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“Pray fer him.” Wharton’s despair sounded clear. “Isn’t there more I can do?”

“Let him sleep.” She stared at the long log of a man in the rough brown garment. “When his fever rises, bathe him with cool water.”

“That’ll kill him.”

“Not as long as he rests by the oven, it won’t. It’ll keep the fever from going too high.” She frowned at the filthy clothing Wharton had stripped from Hugh. “I’ll have to hide this. It’s clearly a warrior’s aketon, and a large warrior at that.” Picking up the pieces, she wondered what to do with them, then stuffed them behind the large jars of oil and wine on the floor. “He probably won’t wake until tonight, and then you should give him a drop from the bottle you saw me hide.” She pointed her finger at him sternly. “But only a drop, or he’ll drift away and never return.”

Terror made Wharton’s eyes bulge. “Ye do it.”

“I can’t. I sleep in the guest house, and there’s a monk who questions all who come and go in the night.”

“That monk’ll do as he’s told.”

“Nay.” She tried to soothe Wharton’s alarm. “You take good care of your master. This, too, you can do.”

“Ye.”

When Hugh woke, he was aware of only two things. He was hot. And he had to be silent.

A beast gnawed at his side, cutting its teeth against his ribs and seeking the softer meat of his intestines. Its warm breath seared him and he wanted to push it away, but he dared not move. He had to be silent. Everything depended on his silence. Wharton’s safety. His own safety. Edlyn’s safety…Edlyn.

Edlyn? Consciousness nudged at him. He hadn’t thought of Edlyn in years, and she certainly couldn’t be here now. Not in a nunnery. Not working like a common peasant. He was delirious. He had to be.

“Drink this.”

His dream Edlyn knelt beside him. She lifted his head and pressed it against her bosom, then placed a cup to his lips. He drank greedily, then turned and nuzzled her breasts.

She put him down rather hastily, jarring his aching head. He heard Wharton’s voice harp and scold and opened his eyes to reprimand him.

He didn’t see Wharton. He saw his dream Edlyn leaning over his side, forcing the ravenous beast to cease its dinner. But it might turn and rend her, so he said, “Careful.”

He said it clearly, but she didn’t seem to understand. “What?” She leaned close to his face. “Did you say something?”

Her breasts. He remembered resting against them, and now he could see them. Her shift had been negligently tied, and her wrap gaped at the neck. She looked as if she’d just been roused from bed.

He would take her back. Reaching out, he cupped her breast through the material. “Mine.”

His dream Edlyn disappeared from view then, and he closed his eyes. She must be quite a woman, because just laying his claim on her wearied him. Then she started working on his side again, and energy surged through him. He woke to touch her, but when he reached out, he touched coarse material and heard Wharton’s raspy voice. “Master, what do ye require?”

Sleep. He required sleep, so he could dream of Edlyn again.

3

“How are you going to get me back into the dormitory?” Edlyn desperately needed privacy to regather the shreds of her composure.

Hugh had tried to suckle on her like a baby, and while she could delude herself that his action had been nothing more than a sick man’s attempt to return to the comforts of childhood, nothing could change that elemental gesture of ownership he had made afterward.

“Mine.” He had cupped her breast through her wrap and her shift and said, “Mine.” And it hadn’t been a tentative touch, either. He had grasped her firmly and rubbed his thumb across her nipple with such certainty she’d had to reassure herself she was decently covered.

“I don’t want ye t’ go back.” Oblivious to her discomfort, Wharton stood with his feet apart and firmly planted on the dispensary floor. “I want ye here if he needs ye.”

“I am not mistress of this abbey,” she said. “I must conform to the rules or be banished. Before the sun rises, I am to join with any other guests and together we make our way to the church for Mass.”

“Your soul’ll not miss Mass one day.”

“This is an abbey. They don’t see it that way, and anyway, that’s not the point.” Exhaustion and frustration made her slow. “I must be seen coming from my chamber, or as the only full-time resident not bound by holy vows, I must explain my absence. And since no one saw me leave, it will be difficult to explain.”

“What do ye do that they’re so suspicious?” Wharton demanded. “Have ye a lover ye visit?”