Gathering up a few more sticks, he made his way through the bracken, ferns and underbrush toward the stream. This time he spotted a broken pot on the bank. Fortunately there was enough of it left to hold water, so with his free hand he filled it and then hurried back to the hut. Crouching, he fed the wood into the fire, then put the broken pot near the flames to warm the contents.
Only then did he glance at Tamsin, to discover she was watching him, her brown eyes huge in her pale face, one hand clutching the arrow in her leg.
He rose and approached her cautiously. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to tend to that,” he said, nodding at the arrow.
“I’m sorry you ever came to Castle DeLac,” she retorted, her teeth clenched. “Take me home!”
“I can’t. It’s raining and it’s going to be dark soon.”
“I don’t care if it’s pouring. Take me back!”
“As soon as the water’s heated, I’m going to have to wash your wound.”
“You’re no physician.”
“No, but I’ve dealt with such injuries before, my own and other’s. The sooner it’s tended to—”
“Take me home!” she commanded, but now there was a tremor in her voice. “You must take me back. I have to marry Blane.” She moved as if she was trying to stand, then gasped, her face growing even more pale.
“Sit,” he commanded, “or you’ll bleed more.”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t say anything, her lips a thin line of anger and pain, but at least she didn’t try to move again.
He reached for the warm water. “It’s good you’re wearing a heavy gown,” he said as he knelt down and got a good look at the spot where the arrow had pierced her garments. “I’m going to break the shaft so I can pull the fabric of your clothes away from the wound. Stay still. It won’t be easy. Fletchers use the hardest wood for strength.”
“I know that,” she snapped.
“I suspect there isn’t much you don’t know,” he replied. He held the shaft against her leg with one hand and gripped the other end of the shaft near the feathers with the other. “How many days until Christmas?”
“What?”
“How many days until Christmas. That’s got to be a busy time for you.”
“I don’t—”
In spite of his efforts to distract her, she stiffened and cried out in pain when he broke the shaft. Panting, she lay back.
“I’m sorry, my lady.”
“You should be!”
“I didn’t shoot the arrow,” he said, carefully maneuvering the fabric of her gown and shift up and over the broken shaft.
“It wouldn’t have happened at all if you hadn’t taken me.” She jerked as her skirt caught on the shaft. “For the love of God, be careful!”
“I’m doing the best I can.”
Her stocking was the most difficult of all, but at last he managed to uncover her calf. The wide end of the arrowhead, he saw with great relief, was visible, so it hadn’t gone too far into the muscle, probably because of her clothes and the distance it had traveled. It would be easy enough to remove the tip and clean the wound. Although that would be painful enough, he need not do more.
“This isn’t too bad,” he said, sitting back on his haunches. He had three scars himself from similar wounds and treatment, and knew enough to believe the damage wouldn’t be severe, or lethal. Thank God.
Tamsin didn’t hear him. Pain, nausea and dizziness had overwhelmed her, and she had swooned once more.
* * *
She was cold and shivering and her leg hurt.
Tamsin’s eyes snapped open as she remembered that she was in a decrepit hut off the road from Castle DeLac, brought here by Rheged of Cwm Bron, and she’d been hit by an arrow. He’d been angry with her uncle because the tournament prize had been almost worthless and he’d taken her by force, probably intending to hold her for ransom or perhaps for vengeance.
“You’re awake.”
She turned her head to see Rheged rising from beside the fire where he’d been crouched like some kind of demon. He was clad only in woolen breeches and worn leather boots, with his plain sword belt around his narrow waist.
“Don’t touch me!” she cried, gasping in pain as she scrambled back against the rough wall of the hut. “Don’t come near me!”
Rheged crossed his arms over his bare chest. “I have no intention of touching you except to check your wound. If you fear for your virtue because of my state of undress, my shirt is bandaging your leg where your uncle’s man shot you, and my tunic is beneath you, covering the branches that wouldn’t be very comfortable otherwise.”
She glanced down and saw the edge of his tunic beneath her. Carefully raising her skirt, she saw white fabric wrapped around her lower leg, fabric that was now stained with blood.
She swallowed hard and raised her eyes. “You touched my leg?”
“It was that or leave the arrowhead there to fester.”
“Take me home.”
“To the man who almost got you killed?”
“You almost got me killed when you took me by force. If you have any shred of chivalry as a man and as a knight—”
“Because I have a shred of chivalry, I’m taking you to Cwm Bron come the morning.”
She stared at him with horror and dismay. “In the morning? That’s too late!” Trying to ignore the pain, she started to stand. “I have to go back now!”
He shook his head. “We can’t risk riding in the dark, especially when it’s raining.”
She blinked back tears not just of pain but of frustration as she limped past him toward what was supposed to be a door.
“Stop,” he growled, taking hold of her arm.
She couldn’t stifle a little moan of agony as she tried to pull free.
“It’s dark and it’s wet,” he said, his tone more gentle. “You’ll swoon or get lost before you find the road.”
She wrenched herself free and nearly fell, but managed to stay upright. “If I’m not back before the morning, it will be too late! Everyone will know you had me alone all night.”
“So what of that? I’m a knight sworn to protect women and children. I would never take a woman against her will.”
“So you say! But what will people believe? And you half-naked, too!”
“I had to make a bandage out of something, lest you bleed to death—and you might do so anyway if you don’t sit down and keep still. Would you rather I’d torn off a piece of your shift?”
She could barely stand, but that didn’t matter. “Rumors will fly when people hear you’ve abducted me and that we were together for a night. That’s all they will need to hear to believe I’m no longer a virgin. Your selfish act of vengeance has quite likely rendered me unmarriageable and for what? A prize at a tournament.”
“I’ve hardly touched you, except to attend to your wound.”
“And grab me and throw me onto your horse with no more care than you would a sack of flour.”
“Sit down before you swoon.”
She did, but not because he told her to. She was feeling sick and dizzy again, so she hobbled toward the fire and sat as best she could. She must return to Castle DeLac before it was too late, but she couldn’t try while he was awake. But Rheged would have to sleep sometime.
He came around the fire and squatted at her feet. “Try not to move while I look at your leg,” he said, starting to raise the hem of her gown.
She slapped his hand away. “Leave me alone!”
He regarded her with a frown of frustration. “I may not be a physician, but I’ve tended plenty of wounds, including my own, my lady, so whether you want me to or not, I’m going to examine your leg.”
His tone would brook no refusal, so she bit her lip and looked away, staring at the gaps in the door and listening to the rain hitting what remained of the roof.
“The bandage isn’t soaked through, and that’s a good sign,” he said as he moved her skirt and shift back into place. “I’m going to f
etch more wood, if I can find any that’s dry. Stay where you are and don’t move about.”
She glared at him with all the majesty of an outraged monarch before he shoved open the door and went outside. So what if he was half-naked and the rain was pouring down and the air was cold? If he caught a chill, it would be small recompense for the pain and trouble he’d caused her.
Later, when he fell asleep, she would get away. It might be dark and raining, but she could take the horse and surely she could find some sign of the way to the road.
If he didn’t fall asleep, or woke up before she could get to his horse, she must be prepared to fight.
Looking around, she spotted a loose bit of wood at the base of the wall within reach. She had to lean to get it, but with a little effort, it came away. She shoved her makeshift weapon under the straw just before Rheged returned. He’d found a few more sticks, and he shoved them into the dwindling flames before sitting back on his haunches. In that position, with the water dripping down his broad shoulders and naked chest, and his long damp hair brushing his shoulders, he looked not so much like a demon as a warrior king from the days of the Celts and Picts.
A handsome, savage warrior king, with corded muscles and scars of battle, the wet cloth clinging to his powerful thighs. But a savage nonetheless.
She reached for his tunic, ignoring the twinge of pain. “Put this on,” she said, tossing it at him.
It nearly landed in the fire and he had to lunge to save it. “You need it more than I,” he said, throwing it back at her.
“You are in a state of undress that I find offensive,” she retorted. “Isn’t it enough that you stole me away without forcing me to look at your nakedness?”
“If my state of undress offends you, my lady, don’t look.”
“Very well, stay that way, and catch your death of cold.”
“I’ve been plenty colder in my life, and I never get sick.”
“Not even if you’re soaked through?”
“Not even then.”
“How miraculous,” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm as the water dripped from him.
“I suppose,” he said with a shrug before he shook his hair back from his forehead. “But I don’t get sick. I’ve never had a fever in my life.” He stirred the fire so the flames shot higher. “I don’t think you’re the sickly sort, either. Although you swooned, you seem very robust otherwise.”
Robust? Hardly a compliment for a lady, but this was hardly the time for compliments.
“I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything to eat. I left Cwm Bron in a hurry.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Rest, then.”
She lay down and feigned sleep as best she could, occasionally opening one eye to see what he was doing. For a long time, he simply sat and stared at the flames. Eventually he drew up his knees, wrapped his arms about his legs and laid his head down.
If he wasn’t asleep, he would be soon, for he was clearly exhausted. So was she. If she didn’t move, she might fall sleep herself, so Tamsin very slowly, carefully and quietly pulled the stout stick from under her makeshift bed. Very slowly, carefully and quietly she sat up and inched her way forward, ignoring the pain in her leg. When she was near Rheged, she raised the stick, ready to clout him.
He sat up with a jerk and grabbed her upraised arm, forcing it—and her—down, until his body pinned her to the ground.
“Are you mad?” he demanded, his face barely an inch from hers, his dark eyes full of anger and his lips a thin and angry line.
Chapter Six
“No, I’m not, but you may be,” Tamsin retorted as she tried to shove him away. Unfortunately she could no more move a boulder than Rheged of Cwm Bron. “Taking me from Castle DeLac was the act of a madman. Or perhaps you took a severe blow to the head during the melee.”
“A person would have to be mad to think she could get back to Castle DeLac alone in the rain and the dark and with a wounded leg,” he charged. “Are you truly so determined to marry Blane that you’ll risk your life for it? Or perhaps you’re seeking death rather than marriage.”
“I have no wish to die,” she answered just as forcefully, “but you have no right to keep me here—or do you intend to prove that you don’t, after all, possess a shred of chivalry?”
“I would never take a woman against her will,” he repeated as he finally moved away from her.
She began to breathe easier and levered herself up on her elbows. Meanwhile, he grabbed her makeshift weapon and shoved it in the fire. The flames leapt higher, lighting his stern visage and bronzing his naked chest.
“I may be humbly born, but I possess more honor than the man you’re so keen to marry,” he growled, glaring at her with his grim brown eyes. “Let me enlighten you a little more, my lady. No serving woman or village wench is safe from his lust. They hide when they see him coming—and from his oldest son, too. A woman Blane and Broderick can’t take by seduction, they take by force. If he weren’t a lord and Broderick his heir, they’d have been hanged—or worse—long ago, by outraged fathers, husbands and brothers.”
“Many noblemen are the same,” Tamsin said. She hated that it was so, but it was the truth.
“Aye, it is, and some say King John is of that ilk, but if that isn’t bad enough, that isn’t all Blane does. He punishes any infraction, however slight, to the utmost, and isn’t above bending the law for his own end. John’s as greedy as Blane, so as long as Blane pays him off, he’s free to do what he will.”
“He’s not alone in that, either.”
“So you would make excuses for him?”
She simply couldn’t let Rheged think she condoned such behavior or immorality. “No. But perhaps when I’m Blane’s wife, I can persuade him to be more just and merciful.”
If she could do that, it would make her sacrifice even more worthwhile, and might bring her some peace.
“That would be as difficult as convincing John to give up the throne.”
“I can try,” she replied, even though she suspected Rheged was right about her chances of persuading her future husband to be more merciful. Nevertheless she clung to the desperate hope that she could help the people of Dunborough, as well as save Mavis. “I’ve spent years trying to please and appease an uncle forced to take me in. Surely I can have some influence on my husband, especially if I give him children.”
Although thinking about what she had to endure to make that happen made her feel sick again.
“Bearing Blane children will more likely only bring you more pain, to say nothing of what they might suffer with such a father. Blane delights in setting one child against the other, lest they conspire against him. He’s so determined to keep them at each other’s throats that he won’t even tell his twin sons who is the elder.”
That had to be a lie, or idle gossip. “Surely someone else would know.”
“The twins’ mother died giving them birth. Shortly after, the midwife slipped and fell on some stairs. Her neck was broken and she died before she could tell anyone what she knew of the birth. So now only Blane knows for certain who is the eldest, and his sons are constantly at war. Nor should you think a daughter will be any safer. Blane will use her as your uncle’s using you, selling her to the highest bidder or the man with the most influence at court, regardless of his reputation.”
The more terrible a picture Rheged drew of Blane and his sons, the more Tamsin knew she had to prevent Mavis from taking her place as the bride. “I have given my word that I’ll marry Blane and so I will, if he’ll still have me. You must take me home in the morning. If you don’t, I’ll see that you’re arrested and charged with abduction as soon as I’m able.”
Rheged’s eyebrows lowered and his frown deepened. “Have you heard nothing of what I’ve said?”
“Nothing you’ve said—or will ever say—will make me break my word.”
“Then I hope your stubborn pride and sense of honor will give you comfort in the long years to come, for you
r husband certainly won’t.”
“Nor shall I expect it of him. So will you take me back to Castle DeLac, or will you prove yourself an outlaw?”
“I’ll return you to Castle DeLac when it’s light.”
* * *
As dawn broke in the eastern sky, Mavis stared at her father slumped in his large chair on the dais, a goblet in his hand and a wineskin on the table at his elbow. The fire in the hearth was nearly out. The candles and torches, too. All of the remaining guests and most of the servants were still abed, and even the hounds slumbered.
Mavis hadn’t slept at all, and neither, apparently, had her father. Yet while she had spent the night restlessly pacing, fearing the worst for Tamsin, all he had done, it seemed, was drink.
“Father, you must send your men to rescue her!” Mavis insisted, her voice rough with exhaustion. Although she hadn’t been able to hear the argument, the distraught servants had quickly told her the reason for Rheged’s return and how enraged he’d been. “It may already be too late to save her. She might even be dead!”
“That Welshman may be a peasant and uncivilized, but he wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill the niece of Lord Simon DeLac,” her father replied, lifting the goblet for another gulp of wine.
His declaration brought Mavis a little relief, but only a little. It was too easy to imagine what other terrible things might be happening to her beloved cousin.
“It’ll be a ransom he wants,” her father muttered more to himself than to her. “Not the wench. Some sum he thinks he deserves. Fool!”
Mavis knelt before her father, trying to get him to look at her. “But you’ll pay whatever he asks, won’t you, Father?” she pleaded.
Lord DeLac sniffed. “I won’t pay a ha’penny for her. She’s ruined. Worthless. No good to me now.”
“Father, you must pay or try to rescue her!” Mavis cried. “You’re her uncle, her guardian. Even if she’s been...” Mavis blinked back tears as she thought of what Tamsin might have been forced to endure. “Especially if she’s no longer a virgin, it’s your duty to—”
“Duty!” her father snarled as he pushed her away. “I’ve done my duty! I took the brat in! I got her a husband. And for what? Nothing! She was worthless then and she’s more than worthless now!” His eyes bloodshot, he glared at his daughter as she got to her feet. “What are you so worried about? Can’t you guess what’s really happened? She didn’t want to marry Blane, so she got that Welshman to take her away. Probably seduced him first, or paid him. For all I know, the little whore’s been sleeping with half the servants and most of the garrison, too.”
Castle of the Wolf Page 6
