Chapter Five
After three days abed, Hendry was beyond glad to finally be able to move about without his head feeling like a drum being pounded.
He went to the great room and walked to the table where his team of warriors sat.
Every eye followed his progress, measuring his movements, gauging whether he was fit for duty.
It wasn’t malicious on their part. Hendry understood that more than anything, he and his men were like brothers, each of them integral in keeping one another safe.
As much as he wanted to reassure them he was fit, he would never lie to his men.
He was able to ride and keep up, but if there were any kind of fighting required, he would be of little help.
Upon arriving, each man greeted him warmly. One of them, a thick muscled, red-haired guard, called Rory, gave him a once over. “If ye aim to ride today, I will go with ye. Stay by yer side,” the man said in his usual gruff, no-nonsense tone.
Hendry gave the man a nod. “I will ride today, so it would be helpful.”
To keep things normal, Hendry asked the men for reports on their progress to catch the men who attacked him and other occurrences they may have come across during their patrols.
As frustrating as it was that the attackers were adept at hiding, in a way he was glad. Because now he could take part in their apprehension. See their expressions when they realized he was alive.
As he made his way to his bedchamber to fetch his overcoat, a young maid called Una was walking out carrying a bucket and broom.
“I have tidied yer bedchamber,” she informed him, giving him a flirty smile. Una put the bucket down and leaned the broom against the wall. Then she walked closer, lifted her hand and leisurely ran her finger down the side of his face. “Is there anything else I can do for ye?”
She’d warmed his bed a time or two, but it had been many months since the last time. Obviously, she’d lost interest in her latest conquest.
Hendry smiled down at the pretty lass. “Ye never change Una. Always playful and always bonny.”
Her face brightened at the compliment. “’Tis my nature, I suppose.” She hesitated and studied him, her head cocking to the side. “Something is different about ye.” A burrow formed between her brows. “Some lass has yer attention. Am I correct?”
At first he was going to deny that someone indeed had his attention. However, it would be the best way to avoid another assignation with Una. Despite enjoying her company and witty banter, he wasn’t prepared for another round of her dramatic antics.
“I will not deny it,” he replied, noting her eyes narrowing. “Is it Lily? The lass in the kitchen? Every man in the keep seems to be going out of his way to speak to her. She is frigid and doesn’t seem the least bit interested in men, I’ll have ye ken.”
“Who?” Hendry asked, genuinely perplexed. “I dinnae believe to have met her. It is nae someone within the keep.” Not wishing to continue the conversation, Hendry brushed past the now sullen Una and walked into his bedchamber to retrieve what he needed.
On patrol, Rory did as he’d promised. Riding alongside, not hovering, but close enough that if Hendry started to fall, he’d catch him before he hit the ground.
There were four others ahead a short distance away, and another four keeping their distance behind. The last six men had traveled in the opposite direction with repeated descriptions of the men they hoped to find.
“We’ve patrolled the shorelines and the border villages and gone to the southern areas and to the western areas without any success,” Rory informed him.
“Has anyone gone to Tokavaig?” Hendry asked. How was it possible for the three men to be able to hide so easily? In all possibility, the men had been seen by one of his men, but they’d not recognized them.
Rory scanned the surroundings, always alert. Hendry continuously kept watch as well, his gaze moving from side to side.
“Let us ride to the village,” Hendry called out to the men in front. Those in back would follow their trail.
Despite giving him an obvious look of someone wondering if he’d lost his mind, Rory remained quiet.
By the time they reached the village, Hendry wondered if he’d be able to ride back.
Every jolt of the horse had tugged at the stitches along his side.
The skin around the wound now burning with every breath.
A warm trickle had begun to seep beneath his tunic, sticky and slow; an ominous sign that some of the stitches had likely split.
The dismount was agony. He gritted his teeth, swaying slightly before his boots found purchase on solid ground.
But standing upright brought a grim sort of relief.
A stable boy approached and took the reins without a word.
Hendry gave him a curt nod of thanks, glad for one less burden.
The healer’s cottage would have to be his next stop, if he didn’t pass out in the middle of the square first.
The village was bustling, the market in full bloom. The air carried the mingled scents of roasted meat, fresh bread, and crushed herbs. People moved about briskly: bartering, gossiping, living.
Hendry raised a hand to one of his guards walking behind him.
“Have the others stay on the outskirts as we walk through,” he said low but firm. “I dinnae want to frighten those we seek into hiding.”
The man nodded and peeled away, heading to relay the order.
He motioned for another guard. “Spread out. Check the tavern and the shops. Look for any who match the descriptions I gave.”
When he began walking, Rory held back, giving him space. Perhaps to lend Hendry the appearance of a harmless villager, which was not believable with his muscular build and sword across his back, or maybe just out of respect for his pride.
Hendry scanned the crowd, eyes narrowing as he swept the faces of the men first, instinct guiding him like a hound on a scent. Then he saw her.
Ailith.
She stood at a small herb stand, speaking to two women, her light brown hair catching sunlight like threads of shadowy silk.
Her booth was simple yet charming, adorned with vines twisted into an arch over two slim poles made from young trees, freshly stripped of bark.
Bundles of herbs hung in fragrant bunches from the greenery, dancing gently in the breeze like forest charms. On the makeshift counter, small sachets and embroidered squares lay in neat rows. He squinted.
Was that the fabric he’d sent her?
She wore a new dress, soft, simple, but clearly fashioned with care.
A shift of pale blue, cinched at the waist, the stitching neat and deliberate.
A curious warmth stirred in his chest. Was it pride?
Satisfaction? Whatever it was, it settled like a balm easing some of the ache in his side.
She’d taken what he gave and turned it into something beautiful. Something hers.
She turned suddenly, brows drawing together as if sensing eyes on her. Her gaze swept the market, searching.
Then their eyes met.
Her lips parted in surprise, just barely. The flicker of disbelief that crossed her face was quickly masked. But it was enough. She hadn’t expected to see him. Likely, she thought he was still abed, convalescing like a sensible man.
He supposed she’d agree with Rory: there was no good reason for him to be out riding so soon after being wounded.
And yet, here he was, drawn to her like a moth to the flame.
One foot in front of the other, he walked toward her.
Ailith did her best to ignore the man moving through the crowd toward her, unfortunately, her eyes refused to listen and often strayed up noting each movement. For a tall muscular man, he moved fluidly, like a wolf stalking its prey.
“Just these.” An elderly woman placed a coin in her palm, bringing Ailith back to the business at hand.
Another person, did the same, grabbing the last of the embroidered handkerchiefs. The income from the sale would be enough to buy leftover portions of fabric and thread to make more and then still have a few coins left.
Her last customer bought a bundle of herbs, inquired about when she’d bring more handkerchiefs, and to her chagrin, left just as Hendry neared.
His blue eyes met hers, and he nodded in greeting.
The contrast of his dark hair, olive complexion, and bright blue eyes were what had first attracted her to him.
The first time they’d met had actually been there in the village.
She’d walked out of the bakery and bumped into him, dropping her basket.
Despite her protests that her bread was unharmed, he’d purchased her another loaf.
Afterwards, he’d walked with her about the square, asking question after question about her.
It was the first time a man had shown such interest in her, actually holding a conversation rather than spending the time recalling his own exploits.
“Do ye walk here?” he asked, his gaze moving to the herbs and then to Teller, who sat behind her on a straw pallet.
“That is the only way to get here,” Ailith replied curtly. “Is it not too soon for ye to be out riding?”
He slid a glance past her, scanning the surroundings. “I am the only one who can recognize the men who attacked me. The sooner we find them, the better.” Hendry scratched the stubble on his jaw. “Ye should nae be walking here on yer own. It is dangerous right now.”
“How am I to live then? How will I make a living and purchase things I require? It is out of necessity that I come to the village.” For some reason the statement made her stomach clench.
Hendry had never been in her situation. His family lived a comfortable life, and he’d gone from there to living at the keep, always having good meals and enough coin to purchase fine clothing.
“I understand, which is why I made sure that ye have enough provision to last until we capture the renegades. A woman alone is easy prey.”