Siena tugged the red plaid over her and tucked it under her chin. Her strength was fading. “It is a great comfort not to worry about our safety. I’m not sure that this is proper, but truth be told, I don’t really care tonight,” she murmured, her words slurred. “You have been most kind to us, my lord.”
Roderick nodded. He probably should have said something more, but he feared what he might say. Though she showed the scars of her beating and misuse by his enemy, he still remembered she was related to the bastard who had killed his wife and compassion was not what he felt at the moment. Instead, he tossed a couple of sturdy logs on the fire so that it would burn all night. Glancing around the campfire he saw his men positioned for sleep, their swords beside them. Fergus would stand watch while they slept.
It was cold tonight. They would be lucky to return home before the first snowfall, Roderick thought as he took his place beside Siena. At least the women were both asleep. Lady Siena needed rest in order to heal. He believed she was too pale, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it tonight.
He folded a blanket and placed it under his head. His body was weary, and he thought sleep would be easy, but it didn’t come. Instead, his thoughts transported him back to that terrible day more than a year ago.
He could still taste the stench of burning wood and see the women’s bodies in his mind’s eye. He had to step over them, searching . . . searching until he found Gillian, her face so swollen he’d barely knew her.
He had blamed himself for not leaving enough men to properly protect his holding that day. Frantically, he had searched for his son. When he couldn’t find him, he had found a banner from Fidach, and knew who was responsible. Roderick’s men had lost loved ones, as well, and the mood was grim as they began to bury their dead. As dusk fell, Roderick had vowed they would rebuild the holding as it was before. This time they would paint the walls black so all who saw would remember this terrible day.
His boy, four-year-old Michael had never been found. Roderick had hoped to question Fidach as to what happened to his son before killing the man, but now that opportunity was lost. Somehow, he couldn’t bury the past completely. He couldn’t see a small child surviving alone, but he still held hope that one day he would find his son alive.
Roderick shut his eyes and pushed the past where it belonged. Then he said a small prayer that his son might be somewhere safe. He glanced at the small woman lying beside him. He had yet to touch her, wondering if there wasn’t any part of her that didn’t hurt. Her cheek and neck were turning blue, making her a pitiful sight indeed from her beating. She was a Sassenach and his people wouldn’t like that fact. What was he to do with her? He didn’t know the answer, but he was certain she could make herself useful, and have a better life than she had before.
He gathered that Siena was a healer. Elen, the healer at home, was growing old and in need of help so it could be the perfect place for Lady Siena.
Roderick realized he’d lived for revenge for so long, too long. He sighed. Now it was done, and the man responsible for the attack was dead, he should feel relieved. The relief he expected wasn’t forthcoming. He still felt empty inside, and he wondered how it would be to feel something other than anger again.
He rolled over and welcomed the warmth of the small body beside him. For the first time, in what seemed like forever, he was comfortable enough to sleep. Siena rolled toward him and he wondered if she sought the comfort that another warm body could give her tonight. He draped his arm across her and pulled her next to his side.
Somehow in the midst of all the confusion this felt right, and he felt protective. No one would ever hurt the lass again.
Chapter 4
The next morning Roderick woke up to find his arm draped across a warm body snuggled next to him. During the night, Siena had whimpered several times and he had to comfort and assure her that she was safe.
Something changed within him during the night, an overwhelming need to protect Siena seemed natural to him.
It had been too long since he’d known anything but hatred, and he didn’t want to disturb this newfound peace, but he knew they couldn’t remain here. With his free hand he stroked the side of Siena’s face to wake her. She felt much too warm. On second thought, she was downright hot.
He leaned up on his elbow and touched Siena’s forehead. Aye, she had a fever. However, there wasn’t much he could do until they reached his holding where The Green Woman could attend to her.
Glancing around at the frost-covered campsite, he saw the first signs of his men waking up to start their day. The fire was no more than embers and ashes.
Carefully, he slid Siena’s hand off his chest, then he pushed himself into a sitting position. He reached over and gently shook her. “Wake up, lass. ’Tis morning. We’ll be leaving soon.”
Siena groaned then slowly opened bloodshot eyes. Her face appeared as pale as the frost and she looked completely drained. However, it would be time to travel as soon as they broke up the campsite, so she must get up and attend to what was necessary before they left. She’d not likely be able to sit a horse for long today without falling off.
Roderick must have awakened Agatha because she sat up and yawned. She stretched her arms overhead, and then she turned toward them, frowning as she recognized how ill her mistress was. “How are you feeling, milady?”
“M--my head hurts. I’m sure it is caused by the fever,” Siena said as she glanced toward Agatha. “By chance, did you bring my herbs?”
“There wasn’t time for me to fetch anything but our clothes.” Agatha shoved herself to her feet, and then ran her hands down her skirt to smooth out the wrinkles. “Let me help you to the stream so you may wash before we leave. The cold water will help you feel better.”
“At the moment, I doubt anything will make me feel better,” Siena grumbled.
Roderick took Siena’s good arm and helped her to her feet. “We have a long ride ahead of us today,” he said impatiently. “We should reach my holdin’ by nightfall, where my healer can tend to you. Ye are weak, lass, so ye’d best ride with me today.”
“Aye.” She held her arm up to Roderick, then swayed backward, so he had to steady her. “Do you see any red streaks?”
He took her arm gingerly, then partially unwrapped the bandage. He felt like a servant, he thought, and questioned the fact that he should be doing such a menial task. Wasn’t he called the Devil’s Laird? The man who made others tremble by the mere mention of his name. If only they could see him now. For here he stood tending a woman. “Nay,” he said as he rewrapped her arm, wondering why he couldn’t dismiss her so easily. “Remember, yer body went through a great deal yesterday, and that was before the hanging,” Roderick said, shaking his head. “Most would have died.”
“I’m made of strong stuff.” She half-smiled. “Aye. It was fortunate for me that you showed up when you did.”
Roderick made sure Agatha had a good grip on Siena before he turned and left them. There was much to get ready before they rode out.
Siena felt as if she were in a dream world as she stumbled through the trees to the small stream supported by Agatha. Siena also had an odd, sick, empty feeling. Since yesterday her world had come crashing down around her – not that her world had been good before, but she’d had things that were familiar to her. Now she had nothing, only Agatha. She cherished her, but their future was uncertain. They had no home, nothing to hold on to.