
“What?”
He shrugged tightly. “I should not have left ye alone.”
