of a bitch," Sorely said as they watched Lachlan go up the steps to the keep.
"Aye, but he is an impressive warrior," Connor said, "and I'm badly in need of those."
* * *
While everyone else in the household was in the courtyard watching the fight, Ilysa frantically looked through her trunk for the bag of herbs Tearlag had given her. When she found the bag, she hid it in her medicine basket and raced to Connor's bedchamber. As she hoped, the door was unguarded and the room empty.
She was relieved that the peat in the brazier still glowed hot and dropped to her knees before it. Here in Connor's chamber, she hoped she could bring on The Sight and discover if Lachlan of Lealt was a danger to him. To calm herself and clear her mind, she closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. Then she scattered the herbs that were supposed to enhance visions over the brazier.
A spray of sparks shot up from the fire followed by a pungent puff of smoke. As Ilysa leaned forward and breathed deeply, she felt as if the room were tilting. She tried to focus her thoughts on Connor and Lachlan. Instead she saw two women cooing over a babe. It should have been a comforting scene, but she felt a heavy sadness surround the women.
Then she sensed danger and a man's presence lurking just outside her vision.
When it was gone, Ilysa sat back on her heels. What on earth did it mean? And who was the man, Lachlan or Connor?
Chapter 9
Connor would not permit himself to limp in front of the men. He gritted his teeth and concentrated on keeping his stride even as another shooting pain ripped down his leg. Once he passed through the doorway into the adjoining building, he paused to take a deep breath before climbing the stairs.
Damn the arrow that struck his leg, and damn the man who shot it.
He was sweating by the time he reached the top and pushed the door open.
"Ilysa?" What in the hell was she doing kneeling on his floor? Why was she in his bedchamber at all?
Her brown eyes were huge as she looked up at him from the floor. Surprise gave way to what looked suspiciously like guilt, though Connor could not imagine what sweet Ilysa had to feel guilty about.
"I was just...," she murmured as she started to rise.
Connor lunged to help her and winced as hot needles of pain jabbed into his thigh.
"I warned ye that ye should let me take care of that wound in your leg," Ilysa scolded him. "Now you're going to set aside your pride, Connor MacDonald, and let me."
It was not pride that had kept Connor from sending for her, but the memory of her hands on his bare skin. As it was, he thought of that every time he saw her. He'd even had dreams of sweet, innocent Ilysa's featherlike fingers running over every inch of his body until he was groaning with need and - good God - begging her to take him in her mouth. It made him damned uncomfortable to be around her.
Because of his lascivious imagination, he had let the wound fester too long. Now he let her take his arm and pull him toward the bed.
"What's that smell?" he asked, sniffing. It was vaguely familiar, but he could not place it.
"I thought you'd like it."
"Good God, is that what ye were doing in my chamber?" he said as he hobbled over to the bed. "Making it smell sweet?" First lilies, now this.
"I was waiting here for ye so I could tend to your leg." She held up her basket. "See, I brought my medicines."
Ilysa was not a practiced liar. It struck him as odd that she would make up a story, but perhaps she was embarrassed about smelling up his chamber with that odd scent.
"I'll heat some water and mix up the poultice while ye make yourself ready," she said, by which she meant that he should take off his trews.
The blood had soaked through them and onto his shirt, so he took that off as well. He stretched out on the bed and pulled the bedclothes across his hips to cover his manly parts.
Ilysa kept her gaze on the basin of steaming water she carried as she walked toward him with a cloth over her shoulder. After setting her things on the stool next to the bed, she turned toward him and sucked in her breath.