Siege Of the Heart. Elise CyrЧитать онлайн книгу.
supplies and heated the brazier set in the center of the room.
Alex felt the girl’s forehead and brushed the hair back from her burning face. It was a pleasing color, a gleaming golden brown in the torchlight. He slid back her cloak.
Matilde gasped and pulled him away. “What are you doing?”
Alex looked at her sharply, and she dropped her hands. “The girl has a fever. Her clothes are sodden, and she is already chilled through. We must dress her wound.”
“Yes, sir, but let me tend to her. You must be busy with your other duties.”
“Your…daughter is in no danger from me. I have seen my share of arrow wounds.”
Matilde put herself between Alex and the bed. “But, sir, it would not be proper for you to…” She worried her lower lip.
“This is no time for modesty,” he said as he looked back at the pale, drawn countenance of the young lady. “Step aside. Now.”
He waited until the old woman moved away before approaching the bed once more. Alex managed to pull off the girl’s cloak and ease it away from the wound. Dried blood coated the right sleeve of her dress. The belt came next. The finely scrolled, double-edged broadsword and scabbard he had observed earlier, along with a well-made knife—a seax if he recalled the English name correctly—came with it. Their bearing and craftsmanship were exquisite.
He looked questioningly at Matilde before setting them aside. “How did your daughter come to possess such fine weapons?”
Matilde did not answer as she helped him peel off the girl’s dress. Underneath, the girl wore a silk and linen shift, not a coarse woolen one, which bespoke nobility. Alex’s gaze found Matilde’s hooded one once more, but he said nothing as the shift too was removed.
He looked her over. Certainly more woman than girl. Pearly skin stretched over her frame, with hollows and curves in all the right places. There was just enough to her for a man to grab hold of.
He gritted his teeth. Now was hardly the time for such thoughts. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft of the arrow and pulled while Matilde held her down on the bed. The girl’s eyelids fluttered open, her face screwed up in pain. She bellowed, shaking her head. Alex tried to work the arrow out further, but the girl wrenched her arm from his grasp with surprising ferocity.
This time the girl’s eyes stayed open, muddy pools of fury and pain. She called for Matilde by her given name—not maman—but the rest of her words came out in a panicked rush. Matilde ran her hands over the sides of the girl’s face and crooned to her in English to calm her down.
Alex grabbed her flailing arm. They could delay no longer.
“No!”
The girl tried to pull away again, but her strength was ebbing. He prayed the pain would make her sleep once more. It would be easier that way.
“No, no, no,” she gasped. Her fevered gaze burned into him.
With a hard yank, he had the arrow out of her. The girl shrieked and mercifully passed out. Once Alex was sure he had removed all of the arrowhead and shaft, he helped Matilde bandage her shoulder and dress her in a clean gown.
After Matilde administered an infusion of herbs to allay fever, Alex pulled her away from the bed. “She is not your daughter.” Matilde started to shake her head, but Alex cut her off. “She is the Lady Isabel.”
“Th-that is ridiculous.”
“I think not,” Alex said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Her clothing is as exceptional as her weapons.” He paused, gauging her reaction. “Despite Dumont’s generosity with his servants, I find it hard to believe such quality is bestowed upon a waiting woman’s daughter.”
Matilde shook her head, her gaze dropping to her gnarled, calloused hands. When she remained silent, he sighed and turned his back on her. “Watch over her, and be sure to get some rest yourself. If her health worsens, I will hold you responsible.”
“I will keep her safe,” Matilde said fiercely.
“I thought as much,” he said over his shoulder.
He stalked back to the main hall. What business did Lady Dumont have participating in a scouting party? Did she have any knowledge of her father’s whereabouts? He was relieved she had been found. Yet, a woman who would pull such a stunt would not be easily dealt with. He had heard tales of Englishwomen who fought like men defending their homes. William had not exaggerated when he had spoken of the young lady’s spirit. No mild-mannered girl would leave the safety of her home with only the company of a few men and the steel she carried at her side.
Matilde’s defense of her mistress was admirable, though. Perhaps she really thought of her as a daughter. The woman had answered his questions, though he could not help but feel she had not been entirely forthcoming with her short replies and uneasy bearing. However, one thing was certain. As they had conversed, Matilde’s responses in French had become more fluid and rapid. She had lost her stutter.
Alex had just won a bet with himself.
* * * *
“Jerome leads the first watch,” Hugh reported, joining Alex as they walked toward the main hall the following afternoon.
Alex nodded. “Bon. I do not want us caught off guard if more visitors come to Ashdown.” He glanced at his shield bearer. “Any reports from the patrol?”
“Non, but Matilde’s descriptions of the boundaries were most helpful.”
Alex’s mouth twisted. “I am glad, despite her reluctance to share the information with us.”
He had badgered Matilde into describing the extent of the Dumont holding, and his men spent the morning monitoring the territory. They located a clearing to the north that had seen a fierce battle, and a handful of dead Welshmen covered the ground. It explained the sudden arrival of Dumont’s men the previous afternoon and the extra mounts they brought back with them.
“Matilde did as you bade and sent out messengers to the neighboring thanes for news of Lord Dumont’s whereabouts,” Hugh reported.
“Bon, but I do not expect them to be much help.”
“The last of the messengers returned but a few minutes ago,” Hugh said.
“And?”
Hugh shrugged. “No word.”
“Worry not. I am certain our new charge holds the answers to many of our questions,” Alex said as they entered the hall. He surveyed the room. Although it was not quite time for supper, men had gathered and were arranging the tables. “Indeed, it is time I checked on Lady Isabel. I will rejoin you at the meal.”
He stopped just outside the open door. The gray-haired knight from the day before stood at the girl’s bedside next to Matilde. The man had managed to slip away from Hugh and Jerome yesterday, and they had not seen him since. The older man brushed a curl from Isabel’s forehead with a familiarity that tightened Alex’s chest. As soon as the pair discovered his presence, the English knight gave a curt bow and left the room.
“Who was that?” Alex asked.
“Captain Thomas trains my Lord Dumont’s men-at-arms.” A note of caution lit Matilde’s voice.
He nodded and cast about the room. A captain… He must be privy to all of the Dumonts’ comings and goings. Why was he not with his Lord? If Captain Thomas did not know some French, since he was in such a trusted position in the Dumont household, he would be surprised.
“Bring him to me at supper.” It was past time he attempted to speak with Thomas. “You will translate.”
“As you wish.”
He motioned to the still-slumbering young woman. “Any improvement?”
“The fever has subsided only a little,