“Why is that?”
Drake leaned back further, propping his feet on William’s desk and crossing them at the ankle. “We never go anywhere anymore, and no one ever comes here—well, at least we don’t allow anyone in.”
“That was your idea,” William pointed out.
“And a fine one it is—things have been far more peaceful around here since we’ve become recluses. But I grow bored of this place. Of these women.”
“I thought you’d set your eye on Betty.”
Drake rolled his eyes. “She insists she’s still married, despite the fact Allister had her driven from the village with stones.” He shook his head, helpless. “Naught I say will loosen her laces.”
William snorted, amused. Good for Betty. “Well, no doubt she knows what you’re about and wants none of it.”
Drake arched a brow incredulously, clearly doubting such a thing was even possible.
William laughed aloud, feeling better. Trust Drake to lighten his mood. He patted his brother’s shoulder. “Methinks that’s for the best. We need no more trouble with Allister.”
“I say we kill him. I don’t care who he is.”
William shook his head. “That’s not the answer, brother. Don’t even think it.” He held Rose’s letter up before replacing it in his wooden box. “Stay away from this one.”
Drake gave him a slow, sly smile. “Oh, she’s all yours.”
William scowled and shoved his brother’s feet off his desk. They hit the ground with a thump, startling a laugh out of Drake. “Oh, this one has you in a chuff all right,Dumhnull.”Drake left the room, chuckling to himself over William’s foolishness.
And foolishness it was. William sat in the chair his brother had vacated. He’d left her moments ago, but already he longed to seek her out again. But on what pretense? Neither Dumhnull nor Lord Strathwick had any reason to trouble the bonny healer any longer. And perhaps that’s what vexed him most of all.
Rose had first thought to leave immediately. Get on her horse and never look back. She was humiliated and depressed and wanted to be away from this place. But there was no wisdom in that. It was noon. She was tired and needed rest. Tomorrow morning she would start fresh, putting this whole unpleasant incident behind her.
Though she’d hoped for rest, it was not her fate. It rarely was. Excluding the elusive Lord Strathwick, the village had not had the benefit of a healer in some time. Rose spent the day helping the blacksmith’s wife make lard candles, interrupted with the odd ailment from a villager who’d heard there was a healer present. The news traveled quickly, so that by evening she’d tended festeringwounds, boils, rotting teeth, coughs, and aching bellies. It was good work, and she threw herself into it. It made her forget, for a time, how she’d failed.
She was in the blacksmith’s cottage, rebreaking and setting a lad’s leg, when she noticed Wallace through the window. He sat on a stump on the village side of the bridge, his bay hobbled nearby. When she had a moment, she joined him. He stood, spitting out the blade of grass he’d been chewing.
She pushed back a hank of sweaty, disheveled hair that had come loose from her plait. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting, miss. When you’re ready to return to Lochlaire, I’ll accompany you.”
“I made it here without your help, I’ll make it back.”
“You shouldn’t be traveling alone.” Disapproval laced his words. “My lord Kincreag wouldn’t like it at all.”
She shot him a cutting look. “I might not have come at all if you’d returned.” She doubted that was true. She’d needed to speak to the wizard herself. “Why did you stay? Have you so little loyalty to the earl of Kincreag?”
“Nay, miss,” he said hastily, his brown eyes panicked. The scar on his cheek reddened. “That’s not it at all! It’s Lord Strathwick…he healed me. I was attacked by broken men not far from here. They left me for dead. I lay there for two days, the buzzards circling, waiting. Two of Strathwick’s knights found me and brought me here. I should have died…but he brought me back. I owe him my life. The debt is far from paid.”
Rose’s jaw hardened as her gaze was drawn to the castle. The resentment boiled up inside her. Strathwick hadhelped Wallace but would not help her. Wallace had been a stranger to him, just as Rose was. Why did he deny her, when she’d come so far? Would it have been different if she’d brought her father with her? But her father could not survive such a journey, and Lord Strathwick refused to come to Lochlaire. She wanted to scream her frustration.
Instead she pinned Wallace with a hateful glare. “Then stay here and pay your debt. I don’t need you.”
It was dusk when Rose trudged out to the shelter that was the blacksmith’s stable, gratefully tired from her long day of work. The more tasks she had to accomplish, the less her mind turned and turned. And she did not want to think of all that had passed this day. The pain of Strathwick’s rejection was still raw, still there, waiting for examination, but she could not. She had a long ride ahead of her on the morrow. She would not be able to escape from it then.
The leather bag containing oats rested atop her saddle. Rose picked it up and turned to feed her horse—and yelped with surprise. Dumhnull leaned against Moireach’s stall.
Rose put her hand to her chest and let out the breath still strangling in her throat. “You frightened me.” Then she frowned and looked around cautiously. They were alone. “I thought you said you couldn’t come to the village.”
“I don’t, usually. Not during the day, at least. And not where everyone can see me.”
He was dressed again in old and faded garments,though it did nothing to mask his height and breadth, singular so far as she’d seen in Strathwick. It would be difficult for him to disguise himself. He possessed a presence that couldn’t be hidden simply with rough clothes.
