Bride of Ice (The Warrior Daughters of Rivenloch #2) - Glynnis Campbell Page 0,46
roast himself. Then he offered the platter to Colban.
The siblings all waited with bated breath as he took a bite. The beef was savory and succulent, fattier than the meat of the wild cattle grazed on Highland grasses. He nodded his approval.
“That’s a meal for a champion,” Gellir boasted.
In truth, it was more like a dozen meals for a champion. He hoped the lad didn’t expect him to finish off the roast.
“Ye’ve been very kind,” Colban said with gentle diplomacy, adding a wee lie. “In truth, I feared your sister might wish to starve me for my foolishness this morn.”
As predicted, all three rushed to her defense.
“Hallie wouldn’t do that!” Isabel assured him.
“I wouldn’t let her,” Brand said.
“Our sister can be firm,” Gellir said, “but she’s not cruel.”
It appeared her siblings were as loyal to her as she was to them. Still, they’d gone behind her back to bring him food.
“There’s far too much here for me to eat alone,” he said. “I hope ye’ll join me and indulge yourselves. Gellir, can ye carve up the rest o’ this roast while Brand gives everyone a tart?”
They seated themselves on the edge of the bed, filling their bellies. Before long, their chins were shiny with beef fat and their fingers were sticky with fruit.
“What’s going on?” came a wee voice from the open doorway.
Ian had entered so quietly, no one had noticed. In one hand was his ubiquitous notebook. In the other was a long wooden staff.
“Come on in, Ian,” Brand called out. “Shut the door.”
“Wait,” Gellir scowled. “Did you come here alone?”
“Aye.” Ian closed the door. “But I didn’t bring food. No one told me to bring food. Were we supposed to?”
“What did you bring?” Gellir nodded toward the wooden staff.
Ian hurried forward. “A crutch. ’Tis oak. It should be strong enough to support your weight,” he told Colban. “About half a sack, aye?”
Colban had no idea how much he weighed.
Ian handed him the wooden crutch. “Here. Try it. The length is three-quarters of your total height, which I estimate is seventy-four inches. So I set the crossbar at fifty-five and a half inches.”
“Ye made this?”
“Aye.”
Colban couldn’t imagine how the lad could have garnered so much information about him, things he didn’t even know himself. Nor how he could have fashioned the crutch so quickly. But his siblings seemed unimpressed. They must be used to Ian’s genius.
“I haven’t used a crutch before,” Colban said.
“Here,” Ian offered, setting his notebook on the table. “I’ll show you.”
He helped Colban to rise.
“Tuck it here, on the opposite side of the injured limb,” he instructed, slipping the crutch under Colban’s arm. It fit perfectly. “When you walk, instead of stepping on your foot, let the crutch take the weight.”
“Like this?” He took a stumbling step forward.
Ian caught his forearm so he wouldn’t fall. “Aye, that’s it.”
With Ian by his side, he made slow progress. When he reached the window, Isabel cheered as if he’d completed a pilgrimage.
“Now you try it alone,” Ian encouraged.
Colban limped back with the aid of the crutch, faltering only once and leaning on the table for balance. Ian rushed forward to help, but Colban warned him away with a quick, “I can do it.” He took two more steps, then collapsed back into his chair.
Brand and Isabel clapped in congratulations.
Colban grinned. “’Tis amazin’,” he told Ian. “This will be o’ great aid. Thank ye, Ian.”
The lad glowed with pride.
“I’ll need more practice,” Colban said. “In the meantime, who’s hungry?”
A few moments later, Ian was squeezing in between Brand and Isabel, consuming an apple tart. It seemed food was an effective way to silence the lad’s ongoing commentary. For a long while, the only sounds in the room were chewing and slurping while Colban practiced limping past the hearth on the crutch.
He wondered how long it would be before he wouldn’t require the thing. Before he’d be back in fighting form. Before he’d be well enough to escape to warn Morgan, should the need arise.
He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Glancing up at the four siblings seated in a row on the bed as they licked their fingers and smacked their lips, he couldn’t help but smile. They might be on the verge of adulthood, but in some ways they were still as innocent, honest, and trusting as children.
Getting to know them was a double-edged sword, because he was growing to like them. Betraying them would break his heart.