A Rose in Winter (62 page)

Sanity returned out of dire necessity, and her trembling hands flew in frantic haste. She righted the lantern and began to search beneath the cloak for the wound, pulling the sticky shirt free of his breeches. The hard, cold blade of fear pierced through her as her gaze touched where the shot had left a gaping hole in his side. On further examination, she found where it had entered his back. Panic threatened, but she steeled herself against it, knowing it would do him no good if she broke beneath the lashing fear that assailed her. Her hands shook as she ripped a length of cloth from her petticoat. She pressed a wad of it against the torn flesh to stanch the flow of blood, then wrapped another piece tightly about his waist.

A low, creaking sound of an opening door came from the direction of the cottage, and Erienne glanced around as a man holding a lantern stepped from the doorway. He peered past his beacon toward the glow of her lamp, craning his neck to see through the trees that hid her. He called softly, "That you, master?"

"Bundy! Bundy, come help!" she cried, recognizing his voice. "Mr. Seton's been hurt. Hurry!"

Shifting rays of light flashed through the darkness as the servant ran toward her. He asked no questions when he saw the limp figure sprawled beside her but quickly knelt at Christopher's side. He lifted a limp eyelid, then briefly examined her handiwork before jumping to his feet again.

"We'd better get him up ter the big house, where Aggie can tend him," he said urgently. He caught Saracen's reins and then lifted Christopher in his arms and carefully eased him over the saddle. "I'll take him through the passageway so none o' the servants will see," he announced and glanced at her. "Will ye come with me, mum? Or will ye be ridin' yer horse to the stables? I can return later for it if ye wish."

"I'm coming with you," Erienne replied with no hesitation.

Bundy led the way through the trees toward the manse, and she followed, keeping an anxious watch over Christopher. When they reached the heavy door that marked the entry to the hidden passage, the servant transferred the unconscious man to his shoulder. She carefully guided him past the opening and held the lantern high to light the way as they hurried through the corridor. For Erienne, it seemed an eternity before they reached the bookcase at the far end.

"I'll see if the way is clear," she whispered and hurried toward the library door. She set aside the lantern, doffed her cloak, and smoothed her hair before entering the hallway. Though she heard a muffled weeping and other sounds coming from the guest rooms that lay beyond Lord Saxton's chambers, the upper-floor corridor leading from the eastern section was quiet and void of servants. Quickly retracing her steps to the library, Erienne motioned the man out.

"Hurry before someone comes this way."

"Get Aggie, mum," he bade. "She'll know what ter do for Mr. Seton, and she can be trusted."

Her feet fairly flew as she ran down the stairs. She came to a skidding halt in the doorway of the tower when she noticed Farrell standing beside the hearth in the great hall. Cautiously she slowed her pace but sought to pass him without stopping. It was not to be.

Bemused, Farrell glanced from her to the front entry. He had not heard the front door open, and he made his thoughts clear with a simple question. "How did you come in? I've been waiting for you, and when you didn't come back, I thought I would have to go out and find you. And now here you are. How did you get upstairs without me seeing you?"

Erienne would not trust him with her precious knowledge and gave the excuse, "Perhaps you were with the girl. How is she, anyway?"

"Poor girl, they killed her father, and she can't seem to stop crying. Aggie has put her to bed with a toddy. She said it would help her sleep."

Erienne's mind flew. If Farrell found Christopher wounded in the house, he might take his news back to the sheriff. Aggie's toddy might provide the solution to her dilemma. With so much at stake, she saw the need for Farrell to be unaware of the happenings in the house. "You might want to try one of Aggie's toddies yourself, Farrell. 'Twill help you sleep, and it works wonders for rejuvenating one's spirits. Come the morningtide, you'll be refreshed and ready to meet the girl."

Farrell's face darkened with a blush, for he had not been blind to the girl's comeliness. Those wide, dark eyes and bountiful reddish locks curling tousled around her pale and delicate face had been a vision worth remembering.

"Her name's Juliana Becker," he murmured distantly. "She's only seventeen."

Erienne fretted at her delay in getting back to Christopher. "If you don't mind dining alone, Farrell, I'll have one of the servants bring a tray of food to your room. I fear I am too distressed to eat, and I'll probably retire as soon as I can." This last she threw back over her shoulder as she hurried to the kitchen.

"Has Lord Saxton returned?" Farrell called.

"I don't think so," she answered without pausing. "At least, I haven't seen him."

"Should he return, tell him I would like to borrow the coach to take the girl back to her mother in the morning. They live in York."

"I'm sure that will be acceptable, Farrell. Just tell Paine, and he can have Tanner bring the carriage around whenever you're ready."

The kitchen door swung closed behind her, but when she could not find Aggie there, Erienne made her way back through the hall again, not caring how badly she confused Farrell with her haste. In the west wing, she found the housekeeper just leaving the guest room where the girl had been ensconced for the night.

"Miss Becker is resting much easier now, mum," Aggie announced. " 'Tis lucky she is—"

"Aggie, I need your help," Erienne interrupted anxiously. "Mr. Seton has been hurt, and Bundy said you would know what to do."

"How bad is he? Can ye tell, mum?" Aggie asked in fretful haste as she hurried down the corridor with her mistress.

"He's got an awful-looking hole in his side," the younger woman replied worriedly. "The shot went all the way through, and he seems to have lost a lot of blood."

Aggie did not waste another moment with inquiries. Lifting her skirts, she broke into a run, never relenting her puffing pace until she careened around the corner by Lord Saxton's bedchamber door. The portal was partially open, and Erienne halted in surprise when the woman swept through without pausing. To her further amazement she saw Bundy bending over Christopher, who lay on the bed. The covers had been turned down and towels were spread beneath the bandaged area. Except for a sheet that covered his lower half, he was devoid of clothing. The black cloak and garments lay in a heap on the floor beside the tall riding boots.

Bundy stood away as the housekeeper approached the bed, and as the woman cut away the makeshift bandage and examined the wound, Erienne hung back, cringing as the pain of the probing fingers penetrated his oblivion. A moan came from his pale lips as he writhed in agony, and she muffled a frightened sob beneath her hand. She had never known how deeply she cared for the Yankee until this moment when she saw him helpless and in need. He had always been so strong, so capable, never really seeming to need anyone. Her feelings ached to be expressed, and it was her torment that she could not touch him in a loving manner or whisper the words that would tell him of her love.

"The shot went through, all right," Aggie stated, "but it 'pears ter be a clean wound." She washed the blood from her hands and gestured to the hearth. "We'll need a kettle 'o water on the fire and some clean linen."

"Shouldn't we move Mr. Seton to another room?" Erienne asked fretfully. After whispering Christopher's name while her husband was making love to her, she was fearful of Stuart returning home and finding his rival ensconced in his bed. She could not be certain that Lord Saxton would not become violent and do his cousin more hurt.

Bundy glanced quickly at the housekeeper and then cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. "Lord Saxton won't be returnin' for several days, mum, so I 'spect it'll be all right if Mr. Seton uses his room till then. He'll be safer here. The servants will think 'tis his lordship come down sick, and they won't likely be snoopin' about. 'Tis better to be safe and not rouse undue suspicion."

"But if Lord Saxton is gone, why are you not with him?" Erienne inquired in bemusement. "And where is the landau?"

"In the stables, mum. I brought it back a couple o' hours ago. The master'll be stayin' with friends now. They'll look after his wants, and he won't need the carriage."

The servant's statement did not relieve her worry, but she accepted Lord Saxton's absence as a blessing. Christopher needed care and attention, and she could give it more freely if her husband was not here to witness her concern. There was only Farrell to worry about now, but she determined to take care of that matter immediately.

"My brother has a great aversion to Mr. Seton," she stated. "If he finds the Yankee here, he might sound the warning that he is wounded. Under the circumstances, Aggie, I believe it is expedient that you prepare him a toddy."

The woman gave a quick nod. "I'll take care o' it right away, mum. Please see to Mr. Seton while I'm gone. I've gots me herbs and healin' potions ter fetch from the kitchen."

Bundy went off with the housekeeper to find an iron pot, leaving Erienne to sit with the wounded man. She busied herself tearing an old sheet into bandages, then she gently bathed the blood away from the area of the wound. Dipping the strong, lean hands separately in the basin, she carefully washed away the stains from the thin fingers. She kissed them, and tears welled in her eyes as she let his hand rest in hers. She understood her emotions more clearly now, though she couldn't exactly say when her love had started to bloom, but it came upon her with a solid certainty that she had loved Christopher Seton for some time now. And yet she had also grown to care for her husband with a deep, abiding affection.

It was disquieting to dwell on the knowledge that she could care for two men at the same time. In many ways she loved them differently. But then, there were also those moments when she was unable to separate one from the other. Christopher was dashing, charming, handsome, a man any woman could easily be enamored with. Lord Saxton, on the other hand, had gained her affection while having none of those traits.

Was her love for her husband, then, based on pity? Abruptly she rejected the idea. She had felt sorry for Ben but could hardly claim that she" had loved him. Stuart Saxton made her feel very much the wife and undeniably a woman. And yet, strangely, it was at the heights of this mood that she had the most difficulty banishing Christopher from mind. Sometimes in her love play with her husband, she was assailed with such strong impressions of the other man, she had to reach out and touch the scarred back to affirm that it was Stuart and not Christopher with her. She could only reason that her desire for the Yankee was so strong she had put his face and name to the man who came to her only in darkness.

Aggie and Bundy returned, and Erienne stayed near as the woman tended the wound. The gore was cleaned away, and a soft, white salve was thickly applied before bandages were pressed first to his side and then to his back. The whole was tightly bound with several layers of linen that crossed his chest and was secured in place by a piece across his shoulder.

When the ordeal was finally over, Erienne sank weakly into a chair beside the bed, thankful to have it behind her. She refused the pleas of both servants to go to her own chambers and rest until the morning, stating resolutely, "I'll sleep here for the night."

Aggie saw no opening for argument and finally offered, "Mum, I'll watch him while ye go and tidy yerself for bed, then ye can come back whenever ye're ready." She waved a hand to indicate the soiled riding habit her mistress wore. "Ye'll be much more comfortable in a fresh gown and wrapper than bound up in that."

"Are you sure... ?" Erienne began worriedly but was unable to put words to her fears.

"He'll be fine, mum," the housekeeper assured her, patting her arm affectionately. "He's a big, strong man, and with a little gentle care and rest, he'll be like new again in no time."

Relenting, Erienne allowed the woman to lead her to the door and there she promised, "I'll be back in a few moments."

As vowed, she did return, and she took a place in a chair near the bed to pass the long hours of the night. Curling her legs beneath her, she leaned her head and shoulders on the mattress of the bed and there slumbered, finding cozy warmth beneath a fur throw.

Dawn had broached the eastern sky when Christopher finally stirred. She came awake instantly and raised her head to find him watching her. Their eyes held for an eternity, and she could feel the slow pounding of her heart as he seemed to stare into her very soul.

"I'm thirsty," he said in a gravelly whisper.

She fetched a glassful of water and, bringing it back to the bed, placed an arm beneath his back and supported him with her own shoulder and strength while he quenched his thirst. As she set the glass aside, he raised his hand to caress her cheek, letting his fingers glide through the thick, curling tresses.

"I love you," he breathed. Their eyes held for a long, blissful moment, then with a sigh he lay back and closed his eyes. His fingers reached out to entwine hers in a weak grip that did much to bear out his words. Tears trembled on Erienne's lashes as her emotions were again tested to the limit, and she was grateful that her husband was not there, for he would have seen firsthand how she cared for this man.