Chapter 6
Murdoch’s healer occupied a chamber tucked beside the inner hall, where bundles of drying herbs hung from the rafters and the scent of rosemary, lavender, and crushed nettles filled the warm air.
Small jars crowded every shelf, some holding thick green salves while others contained powders Merith could not name.
A fire crackled beneath an iron kettle near the wall, and sunlight streamed through the windows in golden beams.
Merith stood beside Murdoch while the healer fussed endlessly over shallow cuts that scarcely seemed worth the trouble. Shona kept herself still beside the door, ready to jump in if required.
“Hold still, my laird,” the older woman scolded while dabbing at his bruised knuckles with a cloth soaked in spirits. “Ye men fight like stags in rut, then complain when yer bones ache afterward.”
Murdoch laughed easily. “I assure ye, Agnes, my pride suffers more than my hands.”
“Aye, and pride heals slower.” The healer clicked her tongue before glancing toward Merith with approval. “A bonnie future lady tae keep ye sensible at last.”
At that, Murdoch glanced toward Merith with a charming smile. “God willing.”
Merith returned the smile politely though her thoughts remained somewhere else entirely.
The ruby pendant.
She had tried twice during the walk across the courtyard to glimpse it again beneath Murdoch’s collar, but the jewel remained missing. Surely if it had merely fallen during the fight, someone would have already noticed. The ruby had been large enough to catch the eye immediately.
Unless Locke had truly taken it.
The very idea should have horrified her more than it did. Instead, she found herself remembering the look in his eyes before the fight. He was clever and watchful. Amused even while blood streaked down his mouth.
Locke was a dangerous man, yet part of her could not stop admiring how easily he moved through the world, answering tension with laughter rather than fear.
Agnes clucked again while wrapping a clean strip of linen around Murdoch’s hand. “There now. Ye’ll survive tae torment the rest o’ us for another day, m’Laird.”
Murdoch placed one hand dramatically against his chest. “Such devotion.”
The healer snorted. “If ye truly wish for devotion, ye’d stop letting half the keep challenge one another tae fights.”
“A harmless diversion,” Murdoch replied.
Merith glanced toward the dark bruise already forming along his jaw. “It did not appear entirely harmless.”
His expression softened instantly at her concern. “Dinnae fash, Lady Merith. Reid fought well, but I’ve suffered far worse in training yards.”
“Aye, but that one is no merchant,” Agnes muttered while returning her bandages to the shelf. “Any fool with eyes could see it.”
Murdoch’s smile faded only slightly. “Perhaps he had traveled dangerous roads.”
“Or perhaps he’s telling stories,” the healer replied bluntly.
Merith lowered her gaze quickly before either noticed her reaction, and Murdoch merely chuckled. “Ye distrust everyone, Agnes.”
“That keeps me alive,” she responded pointedly.
After a while, the healer turned to a nearby cabinet, muttering beneath her breath about stubborn men and wasted bandages. The moment her back faced them, Merith noticed a small ceramic jar resting near the edge of the table. Thick ointment. It was likely meant for bruising.
Without entirely meaning to, she stepped closer.
Murdoch was speaking again, recounting some story about a clansman thrown from a horse during spring training. Agnes argued loudly that the fool had deserved his broken arm for riding drunk. Neither paid attention to Merith as her fingers gently closed around the small jar.
She slipped it smoothly into the sleeve of her gown. The action startled even herself. For a second, she had to wonder why she had done that.
For Locke, obviously.
Heat crept faintly inside her cheeks, though thankfully no one noticed.
Murdoch finally rose from the chair while flexing his wrapped hand. “There. Restored tae full glory.”
“Hardly,” Agnes replied, rolling her eyes. “And ye’ll return tomorrow if the swelling worsens.”
“I shall obey faithfully,” he lied.
The healer tutted quietly and shook her head.
Murdoch turned toward Merith then, offering her his arm with grace. “I fear the morning’s excitement has consumed more than intended.”
“It has been… eventful,” she admitted carefully, giving him a smile.
His eyes lingered upon her face. “Ye look pale, my lady.”
“I am only somewhat tired,” she replied.
“That is understandable after recent days.” His voice gentled further. “The ambush alone would have shaken most ladies badly.”
The reminder caused her stomach to flip. It was strange how quickly the terror of that road already seemed distant beside everything that had followed. Still, the loss of Duncan seemed to haunt her.
It was better not to think about that tragedy.
Murdoch guided her from the healer’s chamber into the corridor beyond. Torches flickered warmly against the stone walls while servants passed carrying baskets of linens and trays prepared for the midday meal.
“I must attend to several matters before noon,” Murdoch explained. “Tenants, trade accounts, complaints from men who believe sheep are more important than sleep.”
A faint smile touched Merith’s lips. “A difficult burden.”
“Verra.” His dark eyes softened upon hers again. “And what shall ye dae with yerself while I suffer such hardships?”
“I think I should rest awhile,” she answered truthfully. “Everything since yesterday feels rather overwhelming.”
At once his expression filled with approval. “A sensible instinct. Delicate ladies often exhaust themselves trying tae appear stronger than they ought.”
Something about the words pricked against her pride though she knew he intended kindness.
“I am not quite so delicate as I appear,” she said softly.
Murdoch smiled as though indulging a child. “Nay, of course not.”
Before she could decide whether the response irritated her, he lifted her hands and pressed a kiss against her knuckles.
The gesture was perfectly proper. Yet somehow it left her colder than Locke’s crooked grin ever had.
“I shall see ye at midday then, Lady Merith,” he told her.
“Aye, my Laird.”
With that, Murdoch departed down the corridor with two guards falling into step behind him. Merith watched until he disappeared around the corner before finally releasing the breath she had been holding.
Shona, who had remained respectfully silent through most of the healer’s visit, glanced sideways at her. “Ye look thoughtful again.”
“I am only tired,” Merith replied, turning to face her.
“That isnae the same thing,” she said.
Merith avoided the knowing look in her maid’s eyes. “I truly would like tae rest.”
“Then we should return tae yer chamber,” Shona said, gesturing in the right direction with her head.
“Aye,” Merith agreed automatically.
But as they turned down the corridor, movement ahead caught her attention.
It was Locke.
He walked through the guest chambers with maddeningly easy confidence despite the bruises darkening his face.
Fresh blood no longer marked his mouth, though the split along his lower lip remained visible.
One servant girl hovered beside him carrying folded linens while smiling up at him far too brightly.
Merith slowed unconsciously and Shona noticed at once.
“Och, no,” she muttered quietly. “Dinnae tell me ye’re curious aboot that rogue again.”
“I am not curious,” Merith replied immediately.
“Ye starin’,” she pointed out.
“I am merely…” Merith faltered before lowering her voice. “I didn’t get to thank him fer saving us.”
Shona blinked. “Ye did, my lady. Don’t ye remember?”
Ahead of them, Locke paused outside his chamber door while saying something low to the maid, making her laugh openly. Merith could not hear the words, though judging by the girl’s blush, she suspected they were scandalous enough.
Shona snorted softly. “That man could charm milk from a cow.”
Merith tried not to smile as Locke pushed open the chamber door and disappeared inside with the maid following close behind. Merith hesitated only a moment.
“Go ahead without me,” she said suddenly.
Shona stared. “My lady?”
“I only wish tae speak with him briefly,” Merith replied, trying not to sound defensive at all, though she failed.
“Inside his chamber?” Shona asked, raising her brows.
“I am not a fool,” Merith insisted.
Shona’s expression suggested otherwise.
“Remain near the stairs,” Merith instructed quietly. “If anyone asks, I wish tae thank him again fer the fight.”
“The fight?” Shona repeated incredulously. “Men arenae usually thanked fer punchin’ one another bloody.”
Merith ignored her entirely and moved down the corridor before courage abandoned her. The closer she came to Locke’s chamber, the faster her pulse beat.
What was she doing?
If Murdoch learned she had entered another man’s private room unchaperoned, the humiliation alone would be unbearable. Yet suspicion continued gnawing at her relentlessly.
The pendant had vanished and Locke had looked far too pleased afterwards.
She reached the partially open door and paused. Inside, she heard laughter. It was the maid again.
“Ye shouldnae say such things, sir,” the lass giggled.
“And why not?” came Locke’s warm voice. “They’re entirely true.”
“You say that tae every lass,” the maid replied.
“Och, now ye wound me.”
Merith rolled her eyes at the sound of his voice. She could already imagine the grin that was taking over his entire face.
Steam drifted faintly through the chamber from the adjoining bathing chamber, carrying the scent of soap and heated water. Gathering her composure, she stepped quietly inside.
The chamber looked much as it had earlier that morning, though now Locke’s coat hung carelessly across a chair while boots lay discarded near the hearth. The maid stood near the bed folding linens with pink cheeks while glancing repeatedly toward the bathing chamber.
She didn’t notice Merith.
Automatically, Merith’s gaze swept quickly across the room. No pendant upon the table. None near the bed either. Perhaps she truly was imagining things.
Then the maid finally turned and gasped softly. “Lady Merith!”
At once, splashing from the bathing chamber ceased.
Merith straightened quickly. “Forgive the intrusion. I merely wished tae speak with Master Reid.”
The maid looked mortified. “I should leave—”
“Nay,” Locke replied lazily from behind the half-open bathing door. “Stay. Ye protect my reputation.”
Merith’s cheeks warmed instantly and the maid fled anyway. Silence fell around the room after the girl hurried from the chamber.
Then Locke emerged and Merith forgot entirely what she meant to say.
A cloth hung low about his hips while droplets of water still traced slowly down sun-bronzed skin. Damp auburn curls fell loosely around his face, and without his usual layers of coats and belts, the lean strength of his body became impossible to ignore.
Old scars crossed his shoulders and ribs in pale silver lines.
He was not a merchant. Not even remotely.
His blue eyes widened immediately when he saw her standing there before amusement immediately returned.
“Well now,” he drawled. “Either I’ve suffered a head injury from that fight, or Lady Merith has begun sneakin’ into men’s chambers.”
Color flooded her cheeks so quickly she thought she might burst into flame. “I did no such thing.”
“Nay?” He leaned casually against the doorframe of the bathing chamber. “Then perhaps I’m wanderin’ naked through the corridor and simply lost my way.”
Merith snapped her gaze firmly upward toward his face. That only made his grin wider.
“I came tae bring ye this,” she said quickly, pulling the small jar from her sleeve. “Fer the bruises.”
He blinked once in clear surprise before stepping closer. The movement made her suddenly aware of how very alone they were.
“And here I thought ye came tae admire my scandalous lack o’ clothing,” he murmured.
He accepted the jar from her fingers, though instead of stepping away, he remained standing far too near.
“So kind,” he said softly.
Merith swallowed. Up close, she could smell clean soap and faint smoke lingering on his skin beneath it. His split lip looked painful now that she stood near enough to see the swelling clearly.
“You should have defended yerself better,” she said before thinking.
Locke’s brows lifted. “Concern again?”
“I simply dislike foolishness,” she stated.
“Och, then ye must despise me entirely,” he replied, chuckling.
Having no control over herself, she laughed softly. His expression changed at the sound. Something warmer entered his gaze then.
“You shouldnae be here,” he said after a second, though there was no real reprimand in it.
“I know,” Merith said, jutting out her chin.
“And yet ye came anyway.”
Merith suddenly remembered why. The pendant. Her eyes darted quickly toward the discarded coat near the chair.
Locke seemed to notice instantly. She wasn’t the only observant person in the room.
“The room disappointin’?” he asked mildly.
“Nay. I only…” She struggled for an excuse. “I wondered whether the fight damaged any of yer belongings.”
“A thoughtful concern,” he said, narrowing his eyes slightly.
His tone told her he understood perfectly well she was lying. That was when the heat climbed higher into her cheeks. She felt like she was on fire.
Locke stepped closer until scarcely a breath separated them. Merith’s pulse stumbled helplessly as she looked up into those impossible blue eyes. He was smiling faintly now, though not mockingly.
“Tell me somethin’, Lady Merith.” he murmured. “Dae ye always risk scandal this easily?”
“I risked nothing,” she insisted.
“Aye?” His gaze dropped toward her mouth before lifting again. “Then ye’re either verra brave or verra naive.”
The words sent a strange shiver through her. Too close. They stood far too close.
Suddenly aware of the impropriety of everything about this moment, Merith stepped back quickly.
“I should leave,” she said.
“Probably,” Locke agreed.
She turned at once toward the door before he could see how flustered she had become.
“Thank ye fer the ointment,” he called after her.
Merith paused only long enough to glance back once. Locke remained standing exactly where she had left him, damp curls falling across his forehead while amusement glistened in his eyes. Then she fled the chamber before her senses abandoned her entirely.
The door closed softly behind her and silence settled once more.
For a long moment, Locke simply stared after her with the faintest hint of disbelief. Then slowly, his grin returned.
“Well now,” he murmured.
Crossing toward the hearth, he bent and lifted one boot from beside the chair. Reaching inside, his fingers closed easily around the stolen ruby pendant hidden there since the fight.
The crimson stone flashed darkly in the light. Locke studied the closed chamber door thoughtfully.
“The lass isnae nearly as innocent as she pretends,” he said quietly.
Suddenly, for the first time since arriving at Carnegie Keep, he realized he might need to be careful too.