Autumn's Touch

by Elizabeth Rose

  A crewmember called to the guard for assistance. Lester nodded and then turned back to her. “Let me escort you to the cabin before I help the crew.”

  “Nay, I can do it myself. Your help is needed elsewhere,” she shouted over the sound of the wind. Her hood fell and her long hair became loose, whipping about in the wind.

  Autumn watched the men as she held tightly to the bulkhead of the ship. Looking up to the cliff, she surveyed the castle. A full moon peeked out sporadically through the clouds, illuminating the tall, dark towers in an eerie glow. A shiver coursed through her.

  “Everyone get below deck and out of the storm,” shouted the captain. The men started to pile into the hold or disappeared under the forecastle of the ship to seek safety from the storm. She was about to go back to the cabin when something caught her eye. The light of a torch from shore flickered in the night. It looked as if it were being held by a rider atop a horse since it moved up and down. She could barely see through the rain but noticed someone coming toward the docks. Curious, she wanted to know more. Mayhap it was a servant from the castle. If so, she needed to help them escape the beast of a man that ruled Ravenscar. If it were someone who had been to the castle, they would also be able to tell her more about this wicked man.

  She headed to the port side of the ship to see a lone rider on a horse coming down to the docks. He was waving his hand in the air to get her attention. He had to be in trouble. Why else would anyone go out in the midst of a storm, trying to flag her down? She was about to tell her guard when, all of a sudden, the light diminished. She strained her eyes in the dark, holding her hood over her head as the wind blew and the rain pelted down around her. Had something happened to the rider?

  Looking back over her shoulder, there was no one in sight. Instead of wasting time going after the crew, she decided to venture onto the dock where she could get a better view and see the rider. If he was hurt, he could use her healing touch.

  “Hello?” she called out into the wind, holding her hand up to her eyes to see through the rain. She walked down the boarding plank and over the pier, leaving the ship, but still staying on the dock. “Is someone there?” she called out. “Do you need help?”

  “Are you the healer?” came a voice from the night. Aye, mayhap someone had ridden through the storm because they needed a healer. Perhaps a child was injured or a woman was about to give birth.

  “I am a healer,” she called back into the wind.

  Then, before she knew what happened, a big man rode up and grabbed her. She recognized his cape. It was the man who had been talking to the crew when the ship first docked. He lifted her into the air and threw her over the back of his horse and sped down the dock. She held on for dear life, her stomach aching as it pounded against the running horse. If she fell now, she could get trampled to death. There was another man with him and, together, they rode up the cliffs. She cried out for help, but no one would hear her in the storm.

  “Let me go,” she shouted, struggling atop the horse. The man’s strong hand held her down to keep her from moving.

  “Stop screaming,” growled the man. “And when we get to the castle, I warn you only to speak when the lord speaks to you first.”

  “What castle? Which lord?” she asked, feeling frantic. She was being abducted for some unknown reason and had to get free.

  “Ravenscar,” was all the man said.

  Her body, as well as her heart, stilled. This was not what she wanted to hear at all. In her eagerness to help someone, she managed to get herself abducted. And now, all the horror stories she’d heard of Lord Ravenscar were about to come true. Aye, she was about to witness the rumors firsthand as his abductee.

  Chapter 6

  By the time they got up to the castle, Autumn’s cloak was soaked from the rain. She’d stopped struggling with the burly guard because she realized even if she were to escape, she couldn’t outrun him since he was on a horse. If she made him angry, he could very well hit her. She didn’t want that to happen at all.

  They rode into the courtyard that was lit by several burning torches, threatening to be extinguished by the rain. The guard slid off the horse and pulled her to the ground. The rain continued to fall. With wide eyes, she took in her surroundings, never seeing anything so eerie in her life.

  The tall, stone walls of Ravenscar Castle surrounded her like an army of enemies closing in. Slowly, she turned in a full circle to look in every direction. With the cold rain hitting the hot cobblestones of the courtyard, a thick fog wafted up into the air around them. An occasional torch from the iron holders attached to the walls flickered a bright red/orange, making the fog glow like the bowels of hell.

  Ravenscar Castle consisted of a square keep that jutted up into the fog with black storm clouds looming behind it like a predator watching over its prey. The full moon flashed sporadically as the clouds raced by, making streams of moonlight flicker across the center of the bailey. She gasped when she saw the hideous, stone gargoyles emerging from the walls. Four turrets shot up high above the battlements having open windows at the top secured by iron bars. Was this a prison? And would she ever be able to leave? She cursed herself inwardly for not staying in the cabin of the ship like she’d been told to do.

  “Why did you abduct me and what do you want with me?” she asked bravely, trying to hide the fact she was terrified to be there – especially under these conditions.

  “Lord Ravenscar will ask the questions, not you,” spat the guard.

  The burly man grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her toward the keep, moving so fast she stumbled and nearly fell. The younger man ran to her side and held on to her other arm, helping to steady her. He looked to be not much older than she was. He had brown hair and brown eyes. He wasn’t bulky, but rather slim, and a head shorter than the guard. He also didn’t seem nearly as frightening.

  “Be careful, the courtyard gets slippery in the rain,” said the younger man, flashing her a quick smile. It settled her nerves, but not by much. She shouldn’t be here. She wanted to go back to the ship.

  The guard all but pushed her down a long, dimly lit corridor, not saying a word. From the corner of her eye she saw something move. She turned her head as they passed an alcove and spied two boys hiding in the shadows, watching her with wide eyes. They were dressed in rags and had stringy hair and smudges of dirt smeared across their faces. The younger one that looked to be no more than about five years of age wasn’t even wearing shoes.

  She opened her mouth to talk to them, but the older boy with the red hair raised his finger to his lips to keep her from spilling their secret. Then he pulled the younger one back into the shadows and they both disappeared into the night.

  “Stay here,” grunted the guard as he let go of her arm with a push that sent her body smashing against the wall. “Nelek, go in and tell Ravenscar she’s here.”

  The young man named Nelek rapped his knuckles softly against the door.

  “God’s teeth, what is it now?” came an angry, deep voice from inside the room.

  “It’s Nelek, my lord.” She guessed he was Ravenscar’s squire since the guard didn’t even attempt to enter the chamber. Nelek opened the door and slipped inside the dark room, closing the door behind him.

  The ogre turned and glared at her. She quickly wrapped her arms around her, trying to look at the floor instead of at his ugly face. Thankfully, she didn’t have to be alone with the man long. Nelek opened the door and stuck his head out.

  “Lord Ravenscar will see you now,” he announced as if she’d requested an audience with the beast. The guard slapped his hand against her back, propelling her forward into the room. Then Nelek stepped back out into the corridor and shut the door, leaving her alone in the dark lair of the Beast of Ravenscar.

  She stood there silently, listening to the loud drumming of her heart reverberating in her ears. It took her eyes a moment to get accustomed to the nearly pitch black room. The only light came from the glowing embers of the fire at the h
earth. Or were those the glowing eyes of the beast?

  “Who are you?” came a deep growl from somewhere in the dark. “Come closer to the hearth so I can see your face.”

  “I – I’m Lady Autumn of Mablethorpe,” she told him. Her body shivered from the cold, wet cloak clinging to her skin, but she was reluctant to remove it. After all, she was standing in a darkened room with one of the most infamous men in all of England. She remembered Lester telling her that Ravenscar liked to take young virgins to his bed. Nay, she would not make it easier for him to take advantage of her by discarding her outer garment no matter how wet and cold it felt against her body.

  “Come to my bedside,” he murmured, making her palms sweat although her teeth chattered, threatening to shake right out of her mouth. She took a step forward, but then anger filled her being and she stopped in her tracks. She wouldn’t let this happen.

  “Nay,” she said, not willing to be naught but a puppet of this horrible man. “I’ll not be another of your toys for you to take to your bed.”

  She heard what sounded like a rumble from his throat. Her eyes finally adjusted to the dark to reveal the silhouette of the beast lying on the bed. Long curtains hung down on three sides of the bed, pulled back to provide one opening only.

  “I said . . . come here!” His words were forced, almost as if he were holding back great anger - or perhaps holding back pain.

  “Are you ill?” she asked, taking a step closer. “Or mayhap injured?” The caring side of her outshone her fear and she moved slowly toward the bed. “Is that why your man asked if I was a healer?” She cocked her head as she took one step toward the bed, trying to see the features of his shadowed face.

  “Well, are you a healer or not?” he asked, his voice trailing off as he said it.

  She took a second to swallow before she answered, wondering if it was better to lie or tell the truth in this situation. “I am,” she answered bravely.

  “Then heal me,” he commanded.

  “Pardon me?” That took her by surprise, relieving her that she’d been brought here for a purpose and not just to be his next folly. “I don’t even know what is ailing you, my lord, and neither do I have my bag of healing herbs and balms with me.” She continued to make her way closer to the bed.

  “I’ve got the plague,” he answered directly.

  She stopped in her tracks. The plague? Had she heard him correctly? God, she hoped not.

  “The plague,” she repeated aloud. She had treated many wounded men in the past two years but had not seen nor heard of another outbreak of the plague in England at this time. “Are you sure?”

  “God’s teeth, woman, stop asking questions and start healing me now.” The man was rude and domineering.

  “How do you expect me heal you if I cannot even see you?” she retorted, tired of this game of hide-and-seek. She turned and made her way to the fire, picking up the iron poker and stabbing at the embers until they glowed brighter.

  “Nay! Put that down,” he warned, but she didn’t listen.

  “What are you afraid of, my lord?” she asked, finding it interesting that a moment ago she was the one afraid of him and now the tables seemed to have turned.

  “I don’t want a fire.”

  “Well, I do. Thanks to the men you sent to kidnap me, my cloak is soaking wet from the rain and I am chilled.” She reached down and picked up a log and placed it atop the flames. Then she repeated her action, poking at the embers and waving her hand until a flame caught and lit up the room. The warmth of the heat felt good and she contemplated removing her wet cloak. “That’s better,” she said, turning around with the poker still in her hand.

  She jerked backward and about jumped out of her skin to find Ravenscar standing right behind her.

  “I said not to do that!” Ravenscar towered over her with shoulder-length black hair and dark, sunken eyes that looked tired and weary. He had a strong jawline and thin lips. And across his right cheek, he had a scar that ran from his ear all the way to his chin.

  “I – I didn’t mean to upset you,” she stuttered, taking a step backward until the heels of her shoes touched the hearth. “I was just trying to get warm.” Fear flowed back through her body as she looked at the reflection of the flames behind her flickering in the dark depths of his black eyes.

  His chest was broad and firm and also bare. He wore only a pair of braies, stretched tightly across his nether region. His long legs and feet were bare as well. If she hadn’t been so frightened of the horrible stories she’d heard of him, she would have taken a moment to drink in his manly beauty. Instead, she remained guarded, already plotting in her head a way to escape. He raised his hand to reach for her. In return she raised the hot poker to protect herself, using it as a sword.

  “Don’t touch me or I’ll scald you with this hot iron, I swear I will,” she warned, hoping he couldn’t decipher the fear in her voice.

  “You haven’t had it in the fire long enough for it to get hot,” he answered nonchalantly.

  “Yes. Yes, I have. It’ll burn you,” she threatened, holding it out and, at the same time, trying to back away. She felt the hot flames warming her backside. If she retreated further, she’d be in the fire.

  “I don’t have time for games,” he spat. Reaching out with one hand, his fist closed around the poker. He pulled it hard and she stumbled forward, landing with her open palms splayed against his bare chest.

  She could feel his muscles under his skin and they were as hard as a rock. But that’s not all she felt. His skin was searing hot under her palms. She pushed away and when she did, the poker fell from his hand to the ground with a loud clanking noise.

  “You are burning up with fever!” she gasped.

  “I told you. I’m . . . dying.” His hooded eyes made him look as if he were going to pass out.

  “Get back in bed. Immediately,” she said, taking his arm and guiding him back to bed. “Now lie down, quickly, before you swoon.” She pushed him down on the bed, arranging his pillow and making him lay back.

  “I don’t – swoon,” he told her.

  Benedict had never felt so sick in all his life. If it hadn’t been for the fact the girl named Autumn was so delightful to look at, he would have closed his eyes and willed his life to be over. Now he knew what his liege lord had felt before he took his own life. He felt so tired that all he wanted to do was sleep, but he couldn’t. He itched so badly he felt as if bugs were crawling around beneath his skin. He also felt cold, so cold from the fever that burned against his skin like the fires of hell. His eyes started to close of their own accord.

  “Lord Ravenscar,” she said, slapping his cheek in gentle taps, causing his eyes to open at the delightful feel of her hand against his skin. “It’s imperative you stay awake.” She rested her palm on his forehead next. Her skin felt soft like satin, and the scent of lavender filled his senses as it wafted from her body. Her presence caused him to become heady. His eyes started to close again. He wanted to dream of holding the girl named Autumn in his arms with her head resting against his chest. He wanted to meld his body with hers, making love that would sate him and make her scream out in ecstasy as he brought her to completion.

  “I said, stay awake! I’m not going to tell you again.” Her voice screamed out all right, but it was in anger, not ecstasy. “I need you to tell me what happened to make you this way.”

  “I – I caught the plague, that’s all that matters,” he told her, not wanting to divulge the information that he wasn’t the original Ravenscar. He’d taken over his liege lord’s identity and everyone in the castle had accepted the action. He was respected as a lord now. He wasn’t going to volunteer information to strangers that he was naught but an orphan of a nobleman that once did Ravenscar’s bidding.

  “What makes you think you have the plague? Do you even have any symptoms?”

  “I’m burning up with fever,” he pointed out. “You said so yourself.”

  “I need herbs and water and my hea
ling potions,” she told him. “And I need to check your body for buboes.”

  “Look!” He shoved his arm in her face. “Don’t you see it? It’s the plague.”

  She made a face and took her fingers, running them over the bald spot on his arm. “What happened here?” she asked.

  “Never mind that,” he said, pulling back his arm, not wanting to explain the missing hair caused by the hot wax Nelek had spilled on him. “Look at this, instead.” He raised his arm and nodded toward his armpit. “Buboes, I’m telling you. Lots of them. It’s no doubt the plague.”

  She touched his armpit next, running her fingers over the raised bumps. It was all he could do to keep from laughing since it tickled.

  “Do you mean these hives?” she asked, studying the raised bumps on his arms and chest. “This isn’t the plague at all.”

  “It’s not?” He lifted his head to look at her. “Bid the devil, I’ve got leprosy, I knew it!” His head fell back on the pillow and he squeezed his eyes closed.

  “Leprosy?” She giggled. “I assure you, it isn’t leprosy either. But you do have a high fever and unless we bring it down right away, it can end up consuming you.”

  “I told you I was dying.”

  “Does your squire know where I can get some herbs?”

  “We have no herbs except for those in the kitchen,” he told her.

  “Then I’ll need to get some right away.” She stood to go. His eyes shot open and he gripped her around the wrist to keep her from leaving. Bright green eyes stared down at his hand and then slowly traveled up his arm. Her red locks glowed in the firelight making her look like a beautiful, mystical fae.

  “Nay. Use your healing touch to cure me,” he commanded.

  She looked at him suspiciously. “How do you know about that?”

  “I am Ravenscar. I know all.” He was trying to scare her into staying because he wasn’t sure he had the strength left to go after her if she should decide to run from the room.