by Jody Hedlund
Her words confused me. How had Maribel made things worse for Sister Agnes? She’d stayed by the old nun’s side day after day and night after night, administering every remedy she could concoct.
With a shake of her head, she gave a weak smile. “Listen to me. Letting my worry get the best of me.” She reached for the closest poultice. “If we let worry control us, we shall never accomplish anything.”
Was she worried about me? More than other patients she tended? The thought sent a warm trail through my heart.
She scanned my leg. “You must remove your hosen and breeches.”
I shook my head adamantly at her brazen suggestion. “I’ll roll up my breeches up.”
“Nonsense.” She reached for my boot and began to unlace it. “I shall help you undress if it pains you to do so yourself.”
Speechless, I watched her take off my boot and hose, first one foot then the other with her usual focused efficiency. Even so, I couldn’t keep from experiencing a strange, low heat in my middle at her closeness and the fact that she was undressing me.
When she moved to my waist and tugged at the drawstring on my breeches, the heat swelled through my chest and up into my cheeks. I grabbed her hand and stopped her. “I can do it, Maribel.”
“Are you sure?” Her expression held only tender concern. Nothing else.
“Of course,” I replied as nonchalantly as I could manage. This experience clearly wasn’t conjuring the same physical reaction in her as it was in me. She saw herself as the physician and me as her patient, while I couldn’t keep from thinking I was a man alone with a beautiful and desirable woman.
Of the two views of our situation, hers was definitely the safest and most appropriate. And I should chastise myself for allowing my mind to go anyplace else. But my body seemed to have a will of its own, and I was attracted to her in spite of my best efforts to remain neutral.
I stood and made quick work of divesting my breeches. My braies underneath came to midthigh, but when I lay back down in front of her, I felt entirely bare even though I was modestly covered.
“Your braies are still in the way of the cut on your thigh.” Her fingers brushed against my leg near my wound. The soft touch sent tingles across my flesh.
I sensed her request to take them off and interrupted before she could ask it. “Maribel, please. This is awkward enough.” My voice came out more strangled than I’d intended.
As she lifted her eyes to mine, confusion and even a little hurt swam there. “Why is it awkward? I only want to help you.”
How could I explain that even if she saw me as only another patient, as only her friend, I saw her as so much more? That I sometimes ached when I looked at her because of how beautiful she was. That sometimes I wanted to be in her presence more than I wanted to be with anyone else. That sometimes I needed to hear her voice and see her smile more than I needed nourishment.
I wasn’t sure how or when my feelings for her had changed. Maybe I’d always been enamored with her. Maybe my childhood adoration had developed into an adult infatuation. Whatever the case, her feelings weren’t catching up to mine.
Was that what I’d hoped? That eventually she’d feel for me the way I did for her? Of course, I hadn’t told her how I felt. I suppose I’d hoped she’d just naturally experience the same. Or at the very least, I’d hoped she’d sense my affections went deeper.
“What is it?” she probed further, recognizing my need to say something.
The clock was ticking toward the eve of her eighteenth birthday when she’d take her vows and I’d lose her. Maybe I needed to make my affections clear. Maybe I needed to simply come out and tell her. But what if I disclosed my truest feelings and then learned she didn’t reciprocate? I’d only make things worse.
“Eddie,” she said, softly, almost pleadingly. “You can tell me anything. You know that.”
“You shouldn’t call me Eddie.” My voice was thin with my frustration. “I much prefer Edmund.”
Her brows shot up, making the blue all the more vibrant and alluring.
“If you haven’t noticed, I’m not a young lad anymore.” There, I’d said it. Not my best explanation for what was going on inside of me. But it was a start.
She studied my face for a moment and then reached for the pot of hot water, but not before I saw the smile she was trying to hide.
I closed my eyes and bit back a groan. She was impossible.
“Very well,” she said solemnly, although I could hear the mirth in her tone. “I shall call you Edmund from now on if that is what you prefer.”
I didn’t respond except to press my lips together to keep from blurting out something I would surely regret later.
Her fingers grazed my thigh again, sending another cascade of tingles over my skin. As she rolled up the hem of my braies, I gritted my teeth and attempted to think of anything besides her touch.
“I know this hurts,” she said gently.
I didn’t correct her mistake and instead allowed her to believe my grimace came from pain instead of pleasure. Inwardly, I counted myself a coward. And told myself I would have to speak the truth soon. Not today. But soon.
Chapter
7
Maribel
I brushed a strand of Edmund’s hair off his forehead. At my touch, he stirred as I’d intended.
With his head in my lap, my legs were numb from the lack of movement. But I’d wanted to make him as comfortable as possible. The perforation in his calf had severed through layers of flesh—had almost gone in one side of his leg and out the other. I’d needed to clean deep inside, and the stitching had been more complicated than I’d ever done before.
Throughout the entire procedure, he hadn’t spoken a word and had endured the pain bravely. But the moment I’d finished, he’d fallen into a deep slumber and hadn’t awoken. I’d slept off and on, too, waking to check his sutures, flushing the inflamed tissues with a tonic, and reapplying poultices to the laceration.
Now that it was midafternoon, however, we needed to be on our way. Edmund had insisted on leaving at break of day, not wanting to linger too long in any one place. I understood his caution. He was doing as Wade had taught him.
But I was doing as Sister Agnes had taught me. The motion on the horse alone would jar Edmund’s injuries again and interfere with the healing process.
He released a low moan and shifted his head. His normally smoothly shaven jaw and chin contained a dark layer of stubble.
If you haven’t noticed, I’m not a young lad anymore. The remembrance of his petulant words made me smile. I wasn’t sure what had brought about his statement. Pain often caused people to say the oddest things. But he was right. I’d already begun to recognize the changes in our relationship when we’d stood together in the tower ruins of St. Cuthbert’s. It was past time for me to acknowledge we were growing up and no longer the same carefree children.
I ran my thumb across the stubble, the proof he was indeed a man. The bristly hair tickled my fingers, and I rounded his chin and trailed my thumb over his jaw, relishing the texture. Only as I traced a path toward his ear did I realize his eyes were open and he was looking up at me. His forest-green gaze was dark—darker than I’d ever seen it. And filled with an intensity that drew me into its lush thickness, pulling me, embracing me, and somehow caressing me.
The connection was unlike any I’d ever experienced before, and it seemed to unlock something inside me and release a warm tumble of fluttering feathers. It was an unusual sensation but not unpleasant. Much to my chagrin, it made me want to run my thumb across his cheek and chin again.
I wasn’t sure what was happening. I tried to find something to say to explain why I’d been touching his face. But I couldn’t think of anything.
He broke eye contact, letting his focus drop to my lips.
The feathers fluttered again, this time faster. Why was he looking at my lips like that? Almost as if he wondered what it would be like to kiss me.
He wasn’t thinki
ng that, was he?
My gaze flickered to his lips, and the warmth and tenderness from when he’d kissed my knuckles came rushing back. Would a kiss on my lips be as warm and tender?
Just as soon as the question entered my mind, I stiffened, aghast at such a worldly thought. I was destined to take a vow of celibacy, to remain chaste, to dedicate myself to God for the rest of my life. Thoughts of kissing were completely inappropriate for someone about to become a nun.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, looking everywhere but at his face.
“Sore,” he said quietly.
“I shall put on another paste to deaden the pain so you are able to ride more comfortably.”
I wanted to put distance between us, but his head was still resting on my lap.
He glanced toward the cave opening. Upon seeing the light of day streaming inside, he sat up—so quickly he almost fell back.
I steadied him with a hand to his upper arm, feeling the contours of his muscles and much too conscious of them.
“How long have I been asleep?” he asked.
“It is past midday.”
He dropped his forehead into his hands and gave another moan. “Maribel, we should have left hours ago.”
“I know.” I crawled to my satchel and reached for the paste I’d made earlier. “But you needed to rest in order to heal.”
“We’re in danger staying in any place overlong.” He pushed himself to his knees then stopped and sucked in a sharp breath. His face contorted with an effort to control his pain.
“Lie down and let me put the poultice on your wounds before you arise.”
Bracing against the cave wall, he rose until he was hunched but standing.
“Please, Eddie—Edmund.” I, too, stood and again placed my hand on his back, this time rubbing him gently. “Let me ease your suffering.”
He lurched forward as if my touch caused him even more pain. “I’ll be all right—in a few minutes.” He moved to the mouth of the cavern and grabbed at the rocky rim to brace himself and take the pressure off his injured leg. He whistled and a short while later was rewarded by the flap of eagle wings. Sheba was carrying a hare in her talons. She dropped it to the ground at Edmund’s feet before perching on the ledge nearby.
We’d eaten the remainder of our provisions last night, and now my empty stomach rumbled with the anticipation of a meal. Though I wanted to pick up the rabbit and begin dressing it in preparation for roasting, I stood back and waited.
Sheba’s full white head was bordered by the gray in her breast and wings. As she settled her feathers, she shifted to look at me with her black eyes. Her stare seemed to assess me in a single glance before she swiveled her head and focused on Edmund. For a few moments, the two communicated in whistles and short birdcalls.
Finally, Sheba took flight, her heavy flap pushing a waft of cold air into the cave.
Edmund didn’t turn but instead limped outside. He studied the rocky, barren landscape before spinning back to me, his expression grave. “Sheba has seen other humans in the area.”
“Who?” We never had visitors in the Highlands. First Sister Katherine and now someone else?
“Men on horseback.”
“Do we know if they are friend or foe?”
“Sheba cannot give me such specific details. Nevertheless, we should use caution. We don’t want anyone seeing us.”
A shiver ran up my spine. “Are they near?”
“I wasn’t able to figure out exactly where they are, but we need to wait now, until nightfall, before venturing out.”
I nodded. “Good. Then you will be able to rest longer.”
He limped to his cloak and picked it up. “I’m going out to scout the area and see if I can discover anything more.”
I sensed an undercurrent between us—one that had never been there previously, one I didn’t understand. Normally, I would have protested his disregard for my instructions, and the physician within me wanted to rush to him and make him lie down again. Instead, I silently watched him don his cloak and gloves and then strap on his weapons.
While he was gone, I skinned and gutted the hare and started roasting it. During the solitude, I tried to make sense of Edmund’s mood. He was clearly frustrated, and it went beyond my decision to allow him to oversleep. Did it have to do with his comment about not being a lad? Was I treating him like a child in more ways than using his childhood nickname?
Perhaps I needed to approach him with more respect, the way I did Wade. Our relationship obviously needed to mature into something different. I didn’t know what. But I did know I didn’t want to push him away, which was what I seemed to be doing.
When he returned later, his cheeks and nose were pink from the cold. I was glad for the color in his skin and also that his limp was less pronounced.
“I found hoofprints for maybe a dozen warhorses, likely Ethelwulf’s men,” he informed me. “They’ve headed away from the Highlands to the east.”
“Then we are safe and undetected?”
“For the time being.” He stood over the fire and rubbed his hands together. The seriousness of his expression and the manner in which he held himself reminded me again that my childhood friend had turned into a man and wanted to be treated as such.
I speared a piece of the roasted rabbit onto the end of my knife and handed it to him. He nodded his thanks, used his teeth to rip off a chunk, and began to eat. I stirred the fire, sparking the blaze so that it radiated more heat.
When I straightened, I decided now was as good a time as any to make amends. “Edmund, I sense I have displeased you—”
“We’ll be fine,” he said between greasy bites. “From what I can tell, Ethelwulf’s knights have picked up our scent and are tracking us to St. Cuthbert’s. They’ll search for us there and in the meantime, we’ll say a hasty good-bye to everyone and be on our way to Norland.”
“I am not speaking about our current predicament.”
He stopped chewing and lowered the knife. His gaze snapped to mine, and his eyes were dark and brooding.
“I have not recognized the changes in our relationship as a result of growing up.”
His Adam’s apple rose and fell in a hard swallow, and his eyes widened in expectation. And . . . perhaps even hope?
I plunged forward, knowing I’d been correct in my assessment. “Now that you are a man, I have not respected you the way I should. And I am heartily sorry for it.”
He waited.
“I shall endeavor to give you the esteem you are due and cease treating you like a child.”
His shoulders deflated, and he glanced down at the meat remaining on the tip of the knife. “You have no need to apologize, Maribel. Whatever confusion in our relationship is my fault and not yours.”
His answer wasn’t what I’d expected and left me more confused than before.
“You are a good friend to me,” he continued, twisting his knife around. “And I have no wish to push you away, although I fear I’m doing so already.”
I smiled at his confession. “You could never push me away. Even if you do, I shall not go far. I am too stubborn for that.”
“Quite true.” He gave me a sideways glance, one that revealed the beginning of his smile.
If I’d been next to him, I would have nudged him back playfully. As it was, my smile widened, and the weight of worry lifted off my chest. All was right between us again. And I was glad for it.
“Since we have a couple of hours until dusk, shall we take a look at the parchment I discovered in the base of the baptismal font?”
“Since I nearly sacrificed my leg for the parchment, I’d say so.” His voice contained forced cheer, and he focused on the bit of hare left on the knife and began eating again.
Perhaps not all was right, but whatever was bothering him, he would certainly work it out in his own time and way. At least I prayed so.
I untied the pouch at my side that contained the key, the ruby, and now the parchment, and I carefully pu
lled out the rolled-up sheet. It was no wider than my hand, but as I unraveled it, I realized that it was as long as my arm. I kneeled and spread it out on the stone floor, using two small rocks to hold it flat. Swirls of ink circled in various patterns, like an ancient piece of artwork.
“It’s a maze.” Edmund peered over my shoulder and took another bite of meat.
“A maze?” I examined the worn sheet again. Sure enough, the picture had neat lines running in connected rows, some coming to dead ends and others flowing together in a continuous path.
“But it’s only part of the maze.” He knelt next to me. “You can tell the parchment has been severed. Here.” He wiped the grease from his finger and pointed to the top long edge. The remnant had darkened with age, especially along the sides. But the top length was more jagged and frayed.
“The maze’s pattern must continue with another piece of parchment,” Edmund said. “If I had to judge from the size, I’d guess there are two other pieces to this maze.”
I attempted to digest the information that came so easily to Edmund. “Then do you think each of the three keys unlocks a part of the maze?”
“It’s possible.”
“But I thought the keys unlocked King Solomon’s treasure.”
“Perhaps they still do. If I had to speculate, I’d say the three map sections must be put back together to make a whole maze, which will then enable a person to discover the way through it. I wouldn’t be surprised if the treasure is at the end and the keys are needed to unlock it.”
I sat back on my heels and watched Edmund’s keen eyes trace the maze. He’d always been much smarter than Colette and me in our studies. What he’d figured out in an instant would have taken me hours, if I’d been able to tie the clues together at all.
“You are brilliant,” I said.
He smiled at my words of praise.
“Then all the parchments collectively form a treasure map?”
“It appears so.”
The queen has need of the treasure, Sister Katherine had said. But she won’t be able to find it and defeat evil without the help of you and your twin sister, Emmeline.
