Page 33 of Highland Guard

“Ah, sustenance,” said Callum. “By the look of what is set out for you, the ladies have deemed ye weel on your way to being healed. No more gruel.” Callum carefully moved the chess set to the table in front of the fireplace. “Am I right to assume the meal has been set out in the great hall?”

“Aye, the platters were being set upon the table as I left the kitchens,” Annys replied.

“Then I shall leave ye for now, Harcourt. M’lady.”

He bowed slightly to Annys before leaving. She could not fully still her curiosity about the man. Sir Callum was so handsome the maids sighed whenever they saw him. Children adored him. He was also faultless in his courtesy and yet he bristled with weapons. The fact that, despite how finely he dressed, the many knives he carried were not much better than what one of the villagers would have puzzled her. It was just another one of those things that kept her curiosity about him sharp.

A soft hiss of pain drew her attention. She turned to catch Harcourt wincing as he pushed himself into a more upright position. Shaking aside the last of her thoughts concerning Sir Callum she moved to assist Harcourt.

The moment she put her hands on his warm, smooth skin, Annys knew she had made a mistake. Memories of their lovemaking all those years ago crowded into her mind as they too often did since his return, heating her blood. She gritted her teeth as she fought the urge to release her firm hold on him and stroke his strong arms until he wrapped them around her. Harcourt settled himself firmly against the pillows and she immediately released him. Annys clasped her hands together behind her back to hide how they trembled.

Harcourt wasted no time in helping himself to the rich stew she had brought him. It was not the hearty piece of roasted meat he craved, but it was not a tasteless broth either. It also distracted him from the need to yank her into his arms, to pull her body beneath his and repeatedly feed the hunger she stirred within him.

“Has Benet come to see you since the first time when I brought him in?” she asked.

“Aye, many times,” Harcourt replied. “I think he finally believes I havenae been killed.”

Annys smiled. “He was verra fearful. It took me quite a while to convince him that it wasnae his fault. He was so certain he should have fought harder. I fear he doesnae like to be reminded that he is just a wee lad.”

“Of course not. No lad does. From the day they understand they are to become men like those they see walking about with swords, fighting, and drinking ale, they take on that pride.”

“Hmmm. So they try to become men with all that swagger and arrogance.”

“Aye.” He grinned at the look of annoyance on her face.

“Weel, he is calmer now. Ye will be pleased to ken that Joan believes ye can get out of bed for a wee while. It has been a sennight and ye are healing weel.”

“We Murrays do heal weel, and oftimes fast.”

“A fine gift. But, ye are to be careful to nay do too much or stand on that leg too much.”

Harcourt nodded, frustrated but not foolish enough to ignore good advice. “The healers in my clan would say the same. Aye, and be verra annoyed if I didnae heed their warnings.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“And I suspicion if I was fool enough to ignore Mistress Joan’s advice, she would show me that she could lecture me with all the power of my mother.”

“Aye, she would. Joan has always been an expert at a good, ear-reddening scold.”

Annys reached to take away his now empty dishes and squeaked in surprise when he put an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She put her hands on his broad shoulders to keep some space between them but decided that was a mistake. The warmth of his skin beneath her hands had her pulse leaping. When he moved, the shift of his strong muscles under her hands made her flush as her blood heated.

“Ye ken, ’tis custom to kiss a wound to help it heal,” he murmured as he kissed her blush-tinged cheek.

“That is only for bairns,” she said, fighting the urge to look at his strong thigh, the one now bearing stitches and snugly bandaged.

“A poor wounded mon is much akin to a bairn.”

“Ye willnae hear me argue that.”

He was still smiling when he kissed her. Annys knew she ought to pull away, to admonish him for his attempt to seduce her, but she failed to gather the willpower to do so. He tasted too good. Despite the slight awkwardness of the position she was in, it also felt far too good to be held in his arms again. She wanted to push all the dishes aside and climb into the bed with him.

A hard rap at the door jerked Annys to her senses. She scrambled free of Harcourt’s grasp so quickly she barely stopped herself from falling on the floor and rattled the dishes. Only his quick action saved him from a lap full of dirty dishes. Fussily patting her hair to fix any dishevelment and plucking at her skirts to be certain they were in place, Annys ignored Harcourt’s grumbled objections to being disturbed and moved toward the door. It surprised her to find Callum there, his expression far more serious than she was used to seeing.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, her fear still running strong after what had happened to Benet.

“Nay, but I need to talk to Harcourt for a moment,” he said.

“Just give me a moment to collect the dishes,” she said and hurriedly did so.