"Aye, by rights they should ha'e been yer opponents," Alick put in now. "And yet the bunch o' ye ended up being friends and even with the bride herself." He shook his head. "It seems so unlikely."
"I did no' see them as opponents," Murine said quietly and the sound of her voice drew Dougall's gaze back to her. It was the first time she'd responded with more than a one-word answer to his brothers' efforts to draw her out. Murine had been oddly quiet during the past two hours since they'd broken camp. A fact that his brothers had obviously noted and had been trying to rectify with constant questions and comments. It seemed they were finally making some headway.
"How could ye no' see them as opponents?" Alick asked with exaggerated dismay. "Ye were all vying for the same man's attention."
"There was no vying," she said dryly. "He was already married when he arrived."
"Aye. It must ha'e been a shock and disappointment to all ye lasses when the Sinclair arrived with a bride in tow," Geordie commented.
"It was a surprise, aye, but no' so much a disappointment," Murine assured them. "When I saw all the lasses there I did no' expect he'd choose me anyway."
Dougall frowned and glanced sharply toward Murine at that comment. The woman obviously undervalued herself if she thought that was true. Any man with eyes in his head would have been drawn to her, but it was Alick who gave an outraged squawk and said, "What nonsense! Had he no' already married Lady Joan, 'tis sure I am he would ha'e married ye. In fact, he no doubt regretted marrying the English wench once he met ye."
Murine smiled crookedly at the claim and pointed out, "Yer sister was one o' the women there."
"Oh. Aye." Alick frowned, probably worrying Saidh might catch wind of his comments, Dougall thought with amusement. Still, his younger brother straightened in the saddle and risked Saidh's wrath by saying, "But I'd pick ye o'er Saidh any day."
"O' course ye would, she's yer sister," Murine pointed out dryly. "However, ye did no' see the other women there with us. There were much prettier lasses than me there." Before any of the men could protest, she added, "Mind ye, not all o' them were as pretty in personality as they were in looks."
"Like the one who tried to kill Saidh and Lady Joan?" Geordie suggested dryly. "From what Saidh said, she was a terrible bitch."
"I do no' care for that term. However in this case I'd ha'e to agree. She was a terrible bitch," Murine said primly and Dougall's brothers chuckled.
"I can understand ye and Saidh becoming friends, but it does seem a stretch that ye both befriended Sinclair's bride too," Conran commented when the laughter died away.
"Ye forgot Edith. She is a good friend now too," Murine pointed out and then continued, "As for Jo . . ." She hesitated and then shrugged helplessly. "We could no' help it. Jo is lovely and smart and charming and so very generous. Why, do ye ken, her uncle gave her scads of cloth as a wedding gift and she let all of us choose material for our own gowns from it. And that despite kenning we had all come there in the hopes of winning her husband." Murine shook her head, apparently marveling over that herself, and then stilled and raised a hand to the wound at her temple as if the action had caused it to throb.
"Is yer head troubling ye again, lass?" Conran asked before Dougall could.
"Nay, I'm fine," Murine said with a forced smile, allowing her hand to drop away from her head.
The woman couldn't lie worth beans, Dougall decided. It seemed obvious that the tincture Alick had given her was wearing off. In fact, he suspected it had probably done so hours ago. That might explain her odd silence during the first part of the ride, he thought.
Frowning with concern now, Dougall glanced along the trail ahead, briefly taking note of where they were and what was along the path between here and Buchanan. They'd left so late that he'd planned for them to eat their sup in the saddle as they rode, but he wouldn't have Murine in pain. If they stopped to eat the evening meal, Alick could mix up some more of that tincture Rory had given him and then they could continue on their way after Murine had downed it and gained some relief.
"There's a pretty meadow o' wildflowers ahead," Conran announced and when Dougall glanced to him in question, he added, "If ye're looking fer a place to stop to eat, I mean. There's a nice brook beside the meadow fer the horses to drink from too."
Dougall nodded, but then narrowed his eyes when he noted the knowing grin that claimed his brother's face. Before Dougall could ponder it too deeply, Murine turned sharply so that she could glance between him and Conran.
"Stop?" she asked with alarm. "Nay! Ye said 'twould be quite late ere we reached Buchanan as it is. Stopping would just delay us further."
"Aye, but yer head is paining ye," he said gruffly. "Ye need another o' Alick's tinctures."
Murine looked briefly torn, but then shook her head, wincing even as she did. The small move obviously pained her, but her expression remained firm as she said, "Nay. I'll be fine. I can have more tincture when we reach Buchanan. I'll survive until then."
Before Dougall could respond, Alick urged his mount closer and said, "There's no need to wait. I feared ye'd need more so when Dougall told us we were heading out after all I made a full batch o' me tincture just in case. Here ye are."
"Thank ye, Alick," Murine murmured, smiling her relief. It was the first smile she'd worn since the waterfall, and it was aimed firmly at his younger brother, Dougall noted with displeasure as he watched Murine reach for the skin of tincture. She nearly tipped herself out of Conran's lap with the action, but Conran caught her by the waist to save her from the tumble. While Dougall appreciated it, he couldn't help the way his whole body tensed in reaction. Nor could he help feeling that he wanted to punch his brother, hard. He did not like to see another man's hands on the woman. Even his brother's.
And wasn't that a damned telling reaction? Dougall grimaced as that thought slid through his mind. He didn't need any proof that he cared for the woman and was jealous of any attention his brothers gave her. He'd already decided to marry the wench. There was not much more proof that could be as convincing as that, surely?
Shaking his head at himself, Dougall watched Murine settle back in Conran's arms with the skin of tincture Alick had given her. She was quick about opening and lifting it to her lips, and then she eagerly gulped it down. That more than anything told him just how much her head was paining her. It also made him glance to Alick and ask with concern, "Should she take so much o' it in one sitting?"
"Oh, 'tis fine," Alick assured him cheerfully. "There is nothing in there that can harm her. Well, except for the whiskey mayhap. She wouldn't want to down it all in one sitting, but if she sips it throughout the ride she should be fine." When Dougall raised one dubious eyebrow, he shrugged and added, "Well, plum fou, but fine otherwise."
Shaking his head, Dougall glanced back to Murine, relieved when she lowered the skin with a little sigh of disappointment. He suspected she'd hoped the tincture would take immediate effect. Conran must have thought the same thing, because he reminded her gently, "It took near on to half an hour to begin to ease the pain when Alick gave it to ye earlier."
"Aye," Murine agreed on a sigh. Lips twisting wryly, she then admitted, "But I was hoping if I took twice as much, it might work twice as fast."
That surprised a small laugh from Conran, but he shook his head at that reasoning. "I do no' think it works that way."
"Nay," she agreed, sounding sad.
Smiling sympathetically, he suggested, "Why do ye no' settle yerself against me and rest fer a bit?"
Murine peered at him uncertainly for a moment, appearing tempted by the offer, but then she merely shook her head and tipped the skin to her lips again.
Dougall's mouth tightened at the exchange, but he remained silent and simply watched Murine as she continued to gulp down the liquid. She was a determined little thing. He knew from experience that Rory's tinctures were the vilest tasting creations possible, and judging by her expression this was no exception. But she kept at it, apparently determined
to take in as much of the tincture as she could stomach.
Recalling how soused she'd been earlier and how it had loosened her inhibitions by the waterfall then, Dougall found himself grateful that she wasn't riding with him. At least that's what he told himself, but he couldn't help noticing that the more she drank, the more she seemed to slump against Conran. And the more she did that, the harder Dougall's teeth ground together. It wasn't that Dougall didn't trust Conran with Murine, but he still didn't like Murine being that close to him.
His thoughts broke off when Murine gasped as she nearly dropped the skin. Conran caught it for her, but when she slurred a "thank ye" and reached to take it, Dougall leaned over and plucked it from his brother's hand.
"Hey," Murine protested.
"Ye've had enough," Dougall said grimly as he recapped the skin. He then tossed it back to Alick before returning his gaze to her, his eyebrows rising when he saw that rather than glare at him with annoyance for his high-handed actions, she'd slumped against Conran and was already drifting off to sleep.
Dougall eyed her with a frown, then glanced to Alick. "What the devil is in that tincture?"
"Some burdock, coriander and coltsfoot to stave off fever, chamomile for headache, valerian, yarrow and some simpler's joy for pain." He shrugged. "Rory mentioned a couple other things I can't recall."
"And the whiskey?" Dougall suggested.