Claiming the Forbidden Bride. Gayle WilsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
against her mother’s skirts, eyes wide as she watched the searchers.
Anis, who had been brought to give directions, stood off to one side. She seemed reluctant to get near enough to Nadya to chance the punishment the girl still feared would be inflicted.
Although she had been angry at first, by now Nadya had acknowledged that what happened wasn’t Anis’s fault. The responsibility for this near disaster lay squarely on her shoulders for trusting someone else to look after her daughter. That was her job—her joy—and the thought of what might have happened…
‘We found him, drabarni.’
The shout prevented her from having to acknowledge that terrible what-might-have-been. Taking Angel’s hand, she hurried to the place where the men were gathered around something on the ground. Sparks from their torches swirled in the wind.
‘Is he alive?’ Her voice sounded tremulous in her own ears.
‘For now. Whether he’ll stay that way…’The shrug that accompanied Andrash’s comment seemed as heartless as the flash of his white teeth revealed by the torchlight. What did he care about a gaujo, even one who’d saved the life of a little girl?
‘What do you want us to do with him?’ Nicolaus asked as four of them hefted the man’s limp bodybetween them, carrying it as they would have a boar they’d killed in the forest.
Although her grandmother would disapprove, Nadya knew there was only one answer. ‘Take him to my caravan.’
Her instructions didn’t cause even a raised brow among the men. After all, that’s where she had cared for Nicolaus when he’d broken his arm and where she had stitched up the knife wound in Michael’s shoulder.
The vardo was also where she kept all of her remedies. At least until she knew what she was dealing with, it was the only possible place for the injured gaujo.
As the men passed by, Panuel leading the way with two of the torches, Nadya caught a glimpse of the face of the man they carried. The flickering firelight seemed to emphasize his features: high cheekbones, reddened now with the cold; an almost roman nose; and an equally strong chin. She found herself wondering about the colour of his eyes and his hair, darkened now by the water.
As the small cavalcade began to struggle up the slope, a tug on her skirt brought Nadya’s gaze down to her daughter, who was standing at her knee. The tear tracks beneath her eyes were exposed by the same torchlight that had illuminated the injured man’s countenance.
Nadya smiled at the little girl as she nodded reassurance. Then, unable to resist the impulse, despite the child’s disobedience to Anis and the tantrum she’dthrown at the threat of being left behind, Nadya bent and put one arm around the small shoulders, pulling Angel close.
‘It’s all right,’ she said aloud. With the thumb of her other hand she made a soothing gesture along the child’s cheek. ‘We’ll fix him.’ Leaning back, Nadya added another smile to the words her daughter couldn’t hear.
With the reassurance of her mother’s touch, the concern in the blue eyes melted away. Their focus shifted to the older girl. Seeing the direction of her daughter’s gaze, Nadya tilted her chin upward, giving permission.
The child ran to where Anis stood, her arms wrapped tightly around her thin body. Angeline tugged at the older girl’s hand until she bent down. Then the child drew her tiny thumb along Anis’s cheek, repeating the gesture her mother had made.
As she watched the scene, a reluctant smile tugged at Nadya’s lips. Whatever heartache this little one had known, it was clear all was now right in her world.
And thanks to the actions of the unknown gaujo, in Nadya’s as well.
She owed her daughter’s life to the man being carried up the slope to the waiting cart. Whatever she had to do in order to satisfy that debt, she vowed it would be paid.
When the men had deposited the gaujo on the bed at the front of the caravan, they stood in its narrow aisle, awaiting Nadya’s instructions. If she asked them, they would remove his wet clothing, but she found that, despite the shivers that now occasionally racked his body, she would rather do all that herself.
There was little room in her profession for prudishness. Not when lives were at stake. That was the first thing her paternal grandmother, who had been drabarni before her, had taught her. The mysteries of the human body. All of them.
‘Thank you,’ she said to the men without looking up.
‘You want us to help you undress him, drabarni?’
‘I’m not sure how badly he’s injured. Maybe it would be better if I determine that first.’
‘As you wish, drabarni. Call us when you need us.’
She had asked Anis to take Angeline to Magda for the night, so that, as the last of her helpers exited her caravan, she found herself alone with the Englishman. She bent over the platform bed she had converted for her patients’ use from what had once been her father’s workbench.
Thom Argentari had been a silversmith of great renown, even in the world of the gadje. He had bought this caravan from a travelling showman in order to have a safe place to keep his tools and the precious gemstones and metals with which he worked. At his death, the vardo had passed to Nadya.
As soon as she’d entered tonight, she had lit the lamp that provided light for the front of the caravan. Now, as she moved it to the table at the head of the bed, her initial impression of the injured man’s features was verified.
The gaujo would be considered handsome by any standards. Even, she acknowledged, her too exacting ones.
Dismissing that evaluation from her mind, she gently turned his face into the lamplight, examining it for injuries. She found what she had expected, given his prolonged unconsciousness, above his left temple. The gash no longer bled, but with a blow to the head, she knew that whatever was going on beneath the skin was often more serious than what was visible.
Carefully, using only the sensitive tips of her fingers, she felt the area around the cut. Then, using the same method, she traced over the rest of his skull, searching for the telltale signs of fracture as her grandmother had taught her.
When she straightened, this part of her examination complete, it was with a sense of relief. She had felt no breaks in the bone that protected the brain. As for his continuing unconsciousness.
She shook her head, still puzzled by that. Then she directed the same careful attention she’d given his head to the rest of his body. She felt along his torso and then down each extremity, looking for damage, which her experienced fingers would quickly identify. Once more she discovered nothing.
Now she sat down on the edge of the bed besideher patient. She struggled a moment to understand the intricate folds of the knotted cloth at his neck, but was soon able to pull it free. When she had, she pushed aside the edges of his shirt to expose his throat.
She placed her fingers against the pulse in his neck, reassured by its strong and steady beat. After a moment, she raised her hand to put the back of it against his forehead.
The heat she found there confirmed her suspicions. Since she had found no other injury that would explain his condition, the gaujo was obviously developing a fever, undoubtedly the result of exposure after his immersion in the icy water.
As she began to take off the rest of his garments, she tamped down a renewed sense of outrage at the girl who had left him, injured and alone, on its banks. Quickly discovering the impossibility of removing his coat, given the fashionable snugness of its fit, she briefly considered sending for her helpers. Instead, in the interest of efficiency, she used the tip of a knife to slit the seams, removing it in pieces and then the waistcoat.
She decided that, with its looser fit, she should be able to take off his shirt by slitting it from the deep neck opening to the hem. Once that was done, she eased his right