Page 36 of Rory

“Ouch. Eww. Ouch. Please don’t be mad at me. I told your cook that I can’t drink. Like, not even a drop of alcohol. Then she shoved it at me anyway, and it seemed rude to refuse.” He didn’t seem to care, so she added, “Also, in about ten minutes I’m going to start puking, and it will be like the super projectile kind, too. So you really, really should put me down before I do that all over your nice clean tunic. And probably your face.”

The armorer ignored her very polite requests and carried her into the forge, where he kicked the door shut before he headed for the furnace, which was blazing. The heat rolling out from it actually felt pretty good to her.

“Are you going to make me watch you hammer stuff?” Harper chuckled. “Okay, I like that. Just let me have an empty bucket for, you know.” She made throwing-up sounds, which sounded so funny she laughed herself into the hiccups.

Rory sat her on the pallet he had beside the furnace, and steadied her with one hand as he examined her palms and fingers. He looked pretty pissed off, so Harper took a better look at the wounds from the thorns and whistled.

“Wowser, I’m really a mess. Should we call Ben the Doc? It’s kind of late. Oh, right, he and that hunter guy are still walled up in that workshop, aren’t they?” She watched him pluck a few thorns out of the cuts, and then wipe the blood from her shredded palms. “I’ve got something to do tomorrow but I can’t talk about that because you will say something to the wrong person. Don’t worry,” she added when he looked up to frown at her. “It’s a good thing, like what I did with those teeny tiny faceless head guy things. You people need to come up with words for this magical stuff.”

The man said nothing, she noted, because that was his pissed-off default mode, apparently. Probably a good idea, because if he yelled at her that would be the end of his magic castle. And his clan. And her, for that matter.

Harper peered at him. “Did I mention that I’m serious about the Doon dreaming thing? I was only born like twenty-six years ago my time, and she’s a thousand years old and stuck in here, so there’s no way our paths ever crossed. But you know her. Medieval minds, not exactly inquiring.”

The armorer left her, returning a few moments later with a bowl filled with water and some dark yellow dried stuff floating on top. He placed the bowl on her lap. The concoction looked like oregano but smelled sweet and herbaceous, making her wonder if he was expecting her to drink the stuff. On top of the whiskey that would be a seriously bad idea–

Rory took hold of her hands and plunged them into the water, which was cold and made her scratches sting. Yelping, she tried to yank them back out, but he held them down.

“Hey, it hurts.” He didn’t seem to care, so she added, “You’re being really mean to me again. Why do you do that when I like you so much, and follow you around, and try to get you to realize I’m your girl all the time?”

“You’re no’ my girl,” he muttered, and some dust rained down on them from the ceiling.

Since Harper couldn’t press a finger to his lips, she used her mouth. That wasn’t kissing because she was trying to make him be quiet so the castle didn’t fall on their heads.

“No talking,” she said, rubbing the not-kiss against his mouth to make it nicer. “Only whispering. Whoa, something is happening down there again.” She pulled back and tried to see around the bowl of stingy herbal water. “I think there’s ants in my pants. That always happens around you, Rory Blue Eyes McKeran. If I wasn’t a virgin I’d guess I’m getting all hot and bothered because you’re so close. Only I’m not supposed to know about that.”

“Be still,” he whispered as he took her hands out of the water, set the bowl aside and dried them off with another clean cloth.

“Want to know how I know about that? Internet.” She cackled because he didn’t know what that was. When he took away the cloth Harper was astonished to see the scratches had faded and were beginning to disappear. “Hey, that looks much better. Thanks for the dunking. Should I like explain the internet to you? Might take a while.”

He examined her palms closely, and pinched something that he pulled out and showed her. “Look upon what you’ve done to yourself, my lady.”

The big black wicked-looking thorn made her scowl. “I didn’t fall into the hurty sticks on purpose, you know. I tripped. It was an accident.”

“’Twas because you’re pished.” Even whispered, he made it sound like a bad thing.

Harper poked him in the chest. “That’s your fault for telling me to be friends with Doon. Doon thinks she dreamed me up. Doon got me drunk on your very fine Scottish whiskey. Doon probably has like a girl—excuse me, lass—crush on me, too. Only I want to get naked with you.” She hmphed.

Rory closed his eyes and sighed. He also grew another head, which vanished a moment later.

“Why are you acting like I farted in church?” she demanded. “I’m just telling the truth. So make up your mind, Blue Eyes. You want me to lie to you? I can say I don’t want to go to bed with you, and I don’t like your pretty face, and I wish you’d–”

She never got to finish her last words, because he dragged her to her feet and kissed her, swallowing them and her exhale of surprise. Then he grabbed her and hauled her toward the door to the forge, where she bet he was going to throw her out and lock up so she couldn’t bother him anymore. But then he didn’t, instead hustling her through it and down the passage past snickering guards and a couple of wide-eyed maids.

“Don’t laugh at him,” Harper warned a couple of the medieval ingrates, wagging her finger at them. “He saved my life tonight. Did you try to save my life, guy? I don’t think so. I could have been totally ripped up by a bunch of wicked thorny things. Hey, did they scratch you, too, Rory?”

The armorer stopped and looked at her. “Be silent,” he whispered.

“Why? Are you ashamed of me?” That hurt even more than the thorny sticks. “Oh, now I get it. It’s you and Ava. You know she’s married, but okay. Fine.” Her head started seriously spinning, so it was all she could do to knuckle away her tears. “I don’t care. I’ve always been alone since Mom died.”

As Harper slid to the floor, which turned into a pool of darkness, she wished Rory would love her as much as the laird’s wife. She also knew he never would.

As Una came into the kitchens Doon gave her a narrow look, but for once said nothing. Eyes down, she kept her expression bland as she brought the dishes over to the sink, but when she saw the other maids were busy she scraped the remnants into the bin for the sculleries to later burn. Since the cook had her back to her, Una decided to wash the dishes as well, and soon had her hands immersed in the heated water of the scrubbing basin.

Doon joined her, and watched as she worked for a time.

“Need you my aid, Mistress?” Una asked politely. She could smell the whiskey on the cook’s breath now and hoped she wouldn’t hit her or do worse.

“Elspeth claims you’re a changed lass since you came back from the stables,” Doon said at last.