Ginevra struggled to liberate herself from Eilric’s hold. The man grabbed her shoulder and pulled her down when she would stand free of him. She called out in pain as she felt the poke of his blade as they struggled and rolled.
“You treacherous wench!” Eilric shouted in dismay. Ginevra weakened, her eyes widened in alarm. Her mouth opened in a wail of pain as Eilric pulled his sword point from her side.
Wolfe turned at the frightful sound. His eyes burned red as he saw blood staining Ginevra’s gown. Her green eyes found him. Her hands strayed to her wound, drawing forward with her own blood as she helplessly reached for him. He saw her mouth his name with her pale lips. But he had no chance to help her. Eilric jumped up from the ground wielding his sword. Only then did Wolfe notice it was the missing blade from Thomas’ bedchamber.
Wolfe saw Ginevra’s hand fall to the ground. Torturous pain swept through him as her eyes fluttered closed. Her head fell to the side unmoving. Just then, Desert galloped past Wolfe. Wolfe clutched at his weapon, grabbing the hilt as the destrier slowed a fraction. He drew the blade from its scabbard, turning to block Eilric’s attack to his back.
Eilric grunted in surprise. Then, narrowing his hateful eyes, he gnashed his teeth. Advancing on Wolfe, he slashed his sword through the air. Their blades met and clanged in rapid unison. The image of Ginevra’s blood soaked gown wouldn’t leave his vision as Wolfe defended himself against the man’s blows. A roar of emotion waged in his breast. Shouting, he forgot to protect himself and crazily ran at his target. Eilric, taken off guard by the sudden indifference Wolfe showed for his own life, gasped as the blade penetrated his gut.
Wolfe’s hand swung at the moment of impact, to grab at the hilt clenched in Eilric’s fist. Twisting the tang, he wrenched in from his fingers. Bitterly, he said, “This blade is stolen and you and yours will never touch it again.”
Eilric fell to his knees in shock. His eyes denied what his body realized to be true. Opening his mouth, he gurgled before falling lifeless to the ground.
Wolfe heaved a great breath as he turned to his prone wife. She had sacrificed herself to save him. Leaning over her, he pressed his fingers into her wound and lifted her head to his lap. Ginevra’s eyes fluttered open in surprise. Lovingly, she gazed at his face. Her fingers lifted to touch his cheek.
“You live,” she murmured in satisfaction before passing out in his arms.
Clouds drifted over the sun in ever darkening threat as Wolfe raced Desert over the long fields back to Whetshire Fortress. Ginevra gathered in his arms, hanging limp. His hand fit tightly at her side, trying to stem the flow of her blood. The hot liquid marred in-between his fingers. Her body flopped and jerked. Twice she almost slid off the side, making Wolfe to let go of the reins to adjust her body along the stallion’s back. Giving Desert a swift kick, they soared through the blurring of grass.
Ginevra’s infrequent moans of pain became harder to hear. Wolfe’s heart beat desperately in the caverns of his ears. His face hardened as he forced himself on. Purch raced behind him, losing to the larger stride of the destrier, but trying nonetheless to follow his mistress.
After what seemed like an eternity of hoof beats, Desert neared Whetshire’s gatehouse. The man on the wall, seeing the rider approach, raised his hand in greeting.
“It’s Lord Wolfram,” Wolfe yelled, reining Desert to a skittish stop. The animal pranced to regain its footing.
“Ho! Lord Wolfram!” the man cheered, disappearing to yell his name to those nearby. Many of the men ran forward in amazement, shouting in excitement.
“Open the gates!” Wolfe yelled, desperate to break though the exclamations and cheers. “Lady Ginevra is injured!”
The man leaned over the wall, peering to get a closer look from the great height.
“Open the gate!” Wolfe barked. “Or I will have you flogged!”
The guard, hearing the command, raised his arm high and shouted the orders below to the pulleys. The gates creaked up. Wolfe jolted Desert, leaning low over Ginevra’s body to swiftly go under the gate before it reached the top.
Once inside, Wolfe shouted, “Get me a physician!”
At the great commotion that ensued, Robert and William ran from the exercise field. Their sweaty tunics clung to their chests. Their fists still gripped swords of practice. They eyed Wolfe questioningly before seeing Ginevra’s bleeding body in his arms.
Robert paled. William rushed forward to take her from his brother. Wolfe swung down before taking her back. The men ran inside the keep, Wolfe taking the steps to the main hall two at a time.
Helena was in the hall playing with Thomas. The child looked up from his back to see what the commotion was. Seeing his mother’s drooping form, he wailed. Helena looked at Wolfe in alarm.
“You didn’t--” Helena began.
“Nay!” Wolfe answered gruffly. “Go get a cloth and some hot water.”
Helena nodded. She ran to the kitchen to do as he bid her, calling, “Take her to the first guest chamber!”
Robert grabbed a torch from the wall to light the way. Wolfe carried his wife up the small tower stairs. Crashing in the door with his foot, the thick oak splintered and cracked, breaking the latch. Wolfe paid no heed as he laid her gently on her back.
With a mighty tear, he ripped through the material of her nightgown. The tear exposed the wound in her stomach. Wolfe swallowed. It looked as if the bleeding hadn’t stopped, though it slowed. Her face was pale, more so than normal.
“Robert,” William began. His heart ached to see his brother’s tortured face and Ginevra’s unmoving body. “Give us your dagger.”
Robert pulled his dagger and wiped it on his leg. Then, he stuck it into the torch’s flame. Heating it, he came forward.
“Ready?” Robert asked.
“Yea,” William nodded. “Wolfe, hold her still.”
Wolfe grabbed Ginevra’s arms, laying his elbow into her stomach. His face came close to her wound. Curtly he nodded. Helena came in behind them.
“All right,” William said.
Robert quickly handed him the heated blade and held the torch high so the man could see. William didn’t hesitate. He took the blade and brought it immediately to Ginevra’s wound. Pressing it inside the seeping hole, he narrowed his eyes in determination. Helena turned away in horror, gagging at the instant sizzle. Ginevra’s eyes flew open with a terrified scream. Her body racked against Wolfe’s hold. Wolfe choked, the smell of her burning flesh assaulted his nostrils and he could feel the blade’s heat radiating onto his flesh.
In an instant it was over. Ginevra fell limp against the pillow, unconscious. William handed the blade to Robert who lowered the torch only slightly to receive it. Helena rushed in with a bucket of water and fresh linens bundled in her arms.
“Thomas is with a maid,” she informed Wolfe. Wolfe nodded weakly. Taking one of the linens, Helena dipped it into the water. She handed it into Wolfe’s outstretched hand.
“Where is the physician?” Gently, Wolfe stroked the cool cloth over her flesh, wiping it free of the blood. The wound puckered an ugly red.
“Here,” the physician said from the door. Tossing his tools on the bed, he elbowed Wolfe aside.
“We cauterized the wound,” William said.
The elderly man nodded. Inspecting the work, he allowed, “Fine job.”
Robert handed the torch to William. Taking Helena by the arm, he led her from the chamber. “We’ll see to some hot water.”
“Why don’t you leave me,” the physician ordered.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Wolfe said, keeping a sharp eye on the man. The man nodded, not willing to argue over it.
“I’m staying, too,” William put forth with a determined glance at Wolfe. Wolfe nodded.
The physician sighed, reaching for a fresh linen to clean his patient with. Wolfe went around the bed and sat next to his wife. Picking up her hand in his, he rubbed the pad of his thumb gently over her wrist. And, closing his eyes, he prayed tha
t she would be all right.
Ginevra groaned, opening one eye to look around the quiet chamber. The soft play of fur tickled her chin. She blew at it in annoyance, slowly lifting her hand to push it away from her face. Wincing, she looked down at her side. She moved her hand under the blanket to touch the bandage that wrapped tightly around her waist.
Gingerly, she fingered her wound. It throbbed in angry protest. Ginevra took a deep breath and tried to readjust herself on the bed. “Ah.”
Unable to sit, she yawned. Looking to the side, she noticed Wolfe sleeping next to her on a chair. His head bent to rest on his hands, which were folded over the fur coverlet. Lightly, she reached over to touch his hair. She stroked it lightly from his face.
Instantly, he awoke, looking at her from the concerned depths of his brown eyes. He searched her features. Ginevra smiled weakly. Her hand glided over the smooth, taunt flesh of his cheek to cup his face. Her eyes glowed with an adoring light.
“You scared me, Gin,” he admitted. “How do you feel?”
“Run through,” she answered with a wry twist of her nose. Suddenly, she frowned, “Where is Lord Eilric?”
“Dead,” Wolfe whispered. He covered her small hand with his palm to help her hold it to his face. Placing a light kiss on her wrist, he smiled sadly. “It was not as he said.”
“I know that,” Ginevra chuckled weakly. She flinched at the pain the movement caused her. “You are too honorable.”
“Don’t mistake me,” Wolfe confessed. “I did kill his brother to avenge Thomas’ death. The Dark Swordsman’s band had been terrorizing the countryside. They ravished every woman they came across, tortured young girls. Even their camp was filled with their captured prisoners. It was horrible.”
“Shhh,” Ginevra shook her head to stop him. “I don’t need to know the details unless you need to say them. I know you, so I know enough.”
Wolfe gave a short, quiet sigh. He was baffled by her complete acceptance and understanding.
“Here,” he said, reaching behind him to the floor. He lifted an old scrap of material onto the bed.
“What is this?” Ginevra turned her head, trying to see.
“It’s a gift,” Wolfe stated with a sheepish smile.
“Show it to me,” she whispered. “I’m too weak to open it.”
“Here,” Wolfe lifted the material wrapped bundle into her view. He untied the many strings and unfolded it carefully.
“What is it?” she asked, curious.
“Give me your hand.”
Ginevra lifted her hand to him. Wolfe took it and cupped his own around it. Laying the material on the bed, he pinched its contents and put it in her hand.
“It feels like dirt,” she said in surprise.
“I brought you the Holy Land.”
“My packet of earth,” she smiled, as if he had handed her a waterfall full of diamonds. “You remembered.”
“I could never forget.”
“Here,” she whispered. “Put it back. I want to look at it later. And you must tell me of the strange things you saw--every detail.”
“I will. But for now you must rest and regain your strength.” Wolfe kissed her forehead and tied up the packet.
“Is that my wedding tunic?” she questioned in wonderment. “You’ve had it all these years?”
“I’ve carried it everywhere. I told you I would.” Wolfe couldn’t resist. He kissed her hand next to the wedding band he had given her. Ginevra sighed in satisfaction. She still wore it, even when she married William.
“You look tired,” she mumbled fondly.
“I’ve been watching over you,” he admitted.
“How long?”
“You’ve been here three days.” Wolfe kissed her hand.
“So long?” she tried to chuckle and winced. Closing her eyes, she listened to the soothing tone of his words.
“Yea,” he stroked her arm. “You had a fever.”
“I’m still tired,” she admitted with a peek from under her lids. “Come, sleep with me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he protested. He stroked her cheek, caressed her hair. His eyes bore into hers.
“Then never leave me again.”
Ginevra awoke. Smiling, she stretched her arms over her head. Looking at Wolfe from underneath lowered lashes, she said, “You’re still here. I thought it a dream.”
Wolfe chuckled. She said the same thing every time she woke up to him. He was raised up on one elbow, lightly stroking her inner arm with his fingers. She had drifted in and out of sleep for many days. Yawning, she moved to sit up. Wolfe automatically helped her.
“I can hardly believe it. It’s not as painful as before.” Ginevra gave him a happy smile. She was still sore, but recovering quickly. “I must thank William for doing such a fine job.”
“Yeah,” Wolfe said, “about that.”
“Oh, nay,” Ginevra panicked. “I am still married to him, aren’t I? I completely forgot. What do we do?”
“Well, before being interrupted, I was going to say that you will be annulling your marriage to him forthwith. William is waiting with the parchment.” Wolfe stood. Looking down at her, he smiled. “Are you up to seeing him right now?”
Ginevra nodded. She reached up to smooth her hair. The flimsy material of her new nightgown fluttered delicately as she moved. Wolfe strode from the chamber. Ginevra rubbed her sleepy eyes.
Moments later Wolfe was back. Ginevra smiled at William. “Ho, Will!”
“Gin,” William stated. His brows furrowed in feigned outrage. “Wolfe tells me you are leaving me.”
Ginevra looked in wide-eyed awe from one husband to the other. Innocently, she uttered, “He did? Well, he was mistaken. I plan on keeping both of you. I think two husbands must be better than one.”
Wolfe growled playfully. He stalked around the bed and leaned into her. Pushing his face into hers, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Don’t fret, Gin. I will keep you busy enough. You will feel as if there were forty of me.”
“Forty,” Ginevra squeaked. “In that case, hand over the parchments, Will.”
“Wait,” William protested. “Don’t I get to state my suit?”
“Oh, you have something better to offer?” Ginevra leaned away from Wolfe. She grinned mischievously.
William looked about in all seriousness. Then, struggling to maintain a straight face, he said with a laugh, “Naught that I can think of. But I am the handsomer of the two--and younger. When he is old and gray, I will still--”
“Argh!” Wolfe grumbled. “Sign the parchment, Gin.”
Pretending to study Wolfe, Ginevra kept her eyes on him, but turned her face to William. Thoughtfully, she said, “Yea. I think I see a gray hair sprouting already. And he is rather surly.”
“If my hairs are gray, they are of your doing wife.” Wolfe scowled, though his eyes beamed at her merrily. “And it’s your delay that is making me surly.”
“Oh, fine,” Ginevra huffed. “Sorry, Will. But you are a true find and well, this one...” She jerked a finger at Wolfe and shrugged hopelessly.
Wolfe caught her hand and pulled it to his lips. Mumbling against her finger, he didn’t take his eyes from her chuckling face. “You have your answer, brother.”
William strode forward and handed Ginevra the parchment. As she glanced over it, he produced an inked quill. Ginevra signed her name on the bottom.
“Ah, just as I would have it,” Wolfe pronounced. “I don’t like having to share my things.”
Ginevra gasped, but her words were lost as she gazed into his fiercely possessive eyes. Her heart fluttered delightedly in her chest and bubbled over with love. William took the document from her lap and quickly left the room.
Without thought, she murmured, “I love you.”
Ginevra swallowed, realizing what she had said. She couldn’t draw her eyes away from him. Wolfe’s eyebrow rose in surprise at the confession. A slow smile unfolded on his face as he leaned into her.
�
�I--” Ginevra began to explain. She never got the words out. Wolfe’s lips claimed hers in a passionate kiss.
When he had successfully stolen her breath, he leaned back. His piercing gaze cut into her with the tenderness of a feather. “Oh foolish woman, I know that. And I have never loved any but you.”
Ginevra moaned, falling into his awaiting arms. With a grin, she pulled him with her as she fell back on the bed. Wolfe hesitated, glancing at her wound. Ginevra smiled, raising her brows in invitation to dismiss his concern.
“Come, husband,” Ginevra whispered, her eyes shining with promise. “Shall we celebrate my divorce?”
“Well, I did promise to keep you busy,” he laughed. And then he kissed her tender and deep, erasing all the past.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Wolfe spun his wife in his arms, flinging her into the air as he danced about the tower’s roof. Thomas watched his parents, clapping gleefully as Ginevra squealed in surprise. As she landed neatly on her feet, she grinned.
“You are incorrigible, m’lord,” she teased.
Wolfe studied her face. The wound in her side had healed, leaving behind a puckered scar he would often kiss. It was a reminder of how much he loved her and how much she was willing to sacrifice herself for him. Watching her emerald eyes dance with delight, Wolfe growled naughtily. She spun away from him and made her way to the side of the high tower’s roof. Looking over the distance, she sighed. The sun was beginning to set.
“If it’s so, then I can’t change it. You will just have to put up with me.” Wolfe came to her.
“I wouldn’t change a thing, Sir Knight.” Ginevra patted his face, tilting her head to receive his kiss. Grinning unabashedly, she murmured, “For faulted as you are, you are my knight and I’m blind to all your shortcomings.”
“Yea, I only wish I could say the same. But I have found it near impossible to live with your one glaring flaw,” Wolfe frowned. He turned his back to her thoughtfully. Ginevra’s heart leapt in panic.
Emerald Knight Page 33
