rasped. “Harold’s man was not much of a bowman, for I
still live.”
Alicen blanched, and abruptly clasped her hands in
her lap. “Please, don’t speak thus.” Her voice was husky.
“You could have been killed.”
He blinked several times, then said slowly, “Should I
die, you may return to Landeyda and your own life.
Without such soldiers as I to plague you, your current
miseries will cease.” He turned his head to stare at the
tent wall. “Leave me to die, Alicen. Return to your home.”
“Nay!” Alicen grasped Jeremy’s chin and swung his
face toward her, then caressed his cheek. “Why do you
speak thus?”
His eyes were clouded by physical and emotional pain.
“You endure hell...slaving in this infirmary...My
fault...responsible for your suffering.”
“Suffering? I don’t—”
His gaze momentarily cleared. “No lies, Alicen. Truth.
You’ll fare better with me gone.”
She bit her lip and blinked back tears. “Would I treat
your wounds if I did not seek your recovery?”
“Healers can do naught else.”
He was too disoriented to understand his words, or
hers. Seizing his hand, she held it over her heart. “I would
feel no differently were I not what I am.”
Alicen carefully folded the blanket back away from
his injury. She brushed dark, tumbled hair from his
forehead, her heart swelling as she gazed down at his
pale features.
“I love you, Jeremy Blaine,” she murmured. “You’ll
never drive me away.”
As much as she wished to stay beside her fallen
knight, others needed her. Ned was eager to sit with the
captain, and Robert, Jeremy’s squire, stood ready to
report on any change in condition.
She returned to the tent only after darkness prevented
her from adequately treating anyone else. Ned had fallen
asleep on the floor, so Alicen made a pallet of cloaks,
coaxed him onto them, and covered him with a mantle.
Robert slept in a corner.
Removing only her boots, she slid under Jeremy’s
blanket and curled up against his side. Her arm carefully
wrapped about his waist, she used her body’s warmth to
alleviate his chills. She kissed his temple, whispered an
affirmation of her love, then gave over to sleep.
At dawn, Alicen rose to find the tent’s other occupants
still asleep. She hurried to the stream for her morning
ablutions and went to find food. Cooks were already
preparing the morning’s fare in large kettles. Nodding to
them, she filled two wooden bowls with porridge and
carried them to the tent.
Ned was just stirring when she arrived, and her waving
the bowl of warm food beneath his nose served to bring
him wide awake. His brown eyes snapped open.
“How is the captain?” he asked immediately, gaze
shifting to the pallet where Jeremy lay.
“He spent a quiet night. Most likely he’ll sleep the
sun around. Will you tend him again?”
Ned nodded assent as he ate. Finishing the porridge,
he wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “I’ll send
for you if aught should go amiss.”
***
Night had again fallen, and Alicen was carrying bowls
of stew to Ned and Robert when her apprentice burst
from Jeremy’s tent. Pausing only long enough to locate
her, he rushed forward, dark eyes burning with urgency.
“Come quickly! ’Tis Captain Blaine. He and Warrick
fight!”
“Fight?” Jeremy was wounded, why would Warrick
fight with him?
Ned grasped her arm, causing her to spill some of
their supper. “Hurry! You must stop them!”
Still confounded, she nonetheless dropped both bowls
of stew and followed Ned at a run. Upon entering the
tent, the sight before her made her breath stop entirely.
Jeremy, naked but for his bandages and the sling
supporting his left arm, was being wrestled to the floor
by Warrick. Taft and another soldier stood by as if ready
to help subdue Jeremy. Outraged that they treated their
injured comrade so callously, Alicen fairly flew across
the tent toward the melee.
“Merciful Jesus, what are you doing?” she cried.
“Release him this instant!” She bent swiftly to examine
Jeremy, then glared up at the others. “The wound has
reopened. What were you thinking?”
Her sharp tone chastened the men, and they dropped
their gazes to the ground.
“He insisted upon going to find you,” Jason muttered
miserably. “But I didn’t think he should be up and
about—”
“He’s out of his head with delirium,” she cut in acidly.
“All he required was a draught to make him sleep. Now,
could you please assist him back to his pallet?”
“No,” Jeremy protested, struggling weakly as they
lifted him. “I’ll not lie down.” Shaking off the men’s hands,
he stood swaying, then grabbed Alicen’s arm for support.
The bulging vein at his temple gave evidence of his
agitation. “You must leave,” he said, gasping. “Too
dangerous here. I’m responsible. Return to
Durham...Landeyda.”
She knew his strong will was all that kept him
standing.
“Hush.” Placing her hand flat against his broad chest,
she kept her eyes on his face. “We’ll discuss this when
you lie down so I may see to your injuries.” Gently, she
guided him toward his pallet.
He resisted but couldn’t break from her grasp. “You
mustn’t remain. I’ll not let you. Durham is safe...must
return now—”
“I’ll be here as long as I’m of use, Captain. You cannot
force me to leave.” She eased him down, pulled the blanket
up to his waist, and began assessing the damage caused
by his struggle.
Alicen’s sincerity penetrated Jeremy’s lethargic mind,
made him hope she truly cared. But darkness beckoned.
There was much he must say, yet speech eluded a tongue
that grew more unwieldy by the moment. He closed his
eyes, attempting to concentrate his strength, and caught
her elbow with his hand. “So many hurt...need
attention...your care. I don’t want you...” his voice faltered,
and his chest heaved with the effort to speak.
“All the wounded at Durham are being tended,” she
softly assured him. Over her shoulder, she said to Ned,
“I’ll need my instruments. And bring the captain some
wine.”
Catching her look, Ned went to fill a chalice, then
poured in an ample measure of Alicen’s sleeping draught.
“Drink this,” she instructed Jeremy when the boy
returned. “‘Twill ease your discomfort.” Supporting his
head, she helped him drain the dregs, then laid him back
onto the pillow. “Now sleep.”
He kept his grasp on her. “Promise to leave before
you’re injured,” he pleaded. “Dangerous here. You
cannot
stay. Promise me.”
“You’ve no choice in whether I tend you, and I’ll not
leave ‘til your recovery’s certain. If you wish to argue this,
we’ll do so on the morrow. For now, gather your wits and
rest.”
“Promise...”
He slept. Alicen had Taft restrain Jeremy on the
chance he would flinch as she began to probe his wound.
To her relief, she saw that the artery she’d cauterized
still held. Blood seeped only from small vessels.
Wondering at the cause of the bleeding, she took her
thinnest blade and carefully probed for the source. Several
shards of steel left in his wound from his chain mail were
the cause.
Alicen felt her mouth go dry. Had those tiny pieces of
metal remained in his body, Jeremy could very well have
died of infection. Her concern for him had nearly cost his
life, as her haste to cauterize the main vessel had likely
made her careless in finding and removing debris from
the wound. She thanked God and Jason Warrick for their
intervention. Had Jeremy and Jason not fought, chances
were good she’d never have re-examined his wound. That
would have proven fatal. Now, so long as the cauterization
held, Jeremy stood an excellent chance of recovering.
Taft left as she finished closing the original wound
with two stitches. After covering Jeremy with a blanket,
she caressed the rough stubble on his cheek. Just looking
at him brought a slow fire in her belly that spread
languidly throughout her body.
He wanted her to return to Landeyda. But she could
not imagine life there without him, even with their child
to remind her of their love. Once, she had indulged herself
in the dream of putting war’s carnage behind and
returning to her quiet life at home. Now a future there
alone loomed bleak. Could she bind this heartsick warrior
to her side for life? She meant to try.
When she rose from Jeremy’s pallet, she saw Jason
Warrick standing at the tent’s entrance, expression
stricken. He straightened at her approach.
“Mistress Kent, please accept my apology—”
Her hand on his arm stopped him. “Nay, Captain, ’tis
I who should apologize.” Despite her fatigue, she smiled.
“I had no cause to so abuse your concern. Forgive my
sharpness. It has been a hellish day, and I fear I’m near
exhaustion.”
“Jeremy will recover, will he not?”
“With good fortune, he should be abed a week at
most.”
Jason’s relief burst through in a huge grin before he
sobered. “I could not have lived with myself had I injured
him more severely.”
“I’m certain he’ll suffer no major setback.” She paused.
“Thank you for intervening today.” At Jason’s incredulous
look, she added, “Had he not begun bleeding again, those
pieces of mail I missed at first would have caused a
dangerous, likely fatal, infection.” She smiled. “Your fight
with him probably saved his life.”
Jason shook his head in amazement, then crooked
his arm to her. “May I see you to Duke William’s tent?”
“Thank you, but I’d prefer to stay here, close to
Jeremy.”
“God give ye rest.” Poised to leave, he hesitated,
turning to her once again. “Mere gratitude palls at all
you’ve done for us. There must needs be a more fitting
reward for your services.”
“I need no reward,” she replied with a shrug. “Healing
is my calling, and a patient’s recovery truly is ample
payment.”
Jason raised her hand to his lips and kissed her
knuckles. “You’re remarkable.”
Blushing, she looked away. “Nay, not at all.”
“Jeremy spoke true when he said we’ll not see your
like again.” Alicen started in surprise at his words, but
he didn’t seem to notice. “To my mind, the man loves you
more than life, though he may not have told you such.
Since his previous misfortunes with women he loved, he
has kept his heart well-guarded.”
He has pledged his devotion to me, Captain, Alicen
thought bleakly. ‘Tis I who’ve been unable to speak my
thoughts to him.
“Seek your own rest, Mistress Kent.” Jason gave her
shoulder a quick squeeze, then opened the tent flap.
“Good night. Again my thanks to you. You’re an angel of
mercy.”
“I prize your faith in me,” she returned with a slight
smile. And especially Jeremy’s faith. “Sleep well, Captain.”
“And you, Mistress.”
She tied the tent flap closed, then froze, powerless to
move as Jason’s words rang in her head—He loves you
more than life.
Could a soldier love a woman above duty and combat?
Above living? She shuddered at the realization that,
though she’d loved Jeremy for some time, she’d not told
him such. Fear of abandonment prevented her from
risking her heart. Yet, he’d risked reopening his wounds
to see to her safety.
’Twas time to put aside her fears for a chance at
happiness. Her mother’s words rang in her head: “You
are destined to be together.” The dagger and amulet
proved that. If Jeremy died knowing naught of her love,
she would live with that horror always. If he lived yet left,
at the least he would leave knowing she cared for him.
And their child?
Nay, she’d not use the babe to bind him to her if he
was of a mind to go. If he found another woman to love
and take to wife, Alicen would raise their child alone. But
not in secret. Once Jeremy had regained his lands and
settled in, he would know of their offspring. Alicen would
never deny him as much opportunity to be part of the
child’s life as he wished.
She sighed softly and sat down on the pallet to remove
her boots. At the first opportunity, she would declare her
feelings. Then, let fate do what it might, he would know
her heart was his for the asking.
***
“This is madness!”
The emerald fire in Alicen’s eyes threatened to turn
all in Jeremy’s tent to cinder. No one could meet the
intensity of her stare, and five grown men—hardened
warriors all—avoided eye contact with the enraged woman
who paced before them.
With a resigned sigh, Jeremy caught her by the
shoulders and stopped her agitated movement. When she
lowered her head and refused to look at him, he gave her
a gentle shake.
“Be reasonable, lass,” he said calmly.
Her head shot up and she glared at him. “You ride
into combat little more than a week after suffering
grievous wounds, yet question my reason?” Pushing his
hands away, she stepped back. “How dare you accuse
me of being unreasonable!”
“You removed my stitches yesterday,” he countered.
“And said I heal quickly.”
“I didn’t say you�
��d healed enough to return to battle.
Should that wound reopen, you could bleed to death in
moments.”
“Aye, and I could bleed to death from your sharp
tongue even as I stand here.”
Alicen chose to ignore that set down, but her chin
raised a fraction. Then, noting the stubborn tilt of Jeremy’s
jaw and his determination to see this challenge through,
she turned angrily on the others in the tent. Her look fell
first upon William.
“My lord duke, you’ll stand by and let an injured man
defend your honor?” Her quiet tone only served to
emphasize her ire. “You’ve no healthy knight to ride in
his place?”
William’s face flamed, but his voice was firm when he
replied, “Harold’s challenge was champion against
champion. Sir Jeremy is my man.”
Alicen nodded slowly, as if absorbing a new and
unique bit of information. “And the Duke of York has no
champion to ride for his banner?” She slanted her gaze
at the young man standing beside William.
“I do, but my knight has never defeated Sir Jeremy,”
Duke Richard stated gravely. “Even though they once
fought when Captain Blaine was injured.”
The other men muttered their confirmation of this
fact.
Alicen shook her head. “Why dare I think warriors
would heed a physician’s counsel? ’Tis unconscionable
to send a weakened man to fight, yet you’ll do so in a
wink. And all for honor.” She felt tears burn the backs of
her eyes, and abruptly wished only to escape.
But before she could move, Jeremy encircled her waist
with his arms and gathered her close. “Leave us,” he
quietly told the others.
“Release me!” she ordered, struggling to break free.
Her actions only served to see her held tighter.
Jeremy’s strong chest pressed against her back, and the
firm yet still gentle tightening of his embrace warned she’d
not escape without using a weapon. And she had none to
use, were she inclined to do so. Still refusing to acquiesce
to his superior strength, she made an attempt to twist
away. Her efforts failed.
“Be still, minx,” he ordered, his mouth so close to her
ear his breath teased her. “You and I must needs talk.”
Shoulders slumped in dejection, she said in a choked
voice, “I have spoken my piece, and you’ve not listened.
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