Page 93 of A Touch So Wicked

“Nay. The bastard is canny as a fox. We found his stronghold, for all the good it did us. It was abandoned but for women and children. The men are tired and hungry. We’ll continue the search after we’ve eaten and rested, if that meets with your approval.” His gaze settled on the bandage Damian wore. “Are you all right, Damian?”

“I’m fine, Dickon. Get some rest, then we’ll decide our next step.”

Damian remained thoughtful after Dickon left. When he finally spoke, his voice was tense. “Are you sure Gordon doesn’t know about the secret tunnel? Or where it exits in the forest?”

“He doesna know,” Elissa persisted. “’Tis a family secret.”

Damian nodded. “I just wanted to be sure.”

Their attention was again drawn to the door. This time it was Nan, asking for admittance. When permission was given, she bustled into the chamber with her medicine chest tucked under her arm. “I’ll have a look at yer wound, me lord,” she said.

“’Tis fine, Nan.”

Elissa slipped out of bed, pulling the top sheet with her. Nan took a stance beside the bed, waiting impatiently for him to turn around. It was obvious she wasn’t going to leave until she’d had her way.

“You win, Nan,” Damian grumbled, rolling over on his stomach.

Nan plucked the bandage away and clucked her tongue. “There’s fresh blood on the bandage, but the stitches are still intact.”

Damian glanced over his shoulder at Elissa and noticed that she had dressed and was preparing to leave the chamber. “Where are you going?”

“To fetch our breakfast.” She opened the door and slipped away.

“Now that we’re alone, me lord,” Nan said in a hushed voice, “there is something I need to say to ye.”

Damian sighed in resignation. “What is it, Nan? Have your voices spoken to you again?”

“Mock me if ye will, me lord, but listen well. Trouble is brewing and I donna like where ’tis heading.”

Damian regarded Nan curiously, with a touch of apprehension. He knew better than to ignore the old crone. Her uncanny predictions often made sense. “What kind of trouble? Is this about Gordon?”

“Aye. Tavis Gordon is part of it, but ’tis more than that.” She tied off the clean bandage and placed a hand on his head. “Yer fever is gone. My brew did its work but ’tis best ye stay in bed today.”

Damian rolled over and sat up, wincing at the twinge of pain that shot through him. “Explain yourself, Nan, and start at the beginning.”

“My ‘voices’ whisper of an enemy who speaks ill of ye.” Her voice trembled. “I dinna want to believe it but they tell me Elissa will leave Misterly verra soon.”

“Nonsense,” Damian scoffed. “Elissa has no reason to leave me. She’s my wife now.”

“I dinna say the lass would leave willingly. All I know is that ye will soon be parted.”

“Nan!” Elissa said, rushing into the chamber with a tray balanced in her hands. “I heard what you told Damian. Donna plague him with your absurd predictions. ’Tis ridiculous to assume that Damian and I willna always be together.”

She set the tray on the table and held the door open for Nan, inviting her to leave. Nan snatched up her medicine chest and scooted past Elissa. “Ye always were a stubborn lass,” she tossed over her shoulder.

“Believe naught Nan said,” Elissa advised as she removed dishes from the tray and arranged them on the table.

“Are you sure we should ignore her?” Damian asked.

“Donna give her another thought. Those ‘voices’ she keeps hearing come from her imagination. Come and eat before the food gets cold.”

Damian rose naked from the bed and pulled a bench over to the table. “You must admit her predictions aren’t always wrong. She has an uncanny ability to predict things that makes my blood run cold.”

“’Tis babbling, nothing more,” Elissa dismissed as she spooned eggs and ham onto his plate. “Try a bannock. Winifred just took them from the oven.”

Damian attacked the food hungrily; Elissa ate more daintily but with the same good appetite.

“You should go back to bed, Damian,” Elissa suggested after they finished eating.