Averill let the bit of bread she'd picked up drop back to the table. She had no idea if all redheads had tempers as superstition claimed, but certainly she and her mother had. However, Averill's mother, Margaret, had had it pounded into her from the cradle never to let that temper reign, and she had managed to keep a stern leash on it all the days of her life. Even her husband, Averill's father, was ignorant of Lady Margaret's temper. Lady Mortagne had also remonstrated with Averill from a very young age that she must do the same...and she had. Like her mother, Averill was always in control of her temper. Even when the last suitor had sneered to her face that he would never marry a redheaded she-devil with the mark of Satan on her face and lacking the brains God gave most, Averill had controlled her temper. She had not spat in his face and run her claws down his cheek as she'd wished. She'd bit her tongue, literally, smiled sweetly, and went straight up to her room. There, she'd forced herself to lie down and stare at the ceiling until the desire to howl and throw things had passed, and she'd regained control of herself.
However, alcohol could very well steal that control from her and reveal to one and all that she did indeed have the temper redheads were reputed to have, and that while she behaved as she should and presented a sweet disposition to the world, she often wanted to kick people in the shins and run away...at least for a while.
Averill grimaced as the thought made her recall the one time she'd lost her temper--the day she'd kicked the captain of the guard in the shin because he wouldn't take her to her brother, then had quite literally run away. That was the one time her temper had been displayed. It was then her mother had started her campaign to make Averill control her temper.
She bit her lip and glanced toward the stairs to the upper hall, suddenly wondering just how much of that tale Kade had been awake to hear. She'd thought him sleeping or never would have told it, but then he'd asked his question...At the time she'd been so startled and happy to know he had come out of his unnatural sleep that she hadn't even considered that he had heard the tale of her youthful temper tantrum. She fretted over it briefly but then pushed the worry away. All at Mortagne knew about that incident and thought nothing of it. Only her mother had recognized it as a show of the terrible temper her daughter carried, and she had promptly set out to be sure Averill gained and kept control of it.
Her gaze flickered as Will appeared at the top of the stairs. Distracted from her worries about her father's plan, Averill noted the three Scots behind him. As the men began to descend the stairs, she felt a smile curve her lips. Morning meal forgotten, she stood and moved toward the stairs. Now she could go look in on Kade.
"Close your eyes."
Kade scowled at the old woman, Mabs, and waved her away impatiently. "I am fine. Let me be."
"Your head aches, doesn't it? This will help," she snapped, pushing his hands away.
She performed the action as easily as if I were a babe, Kade thought bitterly, and considering how weak he was, it was an apt description. While he was a little stronger this morning and could at least lift his hands, he was still weak enough that he couldn't even fend off an old woman. That was a bitter brew to swallow for a warrior like him, he acknowledged, as she leaned forward with a cold, damp cloth in hand.
Kade scowled, but he closed his eyes just seconds before she laid the cloth over them. The harsh sunlight spilling through his open shutters was immediately blocked out, and he sighed with relief as the cool damp soaked into the skin around his eyes, soothing away some of the aching that had come on while he'd been talking with his men and Will.
"Feels better, doesn't it?" the old crow challenged.
When Kade merely grunted, she chuckled her amusement, the sound the closest to a cackle that he'd ever heard. It made him wish once again that Averill was there.
When he'd awakened at the crack of dawn, Kade had been less than pleased to find the old harpy at his bedside instead of Will's sister. Where Averill's voice had been sweet and soothing, this woman's was testy and sharp, and her care had been a bit less than gentle so far. She'd handled him like a side of beef as she'd gone about washing him and rolling him about to change the bedding. The whole experience had been unpleasant and humiliating for a man used to fending for himself, and he was quite sure that had Averill been here to tend to those tasks, it would have been a different ordeal entirely.
Even worse, after all that, all the old woman would allow him to consume was broth and mead. Kade wanted solid food. He wanted to start rebuilding his strength. However, when he'd said as much, she'd merely announced that Lady Averill had ordered that he wasn't yet allowed solid food. Apparently, the maid was loyal to Averill and her orders. Certainly, none of his griping or demands had moved her to go against them.
The sound of the door opening caught his ear, and Kade almost held his breath as he waited to hear who it was. A small smile of relief almost graced his lips when he smelled spice and flowers and heard Averill's soft voice greeting Mabs. The soft patter of her footsteps followed.
"Oh, dear," she exclaimed, sounding as if she were right next to the bed. "Why the cold compress? Are his eyes still bothering him, Mabs?"
"Nay," Kade said at once, but the soft growl was drowned out by Mabs's voice as she said, "Aye. After being closed so long, they are not yet adjusted to the light. Keep the cold compress on him as long as you can today. 'Twill help speed his healing."
Kade scowled as he heard Averill's murmured agreement, then listened as the women moved off toward the door. They were talking softly, but after a moment they fell silent, and there was the sound of the door opening and closing.
"Well." Averill's voice flowed over him as soft and sweet as he remembered. There was a quiet rustle as she seated herself, and Kade smiled and inhaled the scent that drifted to him on the air. And then she asked, "Are you feeling better this morning?"
Kade lifted his hand, intending to remove the cloth covering his eyes so that he could see her, but she caught it and urged the hand back down to the bed.
"Best just to leave the compress for now. It may help your eyesight return more quickly," she said. As soft as the words were, there was steel beneath them, and her grip on his hand was firm before she released it. She then patted it, and added, cheerfully, "Besides, there's nothing worth seeing here anyway, just a bed, a chair, the fireplace, and some sunlight."
"There's you," Kade said quietly, and it brought a soft laugh that had a wry edge to it.
"Believe me, I am hardly worth risking a headache to see," she assured him.
Kade frowned at her words, recalling waking to her lamenting over her father's efforts to marry her off and the cruel insults of the men he'd chosen. It made him more curious than ever to see her, but he left the compress on for now, biding his time. Strength and skill with a sword were not the only reasons he had been a renowned warrior before being captured and imprisoned. Intelligence was an important factor and, despite his illness, he still had that. Kade knew when to bide his time and await his moment, and this was one of them. He didn't wish to make Will's sister uncomfortable or upset her, so he would await his chance, Kade decided, and turned his attention to her, as she asked, "Are any of your men riding out with messages for your family?"
When he hesitated, she added, "Will told me that your mother passed on before the Crusades, but that you have a sister, two brothers, and a father still. He didn't wish to write and give them false hope until we were positive you would recover, but I am sure they must be very anxious to hear news of you."
Kade's mouth tightened slightly at the suggestion. He doubted his father and brothers had been sober enough even to wonder about him the last three years, but his little sister was another matter entirely. Merry would be fretting over him.
"I sent all three men," he admitted, then explained, "I had more than the one task for them to perform."
"Ah," she said, and proved her understanding of the male mind by asking curiously, "Did they fuss about leaving you here alone?"
Kade
smiled faintly at her intelligence, for indeed they had fussed at leaving him here at Mortagne without someone to watch his back. He considered denying it, but decided to give her the truth. "Aye, they fussed like old women, insultin' yer brother mightily, I'm sure, but I insisted they go." Grimacing, he added, "I doona need them hangin' over me while I recover, and I'm safe enough here in Will's home. I trust him."
"And he trusts you," Averill said softly.
Kade nodded silently, not doubting it for a minute. They'd had to learn to trust each other while enslaved. It was how they'd survived, by watching each other's backs. He, his men, and Will hadn't been the only prisoners in their jail. There had been others, former residents of towns and cities that Baibar had razed. Most of the populations were killed, he'd been told, but some had been kept to perform manual labor for their new "masters," men who had fed them little but dribbles of gruel and rotten vegetables, and had worked them quite literally to death under the hot desert sun.
Wanting them weak and malleable, the food had never been enough for everyone, and men had been killed by their own prison mates for little more than a crust of bread or a mouthful of swill. But the number who died at the desperate hands of one of their own was nothing next to those who were beaten and worked to death. Kade had quickly stopped counting the men who had died under the baking sun.
"Will said the escape was your plan."
He smiled wryly but didn't tell her that the plan had come to him quite suddenly, and his only regret was that it hadn't come to him before that. Had he come up with it sooner, more of his men would yet be alive.
"Will said you threw the keys to him and ordered him to let the other men out, then took on both guards yourself with the stolen sword while he did," Averill continued quietly. "That was brave."
"That was desperation," he countered dryly, and admitted, "After our time in prison, I was in no shape to fight two on me own."
"And yet you did," Averill said simply.
Kade shrugged where he lay, his ego not allowing him to explain that it was sheer good fortune that had helped him in this instance. Before he'd been captured and starved for three years, he would have taken on three men or more without a thought or worry...and been the victor, but he knew it was only the fickle hand of fate that had seen him through their escape alive. Had Will not managed to free the others from their cells as quickly as he had to help him in the battle, they would no doubt all be dead right now.
A yawn suddenly claimed Kade, stretching his mouth almost painfully wide, and he raised a hand to cover the wide maw, bumping the cold compress upward as he did. When the yawn ended, he let his hand drop back to the bed without straightening the cloth and murmured an apology for his rudeness.