Hunter's Woman (5 page)

Moving back to the door, she peered at the hinges and discovered the leather was rotted on the upper hinge.  It had begun to separate, allowing the door to sag.  Lifting up on the door, she opened it wide to let in more light and, hopefully, allow some of the musty odors trapped inside to escape. 

She was reluctant even to touch the mattress, but she most certainly had no intention of using it until it had been thoroughly aired.  Grasping one end, she lifted it from the rope frame.  Expecting it to be heavy with moist, and probably rotting, straw, Aslyn discovered that the mattress, no doubt filled with down, was surprisingly light.  Having braced herself for more weight than she’d encountered, Aslyn staggered back a couple of steps as the down filled bedding flew toward her, tripped over something lying on the dirt packed floor, and landed on her rump so hard it jarred the pins from her hair so that they tumbled around her shoulders.

A snicker greeted her mishap.

She turned to glare at the intruder and her heart skipped several beats.  A man stood in the open portal, blocking much of the light.  She needed none, however.  His armor was enough to tell her two things; he was a stranger; and he was a knight, which meant he was a potential threat.  She got up with as much dignity as she could muster.  “May I help you?” she asked coolly.

“I was told I might find the healer here.  Might you be her daughter?  Or have I the wrong cottage?”

A patient … already?  Aslyn grasped her hair and quickly coiled it at the base of her skull once more, jabbing pins into it to hold it in place.  Smoothing her skirts, she stepped forward.  “I am the healer.”

He stepped inside, dwarfing the tiny cottage.  “I hadn’t expected….”

Aslyn ground her teeth but cut him off before he could voice doubts regarding her skill due to her tender years.  “Neither had I expected anyone to arrive so soon.  I am not even settled in, having arrived in Krackensled less than an hour ago.  Is your need urgent?  If not, perhaps you could return at a later time, when I’ve had a chance to settle in?”

“Alas, dear lady, I am afraid it cannot wait.  If it were for myself I would gladly wait upon your convenience.  My man, I fear, cannot.”

Aslyn’s shoulders slumped.  She glanced around the tiny cottage, but it did not magically appear clean, and, save for the dirt floor, there was no place for his man to lie so that she could attend him.  On the other hand, if she attended him outside, like as not, he would be lying upon the snow.  “You can bring him in here.  I’ll need some light.  I’ve not a candle to my name, nor lantern, nor even torch.”

He nodded and stepped outside again.  In a few moments, the door was blocked once more, this time by three shadows, two men carrying a third.  It took some maneuvering to negotiate the narrow doorway, but finally they laid the injured man upon the floor and departed.  The knight entered as they left, carrying a torch.  After looking around the room and discovering there were no brackets to receive it, he shrugged and held it so that it fell upon his man’s chalk white features.

Aslyn knelt beside the injured man.  He was unconscious and bloody from head to foot.  It was impossible to even tell where the blood was coming from.  “What happened?”

The knight shrugged.  “We found him thus at first light.  He’d been left on watch.”

“This morn?”  Aslyn demanded, aghast.  “And he has not been attended … at all?”

Again, the knight shrugged.  “There were none among us with knowledge of healing.  We brought him here because it was the closest town.”

The man was dead.  At a guess, he had been for some time.  “There was none among you who knew how to plug a hole?” Aslyn asked tightly.

To her chagrin, the knight grinned suggestively.  “Indeed, every man of us will avow to a good deal of skill in … uh … plugging holes, but it makes the task easier when it’s surrounded by a thatch of hair.”

Aslyn blushed fierily, but only a little of it was due to his frankly sexual remark.  Primarily, she was furious, both at his cavalier attitude toward ‘his man’ and because not one among them had taken the time to bind the man’s wounds.  He might well have died anyway, but he had not even had the chance to live.  She got to her feet.  “I’ve no skill in resurrecting the dead.  I’m afraid I can do nothing for him.”

He looked down at the man dispassionately.  “A pity.”

She stared at the knight.  It was a pity as far as she was concerned that the poor man had had the misfortune to be left to the knight’s tender mercies.  The knight was an attractive man, dark as the devil, but still somewhat above the ordinary in looks, and obviously of high birth.  Perhaps that accounted for his callous disregard for the life of a low born soldier, but she found she could not credit that as being entirely the case.  Plainly, he had no care for his fellow man, whatever their rank.  He exuded a sense of superiority in every look, word, and gesture that made it impossible to appreciate his good looks.

She shivered and looked away as the knight transferred his gaze from the dead man to her, unwilling to encourage the man’s obviously overwhelming conceit by allowing him to interpret her gaze as an interest in him.

Stepping to the door, he summoned the men who’d brought the man in and told them to ‘remove the carcass and find a place to plant it before it began to offend all and sundry by its stench.’

Aslyn’s lips curled in distaste at the crass comment.  She turned away, dismissing him as she returned to the task of setting the cottage to rights.  The knight followed her, placed a heavy hand upon her shoulder.  She glanced down at it, up at his face, and then moved away, turning to face him. 

He held out a couple of coins.  “For your trouble.”

Aslyn stared at the coins, but she did not reach to take them.  “I did nothing,” she said dismissively.  “More’s the pity.”

He dropped the coins on the rickety table.  “For your inconvenience then.”  He looked around the cottage, assessing it.  “I am Algar of Remey.  My men and I are camped nearby on the King’s business.  If you have need of our service, you need only send word ….  Lady…?”

Aslyn’s heart thudded dully with alarm.  “I’ve no claim to the title of lady.  I am Aslyn … of Mersea.”

His black brows rose.  “And your husband?  Is he about?”

Aslyn felt the blood leave her face.  Any hope she’d nursed that he was only mildly curious vanished.  His intentions became frighteningly obvious and he had blocked the only avenue of escape.  “Not at the moment.”

He laughed, moved toward her.  Aslyn backed away, but he followed her step for step until she was pressed back against the sod wall with nowhere else to go.  “I was told you were unwed.  Why, I wonder, would you lie to me?” he murmured huskily.

“Because your attentions are unwelcome?” Aslyn responded coldly.

“Are they?” he asked with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

“They are,” Aslyn said tightly, wedging her hands between them and trying to push him away.

He lifted a mailed hand, running it lightly along the pulse pounding with fear in her throat.  “This little flutter gives your lie away.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to inform him that it was most certainly not desire that sped her heartbeat, but another voice intruded at that moment.

“Fear and revulsion do not equal desire, Algar.”

The knight stiffened at the cold voice, the smile freezing on his face.  Slowly, he turned toward the man standing in the doorway of the cottage.  He stepped away from Aslyn, his body taut as he faced the man he obviously perceived as a threat.  “Kale.  What brings you here?”

Aslyn didn’t know whether she was more stunned or relieved at the huntsman’s timely arrival.  Relief seemed uppermost.  Still, she wondered at it.  The knight had not been a part of the huntsman’s party when she’d seen him earlier on the road to town.  Perhaps they were part of a larger group, however, for neither seemed very surprised to see the other.

“The King’s business.  And you?”

“The same.”

A cold smile curled Kale’s lips.  “The King set you upon the business of assaulting his subjects?”

Algar’s face turned a deep hue, but he forced a smile, lifted his brows as if he’d no notion of what Kale was suggesting.  “I’ve caused the lovely Aslyn no harm, have I my dear?” he asked, his gaze flickering momentarily to Aslyn.  He didn’t wait for Aslyn’s response, which was just as well.  “I’ve discovered a flower amongst the weeds and thought only to pluck it … if she, too, were so inclined, of course.”

“She did not appear overly enthusiastic to me.”

Algar laughed, obviously genuinely amused.  “Who can know the mind of a woman when they do not even know their own mind?  We had barely … begun to warm to the subject.  I can be very … persuasive.”

To Aslyn’s relief, Enid peered timidly around the huntsman’s shoulder at that moment.  “Aslyn?”

The men turned to look at her. 

Obviously alarmed, she took a step back.  “Beg pardon, my lords.”  She looked at Aslyn questioningly.  “Should I come back later?”

“They were just leaving,” Aslyn said, striving to keep the hopeful note from her voice and failing.

Algar chuckled again.  “We have been dismissed.  Perhaps you were wrong and the lady misliked your interference?”

The huntsman’s gaze locked with her own.  However appreciative she was, though, Aslyn had no intention of antagonizing Lord Algar by favoring Kale, nor allowing him to know how thoroughly he had shaken her.

Lord Algar grasped Aslyn’s hand and lifted it to his lips, breathing deeply, as if savoring the scent of her skin, before he brushed the back of her hand with his lips in a light salute.  “I will bid you good eve … for now.”

Aslyn snatched her hand back, clutching the folds of her gown, resisting the urge to rub the feel of his lips from her hand.  She watched as Lord Algar strode from the cottage, her chest tight with anxiety over his parting remark. 

Kale, after studying her a long moment, turned and departed, as well.

Aslyn’s shoulders slumped.  Her knees felt suddenly weak, but there was no place nearby to sit.

“Is something amiss?”

Aslyn shook her head.  She had not thought she would be so glad to see the woman again so soon.  As kind as she was, Enid was a bit of a chatter box and Aslyn, who had spent more time alone over the past three years than with company, found the almost ceaseless chatter unnerving … not nearly as nerve wracking, however, as Lord Algar.  “Not now.”

Enid moved into the room, glancing about the cottage speculatively.  “The landlord was happy to accept the terms—not much chance to lease a cottage now.  I feel I should have bargained harder, however.  The cottage looks worse inside than out, if possible.”

Relieved to have something else to turn her mind to, Aslyn shrugged.  “A thorough cleaning and a little patching should make it comfortable enough to suit my needs.”  In truth, she didn’t care what the cottage looked like.  It was more comfortable than she often had, and, in any case, she had no intention of lingering long in the town, particularly not with soldiers camped nearby.

Enid frowned.  “Jomares’ll not be up to it any time soon.  I’ll ask about.  I’m sure I can find someone who would willingly trade repairs for your services.”

“That would be welcome, but don’t worry about it if you cannot.  It should be tight enough to hold me for a bit unless it rains.  I can mix some daub and fill the crevices in the walls.  The thatch might present a problem,” she added, frowning as she looked up at the thin patches on the roof where light filtered through here and there.

“You’ve no wood for a fire, either.  You’re like to freeze in this doughty place without a good fire to warm you.  Jomares and I’ve settled in the cottage that was my mum’s before she died, God rest her soul.  It’s just across the way there, on the next road over.  I’ll have Jomares bring a bit of wood over and get you a fire going to chase the damp away.”

The scrape of boots at the door step drew their attention.  Aslyn glanced around quickly, more than a little fearful the dark knight had returned.  To her surprise, the huntsman stood in the doorway, his arms laden with freshly chopped wood.  She hoped that didn’t mean that the king’s men were camped nearby, but knew even as the thought formed in her mind that it was a forlorn one.  He had not been gone long enough to have gone far.  It took little imagination to envision all the king’s men settled upon her doorstep for the duration of the winter.

Mayhap she’d been a little too hasty in deciding to stay, even for a short time. 

Enid’s brows rose almost to her hair line as he favored Aslyn with a curt nod, moved to the hearth, and set about building a fire. 

Aslyn blushed fierily at the curious look Enid sent her.  She supposed his actions were out of kindness, but it disconcerted her mightily that he moved about the place with the familiarity of one who belonged.  She could not encourage it.  She did not want, and certainly could not afford, to become too closely acquainted with anyone ...  not Enid, and most assuredly not the huntsman, whose piercing gaze seemed to miss nothing.  “I’m most appreciative, but….”

Again the scrape of feet brought Aslyn’s attention to the door.  She broke off abruptly when she saw a young soldier stood in the opening, holding a pair of candle sticks.  “With Lord Algar’s compliments.”  Moving to the table, he set them down, then turned, bowed and departed, all before Aslyn could jog her surprised mind for a polite refusal.