IN THE CASTLE
Pain flooded through Camden's body as he woke up. Memory came with it, but more slowly. The joust. The sound of the crowd, roaring and acclaiming, and then just roaring. The confusion. Then nothing.
Camden wriggled his toes experimentally, wincing as he shifted in the bed. The pain flooded him from his ribs, he realized. Keeping his eyes closed, he wriggled his fingers, making sure they all still moved. No, no breaks in arms or shoulder. Then he moved his hand over to his belly, where the pain was flaming agony.
“Your rib's broken, yes,” a quiet voice said. It was a rich voice, resonant, though soft. He felt his eyes open briskly.
He stared.
“Am I dead?” he asked.
It felt like it. There before him was the most lovely woman he had ever seen. With red hair in flaming curls, big brown eyes and a sweet, soft face that made his heart clench, she was so beautiful.
She was also amused. A big smile split those full, dark lips. “No, you silly.”
It was her! The girl from the woods. Rubina, duke's daughter. He flushed, instantly shamed. She thought he was amusing!
“Oh. Well, It pains me as if I was,” he muttered.
The girl's face fell and he instantly felt guilty.
“Oh, you poor man,” she murmured sympathetically. “I can give you more sleeping draft? If it'd help?”
He shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to sleep. Shaking his head hurt, the act twisting his torso slightly to the right. He groaned.
“Not...needed. Fine. Ow,” he added. This last was because she gently touched his side.
She nodded. “It's bad. Swollen. I think one rib is broken, the other just cracked. We've strapped them. But you shouldn't move for a few days...”
Camden frowned. “We?”
“Father Murdoch and I,” Rubina explained quickly. He stared.
“You strapped them.”
She raised a brow in mild inquiry. “Yes. Why's that odd?”
He laughed. It made a spasm of agony shoot through him and he stopped laughing quickly. He looked up at her face. She looked, if anything, mildly confused.
“What?”
He shook his head. Made himself stop smiling. The idea of the daughter of one of the most powerful men strapping his ribs made him at once amused and mortified. Why would she do such a thing? Then a thought occurred to him. If she'd strapped his ribs, that meant she'd seen him naked! At least to the waist. He flushed scarlet.
“My lady...could I go?” His first inclination was to escape. The thought of her having seen his body, laced with scars of battle, lean from practice fighting, made him at once acutely embarrassed and aroused.
And I'd be better off if she knew neither.
She made a little “o” of surprise, which made his loins throb. He closed his weary eyes, seeking escape from the dual torment – of his ribs and of his need.
“You should stay abed,” she said firmly. “Father Murdoch agrees too. And if you try and get out of that bed, I shall summon him.”
Camden chuckled, a wheezy laugh that managed not to hurt his chest overly. “I'll no' move,” he promised.
“Good.”
Her eyes met his and sparkled mischievously. He was surprised. He felt his own lips lift in a grin. Then his heart sank.
She sees you as some sort of project, most likes. A lass like her would never see a man like you differently than that.
He closed his eyes, knowing he should get rid of her as quickly as possible. “My lady?”
“Yes?”
“I should sleep.”
She bit her lip, that same gesture he recalled from the forest, that wintry day. He felt his body respond and wished it wouldn't. Wretched thing.
“Yes, indeed,” she said solemnly. “I'll go.”
“Wait,” he said, and then wanted to swear aloud. Whist! Why had he called her back, when he should really have let her leave?
“Yes?”
She waited tremulously by the bedside. When she was standing, he couldn't help his whole body throbbing. She was so beautiful. She had full breasts, a shapely body beneath the red dress she wore. Her hair made flames on her shoulders, mixing with the red fur trim of the brown cape. She was so, so lovely. He tore his eyes away from her white cleavage. He would give anything to tear the dress from her body and push her back onto the bed, kissing her.
“I...um, nothing,” he mumbled.
She sighed. “I should go.”
Just then, they were interrupted by a voice from outside.
“My lady?”
“Oh! He's awake. Look!” she called happily.
A tall, gaunt-faced man with white hair appeared in the shadow behind her. He was wearing a long white robe and he realized he was a Benedictine priest. This must be the man who helped fix him up.
“He is, daughter,” the priest said gravely. “Praise be.” He closed his eyes solemnly. Rubina nodded.
“Indeed, Father. He's much better.”
Camden watched the two of them as they bent toward each other to discuss his after-care. He was amused. They started talking animatedly as if he wasn't there.
“I think he'd do best to stay in the infirmary for two days,” the Benedictine said.
“Yes, Father. And when he's ready to be moved, he shouldn't leave the castle.”
“No,” the man nodded solemnly. “We will have to make arrangements for him to be housed here. The knight's hostel is ideal.”
“Indeed.”
Camden was surprised. Here he was, expecting to enter a joust, perhaps win money – or some fame – and then return home. Now he found himself staying at the palace? The idea was appealing. Nearer to her.
He closed his eyes, groaning as his body reacted to the idea of being near Rubina. Not that he'd actually have another chance to talk to her, probably. Yet he'd see her.
That would be enough.
The two who stood at the end of his bed discussing him evidently took his groan to heart.
“Oh!” Rubina was there instantly. “Is it worsening?”
The priest stroked his chin. “He should sit up a little. Being on his back will cause fluid to pool on his chest. Move that pillow, will you, milady?”
“Of course.” She moved at once, her smooth, pale arm just contacting Camden's nose as she bent over to move the pillow. He gritted his teeth, trying not to respond to the urgent lust. He could smell rosewater and strewing-herbs and her skin felt like satin. He wanted her so much.
“There,” the priest nodded, dragging him up the bed with a firm grip on his shoulders that was surprisingly strong. Camden found himself seated, his back leaning onto bolsters.
“Well,” he said, speaking softly because inhaling too much hurt his ribs, “I should thank you both.”
The priest shook his head. “It is my duty to the Lord,” he said. “I do it gladly.”
Camden felt his eyes flutter to Rubina, and the priest smiled.
“My lady is a skilled nurse,” he said. “I found that out years ago. Yes, it's unconventional to have her here in the infirmary,” he added with a smile to Rubina. Rubina blushed.
“Father Murdoch is too kind,” she said.
Camden raised a brow. He would have given almost anything to be able to make her blush like that. He would have given almost anything to be able to have the easy conversation the priest just had with her. Being a member of the Church, however, especially an abbot or a bishop or suchlike transcended secular rank. He himself was stuck at being a mere knight.
Until I become a mere baron. Not much prospect, is it?
He chuckled grimly and the chuckle turned into a cough. The priest looked grave.
“We should leave the patient, my lady,” he said. “He needs his rest. Too much excitement will prove his downfall.”
Camden bit his lip so the priest wouldn't notice his amusement. Too much excitement. He couldn't have said fairer than that.
“Very well,” the lass said. She looked concerned, those brown eyes soft. Camden forced his face into a pattern of aloof neutrality.
“I should rest.”
She nodded. “Goodnight.”
Camden wanted to reply, but he knew it was better if he kept himself to himself. The girl was too kind to him. He did not want to encourage it. Worse, he didn't want her pity! He huffed and shifted on the pillows, trying to get comfortable despite injuries.
“Should you wake during the night,” the priest said distantly, “summon Brother Alec. He'll be here keeping an eye out for our patients.”
“Thank you, Father. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, my son.”
As the old priest walked out, Camden noticed Rubina cast a soft-eyed glance at him. He hardened his heart. He would not feel this strange, overwhelming longing for her. He wouldn't want her. More than anything, he wouldn't let himself care about her.
He heard the door shut behind her. He closed his eyes and let out a slow, weary exhale.
He would try not to care about her. However, wishing she'd stayed behind a moment longer, the only moment he was likely to get, it came to his notice that he already did. It was too late.