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“M’ lady.”
A hoarse, quavering voice called her, and she stepped over the boys to reach Almund’s side. The old ferryman concerned her. His gallant attempt to rescue them had only worsened his condition. “What can I do for you?” She laid a hand on his overly warm forehead.
“I just wanted t’ tell ye, I won’t be going wi’ ye tomorrow.”
“What do you mean?” He still shivered, regardless of the number of rugs she piled on him. The honey she’d poured down his throat had only slightly eased his cough.
“I’m too ill t’ go on, an’ I’ll have t’ be staying here.”
She looked around at the rotting reeds on the floor, the boarded-up hole in the outer wall, the dogs that snacked on cast-off food scraps, and the cat that leaped from body to body, a dead mouse in its mouth.
He said, “’Tis a fine castle. I never been in one before.”
She closed her eyes. If he thought this castle fine, what must his hut look like?
“Sir Richard came t’ me an’ told me I was welcome t’ stay, too.”
“Did he?” That surprised her.
“Seemed quite concerned about an ol’ man.”
“I wonder why.”
“Ah, m’ lady, I’ve been around many a year, an’ that Sir Richard is no’ so bad as folks say. He’s got a good heart—he just keeps it well hidden.”
Funny, but when Richard wasn’t irritating her, she thought much the same thing.
“These brigands know enough t’ give me me medicine, an’ ye know yerself I’m not well enough t’ be moved.”
She did know, and she’d been worrying about it. She thought that with God’s grace he could survive this illness, but only if he stayed put with someone to tend him. Now his cheerful resignation lifted a weight from her shoulders. “Mayhap it would be best,” she acknowledged.
His bony hand caught hers in a surprisingly firm grip. “Aye, but if ye ever have need o’ me, ye have only t’ think it, an’ I’ll know an’ come t’ yer rescue.”
His bright eyes looked black and bottomless, catching the occasional lick of orange flame from the fire and dousing it. Here, in the quiet of the night, she could almost imagine he had the power to read her mind. “If I ever have need, I’ll think of you.”
As she walked across the great hall toward the solar, she told herself she wouldn’t have need, because she was married. Married to a great warrior who thought himself invincible.
It seemed she attracted men like that.
At the door she hesitated. Dark filled the chamber with only the light from the distant fire to illuminate the gloom.
“Edlyn?” Hugh didn’t sound sleepy at all. “Come in.”
Of course he wasn’t sleepy. He’d been waiting. He’d told her earlier how he wanted her.
Men. Who did he think had been applying ointments, soothing brows, and praying for the recovery of the wounded? Hugh probably thought the elves came and took care of all that. He certainly didn’t value her labor or her skill in anything but the bedchamber.
She jumped when his hand encircled her wrist.
“It is dark, isn’t it?” He led her toward the bed. “Be careful of the step. Did you finish caring for the men?”
“Aye.”
Lifting her, he sat her on the mattress. “It’s smelly, I’m afraid. If the prince gives Richard the right to keep the castle, he’ll need a wife to set things straight.”
She murmured agreement as he slipped her shoes off her feet and turned her lengthwise on the bed. He scooted in beside her. The pillow was nothing but a bag filled with feathers from a goose that had no doubt expired from old age. The covers, she feared, crawled with vermin. It was cold and damp, and she braced herself for Hugh’s kiss like a true martyr. Instead she heard a hiss of steel from beside her head as he drew his blade from his scabbard.
“Who’s there?” He shot off the mattress.
