Free Highland Resurrection (Blades of Honor Book 2) by B.J. Scott

would do her well. Aside from a bit of dried venison, it has been a long time since we tasted anything but oatcakes and turnip.” He rubbed his belly.
    “We might have caught something in the snares. But we willna know unless we check,” Lazarus said. “Besides, I thought you wanted to surprise your sister with the sweetened nuts you purchased.” He hoped by changing the topic the lad would stop badgering him about fishing and not resume their conversation about the guard. “Perhaps you should try one and make sure they are as good as the vendor promised.”
    Quinn needed very little coaxing. He reached into the sack, a broad grin tugging at his lips. “Maybe just one,” he said, then plucked out a nut and popped it into his mouth. He closed his eyes and chewed.
    “Well?” Lazarus inquired.
    “This is the best thing I have ever tasted. Even better than I remember. Would you like one?” Quinn offered.
    “Nay. Save them for Sheena,” Lazarus said, smiling. “Speaking of which, we best get home. She will be wondering what happened to us.”
    Quinn nodded and carefully tucked the sack into his belt before sprinting down the path toward the hut.
    Lazarus wished he had half the lad’s energy and enthusiasm. He trudged behind Quinn. Figuring out a way to remain hidden while caring for Sheena weighed heavy on his mind.
    Frustrated, Sheena stared at the roof of her hut. It wasn’t like her to spend the day abed, let alone nearly a sennight. Surely if she sat up for a bit it couldn’t hurt. The sooner she proved to Lazarus she could fend for herself, the sooner he’d go back to the abbey.
    She braced her forearm against her injured ribs, sucked in a fortifying breath, then rolled to her side. So far so good, she thought as she completed the task with less pain than she’d anticipate.
    A wave of dizziness washed over her, but quickly subsided. As her vision cleared, she glanced around her hut. Everything was tidy and in its place. A pot of broth simmered over the fire. Lazarus had seen to it along with making countless other repairs while caring for her.
    In addition to repairing the hearth so it actually cast heat, he’d patched several holes in the roof, repaired a broken chair, cooked, cleaned, and raised her pallet off the ground so she’d be more comfortable. She had to admit that having a man around had not been so bad. Quinn adored Lazarus, hanging on to his every word. But she feared her brother was getting too attached and was in for great disappointment when the monk left.
    Sheena moved to the edge of the pallet, then using her elbow, she pushed herself into a sitting position. Again she waited for the dizziness to pass before dangling her legs over the side, then attempting to stand. An act she quickly regretted. When she took her first step, pain gripped her ankle and lanced up her shin. Before she could sit back down, her leg buckled and she found herself crashing to the floor, jarring her entire body.
    “What in the name of St. Stephen are you doing?” Lazarus entered the croft, then dropped his purchases on the table, before rushing to Sheena’s side.
    “I was tired of laying abed and wished to get up for a bit.”
    “As you can see, that was a mistake. You’re not strong enough to get up on your own,” Lazarus scolded. “You’re lucky we came home when we did. Otherwise you could have lain here for hours.”
    “I would have been fine, but my ankle gave way when I tried to walk.” Sheena pointed at her right leg.
    Lazarus knelt beside her, then carefully lifted her foot and examined it. “Your ankle is a bit swollen and the skin discolored, but the bones look to be in the right position.” He rocked back on his heels. “I dinna think it’s broken. Why is it you never mentioned your ankle was bothering you?”
    “I dinna realize it was injured until I stood up,” she replied. “I vaguely remember stumbling when I ran from my attackers. But I was too frightened of being caught and what