by Ria Cantrell
“Nay, she is visiting yet another sick child. That must be the third one this week.”
“Indeed. Well, you know children. They are always sick with one ailment or another.”
Especially when someone makes certain they ingest things that cause hale stomachs to turn, Daria thought. Fixing a smile on her face, she said, “Well, no matter. Perhaps you can give Cook the approval she needs.”
“Nay, I do not think that would be for the best. Sir Erik would not like me overstepping my bounds.”
Daria nearly laughed. That was putting it mildly. The one thing they agreed on was that this savage little slut needed to be put in her place. She almost wished that she actually had a task she could give the little whore to put her in worse standing with Erik Ragnorsen. It was not a hidden thing that Erik had nothing but disdain for the girl. Smiling with false benevolence, Daria said, “Have you heard from Sir Andrew yet?”
Sadness crept into Bronwyn’s eyes.
“Nay.”
Daria almost could not hide her glee. Instead, she pouted and said, “Oh, that is too bad. I know you must miss him.”
“Aye. That I do. If only I knew where he was. Perhaps, I should just ask Lady Rhianna.”
“Oh, well, he has been seen around the village. I believe I actually saw him the other morn,” Daria added, quickly forming a tale. Maybe even too quickly.
Bronwyn brightened hearing that he was still in the vicinity of the Keep. She kept herself from asking if he was alone. She just did not think she could stomach hearing that he was not, at the moment.
“Did he seem well?”
“Oh, indeed. He is such a handsome man. He looked to be in fine form.” Bronwyn just nodded absently.
“There, now you see, you mustn’t worry. He has not gone far. I am sure he will be back to see you quite soon.”
Bronwyn wondered, though, why he had not been back. Daria thought to plant more seeds of pain, but she would wait. It would seem too spiteful if she made up something about Drew being with a woman right now. Seeing the bright smile on Dana’s face, Bronwyn was forced to smile back.
“Thank ye’ for letting me know. I feel better knowing he is alright.”
“Oh, I am glad to offer you some words of comfort. He will be back when he is done brooding, no doubt. He did not seem overly burdened. He has probably already forgotten his quarrel with you.”
Bronwyn nodded, hope lighting her eyes.
Go ahead, set your hopes high, you stupid little dolt. All the better to set you up for a grander fall.
Daria spied Rurik approaching and she hastily picked up her basket and said, “Forgive me, I have tarried too long. I hope we can visit again soon.”
Pulling the hood of her cloak over her head, and shielding her face, she quickly turned from the bailey and marched down the dirt lane.
When Rurik reached Bronwyn, he asked, “Who was that woman you were talking to?”
“Oh, her name is Dana and she works in the kitchens. I think she is just trying to be friendly. She had said that Rhianna has asked her to help her at times. She wanted me to taste a stew they were preparing for dinner, but I did not think it was my place to do so.”
“Hmm, interesting, I am not sure I know anyone named Dana, but there are always new people milling about in a keep. I wanted to be certain no one was being inhospitable to you.”
Rurik thought he needed to find out more about this woman Dana. He prided himself on knowing all the people who worked in Castle Ragnorsen. Still, he supposed Cook could have hired her recently. He would look into it.
Bronwyn lowered her head. There was only one person who was being inhospitable and that was Rurik’s son. She certainly was not about to admit it to this man, so she just said, “Nay. Everyone has been most kind, really.”
She put the uneasy feeling aside when Rurik had mentioned that he did not know Dana. There were lots of people who are needed about day to day in the effective running of a keep. While she knew her father would know each and every person of both the village and the keep, Bronwyn thought perhaps it was not always that way. The woman was being friendly, after all. She had even mentioned that Drew was seen in the village. Bronwyn hoped it would not be long for his return. She decided to keep busy and try to be of assistance to Rhianna. In doing so, she would be able to take her mind off of Drew; at least for a moment or so.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sometime in the night, Drew woke. Not completely sure where he was, he tried to peer through the blackness that seemed to surround him. One thing he was certain of, wherever he was, the fire had long gone out. The air around him was positively frigid. He could barely keep his teeth from chattering. Through the darkened room, Drew tried to remember what had happened to him. It seemed his limbs were heavy and stiff. His body was wracked with pain. Even his skin hurt where the bed sheets brushed against it.
When he tried to swallow, he felt a rasping rawness in his throat. I must be sick, he thought. How did I get sick? I need to get back to Bronwyn. Drew tried to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and he felt a red hot pain burn through his hip. Oh God, I am sick…really sick…why can’t I stand? To Drew, his thoughts seemed cohesive, but when he tried to move from the bed, he actually slipped off of it and crumpled at the side on the floor. The fire ripping through his leg caused him to cry out in his delirium.
Hearing the sound of his agony, Drew’s mother quickly hurried back to see to her son. She found him on the floor, convulsing with tremors. He was burning up still. Fever raged within him, yet he shivered constantly. Elizabeth hastily found her husband and younger son, and she had them lift Drew from the floor and settle him back in his bed. He thrashed and moaned. Strange sounds of agony left his throat, which was hoarse and strained. Elizabeth plied him with furs and blankets, trying to ease the shivering within him. Drew’s father said, “He is very sick, Beth. He is not getting better.”
“Never mind, he will get better. He has to. There is a girl waiting for him. I know she loves him. If only we could bring her here, it may be what he needs to pull him through this.”
“A girl? Drew? Beth I don’t think …”
“You don’t need to think. I know it. Once he gets well, I suspect he is going to marry her.”
“Beth you must be mistaken. Our Drew? Marry?”
“Aye. You hear that strange word he keeps saying...he is calling her name.”
“Brahwnnn?”
“Her name is Bronwyn. He has found her at last. He has to get better, for the sake of his beloved Bronwyn.”
“Bronwyn? Welsh?”
“Scot. I don’t know all of it, but he took a flogging for her.”
Drew’s father laughed in spite of the grave situation before them.
“Flogging? Now I know you are mistaken.”
Elizabeth Brandham shot her husband a reproachful look and she said adamantly, “He has been flogged. You can still see the stripes he wears on his back. He took the beating for her. He thinks she doesn’t care for him, but I know in my heart that she does. He was headstrong and proud, and he came here to forget about her, only we see how that has ended for him. He was gored because his thoughts were on her. He didn’t even hear the boar in the brush. He has forsaken his warrior’s instincts because of it.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. The lady’s man has finally met his match.”
“Unless we bring this fever down, his match is going to be an unmarried widow. Now quickly, bring me pails of cold water. We need to cool him else, he will succumb and we will not be able to bring him about.”
Geoffrey Brandham nodded in acquiescence and he went to fetch the water his wife needed. He tried not to smile, thinking of having a “daughter” finally in their home. Beth was right! They had to get Drew well. They may yet see their son wed. Still, he could not imagine his son taking a beating for any woman’s sake.
~~~~~
Drew’s fever raged for days. He slipped in and out of consciousness. He coughed painfully and an au
dible wheeze was constant as he slept. He was alternately packed in cold wet wraps to bring down fever, and then bundled in warm blankets and furs to stave off the ever present chills. Finally, at long last, on the third such day, Drew’s fever broke.
He woke, soaked in his own sweat and with teeth chattering, he opened his eyes. They felt like there had been weights tied to his eyelids as he struggled to raise them. The room was no longer dark as he had remembered. He was in his own chambers, and the room was awash in a warm glow, which emanated from the fire in the hearth. He saw his mother sitting beside his bed.
“What happened to me,” he croaked. His tongue felt thick in his mouth and his throat was raw. It was painful to swallow. A series of coughs rattled through him, causing pain to scorch through his bound ribs. When he tried to sit up, the burning fire burst through the wound in his leg. It nearly sent him back to the darkness, but he fought it off. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he asked again, “What happened?”
“You have been very sick with fever. Don’t you remember? You were gored by a wild boar.”
“Ahhh yes. The boar. I remember now.”
“Fever came upon you quickly. Infection set deep in the muscle of your leg. Lung sickness followed. But you will heal now. The wound has been purged. It no longer weeps the poison. It has stayed clean for more than a day now, so it will heal, too. Now, we need to get you into a fresh night shirt and put fresh linens on your bed. I fear movement will be painful, but then you can rest again.”
Drew asked for a drink and though it was painful to swallow, the cool water offered relief to his parched throat. When he drank his fill, he asked, “Bronwyn has not come?”
With head bowed, Elizabeth said, “No, son. She does not know you are sick. We had not time to bring her here. We have been trying to get you well.”
“I kept dreaming that she had come. I thought….”
Drew felt her in his dreams as he had all those years ago, when he had nearly died on the battle field. The memory of it niggled at his senses. What did it mean? Was she always there, in the recesses of his mind and memories? He knew he had to return to her soon or it would be too late.
“You called for her constantly.”
Suddenly, he remembered all that had happened to him before he had succumbed to the illness. He remembered what Llerwyn had said. Drew said, “I have to go to her or I shall lose her forever. It may already be too late.”
“You are not well enough to ride. I will send word and have her come.”
“No”, he roared. “No, I will not have her pity. I will not have her see me as I am. It is best she didn’t come,” he said bitterly. “I will ride as soon as I can sit a horse and I will give her the choice to wed me or return to her native land, but I will not have her decision brought about from pity on an invalid. Her choice to stay with me must be because of love. I will not force her hand with pity.”
A fresh wave of angry coughs erupted from him. His mother nodded, understanding more of the puzzle. He had bedded the girl. Of that she was certain. That would explain why he had been flogged. Drew had told her she was the daughter of a powerful Highland Laird, and she had been a ward of England.
Truth be told, Elizabeth was sure the girl was more of a hostage than a ward, being held for political gain, no doubt. If her son had tarnished her, he was lucky to get by with only a flogging. Only, he loved her. She was sure of that as well. And he was proud. He did not want his lover to see him weakened and sick. A mother could understand that. She said, “The stripes you wear…are because of her status in her clan?”
Drew shrugged. He would not discuss that. Not now; not ever.
“I am tired. I think I need to rest some more. The sooner I am stronger, the sooner, I shall return to her and learn the truth once and for all. If she wishes to be returned to her people, I will personally see her home and then I will think no more on it.”
“Son, she will want to see you.”
“If she does not, I have no one to blame but myself.”
Once fresh bedding and clothing was brought in, Drew gritted through the pain to settle himself in bed again. He was still so tired; so very tired. Thinking about Bronwyn leaving for Scotland, sent the deepest pain of all through him. It pierced his very heart.
~~~~~~~
Daria prided herself for her potions and syrups that caused the village children to take ill. She had to be careful not to dose the brats too severely, else they would die. But dose them she did. The Viking’s whore was running ragged tending to all the sickness in the town. Daria just had to be wary of the older lord of the keep. He had spied her once talking to the Scottish slut, and she was lucky to have slipped away. Erik was too busy with matters of the keep to take much notice of her, but still she was cautious. She heard rumors that the whore was breeding again.
Well, that explained the quick banns for their remarriage. That plan of hers was thwarted for the moment. While she had been happy to learn of the annulment, the remarriage could put a twist into her plans. Daria thought about how her craft had progressed. Why, she even thought about finding the best mixture to help the breeding whore lose her brat yet again, but that would have to wait. She had to fortify her “friendship” with the Scottish she-dog only to destroy her. So smug was she now that she had bedded her precious Drew. If she imagined her lying beneath him grunting in pleasure, it was all Daria could do to not choke the life out of her scrawny neck.
Daria busied her days with thoughts of cutting that smug look off the dog’s face. With each day, she stewed and seethed in anger, creating the malevolence to fester. If she got to thinking of Drew’s beautiful cock lodged inside this slut, a violent rage would overtake her.
On one such occasion, she allowed herself to imagine the two of them locked together and it sent her into such a rage, it took her hours to clean up the leavings of her tirade. She would make Drew see how wrong he had been about this Scottish git and then he would welcome her back to his bed. When that happened, if the bitch still lived, she would make sure she would bear witness to the passion that she and Drew would find.
In fact, the idea of the disgusting little slut watching her taking him inside of her almost brought her to sexual release. Daria shook it off as she made her way carefully into the keep. Today she would play the sympathetic friend when she told the girl the bad news. It would be perfect. She barely could contain her glee at the thought of her latest plan.
Daria found the Scottish slut sitting in the great hall. She was reading quietly by herself and Daria could not believe her great luck. There seemed to be no one about to deter her. She painted a sickly sweet smile on her face and approached the lone woman. She greeted her with a hug and sat beside her. Daria had to shrug off her revulsion of touching the horrid Scottish savage.
Instead, she cheerfully inquired about her health. Bronwyn had recovered almost fully from the terrible bump on her head. It had been nothing shy of a miracle, because Rhianna thought for certain that Bronwyn would have lingering effects from the blow to her skull. Outside of a few headaches now and then, Bronwyn seemed hale and nearly mended. Rhianna had been glad, because she had been kept so busy with the sick village children, that she did not have time to properly tend to Bronwyn.
Bronwyn offered a small smile to her friend, Dana. She was getting to the point of looking forward to their visits. No one was being unkind to her. Even the Viking seemed to be treating her with less disdain, but she spent most of her time alone with her thoughts. Most of those thoughts were about how much she missed Drew, so when Dana offered her respite from those lonely thoughts, Bronwyn relished the moments. Bronwyn chatted with Dana amiably and learned that some of the bread had to be dashed as weevils had gotten into the flour.
Dana mostly talked about the goings on in the kitchens, but Bronwyn couldn’t fault her. It was her job, after all. Bronwyn was dying to ask her if she had heard if Drew had been about, but seeing that Dana had not brought it up, she thought not to ask. Finally, after small t
alk and trivialities, Dana gave a sideward glance to Bronwyn. She thought if she had to say one more word about cooking, she would die from the boredom of it. Now she was going to get to the meat of the matter. She said, “I must tell you something, but….”
Bronwyn could sense the hesitance in Dana. Something was amiss, she was sure of it.
“Please, Dana. What is it?”
“Well--I struggled with how best to tell you. But you are my friend, and you should know the truth.”
“What truth?”
“Well, Drew has--well, he visited my friend last eve. She doesn’t know that you and I have become fast friends. She was just so very happy that he finally returned to her bed and….”
Bronwyn heard no more. Her heart pounded in her ears and she felt as if she was going to be ill. She stood up, trying to fight tears and Daria masked the joy in her face as the damage hit home.
“I am sorry to have to tell you. It just seemed you should know. I am in quite the position to have two of my friends in love with the same man. Only, even though we newly know each other, I think we have forged a bond. I tried to tell my friend that Drew was merely lovesick over you and was trying to make you jealous, but she would not have it. I wish it was not so, Bronwyn, but men are faithless, to be sure.”
Bronwyn gulped down the tears and she nodded dully and said, “Please excuse me. I need to--I need to….”
Bronwyn could not hide her heartache. She felt as if her heart had been flayed from her chest. She tried to brush past Dana, but the woman held out her arms and patted Bronwyn’s back.
“There, there, dear. I am sorry you had to learn this. I struggled all day how to tell you. Can you forgive me,” she lied.