"But you do not recall the boat crossing from France to England?" Will asked, reminding him of his earlier confusion.
"I remember," he managed, wincing as the words tore at his throat. The boat they'd hired had seemed sturdy and the day fine when they'd cast off, but a storm had whipped up halfway across, and waves taller than the ship had surrounded them. Kade was no coward, but even he had trembled before the powerful walls of water that had tossed the ship about. When they finally saw shore ahead, he suspected he was not the only one to breathe a sigh of relief that it was nearly over. But Mother Nature had not been finished with them yet and, as the captain tried to steer into the harbor, the ship was caught by a wave and dashed against the rocks. Kade had a vague recollection of the screams of men and panicked whinny of horses, then a blinding pain in his head.
"The men?" he asked, doing his throat more damage.
"Stop trying to talk," Will said with exasperation, then sighed. "We lost Gordon and Parlan."
Kade closed his eyes as loss slid over him. Two more men to add to the others lost to the madness of Edward's Crusade. Of the thirty warriors he'd been captured with, only Domnall, Ian, and Angus remained. And Will, he acknowledged. Edward had ordered that the Englishman accompany them on the late-night sojourn to check on the whereabouts of Baibar's men. That order had cost the Englishman more than three years of his life, and while Kade was sorry for his friend's sake, he was grateful for his own. Their friendship had helped him stay sane during their trials.
"But Ian, Angus, and Domnall made it to shore," Will went on firmly. "And I pulled your sorry hide there when I found you facedown in the water. The horses did better," he added dryly. "We only lost one and managed to collect the others as they swam to shore."
Kade grunted. He'd rather have lost all the horses than one more man.
"I took you up on my mount, and we rode straight here to Mortagne. You have been unconscious nearly two weeks now, and--"
"Two--?" Kade began with disbelief.
"Aye, two weeks," Will interrupted, and shook his head. "I do not know why. You had a bump, but it was not even an open wound. Averill says head wounds are like that though. A small bump can kill a man, while another will survive his skull being cracked open." He shrugged. "She would know, I suppose. Averill was trained in healing by our mother and has aided in tending the ill and injured here since a child. She has fretted over you like a mother hen these two weeks, dribbling broth down your throat several times a day in an effort to keep you from starving to death. She has also been talking to you nonstop. Averill assured me that it would keep your soul tied to your body, so you did not wander to heaven and not return." Will grinned as he added, "Your ears must be ringing from her nonstop chatter. You probably regained consciousness just to shut her up."
Kade shook his head at the words. He had no recollection of anything since the boat broke apart. Though he must have heard her with some part of his mind, for he found himself missing her dulcet tones. As if called by his thoughts, he heard the door open and the patter of feminine footsteps.
"Here we are." That gay voice was accompanied by a gust of the spicy floral scent he'd noted earlier as Averill bustled back in. Her arrival seemed to brighten the room, her cheer helping to wash away some of the bitter memories that had been occupying his thoughts. Blinking the rest of them away, Kade watched her dark, little figure hurry forward, leading what appeared to be at least two maids, possibly three, all carrying items he couldn't make out. He strained in an effort to see better, but the women remained smudgy blurs in his vision, refusing to come into focus.
Kade scowled with frustration and tried to raise his hands to rub at his eyes. They felt gritty, as if he had something in them, though he suspected they were just parched, as was the rest of his body. His head felt stuffed with cotton, his mouth so arid he could not even work up any saliva to oil his throat, and his skin everywhere felt dry and stretched tight, like leather being cured. Still, it was his eyes that troubled him the most at the moment. However, the hands he was trying to lift to rub at the two irritating orbs merely flopped where they lay. He did not even have the strength to raise them. Kade gave it up with a small sigh. He had never felt so weak and helpless in his life, and he wasn't enjoying the experience.
"Here, Will, help me sit him up to drink," Averill ordered.
Kade grimaced as the Englishman slid an arm beneath his back and lifted him halfway upright. He knew he couldn't manage on his own, so didn't protest, but merely waited as Averill leaned down to press the drink to his lips. The liquid, sweet and cool, the finest honey mead he'd ever tasted, poured into his mouth. He would have gulped it down in two swallows, but Averill only gave him a sip, then waited while he swallowed it before tipping the mug up again.
"More," he gasped impatiently, when she did that a third time.
"Nay. You have had little or nothing to eat or drink for weeks. 'Tis best to go slowly at first."
Forcing back his impatience, Kade suffered her slow and sensible approach, and by the time the chalice was empty, had begun to think she had the right of it. While he still thirsted and yearned for more, his belly was churning in a threatening manner.
"How is your stomach?" Averill asked as she set the mug aside.
Kade grimaced for answer as Will eased him back to lie in the bed.
"We shall wait on the broth then, I think," she decided. "Do you think you can stay awake long enough for Mabs to help you clean up? Or do you wish to sleep now and wait until the next time you wake up?"
Kade opened his mouth to assure her that he wasn't at all tired. After all, he'd just woken up, but the words were drowned out by a sudden yawn that made a mockery of what he'd wanted to say.
"Perhaps tomorrow morning then," Averill said gently, as if he'd spoken, and he blinked his eyes sleepily as she tugged the linens and furs up more closely around him. "Sleep. You shall feel better in the morning."
"Should he be tired already?" Will asked, as Kade felt his eyes begin to droop closed. "He only just awoke."
"He will probably stay awake a little longer next time, but he shall tire easily for a while. I am surprised he stayed awake long enough to drink all the mead." Averill's voice was soft and soothing to Kade's ears, lulling him into a state of half slumber. He didn't really want to sleep, but his mind and body appeared to have other ideas, and the soft murmur of their voices wasn't enough to keep him awake.
Chapter Two
Averill woke to the sun streaming through the window and a smile on her face. At first, she wasn't sure why she was so happy. She'd had little enough to smile about since her father had taken it into his head to find her a husband. Most mornings of late she'd awakened feeling nothing but glum resignation about the day ahead, one she expected to be tainted by the poison of rejection as the latest possible suitor turned his nose up at the prospect of marrying her and rode off to find prettier pastures. Not that there had been that many men so far, Averill admitted to herself. There had been only three, but it felt more like thirty when their reactions were so hurtful. She never knew when the next would arrive, so woke up most days dreading that this would be the day.
However, Averill was feeling none of her usual dread this morning. In fact, happiness and good cheer were filling her as she took in the dust motes dancing in the beam of light pouring through the open shutters of her window. She took a moment to ponder that fact, wondering what had filled her dreams to leave her waking so happy, but then recalled that Kade had awakened last night.
Eager to see how he fared this morning, Averill sat up swiftly and thrust the linens and furs aside to leap out of bed. She scurried to one of the two chests against the wall, threw it open, and quickly began digging around for a fresh chemise. This was normally something her maid did for her and, were she to wait patiently, Bess would do it for her today as well, but she simply couldn't wait. Averill had spent two weeks nursing her brother's friend, Kade Stewart. Will had claimed the man had been unconscious when he'd
pulled him out of the water, and had remained so, not even stirring during the ride home to Mortagne. He had been sweat-soaked and hot with fever but still as death when they'd arrived; but even after the fever had broken on the second day, he hadn't stirred, and Averill had grown increasingly concerned. She had seen cases before where ill or injured persons fell into a deep sleep and simply never woke up. They had merely wasted away in their beds as their loved ones stood by helplessly.
While Averill had assured Will that would not happen here, now that Kade was awake, she could admit, at least to herself, that she'd feared that might very well be the outcome this time. Still, she had done her best to prevent that from happening: feeding him dribbles of broth several times a day to keep him from expiring from thirst or hunger, helping to wash and turn him every other day so that he would not develop skin irritations that might fester, and talking to him constantly so that he knew he wasn't alone.
She had no idea if her efforts had helped or if it simply wasn't his time yet to go, but Kade was alive and had awakened, and Averill felt she could take at least a little credit for that happy outcome. Now, she wanted to check on her patient and be sure he hadn't slipped back into that unnatural sleep again.
"Oh! You're up."
Averill straightened as her maid, Bess, stepped into the room. The woman was older by twenty years and had pale brown hair streaked with grey and a slender figure. She carried a basin of water and a small strip of cloth, Averill noted, but ignored them, and said, "Aye. Help me dress. I would check on Kade."
"Kade is it?" Bess asked as she set the basin of water on the second chest and moved toward Averill.
Averill felt herself flush at the maid's dry tone. It reminded her that she had no right to be so familiar with the Scottish lord, but after two weeks of telling him everything and anything she could think of as he'd lain sleeping and healing in the bed, Averill felt as if she knew the man. Well, because of that plus all the stories Will had told her about him in the evenings when he'd joined her in her constant vigil. Her brother had told her many tales about their capture and imprisonment as the two of them had sat at Kade's bedside, and it was obvious that Will had forged a strong friendship with the Scot. It was also obvious that he thought highly of the man...as did Averill, herself, after all she'd learned about him.
She could only admire and appreciate the way Kade had helped keep Will's spirits up during their enslavement. The Scot was also the only reason her brother was now free, for Kade alone had planned and carried out their desperate escape. He had also dragged her brother to the monks when he was injured, saving Will's life again. Aye, Kade Stewart was a fine and honorable man, a good friend to her brother.
Averill was drawn away from her thoughts when Bess suddenly tugged the chemise out of her hand and tossed it aside. "What--?"
"Ye shall wash up as you do every morning, then ye can dress and go about yer day. Yer Scot can wait," Bess said firmly as she steered her toward the basin and cloth on the chest.
"He's not my Scot," Averill said, aware that heat had flushed her cheeks at the words. However, knowing from experience that Bess wasn't one to argue with, she didn't bother trying. She snatched up the clean bit of linen the maid had brought, dipped it in the water, and quickly began to wash herself.