Page 13 of Trapped By the Exiled Bastard

Keir stiffened. “What? Nay. Graeme is the charmin’ one. Or Noah—perhaps she’d like a gentler man after bein’ used as she has by Grant.”

“I didnae ask Noah or Graeme. I asked ye,” Theon said steadily. “Ye ken her best. Ye’ve traveled with her. And part of her trusts ye.”

“She hates me,” Keir protested.

“The two arenae mutually exclusive,” Theon replied.

Elin’s words echoed in Keir’s head. Did yer brother order ye? He scowled, but he couldn’t argue that Theon had a point. “Fine,” he muttered. “But I’m doin’ it me own way.”

Theon snorted. “Ye always do.”

Morning dawned a couple days later and found Elin and Keir in the forest. She had tied the robe tight around her and had borrowed a pair of walking boots that more-or-less fit her, but nonetheless Keir had been sure that she would slow him down. After all, what would a delicate and clearly vain woman like her know of collecting the correct herbs they needed for food, potions, and poisons? Keir himself still struggled with it on occasion.

“Wait!” Elin exclaimed. “Why are ye just walkin’ past?”

He stopped, turning to her. “What?”

She was crouching down examining some small yellow spiked flowers, excitement in her eyes. “Look. I can’t believe we nearly missed these?”

Keir struggled not to roll his eyes. “They’re dandelions. We’ve got plenty of those already. I ken they’re edible, but we dinnae want tae fill our bags with—”

“They arenae dandelions,” Elin interrupted. “Look.”

With a new curiosity, Keir approached. He crouched down next to her and Elin delicately lifted the angular leaves to show a white underside. On closer inspection, though the yellow florets did look like dandelions at first glance, they weren’t identical, and they grew in a large cluster rather than spotted around. “What are they, then?”

“It’s called coltsfoot. The shape of the leaves, see?” Elin explained. “We should gather some and bring them to a herbalist. It’s used in a lot of potent medicine, and we could use it or even get decent coin for it.”

Keir raised an eyebrow, but nodded, and the two of them set about filling the bag with several of the flowers. As they moved through the forest, Elin stopped them several times, each time pointing out a plant that Keir had either missed or never even heard of—the pignut tubers, woodaven leaves, and meadowsweet were soon added to their gathered bilberries, dandelions, and others. He watched her the whole time, knowing he should be focusing elsewhere but unable to look away from the excitement in her eyes or the brightness of her smile, enchanted by her sudden confidence and the knowledge she was sharing.

By the time they turned around and started heading back to camp, Keir could not even attempt to hide how impressed he was. She’d known not only what to gather, but what to leave alone, scolding him when he’d tried to gather particular leaves. She was telling him all about the many uses for bog myrtle when he finally had to ask.

“Where in the world did ye learn such things? Ye sound like half a naturalist,” he said, not bothering to disguise his curiosity.

But Elin didn’t respond as he’d expected to the implied praise. Her breath caught and her mouth closed tight for a second before she said, “The real question is how ye dinnae ken such things. Have ye and yer brothers nae been livin’ this way for a decade?”

“Ye didnae answer—” Keir started but was cut off as Elin cried out and fell forward.

He caught her and got her back to her feet, but they both heard the sharp tear. Horrified, Elin pulled away from him and turned to examine the skirt of her robe. It had caught on a branch and was torn, and when she lifted the cloth, so was the underskirt she had put back on the night before.

“Nay!” she exclaimed. “This is awful!”

“It’s hardly awful. It’s just a tear. Briana willnae mind about the robe, never fear,” Keir told her. “Come on, let’s get back.”

But Elin looked close to tears. She stamped her foot in impotent anger. “My underskirt is ruined! Never mind the robe, that’s easily fixed, but what about that? How am I ever gonnae wear it again?”

Keir could not believe she was making such a fuss. Had Eamon really spoiled her this much that her clothes were so important? “Naebody is gonnae see the tear once ye’re wearin’ it under a dress again.”

But she shook her head, exasperation written all over her. “It willnae look the same. People will ken. It’s ruined, and I’ll look ridiculous.”

Keir’s jaw tightened. “Ye’re actin’ ridiculous.”

Because it was true. No matter the image he had of her in the forest, and no matter how hard he tried, her vanity clearly still overcame all else. There was no point in arguing. It was truly astounding. He turned and stomped away, and after a moment he heard her follow.

“It’s the only one I have left,” she muttered under her breath.

Keir paused. “What?”

Elin caught up to him. “I didnae say anythin’,” she replied. Her eyes were dry now, her own expression set and cold. “Let’s go.”