A Laird for Christmas (15 page)

No matter. He was not giving up. Not yet. There had been a connection between them once. He could not ask for more than that right now. With a heavy heart, he forced himself to leave her door.

Looking at the stars had been a good start at turning Jane his way. She was not there yet. He had to think of another way to engage her heart, not just her mind.

S
even days remained until Jane had to choose a husband and marry him. It seemed an eternity, yet she knew it was not. However, today was not a day for another competition as other things required her attention. Today she needed to tend to the castle.

She had arranged for the men to spend the morning practicing their sword play. On the walk back to the castle last night, she could feel their restlessness. Perhaps a day of battling each other without her as the prize would help calm their nerves.

Jane gathered her cloak around her shoulders as she walked through the chill morning air. Her routine each morning was to check on the welfare of her castle. Today, however, she wondered how the serfs were fairing in the winter season. Without them, the castle would have no income. She would deliver gifts of food and coin to each family on St. Stephen’s Day, but she had best start her preparations for that event soon.

She walked from the keep, across the inner bailey, to the kitchen and bake house, through the inner gate and into the outer bailey. As she walked,
she considered what difficulties having sixty extra men in the guard, brought by her six suitors, had fallen to Angus and his men. More residents would no doubt affect Angus’s responsibilities, add expenses to the castle’s finances, create extra workload on the kitchens, and stretch the housing abilities of the servants’ quarters. She had wanted an army, and she’d been granted that wish. Now Jane hoped Angus and the others could manage the extra load.

Making her way toward Angus to ask him about the burden on the castle, Jane lifted the hem of her gown to keep it from getting soiled. Her low boots crunched in the layer of snow that still lingered despite the past two days of sunshine.

Jane greeted her people and listened to their needs as she progressed through the castle. She took in the sights that never ceased to fill her with pride—the pinkish-gray stone buildings, the well-kept mews and stable, the well-equipped forge, the outer buildings for the servants as well as the fine stained glass windows of the chapel. She had spent the last two years supervising and often working alongside the servants to wash every corner of the castle and rid it of the foul smells that had once been ever present. Now only the fresh breeze from the forest beyond filled every corner of Bellhaven.

Jane tipped her face up to the morning sun. The weak rays barely warmed the land, but even so, if she closed her eyes she could immediately see the castle as it would be in the summertime, with its lush gardens and loaded fruit trees. It was under her care and direction that the castle had become both desirable and profitable.

At the thought, she opened her eyes and her footsteps slowed. The gatehouse stood before her, closed to their enemies. But more threatening at the moment than her enemies were the men who had learned Jane was without protection. The Lord Fairfields of the world were eager to take what they could from an unprotected female. Adding to the danger was Jane’s newly acquire reputation as a woman easily seduced.

Jane drew in a sharp breath. On unsteady legs, she pushed herself to continue forward on her original mission. She could not undo what Nicholas’s
hurtful words had done to her reputation, but marrying one of her suitors would at least help her protect what she valued more than her virginity—her people and her castle.

Feeling stronger and more in control with every step, Jane proceeded toward where she knew she would find one of her most loyal servants.

Angus, who served as both steward and bailiff, saw her approach. The overly large man shuffled out to greet her. “Milady. How are ye this fine mornin’?”

“Can you tell me no one approaches to attack us?”

He bowed. “I can.”

“Then I am well and hopeful our situation will only improve,” she replied with a genuine smile.

“It already has improved.” Angus’s gaze shifted to the open field, where her suitors and their men took up arms against each other in a mock battle. The sound of steel striking steel rang throughout the outer bailey.

“Yes, but the question still remains, are they enough to keep Bellhaven safe?”

Angus folded his arms over his chest and nodded. “We’re better off than we were a few days’ past with sixty more men to defend this castle.”

That much was true. The warriors each of her suitors had brought with them increased their ability to fend off an attack. But it was not the fear of attack that filled her thoughts at the moment. Instead, her thoughts and her gaze shifted to her suitors.

After a brief conversation about how Angus fared with the extra men in the castle, Jane bid him a good morning. Her gaze still drawn by the men, she hurried to the bastion closest to the open field and entered the stone structure. She made her way up the stairs. At the top of the tower, she moved to the edge, peering through the crenellations.

Below, the men battled, unaware of her presence. Her suitors sparred, but not with the usual blunted swords. Nay, they used weapons with sharp blades and pointed tips. Jane tensed. What possessed them to take such chances with their lives?

David and Nicholas were paired against each other, giving and receiving forceful blows with their swords. They were equally matched, she thought, as she watched them move their lithe bodies up and down the field, neither tiring.

Lord Galloway and Colin fought each other with less fervor. Both had obvious talent. However, neither man seemed to have his heart in the battle.

Her gaze moved to the two remaining men. For a moment, Jane felt her knees go unsteady beneath her as Bryce came at Jules with a lethal strike.

Jules managed to block the blow just in time to avoid losing his head. He looked tired, unsteady, and pale.

Bryce growled and came at Jules again.

Jules met his sword, held it, but Jane could see the muscles of his arms quiver beneath the strain.

She held her breath as Bryce forced Jules’s sword down. Her cousin punched Jules in the stomach with his free arm, sending him to the ground. Bryce kicked his side.

Jules rolled, but he did not avoid Bryce’s booted foot as it connected with his head.

Jane clutched her hands together and prayed that Jules would find his feet. The man was still too weak from his incarceration to battle the others. She had not considered Jules’s strength when she had sent them off this morning.

Jane tried to cry out a warning as Bryce raised his sword. Her voice failed her. Her chest tightened. The sword came down, arcing toward Jules’s chest. He did not move, did not react.

Then Bryce went flying as Nicholas slammed into him. The two men landed in the snow. Bryce’s sword tumbled from his hand.

Lord Galloway scooped up the weapon, keeping it away from Bryce’s grasp.

Bryce cried out in rage as he scrambled to his feet.

Nicholas was up a heartbeat later, just in time to duck a fist aimed at his face.

Before Bryce got in another punch, David and Colin grabbed her cousin by the arms, pulling him back.

“Enough,” David shouted.

Nicholas hurried to kneel at Jules’s side. Jane held her breath until she saw Jules open his eyes. “I am not dead yet,” he croaked.

A rush of relief filled her. She clung to the stone for support. Then as though sensing her presence, Nicholas’s gaze lifted, connecting with hers.

He gave her a curt nod, then returned his attention to Jules, helping him to his feet.

“This is not over,” Bryce called as Nicholas led Jules away.

“It is over.” Colin jabbed Bryce in the ribs.

The man doubled over, then tried to shake himself free of the arms that held him. “Let me go.”

“Only if you promise to cool that hot head of yours,” Lord Galloway said impatiently.

Bryce shook himself free. “He started it.”

David strode to stand before Bryce, leaving only a handbreadth between them, his presence intimidating, his body vibrating with authority. “I am ending it. Now leave us.”

Bryce stepped back and turned away, heading for the inner bailey.

Jane straightened despite the fact she was suddenly weary. Bryce had always been a melancholic child, but he had never been violent. What had happened to him in the years since she had seen him? Something had to have happened. There had to be an explanation for his anger. Perhaps she should speak with him again and either force him to tell her what disturbed him so, or warn him to check his emotions or leave.

Right now, however, it was Jules who needed her attention. She never imagined the day would turn to disaster merely because she needed to attend to the castle’s business. Jane retraced her steps back to the keep, stopping near the hearth in the great hall to gather a basin of hot water and several strips of linen in case Jules had wounds that needed tending.

At the doorway to Jules’s chamber, Jane stood and looked at the man who lay in the bed. He was still as death. She entered the room and approached the bed. His eyes remained closed.

A small candle burned on the small table near the bed. The light was sufficient to illuminate Jules’s face. His lip was bleeding and one eye was rapidly swelling into a purple mass. He was still dressed in his jerkin and breeches, and the others who had helped him were nowhere in sight.

Jane set the water and linens on the table. She dunked in one strip of linen, wrung out the water, then applied the wet cloth to Jules’s bleeding lip. At the contact he groaned. “Jules?” she whispered as she wiped the blood away.

“Jane?” he rasped, and opened his eyes.

“How badly are you hurt?” She lowered herself to the bed, her gaze moving to his torso, his ribs, where Bryce had kicked him. A blossom of red stood out against the silver padded jerkin he wore. She pressed her fingers to his side and her fingers drew back bloody.

“It is not from Bryce,” Jules bit out.

Jane stiffened.

“ ’Tis a previous wound from gaol that Bryce reopened,” Nicholas said from the doorway. He entered the chamber holding large strips of linen and a dagger. Ollie followed behind him and busied himself at the fireplace, adding more logs and coaxing the flames to burn higher.

Nicholas sat on the bed across from Jane. It took him less than a breath to rip Jules’s jerkin down the front and pull it off his friend.

At the sight of Jules’s bare chest, Jane’s cheeks warmed until she saw what Nicholas had known all along. The exposed wound started at the base of his ribs and continued around to his back. Nicholas rolled Jules onto his side to reveal his entire back, laced with wounds.

Jane gasped. “A lashing?”

At her words, Nicholas tensed. His hands stilled for a heartbeat before he recovered. No doubt seeing his friend in such a state disturbed him. “This wound that starts on his side and goes around his back is the deepest.” He took the wet cloth from Jane’s hand and wiped away the blood. It was immediately replaced by fresh blood.

“As I suspected.” Nicholas brought his gaze to hers. “He is bleeding too fast to sew him together.” His voice was grim.

“The knife then?” Jules asked weakly.

Jane winced. Nicholas intended to seal the wound with a hot knife. She reached for fresh linen and pressed it against Jules’s wound. Perhaps if she just slowed the blood flow.

“I’m sorry, milady,” Ollie said as he thrust the knife into the fire. “At this point, only a knife will do. He’s been sufferin’ for too long.”

Jane nodded.

“Jules,” Nicholas coaxed softly. “There is no other way. After all you have been through, we cannot lose you now to a wound. The hot blade will hurt like the devil, but then you will be fine.”

Jules nodded and closed his eyes.

“Jane, your task will be to hold his shoulders. Do not let him roll onto his back.”

She pulled the cloth in her hands away and set it aside before placing her hands on Jules’s shoulders, holding them firmly.

Ollie handed Nicholas the thickly wrapped hilt. Even from a distance, Jane could feel the heat of the fiery orange blade.

Ollie positioned himself over Jules’s body and pushed the edges of the wound together.

Not hesitating, Nicholas pressed the hot knife to Jules’s flesh. Jules became, if possible, even paler than before, but he did not cry out.

The stench of burning flesh brought bile to Jane’s throat. She drew a sharp breath, hoping to steady her reaction. She could not be so weak, not when Jules was so brave.

With a steady hand, Nicholas sealed each section of the wound until it was closed.

“ ’Tis finished,” Ollie said, taking the knife from Nicholas’s hands. He returned a moment later with salve.

Nicholas gently raised Jules into a sitting position and applied the soothing salve, then spread more across the other lash marks on Jules’s back before
wrapping a bandage around his ribs. When he was done, he settled Jules back against the pillows.