A Knight's Temptation (Falling For A Knight Book 2)

by Lana Williams

  Monroe soon returned with the blanket, and Alec with several rushlights. Braden spread the blanket beside Ilisa. Luckily, she remained unconscious. ’Twas for the best. Any movement would cause her great pain let alone being moved all the way to the outer bailey. If they could reach the tent before she woke, he’d be pleased.

  Yet as he stared at her pale face, he wished more than anything that she’d open her eyes. Unthinking, he bent low and gently kissed her cheek. “Hold on.”

  Matthew returned with four other men. Braden directed them to help shift her to the blanket, holding her head and shoulders himself. Hopefully, the blanket would allow her to sway as they moved rather than be jolted with each step.

  Alec held one of the lights, handing the others to two men to hold then hurried ahead to open the keep door.

  “Lift,” Braden ordered, pleased when the men did so in unison and with care.

  One looked up the stairs then back at Ilisa, shaking his head. His doubtful expression as he stared at her made Braden’s own misgivings return.

  If she’d fallen as far as Braden feared...

  The thought didn’t bear consideration. He shifted his focus on what needed to be done next.

  The keep steps were difficult, and the uneven ground of the inner bailey wasn’t much better. They passed through its gate to the outer bailey, Alec leading the way to the tent. They gently set her on the bed inside.

  Braden wanted to yell at everyone to go, his impatience growing by the moment as he feared time was running out.

  “Can I help in any way?” Matthew asked, his expression full of concern.

  “I’d be pleased to send for the village healer,” Monroe offered, he and Matthew lingering behind the others who filed out of the tent.

  Braden nodded. “If she could come on the morrow.” He couldn’t say more than that. Not when worry clutched his chest so tightly, shortening his breath. Both he and Ilisa might be in need of aid come morn. For now, he wanted to see how much he could help her.

  “You’re certain you don’t want her assistance now?” Monroe’s question and his doubtful tone implied that by then ’twould be too late.

  “Nay.” Braden didn’t offer an explanation, his gaze locked on Ilisa.

  “If there’s nothing more we can do...” Matthew’s concerned gaze switched between Braden and Ilisa.

  “I’ll send my squire if we have a need.” He nodded at Alec, who continued to hold one of the rushlights, his face pinched with worry. Now leave off. Rather than growl the words, Braden clenched his jaw.

  “Very well then.” Monroe backed away, his hands clasped tight before him.

  “Please know you’re in our thoughts and prayers.” Matthew placed a hand on Braden’s shoulder briefly then followed the steward out.

  Alec set the rushlight in a holder then moved to Braden’s side, his gaze locked on Ilisa. “How far do you think she fell?”

  “’Tis difficult to say.” And nothing he wanted to think about as he feared the worst. He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently smooth her hair.

  “Can you...aid her?” Alec looked at him, eyes wide with a mix of hope and fear.

  “I’m going to try.” Braden well knew the risk he took by doing so. If her injuries were too severe when he drew the pain from her into his own body, it might prove too much and take his own life. His mother had warned him time and again of the risks of healing anyone severely injured. He’d experienced them himself on one or two occasions and knew how much his energy drained if he did so. Though willing to do that, the idea of Ilisa waking only to find him dead next to her was unacceptable as well.

  Did he warn Alec of the risks in case neither he nor Ilisa survived? A glance at him told Braden to keep his thoughts to himself. Alec was so worried already, Braden wouldn’t add to his burden. He just had to make certain he took great care in healing her. If he could attempt it in small doses, one area at a time, mayhap they’d both survive. He didn’t know if he could do it as he hadn’t tried it before.

  Braden rose to put his hand on Alec’s shoulder. “Do you understand what I can do?” Between the lame horse and the bird, he was certain the boy had suspicions.

  Alec bit his lower lip for a long moment. “I believe you can help her.”

  “I’m going to try. Doing so will make me tired as it uses a great deal of my strength.”

  “Are you recovered enough to do so?” Alec put his hand over Braden’s. “Will it hurt you?”

  Again, Braden hesitated. Yet he didn’t want Alec to be frightened by what he witnessed. “Aye. It will hurt.”

  Alec’s gaze swung to his sister, as did Braden’s. “How can I aid you?”

  “Keep watch. Make certain no one disturbs us. I don’t think I need to explain why it would be best if no one witnessed what I do or how I do it.”

  “Hilda said you come from a family of witches but good ones.” Alec met Braden’s gaze, showing no fear at the idea.

  “Did she?” Braden gave a small smile. He should’ve known Hilda would guess the truth. She’d witnessed Garrick having a glimmer of second sight and knew what he was before they’d been introduced to the healer. Braden wondered what his mother would think about being called a good witch. Thoughts of her gave him strength. “Would you prefer to keep watch outside or inside near the entrance?”

  “I’ll watch from in here in case you have need of me.”

  Alec settled beside the tent flap, peeking out as though to make certain no one lingered nearby.

  Braden sat beside Ilisa, calming himself in preparation for what he needed to do. With gentle hands, he smoothed the hair from her forehead, holding his hands around the bump in search of the heat that told him of injuries. His instinct was to heal her head first. If that was unsuccessful, mending broken bones wouldn’t matter.

  But he continued running his hands along her body, noting the heat in her forearm, her hip and her leg, all on her left side. So much damage.

  When Garrick had nearly been killed in Berwick, neither Garrick nor Chanse had allowed Braden near. Drawing the pain and injuries into himself could cause too much harm. His body couldn’t handle it. Somehow, he needed to find the balance between aiding her and protecting himself.

  “Ilisa,” he whispered. “I wish this hadn’t happened. If I knew you were going to be in such danger, I never would’ve allowed you to enter the keep.” He tried to set aside his guilt. Negative emotions would only weigh him down. He knew without a doubt she hadn’t fallen. But now wasn’t the time for such a thought either. Revenge would come later.

  He closed his eyes, placing his hands firmly on the bump on her forehead. With a deep breath, he gathered his thoughts before pushing them to the injury. He held them there for a long moment then drew them back, his breath catching with the intensity of the pain that pierced his skull then flooded his body.

  Christ. The pain was unbelievable. It stole his vision and stopped all thought. He tried to breathe through it, waiting for it to ease but the intensity continued far longer than he’d expected. A groan escaped his lips, causing him to open his eyes in time to see Alec turn to stare.

  He had no strength left to worry about the boy’s reaction. Not when dealing with this much pain. He struggled to draw a deeper breath, and at last the hurt subsided to a dull ache, leaving exhaustion in its place. He looked at Ilisa but she hadn’t moved nor had she wakened.

  Unable to do more until he rested, he settled beside her, unwilling to leave her, and closed his eyes as darkness took him.

  ~*~

  Ilisa woke with a shuddering gasp, shifting only to realize she couldn’t move without a sharp pain stealing her breath. Her entire side throbbed, a piercing ache that made her long to avoid it.

  The whimper that escaped her lips surprised her. She glanced about, trying to understand what caused the pain. Where she was. What had happened.

  In the tent. That made no sense, but her mind was too riddled with pain to sort through the details.


  Images flickered through her mind much like a fluttering candle flame, sputtering with memories even as her mind tried to smother them. The tournament. Braden. Alec. Arabela. The sound of a shoe on the steps behind her.

  She swallowed hard, turning her head to find Braden beside her. His face was pale, and shadows marked his eyes. The stillness of his form alarmed her. Was he unwell too?

  As she turned her head, a faint pain touched her forehead. She placed a hand there, remembering the terrible hurt of striking her head. She’d thought she was dying with no one the wiser on the cold stone floor.

  Or had someone been there? She remembered the sensation of being roughly rolled over as if the person wanted to know if she lived. Whoever it was hadn’t taken care to be gentle.

  The questions were too much to consider when a throbbing agony gripped her. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t focus.

  She shifted her head once more to find Braden’s eyes open, watching her. He slowly lifted onto his elbow, his movements sluggish. “Ilisa. Thank goodness.”

  Tears filled her eyes from the terrible pain. She feared if she tried to speak, she’d only cry. She tried to shift, to find a position that would free her from the sharp pain.

  “Hold,” Braden whispered, touching her cheek. “You are badly hurt. Stay still and close your eyes.”

  She did as he bid, aware of him sitting up beside her.

  “Keep your eyes closed. Take slow breaths if you can.”

  She tried but had to clench her teeth at the pain wracking her body.

  His hands were warm on her leg just below her knee, so warm. The oddest sensation filled her—as if the pain were centered in one place then drawn out, sharpening in intensity as it was pulled from her leg as though by force.

  Then she knew nothing at all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Sir Hugh. Sir Hugh.” Alec’s whispered voice penetrated the thick fog that clouded Braden’s thoughts that morn. “The healer is here.”

  Braden blinked, trying to make sense of the boy’s words. His limbs felt heavy, his hand so much so that he could hardly lift it to rub his face. He frowned at Alec, hoping he’d explain of what he was speaking.

  “The healer has come to see if she can aid Lady Cairstine.”

  Braden sat up, his head spinning from the sudden movement, his thoughts muddled. His gaze moved to Ilisa, who slept beside him.

  Her face was still pale, the bruise along her hairline visible though only a small bump remained. That pleased him. Excellent improvement considering mere hours had passed since she’d fallen. He’d done his best to heal her other injuries during the night but didn’t know if he’d done them all. “Ask her to give us a moment or two then show her in.”

  Alec nodded, but he stared at his sister, his expression filled with a tangle of hope and fear. “Is she better?”

  “We’ll soon know.” He swallowed hard, praying it was so. Any other outcome was unthinkable.

  He hoped he’d healed Ilisa enough to speed her recovery for he didn’t think he could take much more. Deep exhaustion weighted him, settling into his very bones, refusing to leave.

  But he couldn’t leave the healer outside the tent for too long else the whole camp would be talking about it. “Tell the healer to enter, please.”

  “Aye, sir.” Alec turned and stepped out of the tent, his voice a faint murmur.

  Braden shifted to lean over Ilisa, running a finger along her cheek, wondering if she’d stir. While he knew sleep was best for her, he was desperate to know how she fared. The smooth rhythm of her breath was a good sign but didn’t tell him nearly enough. “Ilisa?” he whispered.

  Her lashes fluttered along with his heart.

  Her eyes opened, before at last settling on him—on something deep inside him that felt suspiciously like his soul.

  “Ilisa.” He drew the first breath since her fall that didn’t feel as if a band wrapped tight around his chest. Hell’s teeth, but she’d given him a terrible fright. The memory of her crumpled body on the stone floor sent a shiver through him. “How do you fare?”

  “You.” Her brow wrinkled, causing that band to snap back into place, stopping his breath. “What did you do?”

  How could he have forgotten for even a moment what she might think of him now? He should never have healed her when she’d been awake. No matter how much pain she’d been in, he should’ve waited until she’d either lost consciousness or slept. Revealing his gift to her had been a terrible mistake.

  He eased back a bit, struggling to find an excuse, a reasonable explanation to give that might ease her fear of him, but his thoughts remained sluggish.

  “Braden.” She lifted her hand to cup his cheek. “You saved me.”

  His gaze caught on hers. Hope sprung forth at the light in her blue eyes.

  “Good morn,” a female voice with a strong Scottish accent greeted them. “How fares the lady?”

  Braden swallowed hard in an attempt to contain his reeling emotions. No doubt they were a result of his weakened state, not due to his growing feelings for her. With that false thought rattling through his mind, he swung his legs off the bed, their slow response making him wonder if he could stand. In order to recover, he needed to rest, but that would have to wait.

  The healer’s appearance couldn’t have been more different from Hilda’s. She was younger, taller, thinner, with long dark hair and a basket over her arm. Something about her confidence as she studied them spoke of her competency. He well knew age wasn’t the only indicator of an ability to heal.

  “I heard from Monroe that ye took a tumble.” Her curious gaze swept over Ilisa’s form.

  Braden hoped Ilisa chose her words wisely when she spoke with the woman. The last thing he wanted was for his gift to be shared with anyone, even a healer. Forcing himself to rise, Braden stood on weak legs, hoping they would support him. “Aye, she did.”

  “I’m called Effie. You have a few broken bones, eh?” Yet the frown she wore suggested she didn’t know if that were true.

  Ilisa blinked as though uncertain how to respond. Braden knew she was no doubt confused by the question since she’d only just woken. What had been broken when she’d arrived in the tent was no longer. “I’m not certain, though I can tell you I’m very sore.”

  “The stairs in the keep have caused more than one fall,” Effie said, stepping closer to set down the basket. “I’ve come to see if I can be of assistance. My apologies, but for some reason, no one notified me of your fall until this morn, else I would’ve been here anon.”

  Braden didn’t bother to respond. Monroe and Matthew would’ve thought him crazed if he’d told them not to send for the healer at all. But that would’ve caused even more questions. He preferred not to mention he had knowledge of healing himself. ’Twas unusual for a man to claim that talent, let alone to reveal he had the power to heal within moments. That would most likely get him burned at the stake or subject to some terrible trial.

  “Shall we have a look at ye then?” Effie stepped closer, reaching for Ilisa’s blanket-covered foot. Without waiting for a response, she gently moved her hands up Ilisa’s leg.

  Ilisa’s gaze caught on Braden’s. “I don’t believe my injuries were as bad as first thought.” She moved her foot as though to provide proof. “I’ve some bruising and soreness, but I don’t believe anything is broken.”

  The intensity of Ilisa’s expression had him swallowing hard, uncertain what might be going through her mind.

  “I’m surprised to find ye awake and speaking.” Effie shook her head, muttering to herself as she continued to examine Ilisa. “Forgive me, milady, but I had the idea that I’d find ye on yer deathbed.”

  “You and I both.” Braden cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. He was torn between stepping outside to allow them a moment or standing watch to make certain Ilisa took care with her words and that the healer didn’t press her for an explanation. It didn’t help that tiredness still pulled at hi
m.

  The more he thought on what she’d said about him saving her, the more he realized she might’ve just been referring to the fact that he’d found her. Mayhap she didn’t know that he’d healed her. Mayhap she believed just what she’d told the healer.

  Why wasn’t he relieved by that?

  Confused at what he wanted and why, he decided a breath of fresh air might help clear the exhaustion from his mind. “I’ll be right outside.”

  Ilisa watched him go, her expression unreadable. Did she want him to stay? Did she think he was abandoning her? He shifted the tent flap to look back. “Call out should you have need of me.”

  That didn’t garner a reaction either. The weight of Effie and Ilisa’s stares had him closing the flap once more to find Alec staring at him with a question in his eyes.

  “Women,” Braden muttered.

  Alec grinned. He glanced at the flap then whispered, “She looks better, does she not?”

  “Indeed. So much better.” Then again, he’d deem her opening her eyes a true miracle after the condition in which he’d found her.

  “I can’t thank you enough.” Alec looked at him, his heart in his eyes. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if—” He broke off as though unable to complete the thought, let alone the sentence.

  “Me neither.” The faint murmur of voices came from inside the tent, so quiet that he couldn’t tell who was speaking nor what was being said.

  He looked about the outer bailey, appreciating that the other guests kept their distance for the moment. Rolling hills were just visible in the distance above the holding wall. Mist hung in the valleys as it so often did in Scotland, the early light carrying a soft, golden glow. The land here was rugged and beautiful, the people amazingly strong. Yet for Braden, it wasn’t home. An ache rolled over him, causing him to rub his chest. Mayhap he could blame it on his exhaustion, but after all that had occurred, he missed home and family.

  Would Chanse return to Hilda’s only to find them gone? His brother had intended to return after escorting Garrick and Sophia home but plans changed, and there was no easy way to deliver messages with such news. Would he come in search of them or wait for their return?