Читать книгу Siege Of the Heart - Elise Cyr - Страница 7

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The air was thick with blood, sweat and horse. Alex clenched his teeth and tried to think of another way to communicate with Dumont’s men.

Matilde ran out of the castle. The gray-haired knight from the walls kept pace by her side. The Englishman seemed to be very skilled at making opportune appearances. That warranted further investigation, but it would have to wait, as Matilde came over to him, her gaze locked on the injured girl in his arms.

“Know you who she is?”

Before she could speak, Hugh and Jerome tensed beside him in a way as familiar to him as breathing—the quiet moment before a fight. Both men had seized the hilt of their swords, intent on something behind him.

A cold blade came to rest none too gently against his neck. Tightening his grip on the girl in his arms, he kept still as a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder. From behind, an Englishman barked into his ear, but the meaning was lost on Alex.

Hugh and Jerome unsheathed their swords and took a cautious step toward him.

“Wait!” Matilde cried.

The fierce fingers digging into Alex’s shoulder told him he would do well to call off his men even though his hands burned to take up his sword and fight.

The bastard pressed the steel more firmly against his neck. His skin stung at the contact. Alex cursed to himself. It was no use. He gave his men a warning look, and they came no closer.

The gray-haired knight spoke harshly to the man holding the sword to Alex’s throat and pointed at Alex and the girl in his arms. He did not know what the old man was saying, but he prayed the Englishman would listen to reason.

He held his breath and fixed his stare on Matilde. She seemed frozen in place, her face a mask of horror, as the sword dug into his neck. He barely noted the fact the Englishmen had stopped conversing over the roar in his ears.

Heartbeats later, his attacker finally pulled away with a growl.

The spell on his men broke, and they rushed forward to seize the Englishman. Alex squared his shoulders, the tension that had gathered in his frame slow to dissipate.

He knew his reaction to the attack would be crucial to his relations with the Dumont household. If he were too harsh, he risked angering Lord Dumont for disciplining one of his men in his stead. If he were too lenient, the English household might not respect his authority. And respect was already hard enough to come by.

First, though, he needed to see the man who dared to draw his sword against a Norman knight. He well remembered how fiercely the axe-wielding housecarls had defended Harold at Hastings. He expected some bearded giant, not the lad barely on the cusp of manhood who struggled in Hugh and Jerome’s grasp.

The boy’s blond hair was streaked with blood and grime, but the matted locks did not hide his glare as he locked eyes with Alex. That this young whelp had caught Alex and his men by surprise rankled. He debated the best way to punish the boy, when the young Englishman’s gaze fell to the girl in his arms, his face filled with something stronger than concern. Interesting.

The boy held still as Hugh stripped him of his weapons. He spoke to the older knight again, gesturing to the girl and then the prone man on one of the mounts in the courtyard.

“What are they saying?” Alex asked Matilde.

The woman’s wrinkled face slowly regained its color. “One of the men in the scouting party was badly injured,” she said in halting French.

“Why did you not tell me half the household was away?”

“Your pardon, sir. I did not know when they would be returning. I thought—”

He could not stomach her excuses right now. He just thanked God the confrontation had not brought more carnage. He tipped his head toward the young Englishman. “Who is that?”

Matilde frowned. “Kendrick, one of Lord Dumont’s men-at-arms. Your presence here… surprised him. You can be assured he will cause no more trouble. He understands the situation now.”

Alex doubted that very much, seeing the hatred still simmering in the young man’s eyes. “And her?” he asked, adjusting the girl in his arms.

“My daughter,” Matilde said, hesitating for only a moment. “Let me take her.”

Desperation haunted her careworn features, but he was three times a fool if he believed he held her daughter in his arms. Before he could reply, the gray-haired knight tried to lead Kendrick away, but Hugh and Jerome stood in their way. The man looked at Matilde and pointed to the injured rider, still unattended, and spoke urgently.

“They are only going to see to the wounded man’s injuries,” Matilde said.

“Then they will welcome my men’s assistance.” Turning away from her beseeching expression, Alex gave his men a nod. Hugh and Jerome would escort the two Englishmen to ensure they only intended to go to their comrade’s aid.

“By your leave, I will take her to my room,” Matilde said.

Alex gave her a curt nod. “Show me.”

The old woman ushered Alex into a room off the kitchens. Female servants scattered as she motioned him over to a small pallet along the far wall. Alex laid the girl down gently. Heat radiated off her body. “We will need bandages and a poultice. She also needs dry clothes. It is a wonder she is not frozen.”

Matilde relayed his orders to the servant who had followed them. The servant returned with supplies and heated the brazier set in the center of the room.

Alex felt the girl’s forehead and brushed the hair back from her burning face. It was a pleasing color, a gleaming golden brown in the torchlight. He slid back her cloak.

Matilde gasped and pulled him away. “What are you doing?”

Alex looked at her sharply, and she dropped her hands. “The girl has a fever. Her clothes are sodden, and she is already chilled through. We must dress her wound.”

“Yes, sir, but let me tend to her. You must be busy with your other duties.”

“Your…daughter is in no danger from me. I have seen my share of arrow wounds.”

Matilde put herself between Alex and the bed. “But, sir, it would not be proper for you to…” She worried her lower lip.

“This is no time for modesty,” he said as he looked back at the pale, drawn countenance of the young lady. “Step aside. Now.”

He waited until the old woman moved away before approaching the bed once more. Alex managed to pull off the girl’s cloak and ease it away from the wound. Dried blood coated the right sleeve of her dress. The belt came next. The finely scrolled, double-edged broadsword and scabbard he had observed earlier, along with a well-made knife—a seax if he recalled the English name correctly—came with it. Their bearing and craftsmanship were exquisite.

He looked questioningly at Matilde before setting them aside. “How did your daughter come to possess such fine weapons?”

Matilde did not answer as she helped him peel off the girl’s dress. Underneath, the girl wore a silk and linen shift, not a coarse woolen one, which bespoke nobility. Alex’s gaze found Matilde’s hooded one once more, but he said nothing as the shift too was removed.

He looked her over. Certainly more woman than girl. Pearly skin stretched over her frame, with hollows and curves in all the right places. There was just enough to her for a man to grab hold of.

He gritted his teeth. Now was hardly the time for such thoughts. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft of the arrow and pulled while Matilde held her down on the bed. The girl’s eyelids fluttered open, her face screwed up in pain. She bellowed, shaking her head. Alex tried to work the arrow out further, but the girl wrenched her arm from his grasp with surprising ferocity.

This time the girl’s eyes stayed open, muddy pools of fury and pain. She called for Matilde by her given name—not maman—but the rest of her words came out in a panicked rush. Matilde ran her hands over the sides of the girl’s face and crooned to her in English to calm her down.

Alex grabbed her flailing arm. They could delay no longer.

“No!”

The girl tried to pull away again, but her strength was ebbing. He prayed the pain would make her sleep once more. It would be easier that way.

“No, no, no,” she gasped. Her fevered gaze burned into him.

With a hard yank, he had the arrow out of her. The girl shrieked and mercifully passed out. Once Alex was sure he had removed all of the arrowhead and shaft, he helped Matilde bandage her shoulder and dress her in a clean gown.

After Matilde administered an infusion of herbs to allay fever, Alex pulled her away from the bed. “She is not your daughter.” Matilde started to shake her head, but Alex cut her off. “She is the Lady Isabel.”

“Th-that is ridiculous.”

“I think not,” Alex said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Her clothing is as exceptional as her weapons.” He paused, gauging her reaction. “Despite Dumont’s generosity with his servants, I find it hard to believe such quality is bestowed upon a waiting woman’s daughter.”

Matilde shook her head, her gaze dropping to her gnarled, calloused hands. When she remained silent, he sighed and turned his back on her. “Watch over her, and be sure to get some rest yourself. If her health worsens, I will hold you responsible.”

“I will keep her safe,” Matilde said fiercely.

“I thought as much,” he said over his shoulder.

He stalked back to the main hall. What business did Lady Dumont have participating in a scouting party? Did she have any knowledge of her father’s whereabouts? He was relieved she had been found. Yet, a woman who would pull such a stunt would not be easily dealt with. He had heard tales of Englishwomen who fought like men defending their homes. William had not exaggerated when he had spoken of the young lady’s spirit. No mild-mannered girl would leave the safety of her home with only the company of a few men and the steel she carried at her side.

Matilde’s defense of her mistress was admirable, though. Perhaps she really thought of her as a daughter. The woman had answered his questions, though he could not help but feel she had not been entirely forthcoming with her short replies and uneasy bearing. However, one thing was certain. As they had conversed, Matilde’s responses in French had become more fluid and rapid. She had lost her stutter.

Alex had just won a bet with himself.

* * * *

“Jerome leads the first watch,” Hugh reported, joining Alex as they walked toward the main hall the following afternoon.

Alex nodded. “Bon. I do not want us caught off guard if more visitors come to Ashdown.” He glanced at his shield bearer. “Any reports from the patrol?”

“Non, but Matilde’s descriptions of the boundaries were most helpful.”

Alex’s mouth twisted. “I am glad, despite her reluctance to share the information with us.”

He had badgered Matilde into describing the extent of the Dumont holding, and his men spent the morning monitoring the territory. They located a clearing to the north that had seen a fierce battle, and a handful of dead Welshmen covered the ground. It explained the sudden arrival of Dumont’s men the previous afternoon and the extra mounts they brought back with them.

“Matilde did as you bade and sent out messengers to the neighboring thanes for news of Lord Dumont’s whereabouts,” Hugh reported.

“Bon, but I do not expect them to be much help.”

“The last of the messengers returned but a few minutes ago,” Hugh said.

“And?”

Hugh shrugged. “No word.”

“Worry not. I am certain our new charge holds the answers to many of our questions,” Alex said as they entered the hall. He surveyed the room. Although it was not quite time for supper, men had gathered and were arranging the tables. “Indeed, it is time I checked on Lady Isabel. I will rejoin you at the meal.”

He stopped just outside the open door. The gray-haired knight from the day before stood at the girl’s bedside next to Matilde. The man had managed to slip away from Hugh and Jerome yesterday, and they had not seen him since. The older man brushed a curl from Isabel’s forehead with a familiarity that tightened Alex’s chest. As soon as the pair discovered his presence, the English knight gave a curt bow and left the room.

“Who was that?” Alex asked.

“Captain Thomas trains my Lord Dumont’s men-at-arms.” A note of caution lit Matilde’s voice.

He nodded and cast about the room. A captain… He must be privy to all of the Dumonts’ comings and goings. Why was he not with his Lord? If Captain Thomas did not know some French, since he was in such a trusted position in the Dumont household, he would be surprised.

“Bring him to me at supper.” It was past time he attempted to speak with Thomas. “You will translate.”

“As you wish.”

He motioned to the still-slumbering young woman. “Any improvement?”

“The fever has subsided only a little, but she is strong.”

“No doubt,” Alex said, thinking back to her numerous weapons. The old woman fidgeted with the folds of her dress. “Carry on then.” He left, knowing his continuing presence would only distract her from her charge.

After the meal was served, Matilde approached him at the high table. “Pardon, sir, but I am unable to find Captain Thomas. The other servants have not seen him since this morning.”

“I see.” He gestured to Jerome. “My man here will help you locate him.”

He dismissed them with a curt nod. He took a last sip of wine and thumped the cup down on the table. The English knight had no desire to be found. He rose to his feet. The young Kendrick had also been scarce since the confrontation in the courtyard, but that was probably because Hugh was keen to see the young man punished, if only for the nick on Alex’s neck. The accursed thing still stung.

Alex once again stalked down the hallway to Matilde’s room. Perhaps the knight was checking on his lady again. He stepped inside.

The room was empty except for the girl. A sheen of sweat covered her forehead. Her fever must have finally broken. She moaned and writhed around in the bed, blindly wrestling with her blankets. If she continued to thrash around, she would reopen her wound.

Someone had placed a water basin on a nearby chest. Alex grabbed one of the cloths set beside it and briefly let it soak in the cold water. After wringing out most of the liquid, he tried to place it on the girl’s brow, but her flailing arms hindered his efforts. He caught her wrists, and as he held them in place, she quieted.

When the moist cloth touched her skin, the girl opened her eyes. She blinked, her pupils contracting the moment she found Alex’s body leaning over hers. With a gasp, she struggled anew.

Alex let go and sat on the side of her bed.

The girl moved as far away as she could, her dark brown eyes wide. She looked down at the thin shift plastered against her with sweat. He could clearly see the outline of her generous breasts through the damp material. His fingers itched to touch her again as he took in her curved figure. She flushed at his attention and lifted her blankets to cover herself in a futile gesture, chin held high. It was all Alex could do to repress his chuckle.

“Sir?” Matilde stood in the doorway. “I…” Her voice died out when she saw her charge awake.

Alex stood. “See to it the young lady here has the opportunity to bathe and change into something more appropriate,” he said as his gaze flicked one last time over the girl’s body. He did not miss the look of relief flooding her face as she caught sight of Matilde.

“And Captain Thomas?” he asked. Matilde shook her head. “Very well. Once you have seen to your lady’s needs, you will escort her to my room so I may speak with her.”

Matilde bowed. “Yes, sir.”