“I need hot water, needles and gut, and lots of it,” she rattled off the list to anyone who would listen. “I also need whiskey and witch hazel. Braxton, do you remember the apothecary we saw this afternoon? He would have these things. More than likely, he would have other things to help heal Sir Geoff. But I need them now. There is no time to waste.”
Braxton listened carefully to her demands and nodded shortly, snapping his fingers at Dallas and Graehm. “Dallas, go to the next avenue and find the small apothecary stall near the edge of the street. Get what we need from him.” He looked at Graehm. “Hot water, all you can find. And keep it coming.” As his men bolted off, he continued to stand over Gray as she gingerly inspected the injury. After several long moments, she shook her head.
“This is bad,” she murmured. “I shall have to remove a splinter and stitch the area closed before I remove the next so that the wound will have some chance of healing.”
He put his big hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “I would be grateful for whatever you could do for him.”
She tilted her head back to look at him, his face a few inches from hers. Their eyes met and he could not resist depositing a tender kiss on her sweet lips. He wanted to do so much more but a spasm from Geoff caught his attention. He and Gray looked back at the knight, who was now awake and staring up at them. Braxton wondered if he had caught the kiss, but upon reflection, did not care much if he had.
“D’uberville,” he greeted. “You have had a bit of an accident.”
Geoff blinked is big blue eyes. “I… I do not remember much,” his voice was faint and hoarse. “What happened?”
He was beginning to put his hands up, to feel the area of injury, and Gray quickly grasped both of his hands and held them tight. “Not to worry, Sir Geoff,” she said in a gentle, soothing voice. “I will do all that I can to make you as good as new.”
Geoff looked at her, a flicker of fear in his eyes. “Is it bad?”
She forced a smile. “I have seen worse. You must rest now and allow me to do this task.”
He didn’t ask any more questions; he simply closed his eyes. When she was sure that he was dozing and would not try to feel his injury again, Gray let go of his hands and looked at Braxton. There was a mixture of hope and sorrow in her eyes. He put his hand on her shoulder again, giving her another squeeze as his lips found her temple. He kissed her tenderly, twice, before releasing her.
“Do you require anything else?” he asked. “Is there something more I can do?”
She gazed down at the wounded knight, feeling distress at his plight. “Linen to bind the wound. Boiled linen if you can get it.”
He left the tent without another word. Gray bent over Geoff, again inspecting the wound but not wanting to start yet without the things she asked for. She waited only a small amount of time before Graehm reappeared with a large iron pot of steaming water. Gray bade him to set it down beside her. The first thing she did was have him pour some of it on her hands to wash them. Then he stood there and hovered, watching Geoff with concerned eyes as Gray wrung out her wet hands.
Braxton returned less than a minute after Graehm’s arrival. “My men are setting about to boiling some linen right now,” he said. “Is there anything more?”
She shook her head. “I must wait for the other items I asked for before I can begin.”
Braxton was about to leave the tent again in search of Dallas when the knight suddenly burst into the tent bearing a wooden box of mysterious items. His face was flushed as if he had been running, and there was little doubt with the speed in which he had returned that he hadn’t run.
“I believe that I was able to secure what the lady requested,” he said as handed the box over to Braxton.
Braxton peered at the items. “Did you have any trouble finding the apothecary?”
Dallas shook his head, watching as Braxton handed the box to Gray. “Nay,” he said. “Although I am not quite sure why I purchased a pungent ointment guaranteed to attract women by the dozens. I did not have time to argue with him so I just paid for it.”
Gray laughed softly, looking up at Braxton. He, too, was grinning. Then he shook his head helplessly. “Never mind,” he told his knight. “But you are sure you got everything else?”
“I am.”
Gray inspected the contents of the box and eventually nodded her head. The first thing she pulled out was an earthenware jug with a heavy plug of cloth shoved into the top of it. She pulled out the plug and smelled it, wrinkling her nose.
“Whiskey,” she sniffed. Then she looked at Braxton. “I will need your help in holding him. He’ll not like the sting of this, not in the least.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Pour it on the wound to cleanse it.”
Braxton lifted an eyebrow. “You are not going to have him drink it to dull the pain?”
She shook her head. “In this case, it would do much better on the wound than in his belly. You must trust me.”
He did. Graehm took hold of one arm while Dallas took the other arm and threw himself over Geoff’s body. Braxton took the legs. When the knights were property braced, Braxton nodded at her.
She had been right. Geoff hadn’t liked the sting of the whiskey burn one bit.
CHAPTER NINE
It was dusk in Cumbria, a magical time when the last threads of daylight were woven into the tapestry of the coming night. Gray usually enjoyed the dusk, as there was something innately peaceful in the time before the fall of darkness. But tonight she found no real peace; sitting beside Geoff’s sleeping form, she played a waiting game in contest to see who could control the knight’s future. If she won the match, he would live. If she lost, then Death would claim him. It was difficult not to be discouraged as time ticked on and the knight remained unconscious.
The tournament had ended some time ago and most of the contestants and fans had already left. A few hung around, mostly to catch a glimpse of Braxton and his men as they milled in and out of the larger of the two crimson tents. Though Braxton had withdrawn from the competition in order to assist Gray with Geoff, Dallas and Graehm had continued at Braxton’s insistence. Graehm was unseated in his match by Rickard Burton, who then went up against Dallas for the semifinal round. Dallas managed to unseat Burton, causing the man to display a full-blown temper tantrum on the tournament field. The crowd had laughed him right out of the arena.
The final round was between Dallas and Sir Niclas, the same knight who had accidentally driven splinters into Geoff’s neck. The match, and the prize, was meant to have been a victory in Geoff’s name, but Dallas lost in three very hard-fought glances and the black knight from Northumbria emerged the victor. It had been a bitter defeat to accept, but Dallas had done so graciously. Braxton was just grateful he wasn’t down another knight; given de Aughton’s reputation, that could have very well been the case.
After stitching up Geoff’s neck, Gray had decided it was best not to move him for the night and Braxton had agreed. But they hadn’t planned on making a night of it, so Braxton took Dallas with him to procure food for the evening. The men at arms, meanwhile, built a roaring bonfire in the area between the two tents where Brooke, Edgar and Norman now sat. A couple of soldiers set to fashioning a spit, much to Brooke’s curiosity. She sat on a stump one of the men had found for her, eating candied pieces of sweet pumpkin that Braxton had purchased for her and watching the activity. She sucked down the pumpkin treat, nearly oblivious to the real reason why they were still in Milnthorpe. In her young mind, this was all a grand adventure and she intended to enjoy every minute.
When the spit was finally ready and the sunset cast gray and purple shadows across the sky, Brooke glanced over to see Edgar glaring at her. Mouth full of pumpkin, she frowned at him.
“Why do you look at me like that, Edgar?” she asked.
He started to open his mouth but Norman smacked him in the head to shut him up. The move only infuriated Brooke.
“Norman, why d
id you hit him?” she demanded. “Tell me why Edgar is glowering at me. Has my face gone green?”
Norman looked at her; he was a steady young lad, even-tempered, in contrast to his mercurial younger brother. “Your face has not gone green, my lady,” he said. “Edgar is simply exhausted. We all are. It has been a trying day.”
His calm explanation satisfied her until Edgar grumbled loud enough to be heard. “ ’Tis her we should be roasting on the pit, the big glutton.”
Brooke’s eyebrows rose and she leapt to her feet. “What did you say?”
He looked at her, his young face dark. “You heard me.”
Norman tried to intervene, but Edgar wouldn’t let him. Bad ankle and all, he rolled away from his brother as the youth tried to slap a hand over his mouth.
“You are a big, fat glutton, Brooke Serroux,” Edgar shouted, with Norman’s hand half-over his mouth. “You ate all of that sweet pumpkin for yourself!”
Brooke’s mouth popped open in outrage. “It was mine!”
“You could have shared it. I am hungry, too!”
Brooke’s open mouth went into a thin angry line. She rushed Edgar, being prevented from totally destroying him by Norman, who had the unhappy task of being wedged in between the combatants. The older boy was on the receiving end of a few sharp slaps. Norman eventually turned away from Edgar to grasp Brooke around the body, lifting her up and carrying her away from his brother. She screamed and beat on Norman’s back.
Inside the larger tent, Gray could not help but hear her daughter’s yelling. Geoff hadn’t moved so she dared to rise and peek outside to see what was going on. All she saw was Norman carrying her daughter off into the darkness. She sprinted out of the tent and caught up with them.
“Norman,” she tried not to sound panicked. “What are you doing?”
Norman immediately set Brooke on the ground, whereupon she bolted back in Edgar’s direction. The lad, unable to run, put up his arms as Brooke came down on him with hurling fists. Shocked, Gray ran after her daughter with Norman on her heels. She reached out and pulled her child off of the injured young boy.
“Enough,” Gray shouted at her daughter.
Since Gray never shouted, Brooke immediately came to a halt. Her big eyes gazed fearfully into angry amber orbs.
“But… Mama, he.…”
Gray shut her down with a harsh shake of the arms. “I said enough,” she growled. “I do not know what vendetta you have against this boy, but this is the end of it. Any more violence against him and I shall take a switch to you. Do you hear me? I’ll spank you within an inch of your life.”
Unbeknownst to Gray, Braxton and Dallas had ridden up behind her. There was a gutted pig strapped across Dallas’ horse. Dismounting, Braxton watched curiously as Gray laid into her daughter.
Brooke’s eyes welled. “But, Mama, he was so very mean to me. He called me a glutton.”
“And so you are,” Gray didn’t mince words. “You have been eating since we arrived, begging money from Sir Braxton for your selfish wants. Sir Braxton is not obligated to buy you anything, Brooke. He does it from the kindness of his heart and Lord knows why he indulges you after the way you have treated him, but he does. You are selfish and petty and I am ashamed of you. If your manners were kinder and more gracious, then perhaps this boy would have no cause to insult you. But you deserve every word.”
Brooke burst into tears. Gray did not want to comfort her, knowing she must teach her child a lesson. But it was difficult to restrain her motherly instincts as she watched Brooke sob. She let go of her daughter.
“Go and sit down by the fire,” she instructed, her tone less harsh. “You will think on what I have said and amend your behavior accordingly.”
Weeping, Brooke wandered over to her stump and sat heavily. The mood around the fire was somber as Norman and Edgar tried not to look at her. Braxton, having witnessed the entire event, slowly made his way over to Gray.
“My lady?” he said to catch her attention.
She turned to him, startled. “I am sorry; I did not hear you approach.”
He smiled faintly at her. “I know.” His eyes moved to his squires, to Brooke. “Is everything all right?”
Gray nodded, sensing he had probably heard some of her tirade. “It will be,” she gathered her skirts and moved back in the direction of the large tent. “Sir Geoff has not yet awoken.”
Braxton followed her into the tent. Inside, it was eerie and dark but for the soft light given off by one fat taper near the knight’s bedside. Geoff was on his back, his neck and left shoulder heavily bandaged, and breathing deeply. Gray resumed her seat beside him, putting her hand on his forehead to feel for a temperature rise.
“He’s still cool,” she said. “Tomorrow would be the soonest we could expect a change.”
He nodded. “Will he be able to travel back to Erith come the dawn?”
She shrugged. “If there is no change, I would think so.”
Satisfied, his gaze moved from Geoff to Gray. She looked so lovely and serene and his attention shifted.
“You and Brooke can sleep in the smaller tent tonight,” he said. “My knights and I will sleep in here with Geoff.”
She looked up at him. “I would prefer to sleep here where I can watch him.”
He shrugged. “Then you and Brooke shall have this tent and we will take the smaller one.”
“I am sorry. I know it will be crowded.”
He waved a hand at her. “That’s not it at all. ’Tis simply that the smaller tent is warmer. I thought you would be more comfortable.”
She smiled. “You are most thoughtful. Thank you.”
He returned her smile, feeling the warmth spark between them again. “You are most welcome.”
Their gaze lingered on one another until Braxton moved towards her, crouching down next to her. He was very close, the heat from his big body radiating against her. He looked at her as if he wanted to say something, but no words would come. He couldn’t quite articulate the new-found feelings he was experiencing. So he reached out and took her hand instead, bringing it to his lips. She watched him, his face inches from hers.
“Braxton?” she asked softly.
“Hmmm?” he murmured, his lips still against her hand.
“Why are you so good to us?”
He smiled. “Because you deserve it. And because I want to.”
She studied his face, trying to detect anything about it that wasn’t being totally truthful. “I am sorry that Brooke is so demanding and ungracious.”
He shook his head, kissing her fingers at the same time. “She is neither. She is simply a young girl, with all of the wants and dreams and hopes of a young girl. She will settle down soon enough.”
“But you spoil her.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You let me worry about that.” With one hand, he reached beneath his chest armor and fumbled in the mail. He suddenly drew forth a small wooden box with a ribbon tied around it. The ribbon was a little smashed, but it did not dampen the Gray’s thrill when he extended it to her. “Speaking of spoiling, this is for you.”
Eyes wide with awe, she timidly took the box. She turned it over in her hands, inspecting it as if she’d never seen such a thing before. “What is it?”
He chuckled. “Open it, you silly wench.”
She grinned and pulled at the ribbon. It fell away and she carefully pulled the lid off of the little box. She gasped at the contents before reaching in to pull forth the treasure inside. A beautifully etched thin gold band with a massive pale green stone glistened in the weak light. It was magnificent. She gasped again, in awe, as she inspected it.
“It’s… beautiful, simply beautiful,” she breathed. “For me?”
He took it from her and collected her left hand, sliding it down over the third finger. It was a little snug, but it fit. Gray held her hand up, staring at the ring as if hardly believing what she was seeing. Braxton’s gaze moved between the ring and her astonished face.
; “A token of my affection,” he said simply.
“When did you get this? I have been with you nearly every moment of the day.”
“I bought it when I bought the pig. It would seem that merchants are willing to open their shops, even at night, with the promise of a large sale.”
“But this is so beautiful. Surely it must have cost a small fortune. I am not sure I…”
He cut her off. “As my betrothed, you warrant such a thing.”
She looked at him, then. “We are betrothed, then? I thought we were merely courting.”
He grinned, full-on. “If you think for one minute I am courting without a purpose, think again. I shall marry you before this month is out.” He suddenly grasped her arms, pulling her up against his chest as his smile faded. “No one else is worthy of you, madam. You and your head-strong daughter and your broken down fortress deserve everything I can provide for you and more. Do not deny me this honor.”
She swallowed hard, feeling his sincerity, finally allowing herself to believe that he was truly genuine in everything he said and did. Until this moment, she’d still held doubt. But no more. She wound her arms around his neck.
“Oh… Braxton,” she whispered as her soft lips came down on his.
He pulled her fiercely to him, his kiss hot and lusty and aggressive. In little time she was off the stool, on her knees against him as his mouth ravaged her. With her arms around his neck, there was little she could do other than hang on while he tenderly assaulted her. His passionate mouth moved from her lips to her face, her neck, her shoulders. His lips were hot and moist, stirring the embers of desire in Gray until she was quivering with want. She’d never experienced such passion; in fact, her encounters with Garber had been far and few, usually drunken romps ending in her tears. She had no glorious memories of passion or coupling. But with Braxton, she could only imagine how wondrous it might be.
Mercenaries and Maidens: A Medieval Romance bundle Page 124
