CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

Garrick felt smothered. A weight of some sort lay on top of him, yet from the rocking motion, he had to be in a boat. How much time had passed he didn’t know. Based on the amount of pain still wracking his body, not nearly enough.

If Braden found him—

He paused and corrected himself. When Braden found him, Garrick had to keep him away. His cousin would try to heal him. But as severe as Garrick’s pain was, Braden would be putting himself at risk by doing so. Garrick first needed to make certain he was going to live. God’s teeth, but he hoped so.

The urge to cough made him worry he had blood in his lungs. He’d heard his father’s stories as well as Rylan’s of men who’d had such injuries. Bright red foamy blood meant the lungs were hurt. Few recovered from that.

Though he tasted blood in his mouth, he couldn’t manage to touch his mouth to see it. The weight on top of him was too heavy. And it reeked of fish. In fact, he was certain that was a fish flopping near his side.

He considered his options, still uncertain if he was with a friend or foe. It had to the former. Why would someone who wished him dead bother to pull him into the boat? Unless he wanted to find a better place to dump his body.

Christ.

The thought disheartened him. Yet at this moment, he could do nothing. He’d have to wait until the man dragged him from the boat to see if he could manage to gain his freedom. Assuming he was still alive by then.

The image of Sophia formed in his mind, lighting a tiny flame deep inside him. He held onto it tight, taking the comfort it gave him.

 

~*~

 

Sophia knocked on the door of the wattle and daub cottage, hoping Hilda was home. The healer’s carefully tended herb beds were laid out in specific order and planted according to their use, color, size, type, and fragrance. But she often ventured far and wide to pick naturally growing herbs and help those who requested her assistance. Some residents claimed she only collected herbs by the light of the full moon on the solstice. Naked, no less. Sophia had her doubts on that. How could she possibly gather all the herbs she needed on so few occasions?

A few people claimed she was a witch. In truth, it had crossed Sophia’s mind more than once. The woman knew things she couldn’t possibly know. But she’d never harmed a soul and rarely refused to help anyone in need. If she was a witch, then perhaps she was a good one.

The tidy little cottage lay at the edge of the forest, quite far from the protection of the city walls. Though many residents questioned why she chose to live outside the city, Hilda had once told Sophia she felt safer outside, that walls could trap as easily as protect. Hilda no doubt believed that doubly so after the siege.

The cottage door cracked opened and the tiny old woman peered out. “Who’s there?”

“Lady Sophia of Berwick. I am in need of your assistance.”

Hilda looked her up and down as she opened the door wider. “I dinna see a thing wrong with ye.”

“’Tis for a friend. He’s badly injured. I wondered if I could bring him here to stay with you for a time.”

Her gaze narrowed suspiciously. “What trouble follows him?”

Sophia opened her mouth to deny it, but there was no point. Hilda would soon discover the truth. “Someone wishes him dead.”

Hilda thought upon it for a moment then gave a nod, her long gray braid bobbing as she did so. “Bring him in. I’ll ready the bed.”

Sophia hesitated, deciding she should reveal all if she wanted the healer’s help. “He’s an English knight.”

“Why does that matter? Is he injured or nay?”

Relieved, Sophia could’ve hugged her. “You have my gratitude. He is down near the river. It will take some time to carry him here.”

Again the woman nodded then closed the door abruptly, forcing Sophia to step back. Apparently the conversation was over. Sophia breathed a sigh of relief that she’d gotten what she came for.

She turned to hurry down the narrow path along the trees to where she could see the river in the distance. Samuel’s boat was there, tied to a tree. Though she longed to see how Garrick fared, she remained where she was, waiting for Braden and Chanse. She didn’t want to draw any more attention to Garrick than they would when they lifted him from the boat. But she could think of no way to hide him unless they delayed his move until nightfall. That would never do, as Garrick couldn’t wait that long for help.

Sooner than she’d dared to hope, she spotted the two knights on horseback drawing near. They arrived at the river just ahead of her. Samuel eyed them warily until he saw Sophia.

“They’ve come to aid us,” she called out.

“How is he?” Chanse asked Sophia as he quickly dismounted.

“I don’t know. I only saw his face earlier as he lay in the boat. Samuel says he’s badly hurt.”

The fisherman’s son tugged on the rope to pull the boat closer to the dock as they spoke.

Braden reached the boat first.

“Don’t touch him, Braden.” The stern tone to the odd command had Sophia staring at Chanse. But Chanse ignored her as he glared at his brother. “Don’t do it. Not yet. I’m not explaining to our mother—” He stopped abruptly to glance at Sophia as though he just remembered she was there. “Let us first see how he fares.”

Braden scowled before turning back to the boat as Chanse quickly removed the saddle from his horse then hurried forward.

Sophia couldn’t make any sense of what Chanse had said but set it aside for the moment. Her sole focus was on seeing Garrick. Braden lifted the nets as Samuel directed to reveal Garrick sprawled on the bottom of the boat.

“Oh, dear God,” Sophia whispered. He looked even worse than she’d feared.

His face was bloody and swollen, his lips cracked. The stillness of his form caught Sophia hard. A lump formed in her throat as she stared, fearing the worst.

“Garrick?” Chanse said as he kept a hand in front of Braden as though to hold him back. “Garrick, can you hear me?”

His only answer was a low moan, but Sophia didn’t think she’d ever heard anything so wonderful. She thought he moved slightly but couldn’t see through her tears.

Chanse grinned and bent over his cousin. “This is what happens when you don’t bring us along to join in the fun.”

Garrick released a small scoff. At least that was what she thought the noise was.

“Sophia?” he muttered.

“I am here as well.” She blinked back her tears and stepped forward to touch his hand. She hesitated to touch him anywhere else for fear of hurting him. “You are safe.”

“Well, you were safe,” Braden offered. “But now we’re going to haul you to the healer’s cottage so we can hide you. Chances are you’re going to hurt like hell by the time you get there.”

“Already hurt like hell,” he mumbled between his stiff lips. “Water?”

Braden obtained a flask from his saddlebag and held it to Garrick’s lips. He lifted his head to take several gulps then lay back down, eyes closed again.

Sophia caught the worried glance Chanse and Braden shared. Again, Chanse gave Braden a stern glare of warning. What on earth was going on?

“Can you lift him?” Samuel asked. He glanced about warily, and Sophia knew he was anxious to be on his way.

Chanse studied Garrick. “We’ll be as careful as possible.”

Garrick nodded slightly as though resigned to the pain moving would cause.

With Braden on one side and Chanse on the other, they put Garrick’s arms around each of them, the boat bobbing dangerously. Garrick gasped in pain but they kept moving. Sophia rushed forward to shift Garrick’s feet out of the boat. By the time they got him to Chanse’s horse, Garrick had lost consciousness again.

“Probably for the best,” Chanse said. “Damn but he’s heavy.”

Braden merely grunted. They wrestled Garrick onto Chanse’s horse as carefully as possible. Laying on his stomach across the horse no doubt hurt him, but it would provide the quickest way to transport him to the healer’s cottage.

Chanse paid Samuel for his assistance, while Sophia took the reins of the horse. Braden walked beside Garrick to help keep him in place. Chanse caught up with them and walked along the other side of Garrick. After stopping several times to adjust Garrick’s position, they at last made it to the cottage where Hilda waited.

“Come ben the hoose,” she directed, waving them inside to make her meaning clear as she held the door wide.

Braden and Chanse carried Garrick to the bed that Hilda had made ready. The healer propped a blanket under his head, clucking as she noted the large bump and blood there.

“Let us have a close look,” she declared then waved her hand vaguely over Garrick’s form, gesturing for them to strip him down. “His cuarans first.”

Chanse looked at Sophia in question, obviously not understanding the Scottish term. “Boots,” Sophia supplied.

Despite all the jostling as Chanse and Braden removed his boots and damp clothes, Garrick didn’t wake. Sophia stayed out of the way, keeping her gaze averted from his naked body.

Hilda examined him from head to toe, muttering incoherently. She poked and prodded his ribs, his knee, again the bump on his head, shaking her head as she worked. She tugged open his eyelid then his mouth and looked in both his ears. At last she covered Garrick’s groin with a linen cloth, much to Sophia’s relief.

Suddenly Hilda glanced up to stare at Braden. She took his hand in both of hers and held them tight. “Ye have the heat, don’t ye?”

Braden’s eyes widened as though surprised then he nodded almost reluctantly.

Sophia couldn’t decide if he was merely agreeing with what Hilda said so she’d release him or if her words meant something to him.

“Don’t touch him yet,” Hilda ordered sternly.

“All right,” Braden said.

“And this one has the sight.” She released Braden’s hand as she glanced at Garrick before turning to Chanse. “What of ye?”

Chanse only stared, brows raised at her question.

Hilda shook her head. “Never mind about that now. Will ye fetch some water, my lady?” she asked and pointed at a pitcher and basin sitting on a table. “Let us clean him up as best we can.”

With a worried glance at the healer, wondering if Samuel had the right of it and the old woman had gone mad, Sophia did as Hilda asked. She moved to the table and poured the water into the basin, picked up the cloth beside it, and brought both over to the bed. At Hilda’s gesture, she dipped the clean cloth into the warm water and began to clean Garrick’s face as gently as possible, pleased she could do something to aid him.

Hilda felt along his side again. “He’s broken two or three ribs,” she declared when she stepped back. “Hard to say what’s damaged inside. The blood in his mouth might mean he’s pierced a lung or bruised his liver.” She shrugged. “Can’t say fer certain. Time will tell us soon enough. He’ll have to thole the dule.”

Already certain the men wouldn’t understand, Sophia explained, “Bear the consequences.”

Sophia continued removing the dried blood and dirt, wringing out the cloth several times. Despite her movements, Garrick’s eyes remained closed, which worried Sophia all the more. His eye was swollen, making that side of his face nearly unrecognizable. His opposite cheek was grazed as well.

Had Thomas done this to him? If so, why? His strong arms were bloody in places, so she cleaned them too. The corded muscles of his shoulders and chest made it difficult to imagine anyone overpowering him, but perhaps the strike to the side of his head explained how it had been done. Not to mention the bruising already marring his skin.

Hilda moved to the fire to ladle some steaming water into a large bowl, and the scent of herbs filled the air of the cottage. She mixed the concoction with a pestle until she’d formed a thick paste, her braid swinging to and fro as she worked.

“What’s in that?” Sophia asked.

“Waybread and wild rose,” Hilda answered. She applied it to Garrick’s wounds in a thick layer, including his broken ribs. With Chanse’s help, she bound Garrick’s mid-section with long strips of linen.

Then she made another potion, adding wine to this one, and bade Chanse to prop up Garrick so she could dribble it into his mouth. He swallowed reflexively as though to avoid choking several times.

“That will do for now,” the old woman declared as she set the cup on the narrow table beside the bed. “He’ll need more soon, but not until he wakes enough to drink it proper.”

“Can we get anything for you?” Chanse asked. “Supplies of any sort?”

Hilda smiled, her wrinkled face creasing all the more. “I have all I need. Healing will take some time.” Her smile fell away as her gaze rested on Garrick once again. “His ribs will pain him, but I worry about what’s hurt inside.”

Again Chanse and Braden exchanged a look that had Sophia wondering what they might be thinking.

“He could be bleeding in there.” Braden didn’t ask. He stated it as a fact as he again stared at his cousin.

“Aye,” Hilda agreed. “We won’t know until the morrow or mayhap the day after. But life goes on. I’ve got a babe to deliver a fair distance away. He’ll need more of the remedy soon. Can one of ye stay with him?”

Even as Braden opened his mouth, Chanse cut him off. “Not you. Lady Sophia, I know ’tis much to ask but would you see to Garrick if we keep watch over your family?”

“Of course.” Sophia was pleased to help—anything to aid Garrick’s recovery. And she was glad they trusted her to do so. “Will you tell Ilisa and Alec that I’m aiding Hilda with Garrick’s care for a day or two? I’d prefer Eleanor didn’t know any of the details of recent events. It will only unsettle her.” At Chanse’s nod, she turned to Hilda. “Tell me what to do.”

After listening carefully to her instructions on how to prepare additional poultices as well as a drink to help Garrick sleep should he awaken in pain, Sophia was soon alone in the cozy cottage with him. Hilda had warned her how to watch for signs of a fever, but still Sophia worried whether she was capable of caring for him when his injuries were so severe.

Chanse said he’d return well before dusk while Braden stayed with her family. Until Garrick woke, they couldn’t be certain what happened or who to keep watch for. The idea of Thomas slitting that man’s throat or injuring Garrick so severely was difficult for Sophia to believe.

Why would Thomas do such a thing? Did it have anything to do with what had happened to him and his family during the siege? Had the acts of those English knights caused such a hatred in him that he sought vengeance to any who were English?

With a sigh, she drew a stool near the bed to keep watch over Garrick. She checked the bump on his head, but it didn’t seem to have changed in size. According to Hilda, that was a good thing. She smoothed the hair from his forehead, hoping her touch would bring him some comfort.

He moaned, his lashes fluttering.

“Shhh, Garrick. Rest,” she said, hating the thought of how much pain he must be in. Hilda had said he’d need sleep to heal.

He seemed to settle at her words, and she continued to caress his forehead, running her finger along his uninjured brow, hoping to ease him into sleep again. It worked for a short time but when he groaned again, she decided it was time for more of the medicine Hilda had left.

“Garrick, I’m going to give you something to help ease your pain.” She sat on the bed beside him and gently lifted his head into the crook of her arm to prop him up. His head nestled against her breast, sending a wave of heat through her at the intimate position.

Chastising herself for the reaction, she held the cup to his lips. But he didn’t respond. “Garrick? Take some of the medicine, please.”

Still nothing. She tipped the cup, trying to imitate what Hilda had done. The liquid ran across his lips, down the corner of his mouth and landed on the front of her kirtle, leaving a dark red stain. “Garrick?”

His eye slowly opened and his gaze caught on her before closing.

“I need you to drink this.” She held the cup to his mouth again and, this time, he managed a few swallows. She eased him down as gently as possible, trying to take care with the bump on his head.

Her heart hurt for him. The more she looked at him, the more injuries he seemed to have. The good side of his face was turned toward her. Long lashes laid against his cheek. His strong brow framed his face, balancing his cheekbone. Already a dark shadow graced his cheeks from his whiskers, emphasizing his strong jaw line. His bare shoulders looked impossibly broad even without his clothes.

She studied him carefully for a long moment. His eyes remained closed and so she indulged her desire to touch him. She ran gentle fingers down his cheek, moving down to his massive arm. The bulge of muscle there amazed her. She’d never before seen a man in this state of undress.

With one finger, she trailed along the contours of his shoulder, arm, then over to his chest. His skin was so warm and smooth, yet powerfully built. The strength of his body fascinated her. He was beautiful. There was no other way to describe him.

She glanced up to find him watching her with his good eye. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.” She blinked, uncertain what else to say. “You’re just so...big.”

A ghost of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Feels good.”

Her stomach did a long, slow roll at the idea of bringing him pleasure, especially when he was in so much pain. With a slightly firmer hand, she repeated her movements and he sighed, his eye closing again. Soon the steady rise and fall of his chest told her he slept. She continued for a bit longer, enjoying the feel of him.

The rest of the day passed slowly. She kept a watchful eye on Garrick, praying he wasn’t bleeding inside. Surely some sign would have appeared by now though she didn’t know what to watch for. She had some experience in tending injuries as she’d done much of that after the siege. But she knew little compared to Hilda.

As evening approached, a quiet knock on the door sent her heart pounding. She rose to answer it and found Chanse outside with a sack in his hand.

“How is he?” he asked before she had a chance to greet him.

“Resting well, I think.” She stepped out of the way so he could see for himself.

The tenseness of his expression eased as he stared at his cousin. “His color is good. That’s a positive sign. Has he wakened?”

“Once briefly.”

“Has he told you what happened?”

She shook her head. “He only said a couple of words.” She hoped Chanse didn’t ask what they were.

“I brought some food for you,” he told her as he handed her the sack. “I wasn’t certain if Hilda would return this eve and thought you might be hungry.”

“How kind of you. Many thanks.” She took the bag to the table and unpacked bread, cheese, and another small bag. “What’s in here?”

“I put together some things for soup, if you’re of a mind to make it. I thought you might like something hot and mayhap Garrick would eat some as well. If he wakes.”

She stared at the contents of the bag, holding it near the candlelight. “There are all kinds of dried vegetables in here. Are those herbs?” she asked as she saw a few small leaves amidst the peas and carrots and onion bits.

“Aye. There’s a little dried meat as well. If you add it to a pot of water and let it simmer for a time—”

He cut off the rest of the sentence as he caught the look on her face. “What?”

“You put together the makings of hotch-potch for us? How do you know how to make it?” She couldn’t believe it. Few men she’d met—certainly not any who looked like Chanse—had knowledge of cooking.

He shrugged, obviously embarrassed now. “’Tis more of a soup than hotch-potch. We travel a fair amount. One grows weary of hard cheese and old bread while on the road.”

“A knight who knows how to cook?”

“Indeed. Though I admit ’tis more to benefit myself than others.” He grinned.

A sound—part grunt, part scoff—came from the corner where the bed was, drawing Chanse’s attention.

He drew closer, his smile growing broader as he saw Garrick’s eye open. “Glad to see you’re still amongst the living.”

“Barely.”

Chanse immediately sobered. “Christ. What the hell happened?” He held up a hand. “Don’t speak if it’s too much for you. Conserve your strength.”

Garrick’s gaze shifted to Sophia, and she moved closer as well. “Thomas.”

She couldn’t help but open her mouth in surprise. “’Tis difficult to believe he’s capable of such violence.”

Chanse looked at Sophia. “The butcher?”

“Aye.” She glanced from Garrick to Chanse. “I’ve known him for many years. I had no idea he could do this. Why would he?”

“He said an English knight...” Garrick drew a shallow breath, his brow furrowing as he did so. “Had no business poking his nose...where it didn’t belong.” His voice was low and rough, his words barely audible as he spoke. “Two others aided him.”

“Three against one, aye? Unfair odds,” Chanse said. “Wasn’t it the middle of the day when you ventured that way?”

Again Garrick nodded. “Hit me from behind. Dragged me away.”

When he licked his lips, Sophia reached for the cup of water. “Thirsty?”

At his nod, Chanse helped lift his head so he could drink. Even that small movement caused him to grimace in pain.

Garrick caught Chanse’s gaze. “Don’t let...Braden.”

The worry in Chanse’s expression intensified at his cousin’s odd request. “Nay, I won’t. ’Tis bad then?”

Garrick closed his eyes and apparently that was enough answer for Chanse, for he shook his head. But he quickly caught Sophia’s worried look and forced a smile. “You’re going to be fine, Garrick. Know that to be true. We’ll have you feeling better sooner than you think.”

When Garrick didn’t respond, Chanse moved to the fire where he found a small pot and ladled some of the steaming water from the large kettle hanging over the fire.

Sophia brought him the sack of ingredients from the table.

He stirred them into the water then hung it by the handle on one of the rods over the fire. “Give it a stir once in awhile. When it smells like soup, it should be nearly ready.”

“My thanks.”

His movements stilled as he glanced to Garrick, worry creasing his eyes. He leaned close to her. “Is he coughing?”

“A little.”

“Has he coughed up blood?”

She shook her head, and Chanse’s expression eased. “That’s something then.”

“Why can’t Braden touch him?” Sophia asked.

Chanse only shook his head. “’Tis a story for another day. He’s staying with your family. Will you be all right here this eve? I could stay if you’d like me to. If the healer hasn’t returned by now, she might not.”

“I’ll be fine. I’d rather you help keep watch over my family, if you don’t mind. If Thomas knows of my association with Garrick, they might be at risk.” She swallowed hard at the thought of her family once again in danger.

“I’d better return before darkness falls else the city gate will be closed for the night. Do you need anything more before I leave?”

“Let us try to get Garrick to drink more of the medicine before you go.”

They managed to coax him into sipping it. The task was far easier with two.

“I can’t thank you enough for watching over Garrick, Lady Sophia,” Chanse said with a touch on her arm as he prepared to leave. “Are you certain you will be all right this eve?”

“Aye. And you have my gratitude for watching over my family. That means the world to me.”

The knight smiled and shut the door behind him.

Sophia stirred the simmering soup, her stomach growling in response to the appetizing aroma that filled the cottage. She placed a small amount into a bowl then added water to make it thinner with the hope she might get Garrick to drink some.

He roused long enough to take several sips of the broth then slept once again.

Sophia had a bowl of it as well along with some of the bread. She rinsed out the dishes then made a pallet on the floor beside Garrick’s bed. Though it was still early, the day had been a long one, and she knew the night might be as well.

She pressed a kiss to Garrick’s forehead, saying another prayer that he would heal quickly. Seeing this strong knight lying there so helpless made her realize even more how much she’d grown to care for him. He held far more than just a piece of her heart. She feared he had it all.