Читать книгу Haloran Hall - Myrna G. Raines - Страница 3

Clearing the small brook, Foxy had no trouble at all taking the leap then galloping across the moor. Speed! That’s what Shalan strove for. The speed that a sidesaddle could not afford her. And freedom. Freedom from being the lady she was destined to be, the wife of some stodgy old baron or perhaps, a marquis, like her father, forced always to do the bidding of someone other than herself. On the moor, she could be anything she chose to be. Blissfully allowing her mind to run free, as she did her mare, she could totally forget the Earl of Haloran and his unwanted attention. The wind whipped her hair about, and Foxy was flat out when Shalan was taken aback by a strange looking bundle lying on the ground.

What? Her attention had been straight ahead, but she caught the odd bundle in her peripheral vision, off to her right at the edge of the woods. It looked as if a large parcel of clothing had been wadded into a ball and haphazardly thrown by the wayside. Should she perhaps check out what had been carelessly tossed on her father’s property? Deciding quickly that she most certainly should, Shalan had to cut back on her run, pulling fast on the reins.

Turning to head up the hill toward the woods, placing Foxy into a slow trot, she anticipated coming upon perhaps some old clothing that someone had discarded. The closer she came to the bundle of garments, however, the more it took on the shape of a man in a fetal position, his lined cloak wrapped around him, with the hem on one side drawn up around his shoulders. Puzzled and not a little panicked, she jumped from Foxy as soon as she was close enough, and rushed to the man’s aid.

His arm was thrown over his face, and she could see blood staining the ground, as if he had been stabbed with a sword and left for dead. Quickly, she stooped to see if he were still alive. Laying her head next to his back, she thankfully determined that he was breathing, very shallowly, but breathing.

“Sir! Sir! Can you hear me?” With her heart pounding, she bent over the man, unsure of exactly what to do. Cautiously, she pulled the man’s arm down and away from his face, ready to jump back if he gave the slightest indication that he might harm her. But he did not move, and she studied his face. Thick, dark brown hair seemed to flow down past his collar atop a face like no other she’d ever seen. Evidently he spent a great deal of time outdoors as he was tanned from the sun and his face was composed of strong features, though they seemed softened in his state of unconsciousness. She had never before laid eyes on the man, which was not surprising in that she could not be acquainted with all her father’s men or his acquaintances. Shalan wondered who would have waylaid the man out here on her father’s property. And most importantly, why? Her father had not mentioned that he was expecting a visitor.

After examining the wound, she quickly looked around, pondering how she was to get this man back to the keep where a physician could tend to the injury, when she saw his horse lope out from the copse and come to a standstill not too far away from where the man lay on the grass. Shalan wondered that she hadn’t spied the stallion before then. He was quite a large beast, but she had been preoccupied, very concerned when she realized the man had been hurt. Off to her right, startling her, she spied three more men in the underbrush lying as this one was, and they too, were unmoving.

Rushing to them, she quickly realized there was nothing she could do for them. They had been ambushed, and evidently didn’t stand a chance against the brigands who had attacked them. They were not dressed as richly as the gentleman she had first come across. Guards, perhaps? If these three were guards, as they were attired in the same type of livery, then who was the gentleman who lay off to her left and who still lived? He had not gotten far, but from the blood trail on the grass, she could see that this one had evidently been attempting to go for help when he collapsed from his own injuries. How long had he been lying there? That thought had her hurriedly scanning the landscape for any danger, but she saw no one.

Taking the reins to the stallion that seemed to stand watch over the man, she led the animal, not without some resistance on his part, closer to the man who lay injured on the turf. She then pondered how she could possibly lift the tall man into the saddle, and decided if she could only get him across the saddle, that would have to do. There was no way he could sit a horse and she questioned returning to the keep for help. It was much too far and the wounded man needed care as quickly as was humanly possible.

Shalan expertly brought the midnight colored horse to its knees, and the impressive stallion seemed to understand what she expected of him. Then came the difficult part and she stopped and studied her strategy for a second or two. Dragging the man with her bent elbows beneath his underarms, she pulled and tugged, falling onto the sodden grass a couple of times, until she thought her shoulders might be pulled from their sockets.

“Please, dear God,” and she looked toward the heavens. “Give me strength. This man is badly injured and needs my help. Grant me the power to get him to the keep.”

With a great amount of difficulty, Shalan managed to drag the man across his horse, hoping that she had gotten him into a position that he would not fall to the ground when the giant stallion stood. Pulling on the reins until the horse stood once more, she watched to be very sure the wounded man did not slip from the saddle.

“Tis glad, I am, that you are an intelligent animal, and not like most. You must be very special.” And she ran her hand down his soft muzzle, and the big horse nuzzled her hand, hoping for a treat.

Calling her own Foxy, she managed to climb aboard, and taking the lead rein in hand to the clever stallion that carried the man, she started back toward her father’s manse. Not too fast, as she didn’t want to jar the man, and have him perhaps hurt worse in the process. Who could he be? And what was he doing crossing their land with an armed guard? There was no war, not even skirmishes or incidents in this part of Northumberland. Perhaps her father could enlighten her as to his identity.

Riding into the stable yard, she encountered the boy who had saddled Foxy. He came running when he saw what his lady was about.

“Rolfe! I need help! We must needs get this man inside and send for help. He has been wounded and is in dire need of a physician. After we get him inside to Addie, will you ride as fast as possible to command Peterson to come to the keep posthaste?”

Rolfe took one look at the gentleman and figured he wouldn’t last long, especially since he seemed to be in such bad shape. The man was out. Didn’t know what was happening to him. He called for another of the stable boys, Edgar, who happened to be nearby, and they carried the severely injured man into the house with Shalan admonishing them to be very careful.

Addie came running at the commotion, and Shalan shouted to her, “Follow me! I’ve found a man who is terribly wounded, and he needs attention as soon as is possible. I spotted him lying on the moor, his guards all dead.”

“I’m coming, my lady,” Addie stated breathlessly, leaving Ardith shaking her head. She was used to her lady being quite unconventional, but bringing home a wounded stranger? Although he certainly did not look the part, he could possibly be a highwayman!

Shalan watched closely as the two grooms carried the gentleman up the stone steps with Addie slipping in front of them to prepare a chamber for the stranger. As they laid him gently on the turned down bed, he groaned softly, indicating that he was coming around. And that Shalan did not want. She wanted him to be totally unconscious when the physician examined him.

“Addie, quickly! Fetch the comfort draught, please. I do not want this man to know he is injured. If he wakes, he’ll be in horrendous pain, I fear, and the comfort draught should keep him asleep. Please, hurry!” And Addie ran ahead of Rolfe and Edgar back down to the kitchen to procure the draught her mistress had asked for.

“What’s going on here?” her father stated loudly, charging into the room, looking the man over who lay quite still on the bed, and studying his wan face. “Ardith came running and told me you had brought home an injured man. Where did you find him, Shalan?”

“Near the copse up toward the north woods, Papa. I was riding on the moor, and at first sight, I thought it was nothing more than a bundle of rags. I’m glad I chose to investigate instead of riding on. He had three armed guards with him, but alas, I could do naught for them. I was hoping you might have some knowledge as to his identity.”

His eyes squinting in the darkened room, Lord Kiley gazed at the man lying before him. “I’ve never made acquaintance with the man before now, but he is most richly dressed. He is not a commoner, that’s for sure. Have you sent for a physician?

“Yes. Of course I have, Papa. Rolfe is even now on his way. And here is Addie with the comfort draught. I was afraid he might come to and be in terrible pain as he moaned when Rolfe and Edgar laid him down. As you can see, he is injured most gravely.”

“That he is,” her father stated as he examined the wound. Lord Kiley turned to his daughter and stated quite sternly, “You had better be getting out of those garments, my pet. They are wet and muddy and are surely ruined. I should hate to see you abed with the fever.” Since her own mother had succumbed to lung fever, her father was especially concerned with Shalan‘s health.

Shalan only then looked down at herself. She had been so concerned for the wounded man she had not taken into consideration how she must look. Her beautiful riding suit was ruined, with blood and muddy stains all down the front where she’d held the man and dragged him through the grass. She was sure the back of the costume was even worse where she had fallen on the wet turf.

“Light the candle, will you, Addie?” Lord Kiley asked the servant. “I can’t see well in here on such a cloudy day. I’ll stay with him, Shalan, while Addie assists you out of those damp garments.”

“Not before we get the draught in him. He can’t wake, Papa. The pain would be more than even the strongest man could bear, I fear. The draught is laced with poppy, so it should keep him unconscious.”

It took all three of them, with Shalan holding his head steady while her papa held the large man’s arms to his sides. He had started moving, clenching his teeth, and it would not be long before he came to himself enough to fight against the kind of pain he suffered. Addie was the one who administered the draught because she knew how to get it down him, holding his nose and rubbing his neck to make him swallow. Shalan could not imagine the large man shrieking, but she was not acquainted with him and he most certainly could be the type to rail against the pain.

They stood watching, holding him down, as he eased back into unconsciousness, but it took longer than they had anticipated, as he was quite a large man. When Shalan was satisfied that the man was certainly out of the world, she breathed a sigh of relief. Good! Now she could go bathe herself, get out of the soiled garments and into fresh clothing.

After her bath, she made her way back to the chamber where the injured man lay. The physician, Peterson by name, had arrived and was examining the damage, clucking his tongue, with a “My, my, what happened to this man?”

Shalan explained as best she could, and mentioned the three guards who were lying dead on the moor. Where their mounts had gotten to, she could not say, but her papa interrupted her long enough to tell them he had sent a wagon to bring the three into the keep until they could be properly buried.

“I only wish I knew who he was,” Lord Kiley put in. “My daughter runs across what seems to have been a skirmish, fought on my land, and I don’t even know how or why. It is most disturbing. Why, if she had arrived there only moments earlier, what might have become of her?”

“Papa, I think I have the good sense to have hastily run back to the keep if I had actually seen the attack. Give me credit for possessing some intelligence, would you, please?”

“But whoever caused this could have given chase, my darling, and we do not know what dire consequences might have occurred.”

“No one can catch Foxy if I don’t want to be caught, Papa. She’s as fast as the wind. You are well aware of that.”

While the two were arguing as to what her fate might have been, the physician was giving Addie orders as to what supplies he might need, and asked for a nightshirt for the man as the restrictive clothing would have to be removed. Peterson had examined the wound thoroughly and had started to pack the deep cut and bandage it. A century ago they would have seared the wound shut, but he felt with the packing and dressing, he could stop any infection that might develop.

“It was not as deep as it looked, Lord Kiley,” Peterson put forth with alacrity. “There is, however, a nasty bump on his head which accounted for the fact that he was unconscious when your daughter found him, and probably why the perpetrators thought he had been dispensed with. He would have more than likely come to himself had you not given him the comfort draught. I feel certain he’ll be up and around in no time. Just keep a good eye on him that he doesn’t start with fever or hallucinations. That has been known to happen with a blow to the head such as this that renders one unconscious. I will return in a few days to check on his progress.”

The servants, along with Shalan and Lord Kiley kept watch over the man for the next several hours. When it seemed he might come to, Addie was told to give him more of the draught to keep him asleep. Shalan dreaded for morning to come, as they could not keep up the dosage. In large quantities, and taken for long periods of time, the draught became dangerous, and they would have to switch to a less potent draught, and he would awaken to intense pain.

Shalan and Addie were with the man when the first words came out of his mouth. “Peyton? Wha... happened?” And Shalan rushed to his side, leaving Addie still in slumber, although it was nearly mid morning. She had hardly closed her eyes, fearful for the man, as she had found him and felt responsible for him.

“You were injured, sir.”

“Judging from the tremendous pain in my side, I am well aware of that, young lady,” and his face screwed up, the pain dulled by the draught, but still quite excruciating. “Will you be so kind as to advise Peyton that I would like to see him?”

“I’m afraid I am not acquainted with this Peyton of which you speak. I am Lady Shalan of Kiley’s Keep. My father is Lord Argus Kiley.”

“I did... did not get to Peyton?” The man seemed confused, addled, not exactly sure where he was, but he did have a ferocious knot on his pate.

“I do not know, sir. I found you on the moor, on my father’s property, gravely wounded, and your guards all dead, I’m afraid. Can you tell us what transpired that you were wounded so badly?”

“I… I think... My head is not exactly clear, but I recall a band of men attacking us and giving chase. I cannot relate to you the why of it. That must be how we came to be on your father’s lands. I was on my way to my cousin, Peyton, who most urgently needs my help. I meant to get him out of the city and bring him to my home where he could be protected.”

“I don’t think you will be going anywhere for a while, sir. The physician left a draught for the pain you must be suffering, but you are to remain abed.”

Never had Shalan seen such translucent green eyes. They mesmerized her as it seemed the irises were nearly devoid of pigment. Long lashes reached up toward his dark brows which were knit in pain at that particular moment.

“You don’t understand, my lady. I must get to my cousin as he is in very dire straits. His life has been threatened. It is most unfortunate that I be laid up. I cannot be!” And the sorely injured man attempted to rise, but was forced to fall against the pillows, his head thrown back, the agony of his attempt registering on his countenance. But he did not shriek, Shalan noted.

Shalan woke Addie, who administered a dose of the draught left by the physician who had attended the stranger. Addie spilled a little, and Shalan took a handkerchief and wiped the droplet from the corner of his mouth. A spark shot through her, and then a tenderness she could not describe. Oh, that she alone could care for this man. She would take the very best care of him, see that he was healed expeditiously, but then he would be on his way… to this Peyton who so concerned him. For some reason, that thought displeased her.

“I need to speak with Lord Kiley, Lady Shalan,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “or perhaps you can help me. I must have someone see to my cousin, as I cannot. Please, can you have your father send someone with a message for Lord Peyton to journey here? He resides in Brittingham Court. By the time he arrives, I should be well enough to return to my home, and not be an imposition on your hospitality any longer.”

“I will have my maid advise my father of the situation immediately, sir.” And she turned to Addie, gave her the message and Addie left posthaste to do as her lady commanded her. It wasn’t long before she was back, having delivered the message to Lord Kiley. He was to send someone immediately to London to deliver a missive asking Lord Peyton to come as swiftly as possible, as his cousin had been sorely wounded and could not come to him.