The Warrior Knight and the Widow Page 12

  ‘Let’s have a look through Copsi’s saddle bags and see if we can find anything that will help make a shelter,’ said Braedan.

  ‘But what about your arm?’ she argued.

  She didn’t want to wait too long before she dealt with it. She might lose her nerve.

  ‘A shelter is the priority. I may not be able to do anything once you’ve taken the arrow out.’

  She busied herself on the other side of the horse, so that Braedan couldn’t see her face. She didn’t know how he was being so calm about the situation. She wanted to cry, but whether that was because he was hurt or because she had to deal with it she wasn’t sure.

  Tears pricked her eyes and she brushed them away angrily. She didn’t want to care for Braedan at all, but he was making it very difficult. She’d found herself wondering today how she was going to do without him when she returned to Castle Swein. She might never see him again, and instead of feeling relieved by the thought her heart felt as if it would shatter.

  ‘I’ve found something,’ called Braedan, jerking her back to their current predicament. ‘Come and help me pull it out.’

  She found him trying to pull a large, folded piece of cloth from a saddle bag, only using one hand.

  ‘Here—let me,’ she said, taking it from him. ‘What do you think it is?’

  ‘It’s some kind of shelter. Did you find anything?’

  ‘Only some food and a few blankets,’ she said.

  ‘Ah, you’ll be all right, then,’ he grinned at her.

  ‘Are you in any pain at all?’ she demanded, feeling a flicker of annoyance running through her.

  Why wasn’t he taking the situation seriously? He was hurt, and because of that they were in more danger than they had been at any point before. Besides that, she didn’t feel like making jokes; she was going to have to deal with the blood and the gore, after all.

  If it had been her arm with an arrow poking out of it she’d be passed out on the floor from the shock.

  ‘It does hurt—but as I said, I’ve had worse. Now, come on, let’s get this sorted.’

  Braedan took the material back from her and tried to shake it out by himself, but with only one arm all he succeeded in doing was creating a tangled heap of cloth. Ellena took it off him and shook it out herself, giving him one corner when it was smooth.

  ‘Now what?’ she asked when they stood with the sheet stretched out between the two of them.

  ‘If we drape it over these two trees it should form a rudimentary shelter.’

  ‘Hmm...’ she murmured, unconvinced.

  She heard him muttering curses as they wrestled with the covering. The end result did not look good. The cloth sagged in the middle and draped across the forest floor at the edges. She lifted a corner and wriggled underneath. There were no gaping holes that she could see and, although small, the space would allow them both to lie down. It was better than nothing, but not by much.

  She wriggled back out and found Braedan sorting through firewood. She rifled through all the saddle bags they had, trying to find all the blankets she could.

  ‘I’ll get a fire going. And then, if you’d be so good as to remove the arrow, I’d appreciate it,’ said Braedan conversationally.

  Ellena stopped in the act of sorting out the bedding. ‘Oh, yes, of course. I’ll just pop the arrow out and then we’ll have some dinner, shall we?’

  Braedan laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. ‘It’ll be—’

  ‘If you say “it’ll be fine” again, I’m walking out of this camp and leaving you to deal with the arrow by yourself.’

  Braedan smiled tightly and lowered himself down onto a boulder. ‘I found some material you can use for bandages and put it over there.’ He gestured to a pile of white cloths with his good arm. ‘So let’s get this over with so that you can stop worrying about it.’

  ‘It’s you who should be worrying,’ she said, stepping tentatively towards him. ‘I’ve never done anything like this before.’

  He pulled one of his knives free from its sheath and handed it to her, handle first.

  ‘You need to saw off as much of the wood from the shaft as you can—preferably all of it, although I know that will be difficult. Then push the arrowhead and whatever’s left of the shaft through the flesh. Don’t try and pull it out the way it went in as that will cause more damage.’

  Ellena took the knife from him and stared at the wound. The arrow wasn’t very deep, but no matter how she did this it was going to hurt him. She took a deep breath; if he was making a show of being brave then she would try too.

  ‘Oh,’ he said, as she brought the knife to the wood. ‘And if you could do this without shaking I’d appreciate it.’

  ‘I’m sure you would,’ she said. ‘But I can’t guarantee anything.’

  He barked out a laugh.

  She grasped the shaft and began to saw.

  No sound passed his lips but his jaw tightened with every action she made and sweat began to bead across his brow. Neither of them spoke until the shaft was completely cut in two.

  ‘Would you like a rest?’ she asked as she dropped the broken wood to the floor.

  ‘No. Just do it.’

  For a few short moments she just stared at the metal arrowhead. She’d done a reasonable job of cutting away the wood, but some of it still stood out and the rest of the arrow was beneath his skin. She didn’t think she could push it out. The thought of hurting him further made her guts twist.

  ‘Please, Ellena,’ he whispered.

  He turned slightly and looked up at her. His eyes were wide and pleading. It was not a look she’d seen on him before and she doubted anyone else ever had. He always looked so in command, in control of himself.

  She studied his expression for a long moment and then nodded. She could do this. If he could endure the pain, then she could cope with helping him.

  She swallowed and slowly pushed. His whole body went rigid and his jaw clenched tightly.

  ‘Faster, please,’ he ground out.

  She gave the arrowhead a much firmer push and it came free from his body with a sickening sound.

  He roared in agony and let out a string of swear words.

  ‘I’m sorry... I’m sorry...’ she said, over and over again, as he buried his head in his knees and rocked back and forth.

  She didn’t realise she was crying until he took her in his good arm and held her to his side. Kneeling on the ground before him, she sobbed and sobbed, with her arms wrapped around his waist and her face buried in the warmth of his neck.

  He murmured comforting words until the tears slowed and eventually subsided completely.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again, against his skin.

  ‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’

  ‘I do. I’m crying all over you and you’re the one who’s hurt.’

  He laughed and slowly released her.

  ‘Oh, my goodness—that’s a lot of blood,’ she said as she caught sight of the fresh wound.

  ‘You’ve gone very pale. Would you like to sit down?’ he asked, a hint of laughter in his voice.

  ‘No. Let me bind you up.’

  She did very much want to sit down, but she pushed her own feelings to one side. She needed to be strong for him, and going weak at the sight of someone else’s blood was pathetic and unlike her. She hadn’t felt faint when she’d dealt with Eluard’s wounds. It was something about Braedan being harmed which was upsetting her.

  She took a deep breath and then tightly bound the wound with clean strips of linen. He winced several times, but didn’t say anything. Behind his back she gagged several times as blood oozed over the bandages, coating her hands in sticky liquid.

  ‘Do you mind if I lie down for a bit?’ he asked when she’d finished.

  ‘Of course not,’ she sa
id. ‘I’ll heat up some of that potage and then we can eat.’

  He nodded, but didn’t comment, so she set to warming up the food as best she could. It wasn’t easy—they only had a small pot—but she managed to heat enough to almost fill two bowls.

  She entered the shelter to find him lying on his back with his good arm flung across his eyes. He wasn’t snoring softly, so she assumed he was still awake.

  ‘The food’s ready,’ she whispered, just in case he wasn’t.

  He rolled into a sitting position. He looked pale, and there were dark shadows under his eyes.

  ‘Do you need help eating?’ she asked.

  She didn’t think he would accept. He was proud, after all. But it would be worse to sit still and let him try and fail to get food into his mouth.

  He paused. ‘No, thank you,’ he said eventually.

  She settled the bowl on the floor next to his good arm, and then sat on the blankets she’d put out for herself.

  ‘Should I keep watch during the night?’ she asked, as they slurped their way through the tasteless broth.

  ‘No, we might as well both try and get some sleep. If Copsi and his men come across us now there’s not a great deal we can do about it anyway.’

  She shuddered and put her bowl down.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘You didn’t.’

  He put his bowl down too. It looked as if neither of them was particularly hungry.

  ‘Shall we try and get some sleep, then?’ she asked.

  ‘Mmm...’ He rolled back onto the blankets and closed his eyes.

  She lay down and tried to get comfortable. It was almost impossible. The blankets created only a small barrier between her and the unforgiving, lumpy ground beneath. The cold seeped through the thin layers, stealing into her bones and making her shiver. She pulled her cloak tighter around her but it didn’t help.

  If she was uncomfortable then Braedan must be in agony.

  ‘Would you like some more covers?’ she asked quietly.

  Braedan took so long to answer she thought he might have done the impossible and fallen asleep.

  ‘You never cease to surprise, Lady Swein,’ he said eventually.

  ‘In what way?’ she asked sharply.

  He let out a long breath and turned to look at her, rolling onto his good arm as he did so.

  ‘I thought you were going to be like all the spoilt grand ladies I have met over the years—the ones who always think about themselves first and who are selfish and demanding. You are not like that at all.’

  She turned on her side so that she was facing him. The black shadows under his eyes were stark, but there was something soft and warm in his expression. Something she’d not seen before, and it made her heart skip a beat.

  ‘I thought you would be a lot more thuggish than you are in real life,’ she told him.

  He laughed. ‘I am very thuggish. It’s what my whole reputation is based on.’

  For a long while they lay looking at one another. She wondered why he didn’t turn away, but knew she was trapped in his warm gaze. She didn’t know what was happening to her, or what it might mean, but here, right now, in a makeshift shelter, lying on lumpy ground, on the run for her life and fighting for her freedom, she felt content.

  Chapter Ten

  At some point she must have drifted off to sleep, because Ellena was awoken by pained grunting. It was very dark in the shelter, but as her eyes adjusted she could just make out Braedan. He seemed to be thrashing about in his sleep, in the midst of a horrifying nightmare.

  He rolled onto his bad side and awoke with a hiss of pain.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked pointlessly.

  Of course he wasn’t. He was probably in agony—both physically and, by the sounds of things, mentally as well.

  ‘No,’ he ground out. ‘I feel...awful.’

  She reached out and touched his forehead. She was relieved to find that he didn’t have a temperature. She had no idea how to deal with a fever in these primitive conditions. His skin was worryingly cold to the touch, though, and her own toes were feeling decidedly numb.

  Without thinking about it too much, she rolled over to him, bringing her blankets with her. She flung them over him and then curled her arm around his waist as she nestled closer.

  For a long moment he lay unmoving next to her, and then slowly his good arm closed around her, cocooning her in a warm circle.

  ‘I thought we could keep each other warm,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.’

  She didn’t stress whether it would be physical discomfort or something else that her touch would bring. She knew better than anyone how horrific it was to feel an unwelcome touch.

  ‘It feels better now,’ was all he said.

  He shifted slightly and it felt like the most natural thing in the world to lay her head on his chest. Beneath her his torso rose and fell steadily, and she listened to the reassuring thump of his heart.

  After a while his hand stole into her hair and he began slowly to stroke the strands. As a child she had loved it whenever her mother had brushed her hair, but it had been years since she had been touched so gently. The movement was causing little shivers to run down her spine. She wondered if she could persuade Braedan to come back with her to Castle Swein with the express intention of lying with her just like this at the end of every day.

  ‘Tell me about your life at Castle Swein,’ said Braedan into the darkness.

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘How is it that you are running things? Don’t take offence,’ said Braedan as she stiffened. ‘I’m only asking because it is unusual.’

  ‘It probably isn’t that unusual,’ she said tartly. ‘I’m sure a lot of women run estates while their men take the credit.’

  ‘Is that what happened in your case?’

  Ellena scratched her nose and thought about how to answer. She could tell him the truth, or she could give him the version she’d shown to the rest of the world. For some reason she found she wanted to tell him everything. They had been through so much, and she’d had to trust him with her life time and time again. He’d never failed her or let her down. If he knew how hard she had worked perhaps he would put in a good word with her father. The Earl might not listen to her, but his most trusted warrior might be different.

  ‘Lord Swein was a very different man from the personality he presented to my family. I knew he was a lot older than me before we married, but he seemed like a kind and considerate man. He wasn’t.’

  Braedan didn’t comment. He continued to stroke her hair.

  She brought her hand to his chest and followed the stitching on his tunic with her fingertips. She felt him suck in a breath as her hand dipped lower. She wanted to keep going, but instead brought her fingers back to his shoulder, where she rested her hand gently against his strong muscles so as not to disturb his bandages.

  ‘I wasn’t long into my marriage before I realised that Swein was lazy and cruel. The estate was in a terrible state. The castle itself was dirty and cold, and the people living there weren’t being fed enough. He wouldn’t invest in the fields around us and he taxed the villagers mercilessly. Many of them were living in abject poverty.’

  She took a deep breath.

  ‘I don’t think he was very clever. He listened to some terrible advice when he was younger and lost a lot of money. He was very bitter about it, and took it out on everyone around him.’

  ‘Did he hurt you?’

  She paused. ‘Yes.’

  Braedan’s arm stilled for a moment. She gently nudged his hand and he began to tease her hair once more.

  ‘About four years into our marriage he became very sick and kept to his bed. His steward died not long after, and instead of engaging someone to take over I
decided to save the money and do it myself. Within six months I’d turned the fortunes of the castle around. It took my husband four more long years to die, but fortunately for me, and for the rest of the castle’s inhabitants, he was too ill to get out of bed and he never knew what I’d done.’

  His fingers dropped to her neck and he began to gently massage the muscles there. Her whole body became boneless and she instinctively arched against his side.

  ‘I didn’t... I wanted children so I let him...’ She cringed against Braedan, who tightened his arm around her. ‘I let him do unimaginable things. When I didn’t please him he would lock me in my room for days without food. Then he would start again. In the end it was all for nothing. I am barren anyway.’

  Braedan’s hands stilled and tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. She’d repulsed him with her talk about the marriage bed. She wondered how long she could stay in the comfort of his arms before it became awkward. She knew she should move if she’d made him uncomfortable, but she really didn’t want to.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Did Swein have any other children?’

  ‘What?’ she asked, surprised by the question. She really hadn’t thought that was how he would respond. ‘No. His first wife wasn’t blessed with them either.’

  Braedan resumed massaging her neck and she gradually relaxed against him again.

  ‘I know this is not a popular opinion,’ said Braedan, ‘but is it possible that it was Swein who couldn’t have children and not you?’

  She raised her head slightly to look at him. ‘But that goes against...’

  ‘I know.’

  Braedan’s hand stole back into her hair and she bit back a contented purr.

  ‘Did Swein have other women?’ he asked.

  Ellena laid her head on Braedan’s chest again. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly.

  She’d known of at least two. He hadn’t tried to hide it. At first it had been a source of pain, and then it had become a guilty relief. If he was bestowing his attentions elsewhere then he’d left her alone for a little while.

  ‘Did they have any children?’

  ‘No...’

  Braedan didn’t say anything further.