Despite her constant worry and hope that he would awaken, Emma was not immediately aware of her husband's finally rousing when he suddenly opened his eyes as if he had just been napping. Emma saw it, but it took a moment for her brain to register what her blurred gaze had witnessed. When it finally made it through to her muddled mind, she leapt from her seat with a start and dropped to her knees beside the bed, whispering his name.
Wincing at the shaft of pain that went through his head as he turned it, Amaury stared at her through squinted eyes.
"Your head is paining you," she murmured, stating the obvious, then stood and moved quickly to the door. Pulling it open, she called for Maude and Alden, then paused and glanced at the bishop, who was passing just then. "My lord, bishop!"
"Aye, my lady, is there something I can do for you?" He shuffled to a stop before her, craning his neck slightly in an attempt to see into the room beyond.
"Aye, sir. If you would? Fetch Maude for me and have her bring up the tea I had her make this morning for his lordship's head. He is awake."
"He is?" The older man didn't bother hiding his relief over this news.
"Aye."
"I will fetch her straightaway," the bishop promised, turning on his heels, only to turn quickly back. "You had her prepare it this morning?"
"Aye, I feared his head would be aching when he came around."
"But . . . how did you know it would be today?"
"I did not. I have had her prepare a fresh batch every day," Emma informed him, then closed the door on his surprised face and moved back to the bed.
Her husband's eyes were closed again. She was not sure if he was sleeping or not, but decided not to disturb him until Maude arrived with the tea. It was a noxious brew. No doubt he would balk at having to drink it, but it would ease his paining greatly.
Biting her lip, she looked him over carefully as she regained her seat. There appeared to be just a tinge of color now to his pallid skin, but that was the only difference in his appearance.
The door opened following a light tap and Maude hurried in, Alden on her heels. Both of them looked eagerly over the man they had helped tend as Emma took the mug of tepid tea.
"Is it true, my lady?" the squire asked eagerly. "He awoke?"
"Aye."
"Oh, sweet Saint Vitus, thank you," Maude murmured fervently.
Bending to her husband, Emma touched his face gently, then smiled when his eyes opened. "Maude has brought you a drink to aid with your head," she murmured quietly. "If I help you, think you you could sit up to drink it?"
"Aye." Amaury frowned as he heard his own answer. He had meant to speak in his normally robust voice, yet it had come out as barely more than a husky whisper of sound. He then tried to sit up, only to find that he didn't seem to have the strength to do so.
Seeing the difficulty he was having, Emma ignored the scowl on his face and set the mug down on the table beside the bed, then moved to help him even as Alden hurried around to the other side of the bed to add his assistance. Both of them ignored the way he grumbled and muttered vexedly as they aided him into a sitting position, then lifted the mug to his lips.
Amaury took one sip of the brew before spitting it out across the bed in disgust.
"You live."
Emma turned the scowl she had produced at her husband's behavior to the door at the sound of that cheerful voice. Blake and her cousin were entering, the bishop directly behind.
"Not for long," Amaury gasped in a thin voice, not much stronger than it had been the last time he had spoken. "My wife is trying to poison me."
Emma turned her scowl back to her husband. " 'Tis not poison, 'tis--" Her words died in midsentence when a large hand suddenly seized her own much smaller one as she tried to press the mug back to her husband's lips. Head jerking up, she gaped at the man towering over her like death. He was at least a hand taller than her giant of a husband and easily twice as wide. He was also as ugly as sin, with a face that looked as if at birth God had covered it with a hand and pressed down, squishing his features almost flat for all time.
" 'Tis just tea," she whispered, intimidated by his size despite herself. "Made from white willow bark. 'Twill ease the pain."
Eyes so bright a blue they rivaled the beauty of the sky turned on her, and Emma found herself catching a breath. God's truth, it was a bit of a shock to find two such jewels in such a homely visage. Emma was still trying to get over her surprise, when the man suddenly nodded and leaned past her to tip the cup to her husband's lips.
"Plug your nose, 'twill help," Emma murmured when Amaury looked about to refuse the drink. "Ale will help kill the taste afterward," she added, grabbing up the mug of ale that had sat by the bed all morning in case he should awake and be thirsty. Muttering something under his breath, her husband allowed the stranger to feed him the liquid, then grimaced and reached immediately for the mug she held. Knowing he was really too weak to hold the drink, Emma moved it to his lips for him and tipped it up, helping him drink until he gestured that he had had enough.
Setting the mug back on the table, she watched him anxiously, doing her best to ignore the man who still loomed at her side like an avenging angel.
After much muttering and shuddering to show his distaste of the medicine Emma had given him, Amaury sighed and glanced at the man. " 'Tis glad I am to see you, Little George." His voice was raspy from disuse, but stronger at least than it had first been, he noted with satisfaction as his friend smiled at him. "I take it your task was successful?"
Turning to the newcomer, Emma saw him nod one brief nod.
"Good." Amaury turned his attention to Blake and Rolfe, who had moved around the bed to stand where Maude had been but a moment ago. "What happened?"
"You were attacked by bandits," Blake informed him.
Amaury nodded as memory returned. "Six of them," he muttered grimly.
"Aye."
"I was taken unawares. They startled my horse. He unseated me," he admitted testily.
Blake raised his eyebrows at this news, for it was a rare occurrence indeed for Amaury to be taken unawares, let alone unseated.
"I killed four . . . nay, three. The fourth I only wounded, I think."
Blake nodded. "He got away."
"And the other two?"
"Dead."
"The arrow," Amaury murmured, as he recalled his own brief surprise at the sight of the shaft sticking out of the one man's back. That distraction had cost him dearly, he realized now, raising a hand to prod gently at the bandage Emma had used to bind his head.
Remembering the pain that had seemed to explode through his skull as he had gaped at the man, he grimaced. It had only been then that he had remembered the last man and his club. No doubt his assailant had fallen under an arrow as well, probably mere seconds after landing his blow with the club. Were that not the case, Amaury had no doubt he would be dead now.
"Two were struck down by arrow," Rolfe said, verifying his thoughts now.
"Whose arrow?" Amaury asked, frowning.
"Lord Darion," Alden told him excitedly.
He blinked at that. "Who?"
"Lord Darion. Lord Rolfe says he's a spirit of the woods."
Blake grinned slightly at the boy's excited face. "It seems, aside from a serious problem with bandits, you also have a mysterious lord of the forest on your hands. And lucky you are that you do, else you most likely would have died." Blake's smile faded as he added, "You have been unconscious these last three days."
"What?" Amaury was stunned to hear this.
"Aye, my lord," the bishop announced, stepping up behind Emma now to join the conversation. "Three days. We have been sore worried about you."
Amaury finally allowed his gaze to drop to his wife. He had avoided looking at her since first finding her bent over him smiling. That smile had been so bright it had almost hurt his head. He had been hard pressed to see why she would smile at him so. So far in their illustrious marriage he had given her little reason to do so
. Unfortunately, now that he wished to see her expression, her head was bowed, her thoughts hidden from him.