torture.”
She could feel her eyes blazing as she glared at him.
“Get out of my way and allow me to work, or leave with
this soon to be corpse! You meddle as he loses precious
blood. Trust me, or he has no hope for the morrow.” She
jerked free from Jeremy’s grasp and looked to her
assistant, who stood gaping. “Fetch water and put the
blades in the coals, Ned.” She gave the knight her back
while he stood fuming.
Gruesome memories fought with reason, and Jeremy
was powerless to overcome his abhorrence of women
healers. But he was also desperate. Their surgeon had
not accompanied them, and none in his troop had
knowledge enough to treat such a grave injury. He silently
damned himself for not being between William and that
crossbow bolt. Then he silently damned all women. Good
for naught else but to take one’s ease upon.
Of the three narrow beds in the chamber, he chose
the one beside William’s—near enough to observe all the
wench did. He sat, testily fingering his jeweled dagger. If
her actions warranted it, he would have to kill her.
No sooner had he entertained this thought then the
jewels in the dagger’s hilt seemed to burn intensely. With
a strangled cry of pain and startlement, Jeremy dropped
the weapon from scorched fingers. It skidded across the
floor and came to rest under William’s cot.
Concentrating on her patient, Alicen was only vaguely
aware that the duke’s henchman had encountered some
sort of difficulty. It would have to wait. William lay pale
and silent. Bright red froth bubbled from the wound with
his every labored breath; flecks of red clung to lips and
nostrils. He’d lost a dangerous amount of blood, and the
hard ride might have shocked him beyond recovery. A
lump of fear lodged in her heart. It would take all her
skill—and vast luck—to see him through.
Remove the bolt from the back, Alicen, her mother’s
voice instructed.
Glancing at Ned, waiting nearby, she said, “Hold his
shoulders down while I push the quarrel through.”
“You’ll make the wound more deadly,” Jeremy cried
as he leapt to his feet. “Leave it!”
She gave him a look that would have frozen the sun,
then pushed the shaft out the duke’s back.
William’s groan galvanized his captain. Livid, Jeremy
grasped Alicen’s shoulder and yanked her around to face
him. “I told you to leave it.”
His menacing countenance almost made her step
back. Instead, she hid her fear with effrontery and
snapped, “I thought you a killer, not a healer.” Taking
advantage of the shock she saw in his eyes, she pushed
away from him and bent to resume her task. She stanched
the flowing blood, stating in a wintry tone, “Iron barbs
poison if left in the body. Especially the lung.”
Methodically, she exchanged clean bandages for bloody
ones. “The more poison, the less hope of recovery. Had I
pulled the shaft back and the head detached, removing
it would be fatal.” She scowled at her nemesis.
“Comprehend now, squire? If so, get out of my light!”
Alicen’s greatest problem was closing the holes she’d
just widened in William’s lung before it collapsed. Worse,
internal hemorrhaging could drown him in his own blood.
She packed two wads of bandages into the wounds and
checked her instruments.
Then she turned to the soldier. “I could use your
assistance. When his brow raised in question, she
explained, “‘Twill go better for him if he’s completely still
when I cauterize the wounds. Ned is too small to hold
him.”
“Tell me what I must do.”
Once she had the soldier positioned correctly, Alicen
turned to Ned. “When I give the word, remove the
bandages.” She lifted a red hot blade from the coals.
“Now.”
As soon as the boy pulled away the wadding, she
cauterized the wound. William jerked once, but his
powerful captain easily restrained him.
Jeremy clenched his fists as the stench of burning
flesh filled the room. The death smells from the most
recent carnage assaulted him, bringing suppressed battle
visions. The pounding blows on his shield and blade, the
sting of sweat in his eyes, the screams of the wounded
and dying all around him...
He shuddered, then recalled his circumstance. His
current battle involved painful experience with a female
healer, and he had to bury the past and think only of the
present. This Alicen Kent woman knew well how to treat
a grievous wound, but admitting so pained him nearly as
much as remembrance of the fight which had led to his
being in her home.
Alicen returned the instrument to the brazier before
examining her handiwork. The bleeding had stopped, at
least temporarily. She daubed the burn with salve and
covered it with a fresh dressing.
“Now the back.”
Once they’d treated the wounds, they carefully laid
William down. Several bolsters assured his head lay
higher than his heart. She checked his breathing.
“How is he?” came Jeremy’s brusque question.
Tension radiated in his tone.
Alicen started, having temporarily forgotten her
unwanted guest. “The lung fills, but his heart is far weaker
than I would like.” She shrugged. “Now we wait and pray
for the best.”
She knew that, though the duke had survived the
worst of this ordeal, his contracting pleurisy still posed a
very real danger. The gravity of the wound bespoke the
possibility. This thought, and the presence of his
henchman, did naught to raise her hopes. She
straightened, stretched, and turned to leave.
“Where do you go?” the soldier demanded
immediately.
“That’s none of your concern, Lieutenant.”
Large and foreboding, he took an intimidating step
toward her. “It is my concern. And I’m Captain Sir Jeremy
Blaine!”
“Rank notwithstanding, you’ve no right to detain me.”
She tossed her head in defiance.
“I’ll do what I think best for my lord,” Jeremy retorted.
“And I think it best you remain to care for him.”
“I’ve done all I am able to. Ned will watch him while I
tend the other men’s injuries.”
Flushing, the captain snarled, “Careful, wench! Your
arrogance will cost your life if the duke dies.”
Instinctively Alicen recoiled. Her premonition
returned, accompanied by intense fear, and breathing
turned difficult. But pride intervened. She’d not allow
him to browbeat her. She forced herself to stare boldly
into his hostile blue eyes.
“It won’t be my arrogance that kills him. If he dies,
‘twill be part because the wound was too grave and part
because you’ve handled him too carelessly.” She
straightened her shoulders. �
��Threaten your men all you
wish, Sir Squire, but I’m not one of your lackeys.” She
glanced at her apprentice. “Fetch me if there’s any
change.” With that, she departed.
***
Jeremy stood with fists clenched and jaw tight. “You
should be flogged for your impertinence, wench.” Glaring
at her young assistant, he regained his bedside seat to
do what that wretched woman should have done—watch
over his duke.
***
Shortly before dawn Alicen finished treating the
seriously wounded men and then made her way back to
the cottage. Two had died, but the others would survive
to kill again. She had determined that the minor wounds,
most of them hastily bandaged after the ambush, could
wait until daylight for proper treatment.
“How can such cruelty exist?” she asked herself yet
again, numbed by the pain men inflicted on each other.
The threat of destruction had returned. William would
fight to reclaim his lands, and many innocent people
would die.
Could she protect those she loved, this time? Memory
lashed her—desperation and futility—but she fought off
despair. Her duty was to heal, not to bemoan human
folly. She would check Duke William, then take refuge in
sleep. If her mind allowed, the destruction she’d seen
and the destruction she foresaw would momentarily
disappear.
Slipping into the infirmary, she found Ned asleep on
the bed next to William’s. She gently pulled a blanket
over the boy, then assessed the duke’s condition. He
rested quietly, and it pleased her to note his unlabored—
though shallow—breathing. No blood appeared on his
lips or in his nostrils.
A good sign, her mother assured her. Seek your own
rest. You’ve need of it.
“As soon as I finish here,” Alicen whispered in
response. After adjusting William’s pillows, Alicen turned
to leave.
And ran right into Jeremy Blaine’s hard chest.
Jumping back, she stifled an alarmed cry.
“Now, where do you wander?” Hard eyes glittered in
the dim light of two candles.
“To bed.”
“William needs you here.”
“He sleeps. I can do naught more for him at present.”
She tried to step past, but the knight caught her arm in
a hard grip, effectively halting her departure.
“Stay here,” he said, voice flat. “Sleep beside the boy.”
“I’ll sleep where I please, my lord squire.” She gasped
when his grip tightened.
“You’ll do as I say! I’ll not allow you to seduce one of
my men and then cry rape.”
Enraged beyond good sense, Alicen slapped the
knight’s face with enough force to numb her palm.
“Despicable cur,” she hissed. “You bring carnage to
my door, threaten me, then call me whore? Are all
William’s minions so loathsome?”
“I’m a peer of the realm!”
“You’re a cold-hearted mon—”
The last thread of Jeremy’s patience snapped. Of its
own volition, his hand snaked out to grasp her throat,
squeezing slightly. He watched her green eyes go wide
with panic. Strands of silky chestnut hair had come loose
from her chignon to be trapped beneath his fingers. Her
neck felt slender and fragile, the mad racing of her pulse
emphasizing her vulnerability. With very little effort he
could end her life. But killing a woman held no honor.
Despite his earlier vow and the threats he’d made, he
could never slay her. Nay, not even hurt her. Yet her fear
gave him advantage. For now, he’d use that.
“Concern yourself with William’s health, wench, not
with what you think me to be.”
“Release me this instant,” she choked out, pulling
ineffectively at his fingers in an effort to loosen his grip.
This show of courage gave him pause. “I’ll release you
when—”
The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he sensed
another presence in the room, though he heard nothing.
He had just begun to turn and face whoever it was when
motion from the second bed surprised him. Ned, with an
angry yelp, abruptly hurled himself at Jeremy. The boy
collided with the man’s shoulder and managed to cling
there like a limpet.
“Stop hurting her,” he cried, his youthful voice
cracking. He swung at the knight but slipped without
landing the blow and started to fall to the floor. “Leave
her be!”
Jeremy stumbled only a step, but in trying to ward
off the lad he released the mistress. Recovering his
balance, he swung his arm and brushed Ned off. But
just as he stepped toward the boy, he heard movement
behind him. He turned in time to catch two pounding
fists full on the chest. Amazed at the woman’s daring,
Jeremy grabbed her shoulders and held her at arms’
length. She fought harder, kicking and struggling until
he pulled her tight against his body to still her assault.
They were chest to chest, and beneath the press of
her firm breasts he could feel the thunder of her heart as
she fought his hold. He felt the amulet she wore grow
warm where it was pressed between their bodies. The
smell of herbs and mint filled his nostrils, and he was
suddenly painfully aware of his reaction to her in the
region below his waist.
“Don’t harm him,” she cried, voice strangled with rage
and her efforts to escape. “He’s a child! A true knight
would never harm a child.”
Her statement pricked Jeremy’s conscience. This, and
the knowledge that he held a spirited woman but could
not act on his sudden desire, frustrated him enough to
shake her once, hard.
“Cease this!” he ordered.
But worry for Ned’s welfare had driven Alicen beyond
reason. “Harm him and I—I’ll kill the duke.”
Her adversary went completely still. “Nay! You’d not
dare, if you value living.”
Voice shaking, she nevertheless met his stare and
retorted, “I’ve done all I can to save him and his men, yet
you’ve brutalized Ned and me. If my best efforts displease
you, why should I rue the consequences of my worst?”
“I know your kind,” Jeremy taunted, trying to impel
her into a foolish move, to show her true intent. “You kill
innocent babes, not grown men whose allies could avenge
them.”
Alicen’s jaw tilted up. “You know me not at all. Life is
sacred to me. It means so little to you that you’d force the
one person who could save your duke into killing him.”
Jeremy glanced to the bed where William lay. A look
back at the woman told him she was desperate enough
to carry out her threat. He swallowed hard. She spoke
true—he knew naught of her. And his actions since the
melee that had injured William had bordered on madness.
Concern for his duke, distrust of women, and
/>
apprehension at leaving men’s lives in her hands had
unnerved him to such a degree that he’d treated her
abominably. His total loss of control disgusted him. ’Twas
time to regain command of himself and the situation.
His gaze met her stormy green one as he slowly
dropped his aggressive posture and lowered his hands.
“As William’s retainer, I am honor-bound to treat
women with respect,” he stated rigidly, noting that she
stiffened slightly at his statement. “I regret I’ve not done
so with you.” He nodded toward Ned, still sitting on the
floor. “See to the boy,” he said quietly. “And stay here for
what remains of the night. ’Tis unsafe for a woman to be
about among soldiers.”
“For the woman, or for the soldiers?” Alicen muttered
to his broad back as he strode out.
Her words stung, but Jeremy showed no outward sign
that he had heard. Mentally he gave himself a shake, yet
he couldn’t relinquish the feeling that someone else had
been in the chamber with them.
He’d seen no one. But he’d not survived years of battle
just relying on his eyes to warn him of danger.
Two
“Thank you, miss.” The young soldier blushed and
bobbed his head as Alicen finished applying salve and a
bandage to his right palm. “Seems almost a waste of your
time to tend my hand.”
Alicen somehow managed a smile, although she felt
numb from fatigue. “Nonsense. Blisters like those can
easily become infected.” She released his hand and
glanced around at the interior of her stable. “The seriously
wounded have been tended, so there’s no reason to neglect
any other wounds.”
The man bobbed his head again. “Just the same, I
thank you.”
“You’re most welcome.”
She stepped out into the late-August day. Pausing
near the stable door, she placed both hands on her lower
back and stretched, then glanced quickly around. She’d
intentionally avoided the volatile Captain Blaine for most
of the day, and he was nowhere in sight at that moment.
But now she had to check on her most important patient,
and ‘twas certain the knight would be by William’s side.
What’s to come of us with the rightful duke here? she
thought bleakly.
Only time could answer that question.
***
Sickened by his show of weakness—his battle
Carroll, Laurie - War Of Hearts.txt Page 2