Page 11 of At the Highlander's Mercy
‘When I take you to my bed, in my bed, you will remember it. You will remember every caress, every kiss, when it happens.’
Lilidh felt every word he said and the memories of their time together and this promise of what wouldcome between them shot through her body as if hehadtouched her. And in those words were every sensation she’d hope to feel and to experience with her husband, but had not. Hearing Rob say them, she mourned for the thousandth time their regrettable ending with its harsh words. Her skin tingled and her blood heated, waiting as desire burned a path through her.
Then, the flare of passion she’d seen there was over and gone. The fire she’d witnessed turned to cold, icy blue and he walked away without another word. Lilidh watched as he lifted the bar off the door and placed it on the floor and then reached for the latch.
‘Do not attempt to leave this room or speak to anyone save Beathas and Dougal.’
‘I have questions,’ she said before he could leave. Rob glanced back then and shook his head at her.
‘And I have duties to see to,’ he replied as he opened the door.
He spoke quietly to whoever waited there and then he was gone. Though she knew others were just outside the door, no one entered. Lilidh tested her limbs, stretching them as best she could, and then pushed herself slowly to the edge of the bed. Sliding from its height, she grabbed hold of the bedpost and stood, letting her body and her head adjust for a few minutes.
When her legs steadied beneath her, she held her breath, pushed her hair back over her shoulders and took a cautious step. Then, letting go of her support, another and another until she reached the chair by the now-cold hearth. Grabbing for the back of that chair, she wobbled a bit and then used it to edge around until she could sit.
Taking in deep breaths against the pain in her head and the tightness of every part of her, she closed her eyes and tried to think of more pleasant things. It had always helped her in the past and she prayed it would now. Clenching the sides of the chair, she fought off the desire to cry out from the torment.
‘Here now, dearie...’
The words and approach of a woman broke into her thoughts and she gasped in surprise more than anything else. Beathas, the healer, had returned. Carrying linens under her ancient arm and a large chamberpot in her hands, the woman bobbed from side to side in a most worrying way. Without thought, Lilidh stood to help her. The pain took her breath away with its severity.
‘Poor wee lass,’ Beathas whispered as she put the supplies down and came to her side. Easing Lilidh back to the chair, she cooed and offered warm, comforting nonsensical words, at once becoming the caregiver. ‘Would you no’ be more comfortable in the bed for a wee bit?’
Lilidh closed her eyes, unable to speak and torn between the pain and the gentle care of this stranger. The woman did not push her to move. Instead, taking up a brush, she eased Lilidh’s hair back and began slow, long strokes away from the injured place. When she closed her eyes and blocked out her surroundings, she could have believed herself home, being tended by her mother. She may have even fallen to sleep for a moment, so comforting were the motions of the brush, followed by Beathas’s tender touch as she tamed Lilidh’s tangled hair while avoiding the bandaged, injured area.
‘Do you have a looking glass?’ she asked the woman. Her skin was easily marked by bruises or bumps and Lilidh wondered how badly she must look after the last days of rough handling by the one who brought her here and his cronies.
‘I don’t, my lady,’ Beathas said. ‘I will see if Tyra has one in her chambers that you could use.’
‘Tyra?’ An unfamiliar name, but then she had not kept track of Rob’s clan in years.
‘Symon’s sister,’ Beathas explained. A hesitation in her reply spoke of much information not to be shared.
‘Never you mind, then,’ Lilidh said. ‘I do not wish you to be drawn into this.’
‘Did he hurt you, dearie?’
The question was slipped in quietly, but confused
Lilidh for she did not know if Beathas referred to Symon or Rob. Whichever it was, she had no intention or desire to speak of such things, for it would bring up other personal matters.
‘Leave it be, Beathas. I know that I am prisoner and enemy and do not expect to be treated otherwise while here,’ she said with far more confidence than she felt.
It was the truth, though, and an attitude she feared she must accept to get through this ordeal. If things had deteriorated so much that Rob’s clan thought kidnapping her and shaming her father was the correct course of action, then she could not be certain of anything—least of all how she would indeed be treated. As laird and chief, Rob would have to appease his clan elders and those whose backing he needed to remain on thehigh chair. Forcing her to his bed, beating her or shaming her could all be part of it.
A shiver racked her then. She was a woman alone—no guards, no family, no husband—with no one to watch over her and protect her. Had her father received word yet about her kidnapping? Had Rob or that rogue Symon sent demands? If no one was left alive from her travelling group, who would take the news to her father or to the MacGregors?
The tears surprised her then, coming without warning at the thought of her friends and family lying dead by the road after the attack. Poor Isla! Her faithful maid had been with her for years, first as her nurse, then companion as she grew older and did not need a nurse. Accompanying her on her marriage journey to Iain’s clan gave Lilidh comfort, as her mother had said it would. Any number of cousins could have come with her, but her mother had advised only Isla until Lilidh had settled in.
Now, she was responsible for the woman’s death and the death of others who had simply carried out their orders.
Leaning her head down, she let the tears flow. Her body rocked slightly on its own as sorrow filled her heart and soul at the loss of so many. The healer’s gentle touch on her shoulder surprised her.
‘Here now,’ Beathas whispered. ‘All will be well.’
The woman wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and tucked it tightly. She moved quietly around the chamber, straightening the bed and cleaning as she went. Every so often a soft tsking would be heard, butthe woman did not ask her any other questions. Lilidh gathered her emotions under control and let the temporary sadness and tears go. For now.
For now she needed to be strong. To be the daughter of the MacLerie and the widow of the proud MacGregor chieftain. To survive this coming ordeal she must keep her wits and find out what Rob’s plans were—especially with her. And she must find ways to influence Rob’s decisions, if possible, too.
