“Enough,”Sorcha snapped as she moved to Ruari’s side. “Neither of ye are weel enough forthis childish squabbling.” She ignored both men’s glares as she helped Ruariraise himself up enough to sip from the wineskin she held to his lips.
“‘Tisnaewine,” Ruari complained.
“Nay,‘tis a fine cider. I have little stomach or head for wine and I hadnaeanticipated entertaining guests.”
“Yeare verra sharp of tongue, wench.”
“SoI have been told. Ye must rest. That is a fact whether I tell ye sweetly ortartly. We have a long way to go on the morrow over rough ground and mayhapsfarther still on the next day. That will depend on how much ye slow us down.”
“Wehave traveled a fair distance already.”
“Aye,though not as far as I would have liked.”
“Yemust live verra near to the border with the English.”
“Sometimestoo near, but Dunweare is a hard keep to take, as ye will soon see. ‘Twas builtfor defense.” She shook her head as she returned to the fire and the food shewas preparing. “And now ye have me talking with you as if we are but guests atsome banquet. Ye need to lie quietly, fool.”
“Andwhile we speak of fools, which one of your kinsmen allowed two wee lasses totravel o’er this dangerous land to a battle?” Ruari winced as he tried to moveinto a more comfortable position only to restir the worst of his pain.
“Weare hardly sweet, helpless lasses. Margaret and I can fend for ourselves. Weleft Dunweare not long after my headstrong brother did. We wished to be closeat hand if he should need some help. Since he slipped away alone, we felt thatwas verra possible. At times my brother forgets his responsibilities.”
“Thereis naught wrong with fighting the English. Your brother could bring great honorto your clan.”
“Attimes, sir, a clan may need the mon far more than it needs honor. Now, besilent. I dinnae ken where ye get the strength to talk or why ye should be soeager to do so.”
“Ithink ‘twas all those hours of lying on the field alone, unable to help myselfand with little hope of anyone coming to my aid.” Ruari spoke in little morethan a whisper, then closed his eyes, startled that he had spoken so honestly.He decided Sorcha was right. He badly needed to rest.
“Herenow, isnae that just like a mon. He pesters a lass until she fair wants toscream, but just when she needs him awake, he sleeps.”
Thesoft, husky voice, so close to his ear, as well as her words brought a swifthalt to Ruari’s descent into sleep. Her remarks carried a distinctly sexualmeaning to his mind, but he sternly scolded himself for such thoughts. Then heopened his eyes and met her gaze. The glint of mischief was clear in her darkeyes, and he frowned.
“Yeshould choose your words with more care, lassie,” he warned. “Someone couldmishear them.”
“Nay,I think not. I fear I have the habit of speaking most plainly. Margaret, propthis fool up so that I may try to put some food in his belly.”
AlthoughMargaret’s softly rounded form was a pleasure to lean against and the plainfare Sorcha fed him was remarkably tasty, Ruari found that he lacked thestrength and wit to appreciate either very much. A fierce will to live had kepthim clutching at life and consciousness. Until his wounds had been tended, herealized he had feared slipping into unconsciousness, had feared that blacknesswould lead to the never ending oblivion of death. Now that someone had takencare of his needs, his battered body called out for sleep. He began to findeven the simple chore of eating too much for him.
“Enough,”he finally said, turning his head to avoid the spoon Sorcha held to his lips.
“Aye,”agreed Sorcha. “Ye ate weel for a mon so close to death. It appears that eatinghas made ye cease to be so stubborn and recognize that ye need to rest.”
“Truth.I must regain my strength.” He closed his eyes. “There are at least two peopleI must discipline.”
Sorchasmiled faintly when she saw how alarmed young Beatham was. She did not know SirRuari well, yet her instincts told her that the young man did not really havemuch to fear. If Ruari did anything more than loudly scold his cousin andperhaps insist that he do some less than knightly chores for a while, Sorchawould be very surprised. Her instincts told her that, concerning his family andfriends, Ruari Kerr was more bark than bite, and at Dunweare her instincts hadlong been notorious for their accuracy. It was that confidence that, despiteknowing that she was the second person Ruari felt he needed to discipline, kepther from being concerned about his threat. The only thing she did worry aboutwas how he would react when he discovered he was to be held for ransom. Thatcould easily put her on the side of his enemies in his mind. Sorcha was surethat having Ruari Kerr as an enemy was something any wise person would avidlyavoid.
Inwardlysighing, she sat legs crossed before the fire and began to eat her meal. Ruariwould undoubtedly be furious when she told him that he was her captive. Thefact that he had relinquished most of his original distrust of her would onlyenhance his anger when she informed him that his clan would have to pay to gethim back. Sorcha was startled at how sad she felt as she considered Ruari’sanger. She did not even know the man, yet the thought of him being angry withher, seeing her as his enemy, was highly distressing.
Unsettledby her thoughts, she attempted to distract herself by watching Margaret andBeatham who sat across the campfire from her. It was amusing to watch the youthflirt with Margaret. She clearly enjoyed Beatham’s attentions, which was notsurprising. Beatham was a very handsome young man with his thick blond hair andfine blue eyes. He was a perfect match for Margaret. Even in his wit, Sorchathought with an inner shake of her head.
Afteranother few minutes of watching the pair, Sorcha grew uneasy. Margaret andBeatham were doing more than idly flirting. There was a natural rapport betweenthem. Even though she knew it was not true, Sorcha got the sense that Margaretand Beatham had known each other for a long time. She was going to have to havea long talk with Margaret and prayed the girl would be in the mood tounderstand. Beatham and his cousin were prisoners. Even if Beatham was willingto forgive that, Sorcha did not believe that Ruari would. Anything more than amild flirtation between Margaret and Beatham was certainly doomed.
“Margaret,”she said, gently interrupting a murmured confidence between the young couple. “Ithink Beatham should rest now.” She turned to the youth. “Ye should bed downnext to your cousin. Margaret and I must take turns standing guard so we cannaewatch over him as weel.”
“Ican help ye guard the camp,” Beatham offered.
“Nay.Your wounds—“
“Arenaethat serious.”
