Rhian almost pitied Marc and Drachan.
“Let me know, please, wha’ ye discover.”
“Aye, mistress.”
“D’ye think ye’ll be able to find reliable guards?”
Alasdair grunted again. “If I canna, I will stand here mysel’.”
“Ye can scarce do that both day and night.”
“Here, lad!” Alasdair called to a member of the small crowd who had gathered. “Come and tak’ a message for me.”
Rhian slipped back inside while Alasdair set about taking care of his business.
The scene inside struck her forcibly. Farlan sat cross-legged on the floor at Leith’s side and spoke to him, low and steady, his hand resting on the man’s arm.
Kindness lay in the gesture, and a great measure of caring. Rhian did not want to feel any particular liking for Farlan.She did not. Yet when she saw him thus, she began to understand what had attracted Moira to him.
He looked up at her. “Leith, here, has been having troubling dreams.”
Rhian nodded in response. Walking to Leith’s side, she asked, “What sort o’ dreams are these?”
Leith turned his face toward her, though his pale eyes did not focus on her. “Merciful lady, is it ye?”
His voice came rough. As she’d predicted, he was in a very great amount of pain. Such a load of pain in addition to the other injuries he’d suffered could well kill a man. Even one so strong as this.
She crouched back down beside him. “Aye, ’tis I, Rhian MacBeith.”
“Rhian MacBeith. I canna see ye.”
“Ye’ve suffered a tremendous blow to the head. Whether or no’ ye may regain your sight, I canna say.”
He nodded. “My head hurts something fierce. And my arm—” He groped there, and his features twisted in distress. “But I remember ye. From the battlefield.”
Farlan questioned Rhian with a glance.
“I went out looking for our wounded,” she told him. “And found…” She nodded at Leith.
“Ah. ’Tis a credit to ye, you did no’ call the party and let them finish him.”
“I could no’ tell, wi’ the dark and all the blood, wha’ side he was on.”
Farlan gave her a level look. “And ’tis perhaps how it should be.”
Mayhap so. But Rhian was MacBeith to her bones. And both these men, whatever Farlan claimed, were MacLeods.
She turned her gaze on Leith. “Ye will be in a fierce amount o’ pain. My basket has run out o’ supplies. Master Farlan, will ye stay here with him while I go and mix a draught?”
“I will.”
Leith reached out and groped for Rhian’s wrist. “This draught, will it send me to sleep? I would rather the pain than return to that dream I was having.”
“Sleep will do ye good. It allows for healing.”
He looked unhappy, but did not object.
*
