The Lost Lady Page 22

  Though he wished to defend the lady, he knew that he would never step in front of the Wolf willingly.

  It looked as if the lady didn’t need his help anyway. She scolded the lord in return and left to enter the far tent. Thomas gulped down what little was left of his meal and followed her. He felt the Wolf’s eyes on him as he let the tent flap fall back into place.

  Luveday replayed the conversation with Lord Iain as she checked the men one final time. Ellie had already gone to bed, as had the other women. She was left to herself, except for Thomas, who worked on something in the opposite corner of the tent. She had the feeling he would not go to bed until she did, though she knew he was as exhausted as she was.

  That Iain had tried to bully her into going to bed, like she was some disobedient child, had rankled her tired nerves.

  “All fine ladies are abed, Luveday.” He took in the smudges under her eyes, the stains on the old gown that she wore, and the harsh sent of soap that seemed to cling to her.

  “I have a bit more work to do tonight, My Lord.” She searched him for wounds, but while he looked rough, he looked whole. The sigh that escaped her was one of relief. She had not let herself think of him out on the battlefield. Fear for the men of Lander’s Keep was enough to stop her dead in her tracks if she let it get even a foothold in her head. She tried to focus again, though ignoring the danger to her friends was the hardest thing she had ever done. “I hear you carried the field today.”

  “There was never any doubt.” He said offhandedly, and she had the sudden urge to kick him.

  Luveday closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath.

  His harsh words met her unforgiving ears. “You should be in bed. ‘Tis not proper for you to work through the night.”

  “Proper?” She choked. “Death doesn’t care what the hour is. I will work until the work is done.”

  “Luveday!” he growled. “It is not safe among these men. A young Lady must think…”

  “I am thinking, not as a Lady but as a woman. If these were my men, if these were my people, I would want the best for them, someone to care whether they lived or died, not how much they will pay to live. I am here to heal, Iain. I am here to work, and I will not go to bed until I have done my best to make sure these men survive the night.” He didn’t look chastised, he looked angry. “If you will excuse me, My Lord.”

  She had turned and left to return to the tents. It had been some time since that argument if that was what anyone would call it. She had finished up, checking the men and medicating many for the night. She cleaned the workroom with harsh soap and a stiff brush, before using what remained of the hot water to take care of herself.

  After wishing Thomas a brief goodnight, she made her way back to the tent. Iain sat on his pallet in the dark, waiting. The moon illuminated the sides of the tent and she could easily make out his outline as he watched her duck behind the partition they had set up so that the women could change. There was a bowl of water that had gone cold, but the liquid was refreshing on her skin. She washed down as quickly as she could and donned the tunic and shorts she wore to sleep in.

  Ellie snored softly as Luveday slipped into bed beside her. She didn’t look at Iain, though she knew he didn’t lay down for some time. She listened to him settle down before letting sleep overtake her.

  Days passed, and the two armies seemed to be evenly matched. Though casualties were fewer than she had imagined, there were still dozens of men flocking to the healing tents each day. Fortunately, most of the injuries were minor enough to send the men back to their tents, with the promise that they would return to have their bandages changed or if their situation worsened. Several men were released from her care and returned to their tents and their comrades. Some even took up their swords to join in the fray after word had gone out that the Wolf De Lane had arrived. Men talked of making history, Luveday listened half-heartedly. She had lost only two men thus far, and she prayed with fervor as she worked that the Lord would grant her the wisdom and the strength to see this through.

  It was no surprise when Mistress Adela appeared, bundled against the cold, to inform her that she and Lady Christabel would be returning home to Lander’s Keep. They had seen enough of battle and were too grieved for the men. The mistress looked bone wary, and she could see Christabel’s complexion was too pale with tints of green as she watched the men being carried into the tent with a look of disgust mixed with horror. She used her cloak to hide her face, or perhaps it was to guard against the gut-wrenching smell of blood and death.

  “You will inform Lord De Lane, Lady?” Adela looked on her with pity. Luveday knew the sight of her must be distressing as she was elbow deep in blood, with unmentionable stains on the apron that barely protected her garments. She returned Adela’s weak smile with one of her own. Luveday knew the pity was not directed at her, but at the men, she was trying to save. The look in her eyes said the mistress knew all too well the cost of war.

  “I will as soon as I see him. Good journey, Mistress Adela, and please extend my well wishes to your lady.” She nodded to Christabel who refused to come any closer.

  “I will, Lady. Bless you.” The old nurse turned to go.

  Luveday found herself calling out. “Wait, Mistress.” Adela turned back in concern. “How soon do you leave?”

  A brief glance over her shoulder, confirm her lady’s impatience. “As soon as possible, within the hour I should think. Lord Frasier is sending men home, and they shall see us part of the way. A few of Lord Sumerland’s men are here, though My Lady’s father was kept away. The men shall see us to Lander’s Keep as all of Lord De Lane’s men are on the field.”

  She was thinking quickly, though why the urge came upon her, she didn’t know, but she knew with a certainty she couldn’t explain, that it was the right thing to do. “Can you take one more with you? I would like to send young Elysant home.”

  Adela placed a comforting hand on the young woman’s shoulder. Luveday smiled to thank the old nurse for her understanding. Ellie had cried herself to sleep two nights in a row, the girl looked haggard, even more so than Luveday who had seemed to hit her stride. The girl was miserable and frankly, Luveday didn’t like the way some of the men were looking at her friend. “I will have her ready in a half hour. Coll can escort her to you.”

  “We can wait for her, Lady.” Adela didn’t repeat her farewells but left with her lady and the man who had escorted them across the camp. Luveday cleaned herself up and washed her hands as she thought quickly.

  “Coll!” She called out. The boy had been there, but a moment ago. “Coll of Norhthelm Keep.”

  A voice rang out from a way away. “Here! I am here, Lady Luveday!” A moment later the boy appeared running for her as if the hounds of hell were chasing him.

  Luveday stepped aside, or he would have run right into her. She caught his shoulders as he almost tumbled over, trying to stop himself. He panted and grinned at her like the young boy he was. “You called, My Lady?”

  Coll had been running errands for her as his lord had kept him off the field. She imagined the squire was Iain’s eyes and ears, and happily repeated everything that happened to his master.

  “I need you to pack Elysant’s belongings as quickly and neatly as you can. She will be returning home with Lady Christabel and Mistress Adela.” She looked at the boy, he looked saddened at the news but nodded as if he understood. She guessed she wasn’t the only one who saw how miserable Ellie was. “Do you know Lord Frasier’s tent?” At his affirmative Luveday continued issuing orders. “When you are done packing, escort Ellie there, the party is leaving within the hour, so you will need to be quick. They will be waiting for her.” The boy straightened as if he felt the burden of responsibility. “Understood?”

  “Yes, My Lady! You can count on me!” Like a flash, the boy was gone again.

  Luveday spotted Ellie helping Clair, a camp follower about her own age. The two had become friends as Ellie had taught the girl what little healing sh
e knew. Clair had returned the favor, showing some skill with herbs and ointments that even Luveday did not know. The girl had a sensible head on her shoulders and eyes that said she had seen too much, but she was a constant help and would be a fine replacement in Ellie’s absence.

  Luveday cleaned herself up as quickly as she could and walked over to the girls, giving Thomas a look as he stuck his head out of the tent in search of her. “Ellie.” She called. Both girls turned to her, Ellie paled a bit. Luveday suddenly realized the strain she had unknowingly placed on her friend. Healing was a burden, one that Ellie had taken up for a friend, not because the girl had a calling or aptitude for it. Ellie was willing to help any way she could, and Luveday felt she had taken advantage of that, not fully realizing the toll it was taking on the girl.

  “Ellie, I need you to get cleaned up. Take some of the bread and cheese with you. I am sending you home with Lady Christabel and Mistress Adela.” The girl looked at her for a moment, and tears filled her eyes. Without warning, she wrapped herself around Luveday who hugged her friend back as fiercely as Ellie was holding on to her.

  The whispers that reached Luveday’s ears weren’t words protesting against abandoning her but of gratitude. “Thank you, Luveday.” Tears filled the lady’s eyes as she realized that Ellie’s tears were a sign of her relief.

  “I’m so sorry, Ellie.” She whispered back. “If I had known…”

  Elysant let go and sniffed as she shook her head. “No, I wanted to come, I wanted to help, but…” the girl couldn’t finish.

  “I know. I know.” She said around the lump in her own throat. “Coll is packing your things, Frasier’s caravan leaves shortly. Coll will escort you to the tent.”

  Elysant looked at the plain tent that had sheltered them during the cold nights. She would not miss it, though she longed to ask Luveday to come with her, she knew that her friend was doing good. Luveday was truly saving lives, and Ellie would not selfishly ask her to leave. She knew that Luveday would not come anyway.

  “You will be safe?” She asked Luveday.

  “I will take precautions. You be safe; it is a long journey home.” They hugged again. “I will miss you. Keep Lady Emmalyn from getting into trouble while I am gone.”

  Ellie laughed. “Someone will have to.” She couldn’t quite make herself let go of Luveday’s hand and gave it another squeeze. “I will miss you.” She turned to Clair whose sad smile reflected their own. “I will miss you too, Clair. It was good to meet you.”

  Clair looked as if she too might cry, as she pushed a strand of dark hair behind her left ear. “It was good to work beside you, Elysant. Perhaps we will meet again.”

  “Yes, perhaps. Be safe.” She said, and Elysant ran to the tent. She and Coll were seen a moment later, moving quickly through the tents towards the center of camp.

  Luveday didn’t wait to see her friend off, more injured were arriving, and Thomas needed her help. She hoped that he would ignore her puffy eyes and focus on their work as that was exactly what she planned to do.

  Blood dripped onto the ground in a steady rhythm. The sound was like the ticking of a clock in the silent tent. Luveday was breathing hard as she whipped her brow, trying to ignore the blood that coated her hands and made it hard to hold the needle she was using to stitch up the abdomen of the faceless man on her work table.

  The figure beside her, who she vaguely recognized as Thomas, was saying something that she didn’t quite catch. She was annoyed with him for breaking her concentration, but couldn’t stop to tell him so.

  No, she was running out of time. The body before her was moved, carried away as a hand came to rest on her shoulders. She was too hot and couldn’t take a breath; it felt as if she was smothered yet she still felt the bite of cold air across her cheeks.

  Noises at the tent flap drew her attention. Another man was being carried in. The voices of the men were rough and urgent, though they fell on deaf ears. Luveday immediately recognized the injured man. As he was put on the table, she saw that his armor had been removed and what clothes remained were shredded. Deep wounds marred his broad chest and blood flowed freely in rivers over his sides. Luveday froze as tears clogged her throat and blurred her vision. Thomas urged her forward, to look, to work, but she felt like someone had taken a knife to her heart. A stone dropped to the pit of her stomach as she nearly doubled over with the emotions she was feeling. The pain was unbelievable. Tears ran down her face unchecked as she moved closer and tried to focus. She played the mantra again in her head, the words that helped her concentrate and shut out the world around her, but he chose that moment to look at her. Suddenly conscious and asking for her help, she placed her hands over his wounds as if she could hold back the flow of blood as if her touch alone could heal him. His wounds were great gashes of ripped flesh, and they were too many. There was nothing she could do. There was no way to save him.

  With his last breath, Iain De Lane said only one word; one word that tore her very soul to pieces. “Luveday.”

  Luveday opened her eyes as pain radiated through her. She couldn’t tell where she was or what was going on in the darkness that engulfed her. Iain’s voice echoed in her head until she realized that the urgent whisper wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Still caught in the dream, she didn’t think before she acted. She tore the furs and linens from her body and moved the short distance that separated them until she was at Iain’s side.

  He was up, leaning on an elbow as he looked over at her palette. Her distress had awoken him, and he was a moment away from getting up to come to her. Her sudden movement startled him, especially as she reached him, pushing him onto his back and began ripping off his coverings to run her warm hands over his body. She mumbled to herself, her words not making any sense to him. He tried not to react as he let her finish the examination. In the dim light he could make out the shine of tears on her cheeks, but couldn’t bring himself to stop her, or even to speak.

  She collapsed on top of him with a suddenness that alarmed him, and it took a moment to realize that she was embracing him. Her tears continued to fall; he felt the wetness as it hit his bare shoulder. Gathering her close he tried to comfort her. Her head was nestled in the crock of his neck, her hair caressed the side of his face and only then did he hear her clearly.

  “You are alright. You’re alright. It was just a dream.” Luveday seemed to be getting a hold of her emotions. “It was just a nightmare. You’re not hurt. Just a dream.”

  Iain was stunned by the implications of her words. As she pulled back, he tried to look her in the eye while he brushed the tears from her soft cheek. “Are these tears for me, Love?”

  His voice jolted her from the remnants of her nightmare. Was it his tone or the use of her childhood nickname? Either way, reality came rushing back. Luveday was suddenly aware that she was draped over Lord Iain De Lane, who she knew had a preference for sleeping in the nude, or in as little clothing as possible, even in the frigid fall air. In fact, her mind took a moment to point out, she hadn’t felt any clothing whilst she had examined him for injuries. She berated herself for her foolishness as she thanked the Lord that it was too dark to see the blush that was turning the upper half of her body a flaming pink.

  She tried to pull away, but Iain was having none of it. The lady was finally in his arms, and he wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass him by. If he had been fully awake, his mind would have let loose a bevy of reasons why his current plan of action was a foolish idea that would only lead to catastrophe. He wasn’t quite there and whatever protests his better half offered up, where easily ignored as he focused on the feel of the soft curves that encased the willful woman in his arms.

  Luveday had continued to argue with him over the ten days since their arrival. He spent his days locked in a contest of wills on the battlefield and came back to spar words with her in the evenings. He had never met a woman so stubborn, and so driven to do good. She had seen to half the camp by the end of the first week. Those who doubted a w
oman’s skill had begrudgingly come to her once they found out that her services didn’t require coin, and Iain had made sure that the men weren’t confused about what other services she offered. Whispers of miracles ran through the camp. Luveday had seen the worst this battle had to offer, and she hadn’t given up; she had helped the men pull through though he didn’t know how some of the wounded had survived. Luveday wouldn’t stop her ministrations until she was sure the work was done for the day, and no amount of badgering or persuasion on his part would make her find her rest a moment earlier.

  Iain marveled at how such an iron-willed woman could be so soft, but he knew Luveday’s heart bled with the pain she witnessed, and it was her will and determination alone that saw her through. How he longed to help and comfort her, especially when her efforts proved in vain, but he was her Lord and Luveday, like himself, had set the boundaries of their relationship months ago. Neither had dared to cross the line in the sand, but he no longer cared. She had wept for him.

  Pulling her closer, he wrapped the linens and furs around them to fight off the chill. “Shhh, easy lass.” He whispered into the darkness. Luveday’s breathing had settled, but still ran a little fast, from the remnants of her dream or from his nearness, he could not say. Their warm breaths mixed as she tried to pull away again. She reminded him of a skittish colt, curious but ready to run. Shivers raced down her frame as she lay down, the cold was fierce tonight, no doubt another layer of snow would greet them in the morning, and he thanked it for the excuse it afforded him.

  “Easy, love.” He helped her settle next to him, turned her into his side, into his heat and he could barely stop himself from running his hands over her. Her legs were bare under the tunic she wore to bed. He had gotten a glimpse of her attire one night when an alarm was raised, and she rushed back to the healing tent to aid Thomas Moore. He growled to think of the way the healer looked at her, but she was in his arms now, and nothing could take her from him.