A Knight's Persuasion (10 page)

“Quite picturesque, really,” Kaine said. “Good for all kinds of pleasurable pursuits.”

Edouard snorted a laugh and, with a nudge of his heels, steered his horse down toward the river. Kaine seemed to think of naught else these days but seducing women. A pang of regret ran through Edouard, for he could only imagine what his best friend was enduring after his young wife’s death last winter from a virulent sickness. Kaine had loved her, and losing her had deeply wounded him.

The closest Edouard had come to love were his feelings for Juliana. Somehow, no other woman compared to his memories of her. Whether she was truly as exceptional as he recalled, or whether his recollections of her had distorted since last year, he’d soon find out, when he met her again.

Today.

His gut tightened another notch as he halted his horse and slid from the saddle. Holding the reins in one hand, he led his mount forward, his leather boots sinking into the mud as he strode into the shallows. Small fish scattered like tiny arrows in the water, while he inhaled the heady scents of moist earth and vegetation. When his horse lowered its head to drink, Edouard turned his face up to the sunlight. How good the sunshine felt on his skin.

Water trickled close by. “Ahh,” Kaine said, a sound of intense relief.

Edouard chuckled. As he relaxed his shoulders and glanced downriver, a pale object in the reeds snared his gaze. Frowning, he stepped farther into the depths to discern exactly what he saw.

A bare foot.

The muddy hem of a garment, swaying in the stirred-up waves.

He dropped the reins and crashed toward the reeds.

“What is wrong?” Kaine called.

The water grew deeper, soaking Edouard’s fine leather boots to the knee and the lower part of his mantle, but he forged on, his hand on the hilt of his sword. When he neared the portion of reeds crushed by the body, he slowed to assess the poignant scene before him.

The young woman lay on her left side. Her long, dark brown hair splayed in a grimy tangle across her face, hiding her features from his view. The ends of her tresses had tangled up in the reeds’ stems. As he edged nearer, he saw that her head was resting on her left arm; it stretched up as though to grab a handhold in the muddy bank. Her right hand, fingers as pale as scoured bone, looked about to plunge into the muck and lever her farther out of the water. To safety.

“Edouard?” Kaine shouted again, followed by splashed footfalls.

Edouard caught his breath as he slowly crouched, ignoring the tug of his mantle as it soaked up more water. Her grubby garment looked to be one used as sleeping attire, or a chemise usually worn under a gown. Not a coarsely woven piece of clothing, as a peasant might wear. Judging by the border of tiny, embroidered flowers along her sleeve, ’twas a garment of superior quality.

Foreboding buzzed through his mind, even as he reached out to gently move the hair from her face. He hoped she was still alive. She could tell him who she was, and what had befallen her.

Small waves lapped against her body as Kaine crashed closer to Edouard. “What have you—? God’s blood!”

“Aye,” Edouard said grimly.

“Is she alive?”

“I am not certain.” Edouard’s fingertips slid against her temple, easing the matted hair downward. At first touch, her flesh seemed deathly cold, but then . . . He sensed the faintest pulse of life’s blood.

As the mud-knotted skeins slid away, they revealed her closed eyes and sweep of thick lashes, the smooth slope of her cheek, and elegant jaw line.

He froze. He
knew
her.

She looked older than he remembered, her features those of a woman rather than a maiden.

Kaine sucked in a sharp breath.

Dismay and anger, suppressed from months ago, broke free on a flood of memories. Edouard trembled at their force, while shock raced through him to settle like a cruel iron band around his heart. “God’s blood,” he whispered. “Juliana.”

***

Darkness blanketed her mind. Blackness so thick and limitless, she was lost in it.

Lost . . .

She tried to draw together the fragments of her thoughts, to find herself, but the inkiness shifted. It wrapped around her consciousness, squeezing tighter and tighter, until the fragments disappeared. The darkness settled back into a vast swath of nothingness.

So . . . cold.

So . . . alone.

Pain throbbed somewhere in the muzzy reaches of her mind. Sounds—muffled, distorted—sifted down to her. They brushed against her thoughts, taunting her, with all that she couldn’t comprehend.

A tiny part of her began to struggle. To fight its way toward the origin of those sounds.

I am here. In the dark. Find me!

But the pain . . . It slashed down upon her, crushing her with its ruthless, invisible grip. Agony screamed within the huddled reaches of her being. How well the pain echoed the greater ache trapped inside her. That anguish hinted at something . . . ghastly.

I am here. In the dark. Lost!

The inkiness began to press in upon her.

She
had
to find her way out of the darkness.
Had to!

If only she knew why.

***

Unable to stop himself from shaking, Edouard smoothed his fingers down Juliana’s cheek. “Juliana, can you hear me?” He stared down at her ashen face, hoping his question got a response from her. However, he saw not the slightest sign that she’d heard him.

“Juliana!” he cried, his tone hoarsening. The horror of finding her like this churned within him. He longed to slam his fist into something solid, to channel his ferocious turmoil. Losing his temper wouldn’t help revive her, though, or assure her she was among friends. With a strangled groan, he caressed her face again.

“Why is she lying in the river?” Shock tautened Kaine’s voice. “What could have happened to her?”

“I do not know. But I will find out.”

Juliana had to live. She
had
to.

Pressing his lips together, deciding the best way to take her from the water, Edouard looked at the reeds crowding at her back. His gaze fell upon a dark stain between her shoulders. With sickening dread, he realized what he saw wasn’t mud, but blood.

The chill from the water seeped into his bones as he leaned over to examine the hair at her nape. Blood matted the strands together. A lot of blood. It had dried along her hairline and the neckline of her chemise. As his fingers eased aside the hair, an ugly, purplish mass came into view.

His stomach lurched.

“Someone hit her. Hard,” he said. “With a heavy object.”

Kaine exhaled a ragged breath. “What you mean is they aimed to . . . kill her?”

“Aye.” Rage and confusion burned inside Edouard. Who would want to murder her? Who had dumped her here, in the river? Who’d dare to consider her life to be as worthless as a sack of refuse?

He would know the truth!

“She was living with the Ferchantes, was she not?” Kaine asked. “Do you think his lordship knows of this incident?”

A very good question. One of many that had sped into Edouard’s thoughts. “Landon Ferchante may indeed have some answers. Right now, though, we need to ensure that she survives. We must get her dry and warm. She needs a healer.”

“There must be one in the village. Shall I ride ahead and find out?”

“I will send one of the others. If she wakes, she will know us. That may be a comfort to her.” Or, mayhap not, considering their disastrous prior encounters. She might tell him to get his wretched hands off her and never touch her again. He’d be delighted if she roused with the strength to scorn him.

Reaching down into the murky water, Edouard slid one arm under her upper body, gently tilted her toward him, and then slid his other arm under her knees. He lifted her into his arms. As he rose, water streamed from her gown and ran into his garments, soaking through to his skin. Her limp body slumped against him, her head falling to rest against his shoulder.

He looked down at her, wondering if by moving her he’d encouraged her to wake. Hoping,
hoping
, that he had. Her eyes remained closed. His heart squeezed at the pitiful blankness of her features.

When his gaze flicked down the rest of her body, a breath lodged in his throat, for he hadn’t anticipated how intimately her garment would reveal her feminine form. The muddy linen stuck to her body, defining the generous swell of her breasts, the outline of her nipples, and the curve of her hips. The thought of any other man seeing her this way, almost nude . . .

He glanced up, to see Kaine’s attention lift from Juliana. Jealous rage, so savagely hot he almost choked on it, flashed through Edouard. “Fetch my saddle blanket,” he ground out.

A flush darkened Kaine’s cheekbones. “A wise idea. I will bring mine, too.”

“Send one of the men into the village to find the healer.” Turning Juliana away from Kaine’s view, Edouard said, “I will wait here. The others cannot see her until she is covered.”

Water sloshed as Kaine plodded back to the bank. Edouard tightened his hold on Juliana, pressing her body even closer to his, hoping his body’s warmth might help revive her.

Hurry, Kaine. Hurry!

“What did his lordship find?” one of his men-at-arms said from the bank.

“A lady, wounded and near death. Later, there will be time for explanations,” Kaine said. “’Tis urgent we see to this woman’s well-being.” More conversation, less distinct, took place, and then Edouard heard the clatter of hooves as one of the men raced off.

Kaine returned to Edouard, two blankets tucked under his arm. “All is as you ordered.”

“Thank you.” Edouard slowly faced his friend. “I realize I will need your help to enwrap her . . .”

Kaine’s gaze steadily held his. “I am glad to assist.” Clearly doing his best not to look at Juliana’s bosom, he opened up Edouard’s blanket. Together, maneuvering her in Edouard’s arms, they managed to get the woolen covering all the way around her. Then Kaine unfolded his blanket partway and stretched it out over her.

“She must be warmer now,” he said.

“Warm enough, at least, till we can set her in a hot bath by a warm fire.” A shiver ran through Edouard, for his feet were turning numb inside his water-encased boots. But he wouldn’t think about his discomfort. All that mattered was saving Juliana.

With Kaine at his side, he headed toward the bank, taking care not to kick up waves and get water on the blankets. Her head shifted against him and her lips parted a fraction, revealing the even line of her front teeth. But she made no sound. Not the slightest cry or pained sigh.

“You are safe now, Juliana,” he murmured, willing her to hear him. “I swear, upon my soul, no one will hurt you like this again.”

Fear pressed in on him. Would she live, or was she so close to death her spirit would just slip away without him knowing? On the faintest breath . . . gone?

Nay. She wouldn’t perish that way. Such a strong, kind, beautiful woman deserved justice for the grievance done to her. If he could do naught else for her, he’d see her assailant captured and held accountable for the heinous crime.

As Edouard neared the water’s edge, his waiting men-at-arms exchanged glances. “Milord,” one of them called. “What are your orders?”

“Prepare to ride. The healer cannot be far from here.” Edouard’s boots met firm ground and, when he accidentally jostled Juliana, he cursed. He glanced back at Kaine. “Help me get Juliana onto my horse.”

“Shall we help?” another of the warriors asked.

Edouard shook his head. Juliana’s body might be well concealed, and they were trustworthy men, but the thought of others touching her in any manner . . .
Nay
.

Halting before his grazing horse, Edouard eased Juliana into Kaine’s waiting arms. Edouard mounted his steed, then, with his friend pushing her from below, pulled her up onto the saddle in front of him. He shifted her legs so she sat across his lap, settled the second blanket over her, then slid one arm around her body to draw her against him.

When he took up the reins, her wet head shifted into the crook between his head and shoulder. Edouard paid no heed to the water dripping down his neckline; he’d change his damp garments and dry off once she was in the healer’s care.

The faint puff of her breath tickled his skin. How intimate their posture must look from below—as though they were lovers. A notion he’d dispel if anyone made the assumption. He might resent his betrothal to Nara, but being an honorable man, he’d never abandon his commitment to her.

A long-ago memory of Juliana standing before him by the well, her tresses aglow with sunlight, flitted through his mind. How vibrant she’d looked that day. What he would give to see even a glimmer of that spirited woman now.

Find that strength of will, Juliana. Fight to open your eyes. Fight to live
.

Edouard glanced down at Kaine, preparing to climb up onto his mount. Hope lit his friend’s eyes. “Did she stir?”

“Nay.”

Kaine’s mouth flattened. He nodded once before he gathered up the reins and swung onto his horse’s back.

With the men-at-arms close behind, Edouard spurred his mount in the direction of the village. With each sway of his horse, Juliana rocked against him. Did the motion of the horse cause her pain? He hoped not.

Thatch-roofed cottages, some surrounded by wooden fences, came into view along the roadside. Closer to the village outskirts, hoofbeats, growing louder by the moment, reached them. Narrowing his eyes against the sun’s brightness, Edouard looked to the approaching rider: his man-at-arms that Kaine had sent to find the healer.

When the man drew near, Edouard called, “What did you learn?”

“The healer’s cottage is on the opposite side of the village, milord. According to the merchant I spoke to, though, she is not there.”

“Why not?” Frustration turned Edouard’s voice to a growl.

Disquiet flickered in the rider’s eyes. “She is at Waddesford Keep and has been for the past sennight. Apparently, she went to help Lady Ferchante give birth and has not returned.”

Edouard’s gaze again slid down to Juliana. A gut feeling told him the healer’s situation and Juliana’s were connected. How, exactly, he didn’t yet know.