Page 14 of The Highlander’s Enchanted Healer (Spellbound Hearts #2)

Suddenly, someone pressed against my back, startling me.

As I glanced up, I realized Thor had risen but paused behind me to bend down and grab a pouch he had dropped.

The contact of his body to mine was an opportunity, and I eagerly took it.

Here, mayhap, I would find dark deeds and cruelty, or clues as to how to defeat these people.

I could not soften or be tricked by good behavior.

Surely, that’s what this was! I refused to believe otherwise.

Thor’s thoughts rushed into my head, crystal clear amid the din of the hall.

We need to double the men for the attack. The eastern side of Gordon lands will be well defended. We need to strike in exactly one sennight as planned. I have to persuade Ross to let me lead the attack. If he should fall, Allan is nae ready to be laird. But Ross is stubborn. He’ll nae agree.

Thor moved away before I could hear any more thoughts, but I’d gotten enough.

A grim satisfaction flowed through me. I would send a missive to Laird Leslie immediately, who would ride it straight to Ramsey.

It had been agreed, and given that my family was supposedly part of the Leslie clan, no suspicions should be raised.

Laird Leslie was indeed a true friend to my stepbrother to aid us so.

My tongue began to tingle alarmingly, and I recognized the sensation immediately as exactly the same one I’d had previously before blurting my thoughts.

Panicked, I reached for my wine goblet, draining it in one desperate gulp.

A serving lad refilled it immediately, and I drank that, too, and then another.

The tingling subsided, but the room began to sway slightly. I blinked, trying to focus on Ross, who was watching me with a concerned expression.

“Ye’ve had more wine than food.”

My thoughts bumped into each other, and I found them hard to hold. One came to me, though. “Is the table tilting?” I asked, squinting at him.

Allan laughed. “I believe the lass has been hit hard by the Campbell wine.”

“Aye,” Laird Campbell said, his tone grim and his expression a mixture of wariness, irritation, and concern.

I tried to stand, needing air, but my legs seemed disconnected from my body.

The floor tilted, and then strong arms caught me before I hit the rushes.

Through a haze, I heard Laird Campbell issuing commands.

His voice was a deep rumble around me. Then I was lifted like a feather and pressed into a hard, unrelenting, very warm chest. I sighed, to my horror feeling like snuggling into him.

I squirmed to be released, but my blasted limbs were very heavy and uncooperative.

“I can walk,” I protested, wincing at my slurring words. I pursed my lips to test them. They were numb, as was my tongue. That was very likely for the best. If my tongue didn’t work, I couldn’t blurt any of my secrets.

“It did nae seem to go so well for ye when ye tried,” Laird Campbell replied, carrying me from the dais.

Behind us, Allan’s chuckle reached me. I took in the gaping faces, and I noted, with effort, that the hall seemed hushed.

I should have been mortified or fighting to get away from him.

Instead, I found myself resting my heavy head against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart as he carried me out of the great hall.

In the corridor, the shadows and flickering torches invited me to close my eyes, and I did so gladly.

I had not lied earlier. I was bone weary from travel and my ruse.

When something creaked, I struggled to open my eyelids, which felt stuck to my eyeballs. The room around me was warm, lit by firelight and moonlight, which filtered in from a window, and smelled of fresh rushes. “Where are we?” I slurred.

“Yer chamber,” Laird Campbell answered as he lay me on my bed with surprising gentleness. Somewhere in my head, I thought to possibly be concerned, but the thought was a struggle to hold on to. I watched him with heavy lids as he removed my shoes and then drew a coverlet over me.

A grin pulled at my lips. “I suppose this means I’m safe from ye’re wanting to ravish me.”

Surprise moved across his strong features, and then he nodded. “Ye’re verra safe with me. I made a vow—”

I waved an impatient hand at him. “I ken. Yer blabbering brother told me.” I registered in my haze that my lips were looser than they should be, so I rolled onto my side and pressed my mouth into my arm, which I lay my head on.

And then I very strangely imagined that I saw tenderness in Laird Campbell’s expression.

Before I could sort out my messy thoughts, he said, “Rest.” The word was gentle and made that odd tightening of earlier come back, but it was lower in the pit of my belly. “The wine will wear off by morning.”

I rolled my head away from my face. “Why are ye being so kind?” I murmured, fighting to keep my eyes open. “Ye’re supposed to be a monster.”

Something flashed across his face—surprise, perhaps, or pain—but my vision was too blurred to be certain. “Why are ye here if ye’ve heard I’m a monster?”

I lost the fight to keep my eyes open, and as they closed, I said, “I’m nae afraid of monsters.”

“Then ye’re either verra braw or verra foolish.”

As darkness claimed me, my last coherent thought was that Laird Campbell’s protective presence felt unexpectedly comforting, and I was too far gone to properly hate myself for it.