Carroll, Laurie - War Of Hearts.txt

by War Of Hearts. txt (lit)

  He sneered, “What difference to you?”

  “’Tis needless suffering.” She noted his disbelief before

  she turned to Ned, splitting wood nearby. “Is the water

  boiling, lad?” He nodded. “Fetch me a panful while I get

  my instruments and fresh bandages.”

  Alicen’s hand remained atop Jeremy’s until she moved

  to enter the house. In that brief moment, he became

  acutely aware of her warmth spreading through him,

  making his skin tingle. Her gentle touch stunned his

  senses. He didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing until she

  disappeared inside the dwelling, then he inhaled,

  annoyed. Should the wench charm him from his vigilance,

  disaster would follow.

  He’d never admit to her his arm ached constantly.

  He’d thought little of the injury since the melee, but now

  allowed it truly was worse than he pretended. Yet her

  solicitous manner angered him, made his guilt over

  William’s injuries intensify. God’s teeth, he loathed bold

  women!

  In her absence he refortified his defenses against such

  an event by recalling his seventh summer. His father and

  eldest brother, Manfred, had returned from campaign with

  King Henry. Jeremy, out riding that day, saw the soldiers

  from atop a bluff and went to meet them. Then he raced

  ahead back to the castle to proclaim their arrival.

  Without exception, his father expected his sons to

  care for their mounts. Eager to give his mother word of

  Lord Blaine’s return, Jeremy thought to ask the stable

  master to attend his horse. Just this once. He burst

  without knocking into the man’s room at the rear of the

  livery.

  To find his mother abed with the wretch.

  Lizbeth Blaine’s shock mirrored her son’s, but her

  reaction turned quickly to dread. Jeremy saw the fear in

  her blue eyes before he turned and raced away...

  Remembrance ended there, as he quashed thoughts

  of the events which followed. Knowing his beloved mother

  for an adulteress had closed his open, giving heart. Other

  betrayals had locked the door completely. Now, he had a

  man’s concerns to attend. And no desire to expose his

  soul to more rending.

  Physician and apprentice returned just then carrying

  an array of supplies. Warily, Jeremy waited. What would

  this proudly defiant girl do? If she was like the vengeful

  harpies from his past, he had given her a grand

  opportunity to harm him. He breathed deeply and

  clenched his jaw. No matter what torture she inflicted,

  she’d not enjoy his pain.

  ***

  He expects you to be cruel to him, Alicen. Treat him as

  you did the wolf you found at the edge of the forest six

  years back.

  I see his reaction, Mother, Alicen thought. I must needs

  win the captain’s trust, or I’m in danger of being bitten by

  the beast I seek to help.

  Suspicion glittered in Captain Blaine’s eyes. He had

  proven himself capable of violence, and winning his trust

  would take great effort. Yet a dark sentiment told her to

  seek no such thing. She knew what soldiers were about.

  They did their duty to the exclusion of aught else. This

  man had power to hurt those she loved, and she’d seen

  firsthand the consequences of such power. A childhood

  friend with a shattered mind was only one of those.

  Why not repay Blaine in kind for mistreating Ned and

  her? Nay! You’ll not willingly inflict pain, Kaitlyn

  O’Rourke’s voice chastened her daughter. Your talent is

  healing.

  Alicen briefly closed her eyes. I’ll not betray my calling

  for vengeance on an arrogant ass, Mother. She would treat

  him, as any other patient, with gentle care.

  Turning to her task, she soaked a cloth in the steaming

  water, then removed it with a pair of tongs. After the

  excess had dripped off, she laid the cloth over Jeremy’s

  sleeve at the point where it adhered to the skin.

  His eyes flew wide, but he made no sound. She saw

  him press his lips into a straight line then suck in a breath

  and hold it.

  “This loosens the fabric and begins to draw the

  poison,” she explained softly. “It won’t take long.”

  Once the cloth cooled, she slowly rolled down the

  soiled sleeve. The exposed flesh was a fierce red, hot to

  the touch. Whitish fluid oozed from a thin cut across the

  bruise’s midline.

  She indicated the wound to Ned. “Red portends severe

  infection that must needs be drained. But first, remove

  its cause. Hold his arm steady, lad. Then watch and learn.”

  With a quick, sure motion, she drew her honed steel

  blade along the path of the cut. Jeremy ground his teeth

  and locked his jaw while, using a thin probe and forceps,

  she removed nearly a dozen bits of metal from the gash.

  By the time she had carefully soaked up the worst of the

  contagion with a clean bandage, his whole body looked

  stiff.

  Her gaze met his, this time with no hostility. “I must

  cause more hurt, Captain, but you’ll heal better for it.”

  “Do it, then,” Jeremy growled through his teeth. “I’m

  no stranger to pain.”

  “’Tis certain you’re not.”

  She squeezed the incision’s edges together to force

  out more fluid. He remained stoic, but his body stayed

  rigid as she pressed harder, then again cleansed the

  wound.

  “Should I fetch the honey?” Ned asked.

  Alicen nodded, smiling at his initiative. “Aye. We must

  draw the deep infection out.”

  When Ned returned with the medicament, she poured

  a goodly amount into the wound, covered the whole with

  a dressing, and wrapped the arm in a neat bandage.

  “This should dry the remaining contagion,” she said

  as she picked up Jeremy’s shirt. She paused, momentarily

  uncertain of how to proceed, then stated, “This garment

  is too soiled to wear atop an injury. If you have not a

  clean one, I could wash this.”

  His brow cocked, but he merely said, “Our cook also

  tends our clothing. He’ll see to it.”

  She nodded. “Very well. Rest your arm as much as

  possible today and drink all the water you can manage.”

  With that, she made a sling around his neck, put his arm

  into it, and turned to gather up her instruments.

  The physician’s gentle treatment confounded him.

  He’d expected rancor, yet she’d caused no excessive

  suffering. Already the poultice was drawing the infection,

  and his arm felt better. It irked him, though, now to be in

  her debt for something beyond the duke’s life.

  Alicen straightened, instruments in hand. “Tonight

  I’ll sew the edges of the incision together.”

  Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. “Sew the wound?

  Preposterous!”

  “Not at all. Persian physicians have done so for

  centuries. ’Tis like darning a torn garment. Wounds heal

  faster and with smaller scars when treated thus.
” The

  corner of her mouth rose. “Do you fear a little more pain,

  sir?”

  He snorted in contempt. “I fear naught you could do

  to me, wench.”

  Amazingly, she chuckled, green eyes twinkling. “’Tis

  a brave man who can face the unknown so calmly. Very

  well, tonight I’ll finish your treatment.”

  “Beware of whom you taunt, vixen,” he rumbled low

  as she walked away. “None threaten or make sport of

  me.”

  If Alicen Kent heard him, she didn’t acknowledge it,

  and he continued to watch her dignified withdrawal. Rich

  chestnut hair, held back by a single leather thong at her

  nape, fell to the middle of her back, covering her plain

  dress. She was slim but broad shouldered, with a narrow

  waist and well-rounded hips. And very long legs...

  He shook his head to clear his lusty thoughts.

  Although she obviously disliked him, she’d readily treated

  his wound, and her careful tending aroused his

  misgivings. What was her ploy? She defied him. Her

  hostility cut, then her compassion soothed. More than

  likely she sought some favor, but he couldn’t guess what

  that could possibly be. He’d have to remain alert to

  treachery.

  ***

  It was long past dark that night, and the men had

  settled into their blankets in the stable. Alicen was

  finishing with the duke’s bandages when Jeremy entered

  the infirmary.

  “How does he fare?” the tall captain asked.

  She glanced up. “No sign of fever. He should awaken

  within the next day or so.”

  A flicker of relief crossed Jeremy’s features. “Jesu be

  praised.”

  Staring at his friend and lord, he ran a hand through

  his hair. William’s color was much improved, his breathing

  shallow yet steady, his bandages unstained. Perhaps he

  would recover. Forgive me, my lord, for failing to protect

  you, Jeremy silently said. He owed the duke’s life to

  Alicen’s considerable skill, and that fact troubled him

  nearly as much as his guilt over William’s wounds. He’d

  sworn years before never to be beholden to a woman. It

  rankled to find himself in debt to such as she.

  “I’ll see to your arm now, Captain.”

  “What?” He snapped out of his brooding. “Oh, aye.”

  “Come sit at the table in the main room.”

  Jeremy removed his tunic while Alicen threaded a

  needle and set it in a small bowl of steaming water. Then

  she carefully cleansed away the now sugared honey.

  “Here.” She offered him a glass of hard cider. “It helps

  with the pain.”

  “I’m certain I can bear it.”

  “Alas, I cannot,” she returned, eyes glinting with

  mischief. She drained the glass in a long swallow. “Shall

  we finish this?”

  The needle’s first prick set Jeremy’s teeth on edge,

  but the discomfort was not extreme. He would endure.

  Soon, he was concentrating on the healer’s technique.

  He studied Alicen’s hands setting stitches neatly in his

  flesh. He recalled how her touch had warmed him that

  afternoon and, amazed, found himself fascinated.

  Feminine hands with strong, tapering fingers so dexterous

  they seemed to possess magic. He studied the dark head

  bent over her work and smelled the fresh, herbal scent of

  her hair. His eyes closed, then snapped open.

  Ridiculous! He liked naught about her. How could he

  find her hands of interest, or her scent? Yet he supposed

  some men would call her a fair-looking wench. Her thick

  chestnut hair invited his touch, and though he liked

  women more buxom and rounded, she wasn’t an

  unpleasantly shaped creature.

  Bah! She wasn’t soft enough. She had a lean

  muscularity women who aroused his lust lacked. Her

  body was lithe, her waist narrow. Those he tumbled were

  soft and fleshy, with bosoms like pillows to nestle his

  head upon. He doubted this wench’s firm breasts would

  even fill his hands....

  He blinked, pulling his thoughts from the path they

  ranged and returning them to crucial matters. He’d no

  time to engage in lustful contemplations, especially ones

  involving Alicen Kent! Duty demanded his complete

  regard. William lay wounded because of Jeremy’s failure.

  He’d allow himself no further errors.

  Within minutes, Alicen had closed the wound with

  fifteen even stitches and applied a light dressing and

  bandage. “In a week I’ll remove the thread,” she stated.

  “In the meantime, don’t o’erstrain yourself by slaughtering

  too many people.” She looked up, concern darkening her

  eyes. “Is aught amiss, Captain? Didn’t I cause enough

  pain to satisfy you?”

  “Where is your husband?” he blurted out.

  By her expression he knew the question took her

  aback, but she didn’t falter. Her brows drew together

  before she responded quietly, “My betrothed died at

  Harfleur, fighting for King Harry.” At least to me, the battle

  killed him. “I’m unwed.”

  “The boy is not your son?”

  “He’s a bit old to be mine,” she retorted, uncomfortable

  at the turn of the conversation, afraid she’d have to lie

  more. “I’m but eight years his senior.”

  “Is he your brother?”

  “Nay. An orphan who has lived with me three years.”

  “Your father?”

  “Dead these five years past.”

  “No worthy sire allows his daughter to live alone,”

  Jeremy stated bluntly. “With brigands about, ’tis

  remarkable you’ve not been attacked.”

  Recalling Orrick’s pitiful vow to guard her, she coldly

  replied, “I need no man’s protection.” She started to rise,

  but Blaine’s harsh laugh stopped her.

  “Every woman I know depends upon a man. Even

  those who... trade...need men to survive.”

  Alicen choked, then planted her fists on the table and

  leaned toward him. “I am neither whore nor partisan,

  Captain. A fact you seem incapable of believing.”

  “You are vulnerable living here.”

  “Nay, I am not!”

  “’Tis foolish to think thus. You are isolated, away from

  the town and at the mercy of any wandering rogue.”

  “I’m safe here,” Alicen insisted, chin tilting up as she

  straightened. “A freeman works my fields. The town’s

  citizens expect me weekly.” She paused, debating whether

  to continue, then rashly added, “And all who live

  hereabouts think a powerful spirit protects Landeyda.

  ’Tis a belief I do naught to dispel.”

  At her words, Jeremy’s jaw dropped. She could almost

  see his mind working as his eyes scanned the contents of

  the nearby containers. Almost hear the questions he had

  about those containers. Poisons? Potions? She suspected

  he’d seen such before and sensed a prickling fear inside

  him.

  She used his uncertainty. “What troubles you, sir?

  Afeared of goblins? Dreading
I’ll turn banshee and suck

  out your heart as you sleep?” Her chuckle echoed before

  her mirth faded. “You needn’t worry for your safety, or

  that of your men. ’Tis my mother’s spirit said to guard

  this place.” Before she realized, her voice had dropped to

  a poignant alto. “Every day I seek to fulfill my promises

  to her.”

  A silent moment passed, then, mortified at sharing

  such personal grief with this hostile man, Alicen buried

  her gloom and raised her gaze to Jeremy’s. “I’m pledged

  to do only good through my healing art. Though some

  fear my talent, no dark evil dwells here.” She sighed.

  “Mother did much good in the world. A pity few

  remembered when such memories were needed.”

  Amazed, Jeremy studied the healer. Alone save for a

  small boy, she feared no consequence of her vulnerability.

  Perhaps a spirit truly did protect her...Still, she’d treated

  his men fairly, and him also. Her actions befuddled him.

  One minute belligerent, the next solicitous. He saw the

  familiar mockery once again glinting in her gaze. Her

  defiance had returned.

  “Still suspicious, Captain?”

  “I don’t claim to understand women,” he answered

  shortly. “When I was very young I thought I did, but I

  was proven wrong. Since then, I’ve not bothered to try.”

  “Life is too short to spend it looking back,” she

  returned with forced lightness as she rose from the bench.

  “Some things are better left forgotten.”

  Her words ring true, he thought as she left. But

  sometimes ’tis harder to forget than to bear the pain

  remembrance brings.

  Three

  A tolling bell at dawn the next morning woke Alicen

  with a sound she’d feared since the soldiers’ arrival. Orrick

  wished to see her. Shaking from far more than a chill,

  she drew on a cloak against the damp and went out to

  return his signal. Two tolls, a pause, then two tolls rolled

  over the countryside. She turned to reenter the cottage

  but halted when the omnipresent Jeremy Blaine appeared

  in the doorway. Her breath caught in her chest.

  Does that man ever sleep? she wondered, panic rising.

  She had to brazen this out. The unthinkable could happen

  if Blaine discovered Orrick.

  “What were you doing?” The knight blocked the door

  with his large frame.