Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

L iam did not have “a few things to dae,” as he had claimed to Ivy and Effie. But he did have a nagging pain in the small of his back that meant he really wanted to lie down and rest it. He’d had some pain for a few weeks, and sleeping on the ground or floor was doing it no good at all.

When he got back the chamber, he took off his sword belt, jerkin, and leather vest, then heeled off his boots and lay down on Ivy’s bed with a groan of pain. After the spar he was in a world of pain. He stretched out his arms and legs, trying to find a position that would ease his pain. It made little difference. He had some liniment that Alana, his brother’s wife, also the healer at Castle Lennox, had given him to rub in. But it turned out to be quite difficult to apply it effectively by himself.

He was lying like that when Ivy came in. She went over to him at once and looked down at him questioningly. “What’s wrong? Are ye feelin’ poorly?” she asked. Which was a pleasant surprise, because he had half expected her to tell him off for lying on her bed.

“Nay. ‘Tis me back. ’Tis achin’ somethin’ awful,” he explained.

“Och, ye poor thing,” she said sympathetically, regarding him, hands on hips. He could see where Effie had cleaned up her cut. It looked fine now, daubed with salve. “Is there anything I can dae?”

“Well, there is one thing that might help,” he replied, wondering if he should ask her or not. He supposed she could always say no. He would be no worse off.

“Aye, what is it?” she asked.

“There’s a bottle of liniment in me saddlebags. Could ye fetch it fer me?”

“Of course.” She hurried off, and he heard her rummaging through the contents of the saddlebags. She returned, holding up the little brown bottle. “Is this it?”

“Aye.”

“So, ye havetae rub it on?”

“Aye.”

She nodded, seeming unfazed. She stopped to pull off her boots, unbuckled her sword belt and dumped it on a chair.

“All right. Turn over then, and I’ll dae it fer ye.”

He was astonished by the offer. “Ye will?”

“It’s an olive branch I’m offering here, Liam. Accept it.”

He could hardly believe his ears, but he was not about to argue with her. “All right, that would be grand if ye dinnae mind. Thank ye.” Laboriously, he turned over onto his belly, folded his arms above his head, and rested his head on them. “Ouch,” he muttered, as shooting pains ran from the small of his back up his spine.

“Where does it hurt the most?” Ivy asked, kneeling on the bed next to him.

He reached around and put his hand on the small of his back. “Right there.”

“Right there?” she said a little hesitantly, looking down at the spot he indicated.

“Aye. It aches all the time, and when I move, ’tis like knives prickin’ me.”

“Oh.”

“It’s got worse these last few days, since I’ve been sleepin’ on the floor,” he

explained.

“All right. Lie still, I’m just gonnae pull yer shirt up a bit, so I can get tae it.”

“Aye, go ahead.” He felt her pull his shirt gently from inside his trews and then fold it up onto his back, out of the way. The pungent smell of the liniment filled the air around them as soon as she unstopped the bottle, then leaned over to place it on the nightstand. She shuffled on her knees until she was right next to him. “Right, here we go. Just shout if it hurts too much.”

“All right.” He heard the faint glug as she poured the liniment from the bottle onto her hands.

“I hope me hands are nae too cold,” she murmured, rubbing them together briskly.

“I’ll let ye ken if they are,” he said, his muscles tensing just in case. But when she laid her hands on his skin just above the place where it hurt the most, they were as warm as freshly made toast. A small groan of pleasure slipped from his lips.

“Is that all right?” she asked, starting to move her hands in gentle circular movements around the painful area.

“Aye, that’s grand. Nice and warm.”

“Good. Now, ye just lay there and relax.”

He did, feeling the knots in his muscles beginning to loosen under the heat from her hands combined with the warming effect of the liniment.

“Is that all right? I’m nae hurtin’ ye, am I?” she asked with concern.

“Nay, nae at all,” he mumbled, closing his eyes, reveling in the sensual feel of her hands moving rhythmically over his skin in slow, repetitive circles. Then her hands traveled gradually up his spine, making his skin tingle.

“Och,” he murmured, “’tis wonderful.”

“Grand, considerin’ I’ve never done this before.”

“I’d never have guessed.”

“Are ye bein’ sarcastic?”

“Nae at all. It feels… very soothin’. Dinnae stop.”

“All right.” She sounded pleased. She had reached his shoulders now, moving her hands across them in a slow, regular rhythm, her small fingers seeking out the knots and kneading them away. It was exquisite, and it was the most sensual experience of his life.

“Ye have quite a lot of scars,” she observed, working her way slowly down his back again.”

“Mmm. It comes with the job.”

“What is yer job exactly?”

“I’m the war captain fer Laird Odhrán Lennox.”

“Is that far away?”

“North. A couple of day’s ride.”

“So, why are ye here workin’ fer Laird Stewart?” Her hands were kneading his waist now, gliding easily across the long muscles there, round and round, back and forth, sending him into a sort of trance.

He briefly explained that Odhràn had loaned him to Knox for a while to help train the Stewart army to combat her brother’s threat.

“This laird of yers sounds like a generous man.”

“He is. Apart from Tadgh, he’s me best friend.”

“And are ye and Tadhg close?” She was back at the small of his back now, applying more liniment to her hands and rubbing him soothingly. He felt himself starting to get aroused.

“Mmm, very close. We practically raised ourselves after we lost our parents.”

“Oh, ye lost yer parents too? How did it happen?”

“They were murdered.” The hands stopped suddenly.

“Murdered? Like mine?”

“Aye. Some thieves broke intae the house one night and killed them. Me and Tadhg were hidin’ under the bed. We saw everythin’. Dinnae stop, Ivy.”

“Sorry.” She began again, smoothing his flesh with her hot little hands. “That’s terrible, Liam.”

“Aye. Ye ken yersel’ from what happened with yer own parents, ’tis somethin’ that changes ye forever, and it never leaves ye.”

“Aye, it never leaves ye,” she agreed, adding sadly, “’Tis a cruel world at times. But ye and Tadgh have done a good job of raisin’ yersel’s, as ye’ve turned out all right.”

He laughed, and for the first time in weeks, there was no answering pain in

the small of his back.

“So, we have somethin’ in common,” she murmured.

“Aye, it seems so. What about yer braither, Ivy? Tell me, why are ye really

afraid tae go back tae him.”

“I’ve told ye that already.”

“Tell me again.”

She paused for a few moments, clearly thinking. Her hands swooped up his spine, worked on his shoulders some more, then moved slowly down again.

When she finally spoke, it was in a musing sort of voice, as though she was groping for truths she had not spoken before. “I wish I had a braither like Tadhg. Carson? I think there’s somethin’ wrong with him. But I’ve lived with him all me life. I remember little of our parents because I was ten when they were killed and much time has passed. So, he’s the one whose always been in charge.

“I knew from a young age that he hated me. He’d always find any excuse tae bully me, hit me, pinch me, punch me, pull me hair, anythin’ tae make me cry. Then he’d mock me fer that as well. Even when I was small, he’d come intae me room and break me dolls and laugh when I cried. Anything he found out I loved, he’d destroy. He got pleasure from it. The cook gave me a pet rabbit once, but Carson found out about it and killed it. After that, I never had another pet.”

As he listened, Liam’s arousal faded, to be replaced by anger. “What a bastard, tae dae that tae his own wee sister,” he growled.

“There have been many times when he’s said he wished I was dead, that the only use he has for me is tae marry Gael and bring him more power. That’s why I ran in the first place.”

“If ye go back, Ivy, d’ye think he’ll hurt ye?”

She gave a hollow, bitter laugh. “What d’ye think?”