First Knight: Thornton Brothers Time Travel (A Thornton Brothers Time Travel Romance Book 3)

by Cynthia Luhrs

  “Be strong for your man. Brom will aid me in removing his clothes.”

  The healer turned away to the makeshift tray she had set up. There were various threads and needles, along with jars waiting to be put to use. The sound of fabric ripping filled the space as Brom cut away Edward’s clothes.

  He met her eyes. "’Tis not proper for you to see Edward unclothed.”

  The ridiculous comment was exactly what she needed to rein in her emotions. “You tell me when you’re uncovering the good bit and I’ll turn my back.”

  A half-smile crossed his face. As she helped cut away his tunic, pieces of it came away shredded and sopping wet.

  “I don’t understand. I watched him ride out. He was covered in plate and mail armor. How could this have happened?”

  He had so many wounds that it looked like a hundred men had hacked at him with swords. It was a wonder he was still breathing. Alistair had left and returned while they were helping the healer. He blanched seeing Edward’s ravaged body.

  “You heard the Scot. If so many came against him, in time he would fall. Then they could take his armor and do…this.” Brom looked stricken.

  Alistair looked like he was going to cry. “Another prisoner said Edward came to and fought back without his armor until he no longer had the strength to fight.” He wiped his eyes. “The damned Scots left his armor and sword.”

  “I will examine the prisoners after.” Brom nodded. “Guard the door.”

  Jennifer ran a finger over a piece of cloth. It was silk.

  Brom looked ill. “When the arrow goes in, the head will not pierce the silk, and can be pulled out without leaving the head behind.”

  She swallowed and blinked but did not cry. There was no time for tears. She had to be strong. For him. Cutting away the last of his tunic, she looked to see Brom had covered Edward’s groin with cloth before he called for Alistair.

  “Help me turn him over.”

  Edward groaned as they turned him.

  “Are you hurting him?”

  “Nay. He is senseless,” the healer said. She pointed to a steaming bowl of water and a pile of rags. “Clean off the blood and muck, then I will stitch the wounds.”

  Jennifer blew out a breath and did as she was told. In the modern world, unless someone was a nurse or a doctor or worked in some other trauma field, the average person didn’t see wounds like these. Then again, most modern doctors probably didn’t either. They would have seen gunshot or knife wounds, but not so many sword wounds.

  She gasped at a particularly nasty wound, swearing she glimpsed bone in his shoulder. Her stomach clenched and threatened to turn over, but she forced it down with an iron will.

  Finally she and Brom had cleaned all the blood off, but she’d lost count of the number of wounds Edward had sustained. So many times, she’d stopped, leaned over him, and pressed her face close to his nose to check if he was still breathing. Each time a tiny bit of breath tickled her cheek and she exhaled, sending up thanks he was still alive.

  Brom frowned at Edward’s side. There was a wound with a piece of wood flush to the skin. He swore viciously. While she watched, he took a piece of cloth from the water and tied it to the stick.

  “Mistress?”

  The healer mumbled as she looked at the wound. “Aye, push it all the way through.” Then she turned to Jennifer. “If ye have a weak stomach, best leave now.”

  “No, I’m staying.”

  “Talk to him, Jennifer.” Brom touched her hand. He nodded to Alistair. “Hold him firm.”

  She watched as they pushed the cloth through. Edward screamed and thrashed. Alistair and Brom could not hold him alone. Three more men came in and held him as they finished the grueling task. They were all sweating and pale when it was done.

  “That’s the most horrific thing I’ve ever seen.” Jennifer bent over, breathing in and out until she was sure she wouldn’t pass out or throw up.

  The healer put a gentle hand on Jennifer’s cheek. “Sit down, child, before you fall over.” The woman nodded to Brom. “Hold him still so he does not thrash while he is senseless.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “Send a girl to fetch more bandages, food, and wine.”

  Alistair left the room.

  With a few moments to wait, Jennifer slid down the wall and rested her elbows on her knees. It was as if the afternoon and evening had caught up to her all at once. Exhaustion weighed down her limbs, her arm so heavy she couldn’t lift it to push the strands of hair out of her face. From where she was sitting, she could watch the healer. Brom looked as tired as she, as she noted the strain around his eyes.

  When the healer stitched Edward’s wounds, she had to look away. It was different than when she’d helped his men—this was him. A cup was thrust into her hands.

  “Drink, lady.”

  Grateful, she drank the wine as she sat there numbly. Her cup was refilled and a platter placed on the floor beside her. Jennifer didn’t know what was on it, she just ate what was put in front of her, staring blankly into space.

  At some point someone must have taken the cup and plate. Stiff and chilled, she rubbed her eyes. A hush had fallen over the room, the air holding its breath. Brom was sitting next to her, a cup tilted haphazardly in his hands, an empty plate on the floor beside him.

  The healer stretched and packed away her things. “I have done all I can. The rest is up to the fates.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Before the healer could leave, Jennifer forced her legs to move. For a moment, she wobbled then gained her balance.

  “You’ll be back tomorrow?”

  The woman’s eyes were wise and sad. “I gave him herbs, poultices, and stitched him up to please you and his captain. But it will not matter. Edward has seen his last sunrise and will be dead by nightfall. His wounds are too grievous. Even the great Lord Somerforth cannot thwart death when he comes a calling.”

  “No. He’ll get better like he always does, right?”

  The woman took Jennifer’s hand in hers, the skin soft and velvety.

  “He has not regained his senses. The fever will come and it will take him. The wounds are only part of the danger. There is nothing more I can do. I have made a brew of herbs. ’Tis simmering over the fire. Pour a bit down his throat every few hours. There is nothing left to us but to hope. The fates have already decided his fate—they will cut his life thread.”

  Brom looked like he’d aged ten years. “I will send for a messenger. We must get word to his brothers.”

  Jennifer would not let him. It would be like giving in. “No. I refuse to believe he’s going to die. Send for the messenger if you must, but do not send the message,” she pleaded. “Not yet. You said yourself: it’s been too dangerous to travel. Why put his brothers at risk traveling here if he’s going to live?”

  “They should be here when he passes.”

  “I am here. And I will not let him die.”

  Brom was full of sorrow; it radiated out of him and seemed to hover above him, a bluish-gray cloud. “As you wish, Mistress Jennifer. We will discuss it again tomorrow.” He paused in the doorway. “You will not leave?”

  “Not until we know.”

  “Then I will have a bath prepared and a clean dress sent for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  The resignation in his voice made hers break. “Don’t give up on him.”

  The deepest part of the night passed, and Jennifer managed to get a tiny bit of the healer’s liquid into Edward. She’d always thought of the deep night as the time when death came.

  “You can’t have him,” she whispered. Every time she looked at Edward, Jennifer would imagine standing over him, a sword of light in her hands as she fought off death.

  He was so pale and lifeless. She wished she could give him some of her strength. The servants entered the chamber, somber, carrying buckets of water, and proceeded to prepare the bath.

  She knew what was happening, but it was as if she blinked o
nce when they’d come in the chamber, and when she blinked again, the bath was steaming, waiting.

  “Lady? Shall we bathe you?”

  “What?”

  “We will bathe you, lady.”

  Normally she bathed herself, but the out-of-body feeling was so strong that she had the feeling she would slip under the water, drown, and not even notice. “I think this time I would like you to bathe me.”

  The girls were efficient, undressing her and helping her into the tub. One of them eyed the gown critically. “I do not think we will be able to clean this.”

  “I could never wear it again anyway. Make rags out of it.”

  The girl nodded and put it in a pile with the other bloodied rags. They scrubbed her clean as the water turned crimson. At least this tub was large. It had been made especially for Edward. It wasn’t like the bathing barrel she had used when she’d first arrived. That tub had a padded seat, and your knees almost came up to your chin. In the copper tub, she could stretch out and let the blissfully hot water ease the tension. The heat and stress made her sleepy.

  The scent of roses filled the air as they scrubbed her skin and washed her hair. There was a moment Jennifer swore she could smell blood and the awful stench from the black chamber again. It passed, and she drank deeply of the chilled wine they poured for her.

  The girls helped her out of the tub and briskly dried her off as she swayed back and forth. They dressed her just as efficiently, though she could have been wearing a sack and wouldn’t have noticed—her eyes never strayed from Edward. Watching his chest slowly move up and down, straining as she looked for any sign he was coming around.

  Jennifer sat on the stool while one of the girls combed her hair and the other one tidied up the chamber. She knew they were as worried as she, but none of them spoke of Edward. It was as if by not speaking of what had happened, they could pretend it wasn’t real. That he was simply sleeping and would wake any moment.

  “I’ll fetch food to break your fast.”

  “Thank you both for all you’ve done.”

  She sat next to Edward, dipping cloths into icy water and laying them across his forehead. Tending him through the fear that constantly waited to take hold of her. Alistair forced her to eat, taking over and ordering the servants to fetch more ice from the icehouse.

  Brom came in many times to see if Edward had woken. And to beg her to sleep, but she couldn’t. Jennifer tried to explain.

  “I can’t sleep. If I do, I’m afraid…afraid he will die and I won’t know. We cannot leave him alone, not even to sleep. Not after he was in that horrid place.”

  Brom nodded. “As he is senseless, it will be appropriate for you to sleep in his chamber.”

  Jennifer croaked out a laugh. “You’re worried about propriety and I’m worried about him dying.”

  Brom’s mouth twitched. “Aye. If anything could tempt Edward to wake, it would be the thought of his lady sleeping in his chamber. You should sleep on the floor.”

  “I’m not going to sleep on the floor. I’m going to crawl in bed and sleep next to him.” Jennifer smiled.

  The look on Brom’s face almost made her happy.

  “You cannot.”

  “I don’t think he’s going to ravish me today.” And then the reality of what she was facing came crashing down around her like waves breaking on the rocks. “I love him and I never told him.”

  “We all have events in our life that affect us, mold us into the people we are. Do not fault yourself. Edward loves you. He told me. If anyone could tempt death to leave and go back to the underworld, I think ’tis you.”

  Brom took her hand and placed it in Edward’s. He looked at Edward. “If I were God looking down from above and saw the love you have for him, surely I would be merciful and bring him back to you, lady.”

  When he met her gaze, tears streamed down the big man’s face. Jennifer felt wetness on her own cheeks, tasted salt on her lips.

  “I hope you are right.”

  He sniffed and gathered himself. “There is a man on guard. I have sent Alistair to sleep. Call out if you need anything.”

  As the day passed, supper came and went, and the household quieted, settling down for the night. How could they sleep when Edward was…like this? Because death was a normal part of their lives. Well, she didn’t want it to be a part of her life. Before her hand touched his forehead, she could feel the heat radiating off him. His fever was spiking. First he sweated, then he shivered as she pulled blankets on and off him, speaking softly to him. Begging him to come back to her. To stay.

  She was long past tired, and yet she could not sleep. Jennifer climbed into the bed, careful not to jostle him. He moaned and called out but did not wake, caught firmly in the grip of the fever.

  She pressed her body close to him, willing her life force into him.

  “From the moment I got here, you have put others before yourself. Always looking out for your people. You are brave and strong and I have thought only of myself. Being here with you has brought out the best in me. I’m only sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you how much I love you.”

  Jennifer wiped her eyes, sniffling into her sleeve.

  “Please don’t leave me, Edward. I don’t want to go back. I want to stay here with you. You’re not stuffy—you’re responsible and steady, someone I can rely on. Don’t go…I need you.”

  At some point her body must have shut down, sleep claiming her, for when she woke the servants had already been in the chamber, built up the fire, and brought more cold water and food and drink for her.

  Brom entered as a girl was brushing Jennifer’s hair, putting it up in a ponytail. They’d accepted her odd hairstyle without a word.

  “How is he?”

  Tears welled up, but she refused to let them fall. She met his gaze head-on.

  “He lives, but I don’t know how much longer he will with such a high fever. Is there anything else we can try?”

  One of the servants cleared her throat. “In the village where I grew up there was a man with such a fever as my lord.” The girl chewed her lip as she thought. “I don’t know what they did, but whatever it was, the man lived. I will ask my mam.”

  Jennifer felt like the sun came out of the clouds and shone down on her. “Would you? Would you do it now?”

  The girl looked to Brom, who nodded. She hurried out of the chamber.

  “Do not give yourself false hope, Jennifer. We must be ready.”

  “I didn’t come all this way just so he could die.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Jennifer had not set foot out of Edward’s chamber since they found him, though she did open the shutters for the fresh air. No matter how she tried to explain that fresh air was good for someone who was sick, they wouldn’t hear it. The servants were horrified, and finally she gave up, bellowing at them to cease. No wonder Edward stomped about all the time.

  Time stretched for endless hours, and other times it moved fast, like a raft bumping down whitewater rapids. She’d lost track of what day it was. When she woke, she thought it might be afternoon. Edward was moaning, thrashing back and forth, and she was afraid he was going to hurt himself. Jennifer ran to the door and flung it open.

  “He’s going to rip open his stitches.”

  The knight shouted down the corridor, and three of Edward’s men came to hold him down. One of them got a black eye and another a broken nose before he stopped lashing out. They had tried to keep her away from him, but he was still muttering and moaning, unconscious. Jennifer pushed under one of the men’s arms, leaned in, and spoke softly to Edward.

  “My love. Listen to the sound of my voice. I am here. I vow I will not let death take you. But you must calm, or you will hurt yourself. And you’ve hurt your men.”

  Slowly he stopped fighting, and the muttering faded away. Two of his wounds were bleeding again.

  “Send for the healer. She needs to restitch his wounds.”

  As the men left, she heard them talking.
The one with long brown hair said, “I’d come back from the very gates of hell if I saw such an angel taking care of me.”

  The other nodded. “Were I death, I too would pass by and let him live. Let us pray death is a tender bastard.”

  While she waited for the healer, she blotted his wounds and wiped his brow, kissing the scars covering his body, sending hope into each one.

  “Please give him back to me. Even if he doesn’t love me, just let him live.” Jennifer looked out the window at the sunset.

  The door opened and the healer bustled in clicking her tongue. Fast and efficient, she restitched his wounds, forcing more of the awful brew down his throat.

  “He is stubborn to have lasted so long. Prepare yourself, child—he is growing weaker and will not last much longer.”

  “I’m stubborn too, and if I can hold his spirit here by the force of my will then that is what I will do.”

  “We will see, lady. We will see.” The healer looked as if she were about to say something else, but she patted Jennifer on the cheek and left.

  Brom entered the chamber early in the morning. “We will take him to the lake. The girl says cold water is what is needed.”

  “The lake? What about the icehouse?”

  “Nay, the water must flow over his body.” The healer had come back with the girl.

  "’Tis a last resort. The cold water will either kill him or it will break the fever. ’Tis the only thing left to do.”

  Jennifer looked down at Edward. His cheeks were sunken and there was a grayish tint to his skin. As much as she protested, even she knew it wouldn’t be long. Edward would die if his fever didn’t break. She took a deep breath.

  “Then we must try.”

  Four men carried Edward out of the chamber, bringing back memories of when they’d carried his battered body into the room. Jennifer stumbled, and would have fallen had Alistair not caught her.

  “Thank you.”

  The men took him through the hall. Jennifer caught up to Brom and the healer. “Where I grew up, my mother said salt water was always good for cuts. Can we put him in the sea?”