She lay in his strong safe arms listening to his words, his hands as gentle on her as his words as he continued, “We are not welcome at Whittington, Miranda… Glenton Moor is our home.”
“I do not wish to go there. For truly, I am contented here with ye.”
He kissed the top of her head. “As am I, with thee… No more questions now, lass.”
She smiled and closed her eyes savoring his warm frame against hers and the scent of the woods that still lingered on him. She was happy and in love, and she would not let anyone or anything take that from her!
The morning dawned fair and bright; she woke first and set about making eggs and slicing bacon from the smoked meat that hung high above the hearth on the rafters. William sat up and watched her with a smile, wondering how he had ever managed to catch the eye of such a fine girl as this.
She noticed him looking at her and turned sweeping a stray curl from her face. “Good day to ye.”
He smiled back and pulled on a shirt. “And to ye.” He came up behind her and threaded his arms around her narrow waist and drew her back to rest against his tall frame. “And do ye have a kiss for thy husband, good wife?”
She laughed softly. “Aye, I do.” She tilted her face to his and let him kiss her gently, before she pulled away laughing. “Yur food gets cold, husband. Call yur men and eat.”
He smiled and released her. “I’d rather hold thee, but alas I shall do as it am bid.”
She gave a soft laugh and put the food on the table, then waited for them to come in.
After they broke their fast the men went out again to cut more trees hoping to get started on laying the walls that day, as she set to clean things up and readying a hearty potage for the midday meal, and then she washed clothes at the well. The day flew by quickly, and soon the men were bidding them both a goodnight. But William stayed at the table for a long time and did not speak. She glanced at him wondering what was amiss; fearing she had somehow angered him—or perhaps it was worry of Egan that kept him there so long. She watched him silently waiting for him to go to bed, but yet he lingered. He dropped his head into his hands, his body almost shaking with the tension of it. She came up beside him and rested her thin hand tentatively on his shoulder, feeling how badly he now trembled. “William?”
But he didn’t answer.
“William, what’s wrong?”
His breathes were raged and hard as he murmured tensely, “Ph—Phillip…”
She stepped back unsteadily, and hesitated a mere second before she ran for the door…
She pounded on the barn door desperately. “Phillip! Phillip, Please!”
He threw open the door and grabbed her arms as she pointed to the house with only a sob. He ran past her and into the house without a word. Thomas took her arm and helped her back into the dimly lit house pressing her down onto a bench by the fire as the two men carefully lifted their friend by the arms and dragged him gently towards the soft bed, then slowly laid him down there. They took off his boots with care and loosened the ties on his shirt; then removed his belt, their quiet concerned actions made her heart ache. She stood unsteadily and walked closer, her trembling hands clutched in front of her as she watched him. His face was ashen and his lip tinged blue, his breaths were ragged and hash… She looked at Phillip’s concerned face, and though he tried to hide the worry from her she could see it in his eyes. “What is it? He is not a fevered…”
Phillip glanced at Thomas who drew her away with a worried frown, his soft words doing little to reassure her. “’Tis but a headache, lass. …It shall pass, it always does. By morning he shall be right as rain.”
She glanced at him with red rimmed worried eyes. “But—but his color… and…”
“’Tis all part of the headaches.”
She glanced at her husband again and shook her head. “I—I don’t understand…”
“He has had them since the siege of Glenton Moor.”
She frowned even harder not able to draw her eyes from her husband’s pale face, knowing he had never spoken with her of that night nor of the headaches. “He—he never told me of such... He was injured in the siege…?”
“Aye, he was struck in the head and left for dead.”
She shivered and clasped her hands over her trembling arms. “But—but surely ’tis not serious, he looks so healthy…”
“Aye, and he is, and by morning he shall recover.” Thomas looked at Phillip as he spoke, his lips drawn into a hard line at the near lie they now told her—for in truth, they both feared for the man’s very life each time the thing took hold of him. “…We shall stay the night with ye, but there is naught for any of us to do but let him rest.”
She glanced at the two men and shook her head. “Nay, I—I shall see to him myself, if I need ye I shall call...”
The two men glanced at one another, but neither argued with her knowing all they could do was reassured her before they quietly left.
The night passed slowly while she sat watching William struggle against the pain that gripped him, but there was nothing she could do but watch and pray, for she was too afraid to even cry…
Near daybreak he finally regained his color and rested; she sat beside him watching and waiting—and hoping that all would be well, but she just wasn’t sure.
When the two men came in quietly that morning, the fire had burned out, there was no food started, and the girl sat with her head slumped in her hands at the table. Phillip touched her arm and sat down beside her while Thomas went to their friend looking down at his now slumbering face with a frown before he silently went to tend the fire murmuring to himself as he did so, “He looks better.”
She glanced up at him with weary red rimmed eyes. “He—he fell asleep just after day break… And I didn’t have the heart to wake him…”
Phillip glanced at the man on the bed across the room from him and couldn’t help but worry—he and Thomas had spent the long hours of the night going over and over it all, but in the end neither had the heart speak their concerns to the lass. “Thomas and I shall see to the morning meal, ye need to rest also, lass, the worse is now over.”
She bit back a sob and laid her head on her arms as the tears she had tried so hard to hold back now spilling onto the roughened tabletop. Phillip turned to his friend, a worried look threaded across his face. Neither of them had ever seen the pains grip their friend so badly before, and it seemed to them that each time it took him deeper and lasted longer, making the threat against his life very real to them. But now it was not just them who would worry, but the lass also…
William woke just after midday and ran a hand though his hair more than aware how tender his head still felt, though he was not about to say so. He sat up and noticed he was yet in his clothes, and the sun was high in the afternoon sky. He frowned as his eyes went to Miranda who sat at the table her head in her arm soundly asleep. He glanced at Phillip who sat near him with a worried look. “…What time is it?”
“Past midday.”
He sighed, “…Past midday?”
“Aye, is the pain gone?”
He nodded, though in truth they were not. “Aye, ‘tis gone.”
He looked towards Miranda again. “Is she alright?”
Phillip looked at the girl too and sighed. “Just weary. We should have told her about the headaches, she was nigh terrified when it happened.”
His mouth drew tight on one side; it hadn’t been something he had wanted to talk to her about for he hoped that they would just go away, but yet they hadn’t. “… It was bad then?”
Phillip looked at him cautiously. “Aye, bad enough.”
He sat up and reached for his boots without a word, hating that he had caused them all to worry so—and hating even more the fears that threaded through his own mind right then! They all needed him to be strong, and he could not allow himself to be weak!
“Do ye think ye should rest?”
William smiled, determined not to show his worried thoughts. “Na
y, I feel fine, hungry, but fine.”
Phillip managed a smile and turned to take the bowl of soup that Thomas had made. William took the bowl, setting it on the bench near him and motioned towards his wife. “…Ye both can go now, but I thank thee for helping her—and me also.”
Phillip glanced at Thomas who nodded slowly before they both turned towards the door without another word. William stood then and went to the table where she slept; he touched her shoulder softly as he knelt down beside her. “Miranda…” She hardly stirred. “Miranda…”
She shifted and then raised her head, her red rimmed eyes spoke of the long night she’d endured and her worry over it all and it nearly broke his heart. She smiled weakly and threaded her arms slowly around him laying her head on his shoulder gently. He could hear the worry in her soft voice as she said his name.
He wrapped her in his arms and helped her to stand. “Come love, ye must rest also. Have ye been up all night?”
She nodded. “…I worried for ye.”
He kissed the top of her head lovingly. “Ye should not worry so, ‘twas but a headache. If it happens again ye shall know what to do. Now rest, I shall sit with ye till ye are awake.”
She looked up at him and touched his handsome face.
He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Sleep love…”
She closed her eyes and felt herself drifting off before she knew it.
William settled down next to her and watched her sleep. He felt guilty for making her worry so, but there was naught he could do about it. He wondered over the headaches; he could only vaguely remember them—though all he could remember was the numbing pain that felt as if it would split his very skull in two, thankful for the darkness that would pull him into unconsciousness then. He ran a hand over the scar on the side of his head, as thoughts of that night swept thought his mind again… He could still feel the hot sticky blood as it ran down his face and neck and into the dirt, and feel the surging of pain as it stole his very breathe from him… He frowned at the thought and turned away; no, he wouldn’t think of that today! And he wouldn’t let anyone or anything take his happiness from him again!
He sat himself down by the fire; though his head was tender today it hardly bothered him at all most times. He supposed it was just something that they would all have to live with. For in truth, he was young and strong and he had people who were depending on him here and he had no time for this...!
Miranda opened her eyes and bolted up only to find her young husband seated by the hearth. “William…”
He looked up at her and smiled and then stood, wanting to calm the fear he saw in her blue eyes. “Feeling better?”
She nodded as he came to sit next to her, touching a stray curl, running his thumb and finger over it lovingly.
“…Aye, and ye?”
“I am well. I’ve kept the soup Thomas made warm, would ye like a bit?”
She nodded slowly and gave him a hesitant smiled knowing that he was just trying to comfort her for indeed he was still pale.
He stood and held out his hand and she lay hers in it as he drew her up to stand before him. His hands threaded though her supple hair before it came to rest on her thin neck as he gazed down into her soft blue eyes and he murmured, “I’m sorry I worried ye, lass.”
She smiled faintly. “Do—do they happen often? The headaches, I mean.”
He shook his head, the corner of his mouth drew taunt as he brought her face to his chest and just held her there gently. “Not very often. It is nothing ye need to worry thyself about, just call Phillip or Thomas and they shall know what to do, alright?”
She nodded, though even his soft words did nothing to quell the worry within her.
“Come on then and have something to eat with me.”
The two of them ate quietly, he knew she was still worried about him, so when they were finished William reached up and threaded his fingers through hers with a soft smile hoping to take her mind from it all. “I’ll help ye to clean up, then I thought we could go for a walk.” He liked the way her eyes brightened when he said it.
The things now cleaned and put away, Miranda wrapped herself in her cloak and took her husband’s hand as he led her into the meadow. He glanced at her and smiled, listening to her sing song accent that rose and fell as she told him of her life in Chadwick. He liked to listen to her; there was something in her voice that made him love her even more. He could imagine raising children with her, and growing old with her though she were almost seven years younger than he—yet she suited him and he knew they would be happy here. He caught her around the waist and she laughed as he brought her into his embrace. She laid a hand on his strong chest and looked up into deep blue eyes, her face was soft and lovely as his eyes swept across it. “I love ye, lass.”
She smiled brightly. “I—I love ye too, William...”
He bent his head and brushed his lips over hers, it was the first time either of them had spoken of such things. But it was true, she loved him more than life itself...
Chapter Nine
The cold was fast approaching and the men doubled their efforts to finish the small house before the snow fell and ended their work. Long back breaking days were spent and the building began to finally take shape. The walls now completed, they started on the roof and then the final touches to the hearth before the windows would be cut out and shutters fitted. They knew they could work on a table and chairs through the long winter months from wood he had put in the barn. By week’s end the house was nearly finished and only the chimney remained.
The men had gone to collect more rocks from the rubble that yet remained in village after the siege. Miranda busied herself washing their clothes in buckets and handing them to dry before the fire for the cold had made it impossible to dry outdoors any longer. She straightened at the sound of a rider approaching in such a hurry; if it were William or one of the men there must be something wrong. Uneasiness settled in her heart and she went to the door and opened it just enough to peer out… Egan… Her breath caught in her lungs as she threw the latch and moved back unsteadily, turning towards the shuttered windows and checking the locks on each also. She moved towards the door again on trembling legs and stood peering through the small crack she’d found there. Her face went pale at the sight of him as she watched him dismount, his cold dark eyes scanning the area around him with a dark angry look, his hand falling to his sword as he did so. She closed her eyes and whispered, ‘Please come back, William, please come back…!’
He stood there for a second, and then looked to the house, watching the smoke raise from the chimney with a cold calculated eye. She stepped back with a whimper and grabbed a knife from the table hiding it in her apron before she backed up against the wall again. She could hear him approaching, hear his angry footsteps, and yet as he neared the house there was a pause as if he were listening to the sounds from within... She held her breath, the door rattled; a moment later it rattled again as if he tested it to be sure it was locked. She closed her eyes and prayed for William to come back just before the door bust open with a well aimed kick making it slam into the wall aside her, then bounced back again blocking her from his view. He stood there for a moment his eyes scanning the long empty room. She bit her lip to keep from crying, knowing there was no way to let William know she needed him and she would have to face Egan alone…!
He strode ahead a few steps and stopped—then he slowly turned his head towards her. She swayed slightly at the sight of him, the dark rage in his eyes made her tremble with a fear she’d never known before! He stood there unmoving, watching her over his stiff shoulders, then he slowly turned to face her, his every movement seemed lethal and it scared her! His cold dark eyes narrowed, his lips hard and bitter as he spoke, “Ye played me for a fool, lass, running away with the English before I could even stop ye! Everyone in the village speaking of it behind my back! And ye knew how much I wanted thee, and how long I had waited!”
She said nothing, frozen with fear.
He took a step towards her then stopped. “I mean to have ye, lass, and I’ll make a widow of ye if I have to! Or maybe I’ll just take ye and yur English husband won’t want ye anymore!”
He stepped closer still and she shuttered… Then out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash, and before she could blink a knife was wedged between Egan’s shoulder blades. He stiffened and turned to face his attacker.
William’s stood behind him, dark and deadly, his sword hissed from its sheath as he growled. “Give me no reason, Egan!”
Egan winced slightly and growled between clenched teeth. “Ye—know—I cannot draw—my sword now! Do ye mean to kill—an unarmed man?!”
For a second Miranda thought he just might, but then he lowered his sword and stepped behind the man warily pulling the small knife from his back with a hard jerk. Egan let out a loud growl and stumbled to the side. But William grabbed him from behind before he had time to turn, the bloody knife still in his hand now pressed to his jaw. “…If—ye promise to leave now, and never show thy face here again, I shall let thee live!”
Egan’s clenched his jaw, his face taunt and pale with pain and anger.
“Don’t be a fool, Egan, fools die!”
Still he stood there, the blood dripping on the roughened floor beneath him, his body stiff with pain before he pulled away angrily and stumbled towards the door. But William’s sword hissed through the air again making Egan stop warily.
“I cannot let ye leave here alive if I do not have thy word!”
It was a threat and Egan knew it well. He swayed slightly on his feet, and then his low growling voice slipped from his throat. “I give my word… But cursed be the day I ever laid eyes on either of ye!”
Debra Kay Leland Page 11
