Chapter Seven

Despite Robbie insisting she return to the village, Adair couldn't bring herself to leave him.

When Edine left to head home, she sent a message to her parents that she would remain with Robbie until he returned home, after the festivities.

Her brother was still in so much pain and barely able to turn from one side to the other without having to stop and breathe through the stabs of it. Each time he cried out, it tore at Adair's heart fanning the anger toward both Ruari and his uncle.

The older laird, Ruari's uncle, would be arriving, and Adair considered that she would remain in the servant's quarters to avoid seeing the man. She didn't trust herself to keep from blurting out something that could harm her family.

Although the younger laird had been forgiving at her outbursts, Adair had pushed her luck with him enough. A slight or disrespectful comment toward his powerful uncle would not be allowed to pass without punishment.

When Robbie groaned from pain, Adair was torn from her musings, and she gripped her brother's hand as the healer cut away bloody bandages.

Adair had to take fortifying breaths not to wince at the mangled leg. Thankfully, it had stopped bleeding. Although she suspected whenever Robbie moved, it caused the wounds to open and start to bleed again.

"Why did ye not stitch the wound closed?" Adair asked the man as he examined Robbie's leg.

The healer's eyes lifted to hers only for a slight moment. "I needed to ensure it did nae fester." When he prodded, Robbie groaned, biting into a cloth he'd lifted and placed between his teeth.

"The wound is clean and is healing well," the healer informed them. "It can be stitched closed now."

Robbie's face was a dark red and wet with perspiration by the time the healer finished the task of pulling the flesh together and stitching it closed. He fell back onto the bedding exhausted as the healer prepared to bind it.

The man had Adair hold two flat pieces of wood on each side of the leg while a servant lifted the limb just enough so that the healer could wind a thick bandage around and around. Her poor brother cried out over and over until his voice became hoarse.

"We are almost done love," Adair cooed at her brother. "Just about done."

By the time they finished, Robbie came in and out of consciousness. Each repetitive moan that came from him, was like a hammer to her heart, pounding over and over.

"Ye will nae have to do this again will ye?" Adair asked the healer, her voice quivering with sadness.

The man shook his head and placed a hand on Robbie's shoulder. "I will make a strong tonic for ye to drink. It will help with the pain."

As they waited, Adair held on to Robbie's hand, pressing kisses to his face and whispering words that made little sense in an effort to calm him.

It was a pair of hours later that he finally succumbed to an exhausted although he continued moaning softly even in slumber.

Adair hurried from the room and out to the back of the keep where she collapsed onto her knees and sobbed. It was now obvious to her that Robbie would never be able to walk normally. Her strong and proud brother would be a cripple for the rest of his life.

"What happened?"

The deep voice surprised her, and she scrambled to stand only to stumble forward. A strong grip held her in place, and she realized it was Ruari.

The last person she wanted to talk to in that moment was the person who'd caused her brother so much pain. She pushed away from him, brushing away tears with the backs of her hands.

"Nothing I wish to speak to ye about."

His dark eyes studied her for a moment before he turned his attention toward the winding road. "Yer brother."

Since it was a statement and not a question, Adair remained silent. If she said anything, it would not be kind. If anything, she wanted to kick him, to pound her fists into his chest and let him feel at least a portion of the pain her brother had felt. Here he stood, proud and without any kind of idea of the suffering he'd brought to her brother and their family. Emotions conflicted with one another. On one hand, she understood it was not totally Ruari's fault, but at the same time, he'd been the one to choose Robbie.

If not for fearing punishment, she would leave the laird's presence.

Finally, he spoke, breaking the silence. "The healer informed me his leg is now bound until it heals. That there is nae any festering."

"Is it the guilt that brings ye to stay informed?" Adair bit out. "As soon as he is able, we will leave." She left the rest of the sentence unsaid. That she never wished to lay eyes on either him or the keep again.

Ruari slid a glance in her direction. "I am sorry for the pain yer brother has endured. It must be horrible for ye to witness."

Her teeth bit into her tongue so hard, she tasted blood. Instead of a reply, she gave a slight nod. Realizing it was best to go away before she said something disrespectful, she rounded the laird.

Just as she passed his hand grasped her lower arm. Adair took a step backward and pulled her arm from his grasp.

"There are so many things ye dinnae know. The true reason for which I…"

"I dinnae care to hear it, Laird. Ye and yers remain unscathed, with full stomachs and fine clothes, while yer people mourn the loss of good men who are killed or maimed for no other reason than the whims of yer uncle. Ye are no better than him because instead of standing up to him, ye do his bidding."

His jaw tightened and his gaze bore into hers. There was a statue-like stillness about him, like that of a predator before he struck.

If only he'd let her go, then she would not find herself about to be punished. Her temper and insolence could lead to her being thrown into the dungeon. Was there a dungeon here? What if her family was ordered to leave the lands?

"Go." His voice was low, but not angry. And when he looked back toward the road, there was a tinge of something like sorrow in the solitary word.

Adair glanced at him one last time noting the barely perceptible rounding of his shoulders and she raced back to her small bedchamber.

It was later that evening, that she finally dared to venture to the kitchen. Not hungry, but knowing she had to maintain her strength for her brother's sake, Adair forced herself to eat.

"I will prepare a small meal and ale for Robbie,"

"Wait a moment," Cook said. "I must boil herbs to be placed in his ale. The healer said he must drink it with each meal."

Whilst waiting for the cook to do whatever preparations she would with Robbie's ale, the sound of music drew her to walk down the corridor and peek into the great room. Last meal had been served earlier by the looks of it.

There were many guests in the great room. Each of the four long tables had people on both sides.

Musicians had set up by the hearth, and some people danced while others looked on. At first she didn't see Ruari, but then his dark hair got her attention.

He sat next to a woman, his head inclined so he could listen to whatever she said over the din of the music.

The woman placed a hand on his lower arm and squeezed it. He didn't move away. Instead, he turned to her and said something.

The food she'd recently eaten turned to stone in Adair's stomach, her gaze pinned to where the woman's hand rested.

Jealousy? No. It was impossible. She hated Ruari Stuart and his uncle for what they had done. Given the choice, she would do something to maim the younger, so that he would understand the pain Robbie felt and his uncle would know how it felt to watch someone ye care for suffer. At the thought she immediately regretted it. She'd never hurt anyone purposely. She was not like them.

As if sensing her perusal, Ruari turned to the doorway and looked at her.

Adair wanted to hide, but she would not cower. Instead she straightened, turned away, and went back to the kitchen to collect the tray of food for Robbie.

*

That night Adair could not sleep. The house was noisy with so many visitors. People were crowded in any available space, others outside in tents. People talking, others snoring made for a cacophony of sounds.

She was not so na?ve to think to have escaped punishment. It was only a reprieve because of the festivities. In three days everyone would be gone, and it was only after that, she and Robbie would leave.

There was no way to get any time alone with the laird to ask for leniency for her family. With so many people about, it was impossible unless she could find a way to seek him out. The next thought made her throat dry.

The only time Ruari was alone was at night. In his bedchamber.

The stone floor was cold against her bare feet, but Adair didn't dare wear her sturdy shoes which would make sounds with each footfall. She'd spied a back staircase that led to the second floor. It was usually used by the servants so that they didn't have to cut through the common areas to bring up food or other necessities to the family and guests.

Her heart pounding, Adair climbed the staircase, the dim light of her candlestick shaking against the stone walls.

Upon reaching the second floor, she peered out into a large room where several people had made pallets and slept. Thankfully one man snored loudly, which would mask her movements.

If someone saw her, they'd mistake her for a maid doing someone's bidding, so she didn't worry much.

Once past the room, she wasn't sure which corridor to take as there were two. Thinking it made sense for the laird to overlook the courtyard, she went to the right.

It was a short corridor with three doors.

Again using logic, she decided to choose the room that not only overlooked the courtyard but would also have a view of the road.

Her hand trembled as she pushed down the door latch and peeked inside.

The room was masculine, with dark bedding and only one tapestry on the wall. Besides the wardrobe in the corner, there was a writing table and a trunk.

Upon a huge four-poster bed someone slept. When they tossed, Adair held her breath. Whoever it was slept restlessly.

She neared the bed and saw it was Ruari.

The ties to his nightshirt were left undone, allowing a glimpse of his tanned chest. He murmured something in his sleep and turned away from her onto his side.

Knowing it was her only opportunity to speak to him, Adair took a breath and tapped his shoulder.

She had to nudge him before he woke and then he wiped his eyes and stretched, not seeming surprised at the waking.

"What can possibly be happening that I must be awakened?" he asked in a groggy voice.

"Laird," Adair whispered. "I must speak to ye."

At the sound of her voice, he bolted upright. His eyes widened as he took her in.

It did not occur to Adair until that moment that she wore a nightgown. And that perhaps he would misconstrue her late-night visit.

For a long moment, he didn't say anything. His fingers raked through the thick mussed locks that fell back to his shoulders in a wild mane that somehow made him look both untamed and more handsome.

He motioned to the bed. "Sit. I dare not move from the bed as I am only half dressed."

Not wishing to cause any more trouble, she lowered to sit on the end of the bed. It was impossible to drag her eyes from him, the thin nightshirt doing little to distract from the well-formed chest beneath.

"Did something happen to yer brother?"

Adair shook her head. "Nay. I am here to ask yer forgiveness for the way I behaved earlier. I beg that ye dinnae punish my family. It is I who deserve any punishment alone."

He let out a long sigh. "I dinnae plan to punish ye, Adair. Ye are one of many who think the same. If I were to punish everyone who feels as ye do, it would be a very long line."

His words sunk in, and she gaped at him. A barrage of questions formed in her mind.

"Why then do ye not change? Why keep sending men to fight with yer uncle?" Adair kept her voice a whisper.

"I dinnae blame ye for hating me. If I were ye, I would feel the same." There was a tinge of sadness in his voice. He looked from her to the open window.

Was that what she felt? Hatred toward him? They sat on his bed and for some reason, it was comfortable. Adair didn't feel threatened or scared of him. It was almost as if he wanted her to be there.

She frowned. "I dinnae hate ye. I am angry with ye. There is a difference."

When he smiled, it was as if a burden had lifted from his shoulders. Albeit, it was a soft smile, more melancholy. "I understand."

"Why do ye subject your men to danger?" Adair asked. "Do ye wish to continue allowing yer uncle to put them in danger?"

"No," He shook his head and reached out holding his hand out, palm up. Adair took it, unsure why he seemed to need the physical touch.

His hand was calloused from swordplay, but oddly comforting. He lowered their clasped hands to the bed, looking at them. "I will tell ye something, but ye must promise never to repeat it."

His eyes met hers. "Promise me."

So strange to be there with him, holding his hand as if they were more than laird and subject. In that moment, Adair wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. At the same time, she wanted to remain there, with him, holding his hand.

"I promise." She held his gaze. "I will nae repeat what ye tell me."

"Good. Now look away for just a moment" He released her hand and turned to the side, sliding from the bed. Adair looked away as he walked to where clothes were thrown over the back of the chair by the desk. Unable to keep from it, she peered out of the corner of her eyes to catch a glimpse of his powerful thighs as he bent to pull on breeches.

He kept his sleepshirt untucked and looked like a pirate with the loose tunic, tight breeches, bare feet, and unruly hair. Somehow he exuded power and a very sensual aura.

Adair had to swallow past the sudden dryness in her throat and did her best to slow the beating of her heart. There was nothing to be done about the heat that traveled up and down her body.

He returned to the bed, sat down next to her, and once again took her hand. This time he held it with both of his atop his thigh. Adair felt her eyes widen at how intimate it felt. Strangely at the same time, she didn't want to move away.

Ruari began to speak and in moments, she was no longer a stranger, but a confidant. Something propelled her to move closer to him, perhaps the melancholy tone of his voice.