“Verra well. I will speak wi’ him.”
“I am going up on the rise later to say my prayers. D’ye want to come?”
Thinking on it, Rhian did not know whether she had the energy. “Mayhap, Saerla. Or mayhap ye be better going on your own.”
“I thought it might do ye some good.” Saerla turned upon Rhian those eyes that saw so much. “Since ye do no’ seem yoursel’, that is.”
Rhian froze, and her stomach clenched. “I am fine.”
“Even after the departure o’ Leith MacLeod, wi’ whom ye were sharing your bed?”
“Hush!” Rhian looked around, even though they were alone outside Saerla’s chamber. “No one knows that did happen, save ye.”
“You know. And he. Sister, ye ha’ no’ looked right since he got traded awa’. In return forme.” Saerla tipped up her chin. “D’ye regret that?”
“How can ye even ask such a thing? I adore ye. And I would no’ see ye in that monster Rory’s hands.”
Something dark stirred in Saerla’s eyes. “He is a monster, is he no’?”
“Wi’out a saving grace to his name. I am certain he is no’ done wi’ us. But ha’ ye Seen—”
Saerla’s expression shut down. It was impossible to tell what she knew. What knowledge she’d been given. The spirits might have told her about the life that nestled beneath Rhian’s heart.
Saerla lifted her chin higher and said nothing.
Rhian lowered her voice to a whisper. “Is Leith well? Can ye tell?”
“I ha’ Seen naught o’ him. But Rory MacLeod seeks to destroy us. And Leith has now returned to his side.”
Rhian turned sick. Not a victim to morning malady, she nevertheless thought she might need recourse to a basin.
Would Leith move against them? Against her? Would he have a choice? But aye, men always had a choice.
She knew Leith MacLeod. She had been inside him, and he inside her. He was a man who would readily choose laughter and a path of light. Circumstances, though, might constrain him otherwise.
Dared she hope he might talk to his cousin? Persuade him from the murderous course he pursued?
Couldanyonedo that?
“Sister,” Saerla said suddenly, gazing straight into Rhian’s eyes, “Protect your heart, if ye can.”
Good advice. But Rhian’s heart was already lost.
“I will go see Alasdair.” She put her hand on Saerla’s arm. “Ye go up to your prayers alone.” She had not the energy after all.
The settlement bustled today, folks rushing hither and yon about various tasks. Over in the far field, she could hear the men drilling, and wondered who led them. Bright sunlight lit the glen, and she paused a moment to gaze out over the wall in the direction of MacLeod.
The distant building of dark stone seemed clearer today, and closer. She fancied she could see men moving about there also. Then the wind blew her hair in her eyes and ruined the illusion.
She heard Alasdair before she saw him. As soon as she entered the infirmary, a bellow met her ears. She grimaced and hurried through to the room at the back.
Timor the healer stood beside the cot where Alasdair had been confined for the past five days, almost wrestling with his patient. Alasdair might be in a weakened state, but Timor was a man built on a frail frame, and Rhian hurried forward with a cry of dismay.
“Here, wha’ is all this?”
Timor turned an aggravated face toward her. “He will no’ stay still.”
Alasdair, who appeared beyond aggravated, continued to roar. “Five days ha’ I lain in this bed. ’Tis daylight out. I maun get up.”
