Garran actually grinned. “You have not seen my daughter ride,” he said. “She has a leggy warmblood that will outpace the chargers. You will be fortunate to keep up with her.”
Keir merely nodded, losing himself in more wine and dark thoughts. By the time Kurtis had finished with his meal and the horses had been properly fed and watered, he was quite drunk and quite emotional. Kurtis and Michael were concerned for him but once he mounted his charger, he seemed to come around. He was focused and at least pretending to be lucid.
Garran and Summer joined the knights, Garran with a big hairy charger and Summer astride a long legged horse the color of mud. In the dead of night, the five of them took to the road north, one that would take them through Wrexham, skirt Chester and Manchester, and then head north through York. It was easily a three day ride, one that was too long for Keir even if it took three minutes. His desperation to get to Chloë knew no limits.
They rode hard day and night, through weather that was mercifully mild. By the time they reached familiar lands, Keir was more panicked than he had ever been. He refused to stop, continuing on even when Garran’s charger took on a decided limp. All he could see or feel was Chloë, drawing closer to her by the moment, feeling such anguish in his heart that he could not contain it. It was bleeding out of him like blood pouring from a wound.
About an hour out of Aysgarth, the tears came. Tears were still streaming down his face when he entered the bailey of Aysgarth, the familiar haven of Coverdale’s empire.
He was sobbing by the time he entered the keep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Chloë was vaguely aware of movement. Someone was holding her hand and she could hear soft whispers. Someone was speaking to her, gently and lovingly, and for the longest time she thought she was dreaming. Mist covered her mind, making thought and focus cloudy. Emerging from a deep sleep, she realized that someone was kissing her hand.
Keir. She seriously thought she must have been dreaming when she opened her eyes and saw Keir kneeling beside her bed, sobbing softly as he held her hand to his mouth. His eyes were closed, tears all over his face and her fingers. Chloë lay there, watching him, not at all sure that he was real. There was only one way to find out.
“Keir?” she whispered.
His eyes flew open and he looked at her, his ice blue eyes wide with shock. He opened his mouth to say something sweet and meaningful, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he collapsed against her, his face in the crook of her neck as he wept.
“Chloë, sweetheart,” he sobbed softly. “Please… please do not die. I cannot live without you. You are my life.”
His warmth and firmness against her told Chloë that he was not a figment of her imagination. She lifted her weak arms, wrapping around his armored bulk as he laid his head against her shoulder and sobbed.
“Who told you such nonsense?” she whispered into his dirty, damp hair. “I am not going to die. I would never leave you.”
Keir sobbed for another moment or two before abruptly pulling away, wiping quickly at his face as if ashamed of his outburst. He touched her face, her hair, not trusting himself to speak for a moment. All he could do was touch her and reassure himself that she was alive.
“I could not stay away,” his lips were quivering as he spoke. “Neither God nor king could keep me away from you at this time. I… I feel like my entire life is fragmenting, the pieces of the grace I have known with you now transforming into horrid, mortal grief. I survived Madeleine’s death only by sheer necessity but with you, I could not survive. I would not want to. If you die, I die. I will not be without you.”
Weakly, Chloë put her hand against his bearded cheek and he kissed her palm eagerly, reverently, tears from his face dampening her flesh. She shushed him softly.
“And I will not be without you,” she murmured. “I have no intention of dying, Keir.”
“Promise?”
“I do.”
“I love you, sweetheart.”
“And I love you.”
Keir kissed her hand, her cheek, caressing her fingers and struggling to compose himself. He began to realize that he had charged into the room without regard for anyone else in the chamber, as his sole focus had been on Chloë. He had been blind to all else. Now, he was coming to realize there were others in the room, watching his breakdown.
He wiped at his eyes, taking a moment to look around. Cassandra was standing a few feet away, sniffling softly in her husband’s arms, as Blanche and an older man Keir did not recognize stood near the foot of the bed. He focused on Blanche because he knew she would tell him the truth.
“How is she?” he half-demanded, half-asked.
Blanche, ever-present sewing in her hand, moved in Keir’s direction. Her expression was surprisingly gentle having witnessed one of the more touching things she had ever seen in her life. She would not have imagined a man like Keir St. Héver to have such emotion in him, but in retrospect, the man knew what it felt like to grieve. He had done it before. Blanche felt a good deal of pity for the man.
“She has taken a bad fall,” she replied. “The physic does not believe there is any permanent damage, but the truth is that her memory has been poor since the fall and she cannot stand. The physic believes that time will heal these issues.”
Keir’s attention jerked back to Chloë, his eyes wide. “You cannot stand?”
Chloë gripped his hands tightly. “My legs are a bit weak,” she admitted. “It is difficult to walk.”
He almost dissolved into tears again. “Have you tried? What I mean is, how much have you tried? Perhaps it is only a matter of regaining your strength.”
She touched his cheek when she saw his eyes watering again. “Mother is not entirely correct,” she said. “I can stand somewhat, but not for very long. It is walking that is the difficulty. My legs feel very weak.”
He closed his eyes, tears running down his cheeks again. He pressed his mouth against her hands, absorbing the news, struggling not to succumb to the grief.
“It is of no matter,” he whispered, forcing bravery. “I am here now and I will help you. We will walk and walk until your legs are no longer weak. And if you cannot regain your… well, it is of no matter. I am here now and I will never leave you again. I consider it a privilege to carry my beautiful bride in my arms for the rest of my life. It is of no consequence, Chloë. Either way, I am here and will never leave your side, not ever.”
She smiled at him, touching his face again while he kissed her hands, her cheeks, eagerly. As they lost themselves in reacquaintance after days of separation, Michael timidly entered the room.
He had been standing in the doorway with Lady Summer and Garran, watching the tender scene. It had been difficult to watch it and not feel a great deal of sorrow for the pair, and for Keir in particular. The man had known much sorrow in his life. He came up behind Keir quietly.
“Keir?” he cleared his throat softly. “Lady Summer has come all this way to see to Chloë. Will you allow this?”
Keir was holding Chloë’s hands to his mouth, smiling at her as he whispered words no one else in the room but Chloë could hear. He heard Michael’s softly uttered question and turned to the man.
“Of course,” he said. His voice was hoarse from weeping as he wiped the last of the moisture from his eyes and stood up. He looked over to Garran and his lovely daughter. “Please, come in. I did not mean to be rude.”
Garran and Summer stepped into the chamber, Summer passing a lingering smile at Michael as they did so. In fact, Michael and Summer had ridden together most of the trip north and Michael had been respectful but obviously attentive to the woman.
Usually, he could be quite aggressive when he wanted something, but not this time. Whether it was because of the woman’s enormous father or because he felt a genuine and sincere respect for her, Michael could not be sure. All he knew was that she was sweet and gentle, and he responded in kind. When she smiled at him, Michael broadly smiled back.
Summer reached the bed, gazing down at the very pale, very beautiful young woman with an enormous mane of dark red hair. She smiled timidly as Keir rolled through introductions.
“Lady Chloë de Geld, this is my old friend, Sir Garran de Moray and his daughter, the Lady Summer,” Keir looked down at Chloë. “Lady Summer is a miraculous healer. When she heard of your accident, she asked permission to examine you. Perhaps she can help you.”
“That is not necessary,” the old physic at the foot of the bed found his voice. “I have tended the lady since her fall. She does not need another physic.”
Keir’s expression turned to stone. “I will say who tends Lady Chloë and who does not,” he growled. “Keep your mouth shut or I will throw you from this keep.”
The old man looked stricken but did not argue, looking to Blanche for support but being met by an emotionless expression. He backed away as Summer came to the edge of the bed.
“Greetings, my lady,” she said to Chloë. “I understand you have done battle with a staircase.”
Chloë grinned; she could already tell she liked the woman simply by her manner and the tone of her voice. She was young, perhaps her own age or even younger, with long black hair and soft green eyes. She was also very pretty. Chloë felt much more comfortable with her than with the gruff old physic from Aysgarth.
“So I am told,” Chloë said. “Truthfully, I do not remember much. It seems to be coming back to me in pieces.”
Summer went to remove her cloak. Keir extended his hands to politely help her, but Michael was suddenly there, all but snatching it out of Keir’s hand. He was insistent that he alone help the lady, in any fashion. Keir stepped away, without a fight, when he saw Michael’s challenging expression. He had to suppress a grin.
Summer didn’t notice any of the male posturing going on behind her as she sat on the edge of the bed, visually examining the greenish lump on Chloë’s forehead. She then removed her leather gloves and lifted her hands.
“May I examine you, my lady?”
Chloë nodded. “Be careful of my head,” she said. “It is still rather tender.”
Summer’s warm, delicate fingers moved around the bump. “I have no doubt,” she said sincerely. “You took a hard knock. And you say your memory has been poor?”
Chloë nodded faintly, feeling the woman’s soothing hands on her head.
“At times,” she said quietly. “My memory over the past several days has been vague. I did not remember that Keir had gone to Wales but last night, suddenly, I remembered that he had gone. I remembered the battle of Exelby, and of meeting Keir and traveling to Pendragon, yet I still do not remember much about coming to Aysgarth but it is coming back to me bit by bit.”
Summer felt Chloë’s forehead for a moment longer before, satisfied, removing her hands.
“I do not feel any damage other than the lump,” she said. “I do not feel any cracks in your skull. I would guess that your memory should fully return. Does your neck pain you?”
Chloë nodded again. “A little.”
Summer drew in a thoughtful breath. “That is to be expected but if there was any serious damage, you would be getting worse, not better.” Her gaze moved down Chloë’s body to her legs. “You say you have weakness in your legs?”
Chloë struggled to prop herself up on her elbows. Keir saw what she was doing and knelt beside the bed to help her. Chloë smiled gratefully at him as he propped her up.
“Aye,” she replied. “It is exhausting to stand and difficult to walk.”
“Is there pain?”
“A little. Mostly in my back and hips.”
Summer thought on that a moment before standing from the bed. She turned to Keir.
“My lord,” she said. “I would like to more closely examine Lady Chloë but I will not do it with an audience. Will you please clear the room so I may preserve the lady’s modesty?”
Keir nodded sharply, snapping his fingers at Michael and Kurtis, who were already herding Cassandra and Blanche from the room. The women protested but did as they were asked. Keir focused on the old physic, who didn’t seem to think the orders to clear the room pertained to him, and snapped his fingers sharply at the man, pointing for the door.
In a huff, the old man swept from the chamber. When everyone had cleared the room save Keir, he turned to Lady Summer.
“May I stay?” he asked politely.
“Please,” she replied.
Keir shut the door quietly, ignoring the collection congregated in the landing outside. A host of curious and insulted faces were looking at him but he shut the door to block them out. He returned to the enormous bed just as Summer pulled back the coverlet.
“Stand up, my lady,” she commanded softly. “Let us see what you can do.”
Chloë looked a little fearful but dutifully began to move. Slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed but Summer put out a hand to Keir when he moved in to assist her.
“Nay, my lord,” she told him. “I want to see what the lady can do on her own. Only then will we know the true extent of her injuries.”
Keir nodded reluctantly, crossing his big arms over his chest with his hands tucked into his armpits as he fought the urge to help Chloë. It was difficult for him to watch her struggle and not move in to assist.
Chloë was pale and exhausted by the time she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was also trembling; both Keir and Summer could see it. It took Chloë three tries to finally stand on her feet, unassisted, and even then she could not maintain her balance for more than a few seconds. She fell backwards on the bed before struggling to her feet a second time. It was very hard to watch.
Summer was gentle with her. “Can you take a step, my lady?”
Shaken and struggling against tears, Chloë nodded. She was staring at her feet, her face down so that they would not see the tears in her eyes. She took one halting step, and then a second. By the time she took her third, she was sobbing softly and Keir looked at Summer.
“Please,” he begged quietly. “Let me help her. Can you not see how it pains her?”
Summer held out a quieting hand to silence him as she focused on Chloë. “Where is the pain, my lady?” she asked steadily.
Chloë was trying very hard not to break down. “My… my back,” she whispered tightly. “The pain runs from my back down my hips and legs.”
“Do you feel any numbness?”
Chloë shook her head, the unbrushed red hair settling around her shoulders. “Nay,” she gasped as she took a fourth and fifth step. “No numbness. I can feel everything.”
“So it is the pain that makes it difficult to walk, not the lack of feeling?”
Chloë nodded, biting off more sobs. Yet, she still continued to walk, very laboriously and haltingly. Summer watched her take another few steps before looking at Keir and motioning for him to go to her. He did, swiftly, and scooped Chloë up into his enormous arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and wept quietly into his shoulder.
Summer watched the pair, thinking a great many things at that moment. She could feel the love and devotion radiating from them like a great palpable thing. But more than that, Summer was thinking on Chloë’s symptoms and the causes. She had seen such things before and was fairly confident in her assessment.
“Sir Keir,” she indicated the bed. “Please put her back to bed.”
Keir, pale and watery-eyed, did as he was told. He lowered Chloë down to the mattress, smoothing her hair comfortingly as she wiped the moisture off her face and looked to him for reassurance. The both of them turned to Summer expectantly.
Summer approached the bed. “My lady, will you be so kind as to lay upon your stomach?”
Chloë appeared both fearful and confused. “My stomach?
“Aye,” Summer replied. “Do you need help to accomplish this?”
Chloë shook her head hesitantly. “I think I can do it myself. I will try.”
She shifted around stiffly but didn’t make much p
rogress. Summer eventually moved to the other side of the bed and between her and Keir, they managed to put Chloë onto her belly. The shift she wore was of fine linen, soft, and Summer immediately put her hands on Chloë’s lower back and began to feel around.
Keir watched her with a mixture of fear and anticipation. “What are you doing?” he asked.
Summer was focused on Chloë’s back. “I am trying to feel her spine to see where the swelling is, and how much of it there is.”
Keir accepted the reply, kneeling beside Chloë and putting a great hand on her head. He stroked it tenderly, smiling at her when she looked at him.
“Not to worry, sweetheart,” he kissed her forehead. “Is she hurting you?”
Chloë smiled in return, weakly. “Nay,” she replied. “She is much more gentle than the old man.”
Keir’s smile faded somewhat. “He touched you?”
Chloë could see from his expression where he was leading and she softly reassured him. “He had to examine me, Keir. How else was he to know how injured I am?”
Keir understood but he didn’t like the idea of any man, even a physic, putting his hands on Chloë. Seeing his cloudy expression, Chloë touched his face with the hand resting near her head. Keir kissed her hand, her forehead again, before returning his attention to Summer’s activities.
The dark-haired lady was engrossed in the lower part of Chloë’s spine. She caught Keir’s attention when she realized that he was watching her.
“I am going to lift her shift so that I can see her injury more clearly,” she told him. “You will look away, my lord.”
Keir didn’t have the strength to argue with her and he didn’t feel it was any of her business to know that not only had he seen that part of Chloë’s anatomy, but he had done wicked things to it. He simply refocused on Chloë’s face as Summer lifted the shift.
When her patient was naked and exposed from the waist down, Summer paid very close attention to the lower spine. She ran her fingers over it and visually inspected the area. She could see green bruising from the lady’s waist to the tailbone. There were also bruises on the lady’s buttocks and a big black and green bruise on her right thigh. After more poking and prodding, she gently lowered the shift.
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