Vengeance 02 - Trust In Me (13 page)

Lines of experience creased her face. Her dark hair was streaked with gray and braided so tightly that it looked as though it must hurt. Her simple brown woven tunic was clean and neat. She carried herself confidently with her back straight and her movements quick.

Elizabeth stepped forward, relieved that she appeared competent. “Not as well as we’d like.”

“Let us see how the wound fares.” With efficient but gentle hands, she removed the strips of linen binding his shoulder.

Elizabeth moved closer, curious to see what his shoulder looked like since she’d last seen it. Although still a nasty wound, the injury seemed to have improved, at least to her inexperienced eye.

“Has he woken?” Mildred asked.

Elizabeth shook her head. “From what I’ve gathered, it’s been some time since he’s stirred at all. The priest gave him last rites.”

“Aye, well, I think that’s the only thing young Father Michael knows how to do, so he continues to do it, just in case,” Mildred said. “God bless him.”

Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile as a small bit of relief filled her. “I’m hoping he’s wrong.”

“Indeed. Father is trying to make sure he appears useful. I think that’s the third time he’s given poor Sir William last rites.”

“How odd.”

“He’s a young one, our Father Michael. Still learning the proper things to say and do for us simple villagers.” She flashed Elizabeth a smile before returning her attention to William. “This one’s a puzzle though. His wound is healing, but too slowly. He should’ve woken by now.”

“I thought the same,” Elizabeth murmured. When Mildred glanced up at her with her brow raised, Elizabeth shrugged. “Not that I have much experience in such matters. Still, it seems odd that he remains unconscious.”

“You’ve sound instincts, my lady.” She touched his cheek with the back of her hand. “The bump on his head seems to have jostled his brain.”

“His head? Whereabouts?” Elizabeth asked, alarmed. She hadn’t noticed a head injury when she’d looked at William during his brief stay at Amberley.

“’Tis here, on the side of his head. I fear that might be his biggest problem. Blows to the head are unpredictable.”

“Oh, dear.” Elizabeth looked at the bump clearly visible under William’s dark hair. How could she and Margaret have missed it?

“I think if I knew more about what happened to him, it might aid his recovery.”

The ramifications of her desertion of William struck Elizabeth anew. Remorse ripped through her, weighting her limbs. She’d thought his injury would be self-explanatory, but obviously that hadn’t been the case. “I might be able to help with that.”

Mildred looked at her curiously, and for the second time that day, Elizabeth found herself explaining, “I’m the one who left him at the gate.” She proceeded to repeat what she’d told Walter.

As she spoke, Mildred listened attentively, then shrugged when Elizabeth finished. “You must’ve had good reason for it, my lady.”

Much to Elizabeth’s relief, Mildred seemed to refrain from judging her actions.

Mildred poked and prodded the injury on William’s shoulder. “The cut is jagged and deep. There’s still heat around the edges of it. If he would only awaken, I’d recommend he sip some bistort root tea. That ought to reduce the pain and swelling as well as the redness and heat.”

“Mary told me he’s not drinking anything.”

Mildred shook her head, a frown marring her brow. “That’s a problem for certain.”

“There must be some way to get him to take the tea. What if we dripped some in his mouth?” Elizabeth asked.

Mildred paused, considering her suggestion. “It would take a lot of drips to make a difference.”

“But surely some would be better than none. The trick would be to make sure he doesn’t choke on it.”

After some discussion, they agreed the best method would be to dip a cloth in the tea and let the tea drip into his mouth, hoping it would be enough to help, but not so much that it might choke him.

Mildred set a pot of water over the fire to heat then dug in her basket to find some dried bistort root. Once the water boiled, she ladled some in a cup and added the root to steep.

“You’re sure you want to help with this, my lady?”

“Indeed I am. Mary will assist me. We’ll take turns with it.”

“I do think we need to get liquid of some sort in him at this point. If this works, perhaps we could alternate it with a bit of broth on the morrow. He needs to regain his strength.”

Mildred helped to open William’s mouth and watched as Elizabeth dipped a corner of a clean cloth in the tea and let it trickle into his mouth. “Well, the progress will be slow, but it seems to work.”

“I prefer slow progress over none at all,” Elizabeth added as she forced a smile. In truth, it seemed a hopeless task but she had to try.

Mildred watched a bit longer, then packed up her supplies. “I’ll return on the morrow and see if there’s been any improvement. You’ve certainly made him more comfortable already, my lady. We’ll hope that will aid his recovery.” With a wave and a smile, she was gone.

“I hope this helps you, William,” Elizabeth said as she continued dripping the tea into his mouth. “After all, we’ve got to do something. Perhaps I can nag you to awakening with my chatter.”

She was in the middle of telling him an amusing story from her youth that involved her brother, Gregory, when she sensed a presence behind her. She tensed, heat suffusing her cheeks. The awareness she felt could be caused by only one person.

Her husband.

*

Anger coursed through Nicholas as he took in the sight before him. With his heart hammering in his chest, he stalked into the chamber and grabbed Elizabeth’s arm, the evidence still in her hand. “What do you think you’re doing? Attempting to kill him yet again?”

He knew he shouldn’t have trusted her. Her flushed face and tense shoulders clearly showed her guilt. Disgusted, he jerked her up before him and away from William. He should’ve guarded over things himself.

Her eyes widened with alarm, or was it guilt? “My lord, release me at once.” She pulled at her arm, but he held her tight.

A cloth stained dark red was clutched in her hand. His stomach plummeted.
Dear God, what had she done now?

“What is this?” He lifted her hand to view the rag more closely. “Poison?” He looked to his brother, anxious to see what harm she’d caused. William’s mouth was agape and the corner of it was stained with the liquid.

Elizabeth tugged again, but there was no way he was going to let her escape. He pinned her between his body and the bed “Nay! Far from it. What is wrong with you?”

Nicholas saw a small bowl on the table beside the bed. The liquid was an odd reddish color. He pulled Elizabeth with him over to it and picked up the bowl with his free hand to sniff the contents cautiously. The smell was unfamiliar. “What is this?”

“Bistort root tea,” she answered, her tone full of annoyance. “Mildred made it. Where is your spy that you don’t already know of this?”

“What?”

“Walter. Surely you sent him here earlier to keep watch over me.”

Nicholas ignored her comment though it was true. “Why are you choking my brother with this...tea?”

“I was not choking him! ’Tis medicinal.” His skepticism of her answer must’ve been obvious, for she added, “Ask Mildred if you don’t believe me.”

“I will.”

“Fine. Now release me,” she demanded as she pulled at her arm again.

“What is it supposed to do?” As relief filled him and his heart slowed, he realized what an idiot he’d been.

She glared at him, those once warm, brown eyes now cold as ice and shooting daggers before she answered at last. “Aid his recovery.” She spoke slowly, enunciating each word as though he were half-witted.

He cocked his brow. She must know that response would not suffice.

After another long moment, she relented. “It will ease the swelling and redness of his wound. He needs liquids of some sort, and Mary says he stopped taking even water.”

He stared at her, trying to determine if she spoke the truth. Yet why would she lie when he could verify it?

She’d discovered much during the short time he’d been gone. Her eyes still held the heat of anger and kindled an answering heat within him, but of a different sort entirely. The same warmth twisted through him each time he was near her.

“Well? Aren’t you going to send for Mistress Mildred?”

He paused for a moment, wondering what excuse he could use to continue to hold her.

None.

Damn
. What was wrong with him? He released her but remained where he was, his body pressing hers against the bed.

She tilted her head back to look up at him, revealing the long, graceful column of her neck, the smooth line of her jaw. His lips parted of their own accord, ready to taste her tender flesh once again.

Nay. He could not. Would not. She might be his in the eyes of God, but she wasn’t his in truth. It would be wrong to use her for his baser needs even though it had been months since he’d last had a woman. That had to be the reason for this traitorous desire.

He dragged his attention away from the temptation of her throat, away from the depths of her luminous brown eyes and reluctantly stepped back. “Why were you speaking to him?”

She looked decidedly uncomfortable at his question as she sat the rag on the table. “I thought it might help.”

“But he can’t hear you.”

“Hmm... Are you certain?” Those eyes locked on his.

He had no answer. She might be right.

“In fact, I think we should all speak to him. Perhaps it will pull him back to us.”

Although he couldn’t imagine sitting there and talking to William as though he were awake, he supposed it couldn’t hurt. Anything to help his brother.

She turned toward William, and he heard a strange grumbling sound. He strained to listen, trying to figure out what the odd noise was and where it had come from.

Elizabeth put a hand to her stomach and cleared her throat.

“Was that you?” he asked, incredulous that such a loud sound could come from this delicate lady.

“Oh, well – ” She shrugged, the rose in her cheeks intensifying in an extraordinary way.

“When is the last time you ate?” He turned her to face him.

“I’ll find something later.”

“Elizabeth,” he said sternly, a hint of warning in his tone.

“Truly, I will.” She glanced up at him, then looked away, as though embarrassed. “I’ve been quite busy and eating did not cross my mind.”

“When did you last eat?” he repeated, determined to have an answer.

“Yesterday, when we were on the road.” She brushed some lint off of her sleeve as though the topic held little interest for her.

Guilt plagued Nicholas, for he knew the pace he’d set had been arduous. At the time though, he’d feared William dead, but she hadn’t known that. Yet she hadn’t uttered one word of complaint. How many others would have done the same? She was sturdier than she looked. “My apologies for not seeing you better fed on the journey here. Go and get something to eat. I’ll watch over William. I’ll not have you taking ill.”

She paused, obviously tempted by the offer. “He needs more drops of the tea.”

“I think I can manage.”

“Don’t you want to verify it with Mildred first?”

“I’ll talk to her later.”

Her eyes narrowed, her expression suspicious. “Will you speak to him?”

“Who?”

“William.”

He thought it over for a moment. “You truly think it might help?”

She nodded.

He sighed. “All right then. Off with you. Eat something.”

Her small smile was his reward. She bent to give William’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll return soon.”

She eased by Nicholas as she stepped around the bed, her breast brushing his arm. He caught his breath as the unexpected contact and the tantalizing scent of her speared through him. She looked up at him from under her lashes as she bit her lip. He fisted his hand to keep from rubbing his arm where she’d touched him. The light in the room seemed to dim when she left.

He sat beside William and stared at him for a long moment. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused?” He picked up the cloth, dipped it in the tea, and eyed it uneasily, wondering how he’d manage this feat. “Well, my dear brother, let me tell you what has happened. I took a wife while you’ve been sleeping.”

Chapter Thirteen

Elizabeth gazed out of the narrow window in their chamber the next morning, lonely and miserable. The pewter-colored sky held low clouds heavy with moisture. The promise of rain scented the air. The weather suited her, for a blanket of dull gray seemed to be wrapped tightly around her, smothering all hope and purpose.

Her husband had been absent from their bed the entire night. She was certain he’d remained with William again. He seemed determined to avoid her company at all costs.

Sleep had been fitful, and she’d been sorely tempted to make her way to the kitchen during the night to find some bread or such to nibble on. The thought of running into Nicholas as she had at Amberley had kept her in her chamber. He’d probably accuse her of some treacherous behavior if he caught her wandering about the keep in the dead of night.

Shivering in the cool morning air, she pulled the blanket around her shoulders and curled her bare toes against the chill. She missed her loved ones and her home so much she ached with it. Telling William stories of her childhood had made matters worse. She felt so isolated here, no allies to take her side, no friends to listen and sympathize with her. She’d rarely traveled away from Amberley, and then it had been for only a few days.

This was much different.

This involved a lifetime.

She shook her head, for the notion proved difficult to accept as truth and part of her refused to comprehend it. The idea of...existing...in this unbalanced, awkward relationship with Nicholas for the rest of her life was unacceptable. To be so aware of him, so attracted to him when he despised her seemed like a cruel jest of fate. Especially when she remembered the short time she’d spent with him before everything had gone wrong.

Now that the shock of the situation had eased, she wondered exactly what
had
happened. Why had he come to Amberley under false pretenses? He’d gone so far as to use another name, to lie about his true purpose.

Why?

The Nicholas she’d come to know would’ve charged into Amberley with his sword drawn, demanding justice. The delay of that day when he’d posed as Lord Bradley Trisbane had changed everything. At least for her.

Did he even realize her heart had nearly been his? The image of his tender regard in the kitchen at Amberley, his smile for the children outside the dyer’s cottage, the passionate kiss which had given her more than she’d bargained for all combined to convince her that he was a kind, caring, honorable man.

She sighed and closed the shutter, unwilling and unable to let her mind travel that path. Things were difficult enough.

Was it wishful thinking on her part that their marriage might grow into something real and meaningful or simply stupidity?

The latter most likely.

For a moment, she was tempted to crawl back into the bed and huddle under the covers, anything to avoid facing the long day that stretched before her. With a heavy sigh, she released the blanket from her shoulders and stepped over to the wooden pegs that held her clothes. Tiredness weighed on her like a heavy chain fastened to her ankle. Somehow, she had to find the key to unlock it.

An image of her father appeared in her mind. How was he? Who was he at the moment? The confused old man? The powerful lord? Or someone in between?

No matter. He was her father regardless of his behavior and he was the reason she was here. He was her key. Anything to protect him. Right or wrong, this was now her reality despite what she may have once hoped would come to pass. The thought did nothing to brighten her mood. She had to make the best of it somehow.

Perhaps one day she could make some compromise with Nicholas. She considered the notion as she pulled on her kirtle over her linen chemise.

Ha
! She would find no succor from that man. The sooner she realized that, the better. Good heavens, he’d thought she’d poisoned William yesterday. He had no reason to trust her and based on his behavior, he would not do so any time soon.

In spite of his suspicious attitude toward her, her attraction to him had not weakened. There was something about him that drew her. Not any one thing she could name or carve out. It was just...him. He was handsome for certain. The intensity of his blue eyes could stop her heart. He was tall and strong, and the breadth of his shoulders never failed to amaze her.

But it was more than his physical appearance. Much more. He had a sense of honor that was undeniable. His patience with children was admirable despite his determination not to have any of his own. He cared deeply for his brother and that appealed to her. And then there was the slow smile that quirked the corner of his mouth before lighting his blue eyes.

Under different circumstances, this marriage would’ve been her dream come true.

She had to prevent it from becoming her nightmare.

Being married to a man who despised her was nothing less. She rubbed her hand over her heart at the pain the thought brought. Nicholas was a good, honorable man in a difficult situation. She had to remember that.

As she braided her hair, she tried to push away her dark feelings. Her focus needed to remain on upholding her part of their bargain. Her duties at Staverton included far more than caring for William. She’d told Nicholas she could manage a keep. Now she needed to prove it.

Her mental list of things to accomplish grew as her mind touched on all that running a household of this size involved. Some of the items she’d requested be sent from Amberley should arrive this day. Already she knew other things she’d need to make the keep more hospitable for its inhabitants.

She’d met many of the servants at supper the previous evening, but there were more servants and villagers for her to get to know. She grimaced as she remembered the meal last eve. The food served needed to be improved immediately. The stores at Amberley were more than plentiful and some could be spared for Staverton. The coarse, dark bread was not to her liking and she knew flour would be on the cart arriving anon. Spices and herbs were needed as well. As she thought on the matter further, she realized she hadn’t yet met the steward. She found that odd and decided to remedy it as quickly as possible.

William remained her first priority, so she looked in on him before she began her day.

Mary stood beside his bed, conversing with him as her fingers worked a drop spindle, spinning linen. She held her hands high above her head, working the thread with a steady, experienced rhythm, the spindle dancing at her feet.

Delighted at the familiar sight, Elizabeth stepped into the room. “Good morn, Mary.”

“Oh, good day to you, my lady. I’ve been visiting with William as you suggested.” The maid stopped her spinning to curtsy.

“I see that. Wonderful.” She ran her hand along his arm and tousled his hair, hoping her touch would help awaken him. “How was his night?”

Mary pointed to the nearly empty bowl beside the bed. “I got quite a bit of the tea in him. He still hasn’t stirred though.” She gave Elizabeth a big smile. “I keep thinking he’ll awaken long enough to tell me to hush. My husband always says my chattering is enough to wake the dead.”

Elizabeth chuckled as she laid her hand on William’s forehead. He didn’t have a fever and seemed to be resting peacefully, but that was no change from the day before. “I appreciate your efforts, Mary. I’m sure we’ll get through to him soon if we keep trying. I’ll have more tea prepared as well. What is the thread for?”

“Oh, nothing in particular.” She continued her work with the spindle, bright yellow thread filling the round wooden spool. “I like to stay busy and, ’tis always needed for something or other.”

Elizabeth nodded. “I enjoy weaving.”

“Stephen told me about your beautiful tapestries. None of us are very talented when it comes to making such things. It would be a treasure to see what wonders you’ve created. I’d be happy to show you the looms we have here when you have time.”

Elizabeth smiled. That was just what she needed, something to which she could look forward. “I would like that very much. Perhaps later this week.” She gave William one last pat as she asked, “Can you tell me who serves as steward?”

“No one, my lady. The last one left when the previous lord was ill, and Lord de Bremont hasn’t yet found anyone to take his place.”

“I’m surprised for most of the keep appears to be in good order. We shall have to find a replacement.” She thought with fondness of Robert at home, for he managed the day-to-day affairs with ease. Perhaps Walter could help at least temporarily with some of the tasks. She’d ask when she next saw him what his current duties were. The steward needed to be someone Nicholas trusted above all else, and she knew of no others who fit the requirement.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Elizabeth turned to see an attractive man, not much older than she, dressed in a long, black cleric’s gown stride into the chamber. He was only slightly taller than Elizabeth with curly blonde hair and wide blue eyes. His youthful appearance made him look more a squire than a man of God.

He hurried toward the bed, his focus on William. “Who has moved Sir William?” He crossed himself then leaned over to place William’s arm over his chest.

“Excuse me, Father,” Elizabeth interrupted, anxious to stop the cleric before he put William back in the pose of the dead.

He spun to face her, his expression going slack as he stared at her.

Elizabeth looked in question at Mary who shrugged in return. Elizabeth tried again. “Are you Father Michael?”

“Indeed I am, my lady.” He nodded with such enthusiasm that it sent his curls bobbing.

“I am Lady Elizabeth de Bremont.”

The young priest’s eyes narrowed with confusion. “I didn’t realize Lord de Bremont had a sister.”

“Nay, not his sister. His wife.”

He blinked several times as he processed her response. “Forgive me. I am most pleased to make your acquaintance.” He bowed deeply. “When did you and Lord de Bremont marry?”

“Recently.” Elizabeth gritted her teeth. How many more times would she be required to explain the hastiness of their marriage? Surely Nicholas would tell someone of their vows. She’d thought he’d be eager to spread rumors of her treachery far and wide.

“Welcome to Staverton, my lady. I fear you’ve come at a difficult time.” The priest glanced back toward the bed. “I’ve given Lord de Bremont’s brother last rites.”

“Aye. Three times from what I understand.”

The man’s face flushed. “I might’ve performed it prematurely the first time.” He shrugged awkwardly. “Truth be told, I’ve never done this before, so I’m not sure I had the right of it. That’s why I thought it paramount to perform last rites again.”

“I’m certain you’re doing your best,” she offered. Heavens, but the man seemed too young to know about matters of life and death.

He nodded and gave her a grateful smile.

“You see, though, we now expect him to live.” She stepped to the bed and moved William’s arm back to his side.

“Really? It’s a miracle! How did you manage it, my lady?” The priest moved closer to her in his excitement.

Elizabeth raised her brow as Mary hid a giggle behind her hand. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Nay, you must’ve done something. He was mostly dead the last time I visited him.” Father Michael took her hand, his eyes alit with enthusiasm. “A true miracle. All because of you.”

“I don’t think you understand, Father.” Elizabeth tried to pull her hand free, but he held on tight. “It wasn’t me.”

“Oh, you’re far too modest, my lady.” He took her other hand as well and looked deep into her eyes as he spoke. “You are truly God’s angel.”

“God’s angel?” Nicholas’s voice rumbled from behind her. “I can think of several descriptions for her, but that is not one of them.”

Elizabeth felt her cheeks sting with heat as she looked back to find Nicholas at the door. He leaned against the portal, his arms folded across his chest. Why did he always see her at her worst?

The priest laughed nervously. He looked down at her hands as though he’d forgotten he still held them. “I’m sure you have many wonderful ways to describe her, my lord. I can only imagine. You are a most fortunate man – er lord.”

Elizabeth jerked her hands free from the cleric’s and turned to greet her husband. “Good day, my lord.”

Nicholas frowned.

She braced herself for Nicholas’s correction of what Father Michael had said, knowing his words would be harsh, but to her surprise, he said nothing more. Uncertain what made him refrain, she said, “I was just telling Father Michael that we expect William to recover.”

“Has there been any change?” Nicholas glanced at her before looking to his brother, his expression filled with such hope that she caught her breath. He moved to the bed and touched his brother’s arm with a gentle hand.

In that moment, Elizabeth decided she wouldn’t stop until William opened his eyes in response to Nicholas’s touch. “Not yet, my lord. Mary was able to get him to take quite a bit of the tea during the night. We should see results soon. Isn’t that right, William?”

Father Michael looked in question at William, then back to Elizabeth. “Has he awoken?”

“Nay, but we expect him to soon.”