Page 27 of Rory

He ignored her as he held her hand against the tree. Why was he forcing her to do this? The gruesome sensation of tiny heads swelling against her palm disgusted her, especially when they began bursting like overripe fruit. She finally jerked her wrist out of his hold as all the head clusters on the tree began bursting, spattering both of them with black goo.

“Not me, guy,” she assured him. “They did that exploding by themselves. Me, I wouldn’t even guess at how to cast a spell, much less try.”

“They reacted to the power within you, lass,” he countered. “’Tis likely light melia magic, which may overcome the dark side of such.”

He thought she was more powerful than this place?

Or someone else does, Harper thought, glancing over at the window slits. She could see Ava now, watching both of them. Hope I passed your test, because I’m not taking any more. She really wanted to wipe the goo off her palm, so much so that she was tempted to smear it on his tunic, only that wouldn’t be very nice. He already had enough of the crap on him, too.

“Look, ah, I don’t care about what’s inside me,” she finally told him. “I can’t do anything with the force or whatever. I just want to go wash my hands and change my clothes.”

“You may, after you slay the rest.” Rory nodded at the other trees. “You’ve only to touch each tree once, and ’twill end all the creatures.”

Boy, was he backing the wrong horse. “You hope.”

The armorer touched her cheek. “Do thus for me, my lady.”

You mean, do it for Lady Ava, your substitute big sister/mom/controlling manipulative guard dog.

Harper wanted to tell him that she wasn’t a monster executioner, and she certainly didn’t want or need that kind of karma coming back to bite her in the butt. Yet now she could see the head clusters on the other trees growing larger and sprouting shoulders and arms. If they all developed to full size and detached themselves, they’d overrun the castle before the McKeran men could stop them. The faceless things would attack the clan’s vassals and outsiders, and if the enchantment decided not to heal them a lot of people were going to die. She might be one of them—unless she did what Ava had sent her out here to do. That score she would definitely have to settle later.

“Please note that I hate this and I’m doing it only under duress,” Harper told Rory as she marched over to the next tree, and seized another cluster.

It took less than ten minutes for her to destroy the crop of budding monsters, and then the trees themselves began to shrink down into the soil. She tried to shake the black residue off her hands, but it clung to her like tar; even wiping her hands on the grass didn’t work. Ava came out with Tasgall just as the last sign that anything had happened in the gardens disappeared from sight, and gave Harper a grateful smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Sure, you’re happy you didn’t get icky black goop all over your hands, Lady Avoiding the Dirty Work, Harper thought. But you don’t like that I could do this. Maybe I could help your boy a lot more than you think.

“My thanks, Mistress,” the laird said as he performed a deep bow.

She guessed him doing that for her was a big deal, but she wasn’t in the mood now. She also needed not to look at his wife, because if she did she’d probably punch her in the nose.

“You’re welcome.” Harper needed to find some scalding hot water and soap, right this minute. “Excuse me, I have to wash all the things I just killed off my hands.”

Rory followed her into the stronghold, but as soon as they were out of earshot from the laird and his wife she turned on him. All the anger that flooded her came from realizing how she’d just been manipulated—and that she strongly suspected her dreamy highlander had known that from the start.

“I can clean up by myself,” she told him, and pointed in the other direction. “You go that way.”

He stopped as he looked into her eyes. “Forgive me,” he whispered, and gave her a sorrowful look before he walked away.

Watching him go tore at her, but she resisted the impulse to chase after him.

“I am not the bad guy,” Harper told herself firmly. “The victim here is not blaming herself. They’re the bad guys. Especially Mrs. Ex-FBI.”

She found her way into the kitchens, where Doon stood waiting at the biggest sink with a scrub brush, a crock of soap and a basin filled with steaming water. The sight of the cook and what she’d prepared caught Harper so off guard she tripped over her own feet. Then she wanted to kiss her.

“Is that for me, really?” As Doon nodded Harper hurried over and smiled down at the basin. "Are you a mind reader?”

“I watched what you did for us, lass,” Doon said as she came and guided her over to the sink. “’Twasnae pleasant for you. You’re no’ a killer of anything. ’Tis what came to mind when I saw you walking back.”

“Thank you for noticing. If I ever get back to my estate, I’m leaving a chunk of it to you.” She let the cook rinse most of the black goo from her hands and then apply some soft soap with an old cloth. “I can do this myself, you know.”

“Permit me serve you thus.” Doon smiled a little as she scrubbed her skin gently, applying just enough pressure with the brush to remove the last remnants of the dark gore. “The water, ’tis hot but no’ scalding. I didnae wish burn you.”

“Someday you’re going to tell me for real how you knew exactly what I needed,” Harper warned her as she plunged her hands in the basin, wincing at the heat and then sighing with satisfaction. “Oh, that’s perfect. The only thing that would be better is another basin to soak my head in.”

“I’ll arrange a tub bath for you later so you may wash your hair.” The cook rinsed her hands one last time before she dried them, and then held them clasped between her worn palms as she said, “I ken you’re no hungry, but I’ve a calming brew you’ll like.”

Harper never liked being touched by strangers, but she knew Doon was being completely sincere. There was also something about the older woman that gave her the sense of being safe and protected, although she had no reason at all to think so.