it would be best to go now and fetch the needed items from the village or from the miller. Her garments, the scandalous trews she wore, as well as her cloak and tunic, were soaked through, so Rob knew he must remove them and the short boots she wore, too. He drew his sgian dubh to slice the seam of the boot open so he could take it off without injuring her ankle more than it was.
Rob pressed along the arch of her foot and the curve of her ankle but could find no broken bones. Good. He watched her face to see if she reacted and found none. That could not be a good thing. He untied her cloak and eased it from around her. Her hair, woven into a long braid, was tucked inside her tunic. Placing the cloak near the growing fire to dry, he turned his attention to her garments.
He tried not to notice the womanly curves visible because of those trews. He loosened the ties at her waist and slid them down, finding her shift tucked within. Drawing it down as he moved the trews, it gave her some measure of cover, though he held his breath as he noticed the thin fabric did not truly cover much at all. Then he gathered up the tunic and removed it over her head, lifting her as he eased it off. Another surprise waited for him there.
She’d bound her breasts to play the part of a boy.
Rob frowned at this revelation. She was set against marriage to him so much that she left her home and belongings behind, disguised herself as a boy and hid in a cave, nearly killing herself. She shivered just then, and he knew he must put aside his irritation and sense of insult and deal with all that later.
He would need something to wrap her ankle, so he lifted the thin shift and, with care, sliced one side of the bindings. Tugging them slowly, he removed them and tried not to notice the indentation of her breasts in the fabric. Or notice the way she sighed deeply in her sleep as though his action had brought some kind of relief. Rob moved down to her feet, shaking the strips of linen to separate them.
Her ankle swelled now that it was out of the confines of her boot, so he swaddled it with layers of linen, wrapped snugly but not too tight. He leaned back on his ankles and looked it over when he finished. It would do for now.
The howling winds reminded him of what he needed to do sooner rather than later, so Rob stood and tossed a dry plaid over her still form. He tucked it around her and then gathered what he needed—some coins and a leather sack.
The MacKay had given his leave for Rob to use his name, and it would ease his way once more but a coin or two was even more effective at gaining co-operation and information. He’d found the cave by sprinkling a few palms. Now, he would do what he needed to get the necessary supplies. With a final glance at the woman he hoped would be worth such trouble and embarrassment, he opened the door and stepped out into the storm.
A war waged within her.
The forces of good and evil were surely battling over some prize—her soul mayhap?—leaving her battered and bruised. Every place on her body ached. She could not even lift her hand to wipe the sweat from her brow and eyes. Waves of pain began in her foot and sent tremors through her whole body.
But, she had given birth already. She should not feel this much pain now. Had she not? Or was this all a terrible, dark dream, and she was yet labouring to push her child out?
Nay! Her child, her daughter, was alive. She’d birthed her weeks and weeks ago. Eva struggled to open her eyes. She needed to find her...
‘Hush now, lass.’
The voice came once more. Not a woman’s soft tones but the deep masculine tones of a man. Not her father, surely. She tried to force her eyes open, but they would not obey her.
‘Do not struggle,’ he said. ‘You’ve been ill and need to rest.’ A soft caress of her cheek was followed by something blessedly cool on her brow.
She wanted to offer her thanks, but no words would come out. Eva stopped fighting and let her body and thoughts drift, as he’d said. The next hours and days melded into a blurred time of pain and relief, heat and chill, dreams and emptiness.
When she was hot, cool touches eased it. When she shivered with cold, warmth surrounded her. When she called out in fear, a soothing voice urged her on. On and on, over and over, days blended into nights until suddenly Eva woke. She glanced around to discover she was no longer in the cave she remembered. Lifting her head caused so much dizziness that she did not try it again.
Across the small chamber, the door opened, letting in light and a man. A fresh wind blew through the room, bringing the smells of spring inside and banishing some of the staleness. Her dry throat tightened as she tried to speak. He was next to her in a moment.
‘Here. Try a sip of this before you try to speak. I doubt you have much of a voice left by now.’
He placed a cup at her mouth and lifted her head a tiny bit to help her drink. The watered ale tasted better than any fine wine or spirits she’d ever drunk. After one more sip, he took the cup and she tried to reach for it. When she settled back, Eva looked closely at the man as he moved back and sat on the floor next to the pallet on which she lay.
No kith or kin she remembered. But his face was familiar to her. Something flashed through her mind, a memory of someone or something, then darkness again. Had he been sent by her father to find and bring her back?
‘Who are you?’ she asked in a voice barely above a whisper. ‘What is this place?’
‘I wondered how much you would remember,’ he said. ‘You have been ill for days. I found you in the cave and brought you to this cottage.’ He stared at her, clearly expecting her to remember.
She remembered shadows moving around the cave and something approaching her. A large beast-like creature. Then he’d spoken.
‘I thought you a bear from long-ago times,’ she admitted. ‘I do not remember much else.’
‘I have been called worse, lady,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘You mistook my plaid and furs for the beast.’ He nodded towards the corner where he’d draped several cloaks and then at her, or rather the pallet beneath her where his furs now were. ‘The dirt floor was damp, and I feared it would make you sicker.’
Only then did she realise that she lay naked on those furs! Her garments, even her shift, were gone, and the woollen plaid was her only cover.
‘Your garments were soaked with water and sweat. They are dry now,’ he said, once more nodding to the corner.
Eva had been here for days. She’d been sick and unconscious, and this man had been with her. Who was he?
‘Are you my father’s man?’ she whispered, still not certain of what had happened. She remembered seeking the cave and falling into it. Then...nothing more.
‘He sent me.’
This man held his tongue well, never saying too much. Mayhap he would hold that tongue if she paid him? If he was a hired man and not kin, it was not an insult to offer him coins for his silence.
‘You took care of me and I am grateful. I would know your name,’ she said.
He must have noticed her hoarseness again, for he came closer with the cup. Each sip was like a soothing balm as it slid over her tongue and down her throat.
