Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection

by Lana Williams

  As the darkness beyond his closed eyes gradually lightened, he breathed a shallow sigh of relief. Dawn. Perhaps daylight would bring help. He made another attempt to open his eyes but only one responded. The pounding in his head made it difficult to focus. What part of the river he was on, he could not say. He might be far from Berwick. There was no way to tell from his current view. It was quiet here with only birds chirping to signal life.

  Did he dare roll over? Then he scoffed. How could he do that when he hadn’t yet managed to lift his head? Patiently he waited, urging his body to respond, wanting to crawl the rest of the way out of the cold water as he was starting to shiver. His ribs didn’t care for that.

  He waited a little longer, trying to gather his resolve to move while he listened for voices but heard no one. Digging deep to find strength, he used his elbows to pull himself up the bank, but the pain proved too much. Luckily his stomach was already empty but the dry heaves set his ribs on fire.

  As he rested, he tried again to piece together what little he remembered. Thomas, for certain. But the identity of the other two men remained a mystery. They’d spoken little, not that he could recall their words. Only voices as his head had spun.

  He closed his eye again and rested, willing the pain to subside so he could think of what to do.

  The sound of lapping water became more pronounced. Oars sliding through the water, he realized. His heart pounded with fear. Had the men returned to make certain they’d finished the deed? Yet he could do nothing but lay there, fear nearly choking him. He knew with certainty he would not survive another assault.

  The rhythmic sound drew nearer and his body tensed. Perhaps it wasn’t them. Perhaps it was someone who could help. He thought of Sophia, of Chanse and Braden. Surely they searched for him by now. He couldn’t simply lay here, waiting in fear.

  Determination flooded him, and he lifted his head, trying to see who approached but cattails blocked his view. The steady rhythm of oars dipping into water told him whoever it was drew still nearer. He waited until the sound seemed close then called out, “Here.”

  His voice did not resemble a human one. More like a growl from some feral animal. His mouth was so dry, his throat so sore. “Here.” His second attempt was only slightly better. The effort it took had him dropping his head to the ground again.

  Apparently it worked as voices could now be heard, calling out to halt. A boat came into sight between the cattails. Did they see him? He called out again but was too exhausted to move this time. He could only hope he’d done enough to draw their notice.

  “Found him.” Rough hands took hold of his arms, sending sharp pain through his ribs, his limbs, and he sank into darkness once again.

  ~*~

  Sophia couldn’t wait at home for news any longer. Worry would soon drive her mad. She’d see if any of the fishermen had returned. If not, she’d help search for Garrick by walking along the riverbank. She had to do something. Anything.

  She waved at the guard who glared at her in return as this was the third time she’d passed through the gate this morn. But as she’d waited for word, she’d become convinced that Chanse was right. Whoever took Garrick would dump him in the river as they had that other man. Her breath hitched at the thought.

  “Going to the river again?” the guard asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  No purpose would be served in lying. The man could easily watch where she went. “I’ve a trade to make with the fishermen.”

  The man waved her through. She worried she should’ve remained at the cottage in case Alec and Chanse needed her. But nay. She couldn’t simply wait any longer.

  As she watched, two boats pulled into the dock where they normally unloaded their catch. One of the men on the boats waved at her.

  Sophia ran like the wind toward the dock, hope lending her speed as she leapt over rocks and tufts of grass that threatened to slow her progress. She knew she’d draw attention by doing so but couldn’t help it. As she drew closer, she realized Garrick was not visible in the boat.

  “Oh, dear God.” Her heart in her throat, she slowed her headlong rush, searching the boat for a sign of Garrick.

  Samuel, the fisherman she’d spoken with this morn, gestured for her to come closer as he glanced about, his brow furrowed with concern. His son sat quietly beside him. “We’ve got him in the bottom of my boat. He’s in bad shape, my lady.”

  He held up a fish on a stringer and nodded, gesturing for her to take it. Of course. They needed to act as though nothing untoward had happened. She was only making a deal for his catch of the day.

  Sophia reached for the stringer, her gaze searching amidst the nets on the bottom of the boat for Garrick. Samuel’s son drew back a pile of nets, giving her a glimpse of Garrick’s familiar profile. At least she thought it was him. His swollen, scraped features were barely recognizable. He was so still. Too still. “He lives?”

  “Aye. But hurt somethin’ terrible. He’ll need to be carried out of the boat.”

  Her throat burned with tears before she sternly reprimanded herself. He was alive. Now they need only keep him that way. “I’m sorry to ask more of you, Samuel, but can you take him down the river to the dock near the healer’s cottage? Perhaps you could fish from there for a time until I can bring help?”

  “You’re going to keep him at Hilda’s?” His wrinkled face scrunched with concern. “That old woman’s a loon. Are you certain?”

  Sophia hesitated for only a moment. She had no choice. Hilda was a good healer even though her words often made no sense. “Aye. We must keep him hidden for a few days while he recovers. ’Twould be too difficult to get him into the city.”

  Samuel shook his head. “’Tis going to take longer than a few days, my lady. A few sennights perhaps. He’s in a bad way.”

  Her heart squeezed at the idea of the strong, broad-shouldered knight so severely injured. “I’ll meet you by Hilda’s as soon as I have someone to help me get him out of your boat and up to her cottage.”

  The old man kicked the nets back over the top of Garrick and nodded. She handed him back the stringer and turned toward the city gate, anxious to find Chanse. She’d nearly made it to the entrance when she heard her name.

  “Lady Sophia.”

  She turned to see Braden striding toward her, returning from his search of the river. A carter and several others walked along the road toward the gate as well. “I’ve good news,” she called out.

  Braden’s eyes widened in alarm as he looked at those nearby. “Oh?”

  “I’ve made a deal for the fish. But I’ll need help carrying them.” She stared hard at him, willing him to understand her meaning.

  Realization quickly dawned. “The fish. Excellent. Good news indeed.” His eyes were full of questions she didn’t dare answer.

  “I can’t carry them to where I want them without assistance.” She raised her brow, hoping he understood that as well.

  Braden nodded as he drew near, obviously uncertain but taking the hint. “Shall I fetch Chanse so the two of us can move the fish?”

  Sophia stepped to the side of the busy gate entrance, well aware of the guard listening. “That would be most helpful.” She lowered her voice. “Meet me at the dock downriver from the nunnery.”

  “Is he—”

  “Here now. No lingering about,” the guard called out, interrupting Braden’s question.

  “He will be,” she whispered. “Quick as you can.” Then she turned toward the nunnery, relieved that help was on its way. She was certain the guard still watched, so she’d walk to the nunnery before she continued on.

  The sooner they got Garrick out of the boat so they could tend his injuries, the better. She stared at the nunnery, wondering if she was making a mistake. Perhaps Garrick would be better off at St. Mary’s.

  Nay. There were far too many eyes there. Not all of the sisters had a good heart or good intentions from what Ilisa had said. Some were just as petty as the women who lived in the city. They only
wore different clothing.

  Hilda was their best hope. She was a strange old lady, of that there was no doubt. But she was an excellent healer. Sophia reminded herself they needed a quiet place where Garrick could remain undiscovered while he healed and received help to do so. Hilda’s was the perfect place.

  Now if only she could get the odd old woman to agree to it while Braden found Chanse.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Garrick felt smothered. A weight of some sort lay on top of him, yet from the rocking motion, he had to be in a boat. How much time had passed he didn’t know. Based on the amount of pain still wracking his body, not nearly enough.

  If Braden found him—

  He paused and corrected himself. When Braden found him, Garrick had to keep him away. His cousin would try to heal him. But as severe as Garrick’s pain was, Braden would be putting himself at risk by doing so. Garrick first needed to make certain he was going to live. God’s teeth, but he hoped so.

  The urge to cough made him worry he had blood in his lungs. He’d heard his father’s stories as well as Rylan’s of men who’d had such injuries. Bright red foamy blood meant the lungs were hurt. Few recovered from that.

  Though he tasted blood in his mouth, he couldn’t manage to touch his mouth to see it. The weight on top of him was too heavy. And it reeked of fish. In fact, he was certain that was a fish flopping near his side.

  He considered his options, still uncertain if he was with a friend or foe. It had to the former. Why would someone who wished him dead bother to pull him into the boat? Unless he wanted to find a better place to dump his body.

  Christ.

  The thought disheartened him. Yet at this moment, he could do nothing. He’d have to wait until the man dragged him from the boat to see if he could manage to gain his freedom. Assuming he was still alive by then.

  The image of Sophia formed in his mind, lighting a tiny flame deep inside him. He held onto it tight, taking the comfort it gave him.

  ~*~

  Sophia knocked on the door of the wattle and daub cottage, hoping Hilda was home. The healer’s carefully tended herb beds were laid out in specific order and planted according to their use, color, size, type, and fragrance. But she often ventured far and wide to pick naturally growing herbs and help those who requested her assistance. Some residents claimed she only collected herbs by the light of the full moon on the solstice. Naked, no less. Sophia had her doubts on that. How could she possibly gather all the herbs she needed on so few occasions?

  A few people claimed she was a witch. In truth, it had crossed Sophia’s mind more than once. The woman knew things she couldn’t possibly know. But she’d never harmed a soul and rarely refused to help anyone in need. If she was a witch, then perhaps she was a good one.

  The tidy little cottage lay at the edge of the forest, quite far from the protection of the city walls. Though many residents questioned why she chose to live outside the city, Hilda had once told Sophia she felt safer outside, that walls could trap as easily as protect. Hilda no doubt believed that doubly so after the siege.

  The cottage door cracked opened and the tiny old woman peered out. “Who’s there?”

  “Lady Sophia of Berwick. I am in need of your assistance.”

  Hilda looked her up and down as she opened the door wider. “I dinna see a thing wrong with ye.”

  “’Tis for a friend. He’s badly injured. I wondered if I could bring him here to stay with you for a time.”

  Her gaze narrowed suspiciously. “What trouble follows him?”

  Sophia opened her mouth to deny it, but there was no point. Hilda would soon discover the truth. “Someone wishes him dead.”

  Hilda thought upon it for a moment then gave a nod, her long gray braid bobbing as she did so. “Bring him in. I’ll ready the bed.”

  Sophia hesitated, deciding she should reveal all if she wanted the healer’s help. “He’s an English knight.”

  “Why does that matter? Is he injured or nay?”

  Relieved, Sophia could’ve hugged her. “You have my gratitude. He is down near the river. It will take some time to carry him here.”

  Again the woman nodded then closed the door abruptly, forcing Sophia to step back. Apparently the conversation was over. Sophia breathed a sigh of relief that she’d gotten what she came for.

  She turned to hurry down the narrow path along the trees to where she could see the river in the distance. Samuel’s boat was there, tied to a tree. Though she longed to see how Garrick fared, she remained where she was, waiting for Braden and Chanse. She didn’t want to draw any more attention to Garrick than they would when they lifted him from the boat. But she could think of no way to hide him unless they delayed his move until nightfall. That would never do, as Garrick couldn’t wait that long for help.

  Sooner than she’d dared to hope, she spotted the two knights on horseback drawing near. They arrived at the river just ahead of her. Samuel eyed them warily until he saw Sophia.

  “They’ve come to aid us,” she called out.

  “How is he?” Chanse asked Sophia as he quickly dismounted.

  “I don’t know. I only saw his face earlier as he lay in the boat. Samuel says he’s badly hurt.”

  The fisherman’s son tugged on the rope to pull the boat closer to the dock as they spoke.

  Braden reached the boat first.

  “Don’t touch him, Braden.” The stern tone to the odd command had Sophia staring at Chanse. But Chanse ignored her as he glared at his brother. “Don’t do it. Not yet. I’m not explaining to our mother—” He stopped abruptly to glance at Sophia as though he just remembered she was there. “Let us first see how he fares.”

  Braden scowled before turning back to the boat as Chanse quickly removed the saddle from his horse then hurried forward.

  Sophia couldn’t make any sense of what Chanse had said but set it aside for the moment. Her sole focus was on seeing Garrick. Braden lifted the nets as Samuel directed to reveal Garrick sprawled on the bottom of the boat.

  “Oh, dear God,” Sophia whispered. He looked even worse than she’d feared.

  His face was bloody and swollen, his lips cracked. The stillness of his form caught Sophia hard. A lump formed in her throat as she stared, fearing the worst.

  “Garrick?” Chanse said as he kept a hand in front of Braden as though to hold him back. “Garrick, can you hear me?”

  His only answer was a low moan, but Sophia didn’t think she’d ever heard anything so wonderful. She thought he moved slightly but couldn’t see through her tears.

  Chanse grinned and bent over his cousin. “This is what happens when you don’t bring us along to join in the fun.”

  Garrick released a small scoff. At least that was what she thought the noise was.

  “Sophia?” he muttered.

  “I am here as well.” She blinked back her tears and stepped forward to touch his hand. She hesitated to touch him anywhere else for fear of hurting him. “You are safe.”

  “Well, you were safe,” Braden offered. “But now we’re going to haul you to the healer’s cottage so we can hide you. Chances are you’re going to hurt like hell by the time you get there.”

  “Already hurt like hell,” he mumbled between his stiff lips. “Water?”

  Braden obtained a flask from his saddlebag and held it to Garrick’s lips. He lifted his head to take several gulps then lay back down, eyes closed again.

  Sophia caught the worried glance Chanse and Braden shared. Again, Chanse gave Braden a stern glare of warning. What on earth was going on?

  “Can you lift him?” Samuel asked. He glanced about warily, and Sophia knew he was anxious to be on his way.

  Chanse studied Garrick. “We’ll be as careful as possible.”

  Garrick nodded slightly as though resigned to the pain moving would cause.

  With Braden on one side and Chanse on the other, they put Garrick’s arms around each of them, the boat bobbing dangerously. Garrick gasped in pain but they kep
t moving. Sophia rushed forward to shift Garrick’s feet out of the boat. By the time they got him to Chanse’s horse, Garrick had lost consciousness again.

  “Probably for the best,” Chanse said. “Damn but he’s heavy.”

  Braden merely grunted. They wrestled Garrick onto Chanse’s horse as carefully as possible. Laying on his stomach across the horse no doubt hurt him, but it would provide the quickest way to transport him to the healer’s cottage.

  Chanse paid Samuel for his assistance, while Sophia took the reins of the horse. Braden walked beside Garrick to help keep him in place. Chanse caught up with them and walked along the other side of Garrick. After stopping several times to adjust Garrick’s position, they at last made it to the cottage where Hilda waited.

  “Come ben the hoose,” she directed, waving them inside to make her meaning clear as she held the door wide.

  Braden and Chanse carried Garrick to the bed that Hilda had made ready. The healer propped a blanket under his head, clucking as she noted the large bump and blood there.

  “Let us have a close look,” she declared then waved her hand vaguely over Garrick’s form, gesturing for them to strip him down. “His cuarans first.”

  Chanse looked at Sophia in question, obviously not understanding the Scottish term. “Boots,” Sophia supplied.

  Despite all the jostling as Chanse and Braden removed his boots and damp clothes, Garrick didn’t wake. Sophia stayed out of the way, keeping her gaze averted from his naked body.

  Hilda examined him from head to toe, muttering incoherently. She poked and prodded his ribs, his knee, again the bump on his head, shaking her head as she worked. She tugged open his eyelid then his mouth and looked in both his ears. At last she covered Garrick’s groin with a linen cloth, much to Sophia’s relief.

  Suddenly Hilda glanced up to stare at Braden. She took his hand in both of hers and held them tight. “Ye have the heat, don’t ye?”