Page 7 of The Guardian

His horse stood contentedly in the clearing, tail flicking lazily from side to side as it grazed on the lush, dew-sweet grasses. When Hendry approached, the beast lifted its head and gave a soft neigh of recognition and trotted closer. Upon reaching Hendry, the animal gave him a gentle nudge of its velvety nose against his cheek, as if checking he was still in one piece. There was comfort in that simple gesture, a small flicker of familiarity amidst the confusion of two days lost.

To his relief, the saddle was already secured. Whether Ailith had done so before she left, or the horse had remained saddled the entire time, he couldn’t say. Either way, he silently thanked the woman for the kindness.

Climbing onto the horse was a brutal endeavor. His skull throbbed with every movement, the pain radiating behind his eyes like an ax buried in his brain. Worse still was the wound along his side, hot and unforgiving. Reminding him that battle wounds never traveled kindly. He’d ridden hurt before, but the agony never got any easier. Each jolt in the saddle a cruel reminder that he was far from healed.

Once astride, he turned his gaze to the cottage and scanned the edge of the woods beyond it. No sign of Ailith. The absence gnawed at him. She was out there somewhere, foraging for herbs, burdened with a basket, all while danger in the way of bandits and those who saw lone women as prey.

His jaw tightened. It wasn’t just concern. It was something deeper. Something raw and protective.

Uttering a soft expletive, he guided the mount toward the thicket of trees, making slow progress. Not just because the path was barely clear, but because any movement made him want to curse loudly.

It wasn’t long before he saw her, with her faithful dog by her side, both by a creek drinking. The animal reacted first, lifting its head and turning to look. His menacing growl immediately alerting Ailith, who remained crouched, looking around until she spotted him.

Unsure why, he lifted a hand in greeting. When she didn’t return the gesture, he lowered it feeling dumb.

She placed a hand on the snarling dog’s back. “Stop Teller,” came the stern order, as she walked toward him, basket dangling from her arm.

“Why are ye here? Ye should be on yer way.”

As much as he wanted to dismount, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to climb back into the saddle if he did. So he peered down at her. “Ye should nae be out and about. I was attacked and left for dead. I can nae imagine what they would do if they caught ye alone.”

Her eyes shifted toward the cottage. “Unlike ye. I have nae choice. Herbs are how I am able to feed myself and Teller. I must also come out and check my snares for rabbits and such.” When she wiped away the hair from her wet face, she huffed. “Go on now. Be on yer way. Dinnae worry yerself. I have survived here alone and will continue to do so.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to remind her of when he’d happened upon the cottage and found her fevered and barely coherent. Instead he nodded. “I will wait until ye return back and ensure ye are safely inside.”

Her jaw tightened, and he almost smiled at the fiery lass. She had to be the most self-sustaining woman he’d ever known. Too proud to accept help or cede defeat, she would fight for survival.

Finally she nodded. “Do as ye wish but dinnae expect me to hurry because of ye. If ye fall from the steed, I will leave ye where ye lay.”

“I dinnae believe ye will,” he replied.

With a huff, she turned on her heel and marched toward a thicket. The dog looked up at him as if questioning his reluctance to leave, then turned and trotted after his master.

True to form, as he expected, it was perhaps another hour before Ailith was satisfied to have gathered enough and return home.

If she knew the time had helped Hendry’s head clear, she would have probably not lingered as much. By the time the door to her cottage slammed shut, except for a twinge here and there, his headache was practically gone.

Upon riding into the keep’s courtyard, he was immediately greeted by his squire, Tobin, who held the horse’s reins as he dismounted with difficulty.

“Are ye injured sir?” Tobin’s eyes scanned over him, the protective lad’s expression troubled. “Ye dinnae look well.”

He handed the scabbard and sword to the lad glad to have the weight off his back. “Nothing to worry about. Nothing that won’t heal with a hearty meal and rest.”

Not looking satisfied, Tobin motioned for a stable lad to come and get his steed. Then walked alongside Hendry as he made his way to the front entrance of the keep. In silence they entered the dim interior, and Hendry waited a bit for his eyes to become accustomed before proceeding forward.

Once in the great room, he went to the table usually reserved for the warriors and lowered slowly to sit.

Tobin must have made some sort of motion, because immediately a serving lass neared and placed a tankard of ale before him.

“I will fetch ye a meal,” she whispered and hurried away.

It was but a moment later that he was joined by Liam, whose brows rose while studying him. “Ye are nae well my friend.”

Indeed it was a struggle to keep his eyes open, but he refused to go anywhere until eating.

Thankfully before Liam could say more, the serving lass returned with a bowl piled high with meat chunks and potatoes in a thick hardy broth. She placed the bowl in front of him, and a basket with rolls next to it.

Liam reached out and took the lass’s wrist. “How fare ye, Josefina?”