My Valiant Knight (28 page)
For a moment Ainslee did, not know what he was talking about, then memory flooded her. She tried to reach up to touch her shoulder, then decided there was no need. She could feel the wound. The fact that it was not as painful as it ought to be told her that she had been out of her senses for some time.
“How long have I been ill?”
“Four days.” Gabel decided to keep his answers short for fear that he would begin to babble and tell her far more than she was ready to hear.
“I am back at Bellefleur?”
“Aye. I brought you here for you could be better cared for, Kengarvey had little shelter and few supplies.”
“Kengarvey,” she whispered. “How are my brothers? How many died? Does the keep—” Her eyes widened when he placed a finger on her lips to silence her. “Do ye fear to tell me? Is the news so bad that ye think I shall fall back under a fever again?”
“Nay. I but want you to be quiet. You have lain abed wracked with a fever for four days, near to five, if one counts the day you were wounded. You should not use up what little strength you have regained in asking a lot of questions. Ah, Ronald,” he said when the older man hurried into the room.
To his relief Ronald took over, hushing Ainslee, cleaning her, and dressing her in a clean gown. Gabel used the time to compose himself. One of the things he had grieved over as she had lain so ill, was the possibility that he had lost all chance of telling what was in his heart. The words had swirled in his head every minute she had been ill, and they now sat on the end of his tongue, fighting to be said. He knew he was close to giving into the urge to tell her everything he felt, but now was not the time. If nothing else, she might accept his words and reply in kind out of gratitude for all he had done, or she could be too weak to refuse him. He dreaded the thought that she might not return his feelings, but the idea that she would accept him without really wanting to, out of gratitude and mayhaps even pity, was even harder to bear.
When Ronald stepped up to him and helped himself to some wine, Gabel glanced back at the bed and saw that Ainslee’s eyes were closed again. “She has not fallen back into a fever, has she?”
“Nay,” Ronald replied. “The lass is just weak, and my attentions wearied her. ’Tis just as weel that ye werena at her bedside, for the lass can have a foul blasphemous tongue at times.”
Gabel grinned, knowing that Ainslee’s ill temper was a good sign. She might be weak in body, but her spirit was still strong. He was sure that was what had helped her fight off the fever.
“Do you believe she will now begin to truly recover?”
“Aye. The wound has been healing weel despite her fever, and her eyes and mind are clear. She will be verra weak for a while, and we shall have to bear the bite of her tongue, for she will try to do more than she ought, sooner than she ought.”
“She will stay in her bed until you say otherwise. Aye, even if I must bind her to it.”
Ronald laughed and finished off his wine. “The evening meal is being set out. Do ye wish to go to the hall? I can sit with her.”
“Nay. You go and have a page bring some food up here, enough for me and for Ainslee. She may not be able to eat much yet, but her appetite will soon return.”
“Aye, and ’twould be best if she ate hearty for a while, to regain her lost strength and some of that lost weight. The lass is naught but skin and bone.”
“Ah, but ’tis most fair skin and bone.”
Gabel laughed at Ronald’s look of disgust. When the man left a moment later, after one final look at his patient, Gabel returned to his seat by the bed. He discovered himself constantly brushing his hand over Ainslee’s forehead and cheeks, and smiled at his own foolishness. When she had been ill, he had been constantly looking for a sign that the fever had lessened or left, and now that it had, he kept looking for its return. He knew, however, that he also sought reassurance that she really was on the path to recovery.
It was late before Gabel finally sought his own bed and left Ainslee in the care of Morag. She had only woken up once more, but her eyes had still been clear, and she had eaten some solid food. As Gabel settled himself in his bed, he knew he would be able to sleep soundly for the first time since she had been sent back to Kengarvey.
Gabel met Ainslee’s glare calmly. In the four days since her fever had broken, she had become more and more belligerent, fighting everyone’s commands even though they were in her own best interest, her good health all that concerned people. He decided that she needed to be told just how badly she was behaving and, if she had not thrown him from the room, he would then have a more serious talk with her. The temper and spirit she was showing told him that she could hear his proposal and reply to it honestly. He no longer feared that weakness or gratitude could force her to agree when she did not really wish to. She was showing very little of either at the moment.
“Do you doubt Ronald’s knowledge of the healing arts?” he asked her as he helped her settle herself against the pillows Morag had plumped up before she had fled the room.
“Nay, of course not,” Ainslee said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring down at her blanket-covered toes.
“Yet you question everything he says you must do to recover.”
“He kens how to heal people, but he can also be a fretful old woman.”
“Considering how ill-tempered you are, I really do not think he would want to keep you abed any longer than he needed to. You make life most unpleasant, and any sane man would wish to see an end to that.” He met her angry look with perfect calm and a hint of condemnation.
“I havena been quite so bad,” she muttered.
“You have been almost intolerable. ’Tis only the understanding of those who tend to you that keeps you from being left completely alone.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, and took her hand in his when she flushed and would not look at him again. “I understand how infuriating illness can be to one who is unaccustomed to being abed and unable to do much of anything. Did you think I had passed so many years as a knight without getting a scratch?”
Ainslee sighed, slumped back against her pillows, and gave him a crooked apologetic smile. “Nay. Have I outdone ye in ill humor and ingratitude?”
“I should like to say aye, but I suspect there are those here who would be quick to argue that.”
“I am sorry, and I shall apologize to the others when they dare to draw near me again.” She shook her head. “My wound doesna trouble me much and I feel hale enough, yet the fever robbed me of most of my strength. My mind and heart say that I am weel enough to get up and to do something, yet my body shakes and trembles from weakness and willna allow me to move. ’Tis maddening and, since I canna thrash myself, I take my temper out on others. I dinna try to excuse my poor manners, just to try and tell ye where they spring from.”
He brushed a kiss over her lips, laughing softly when she curled her arm around his neck and stole a deeper kiss from him. When he pulled away a little, forcing his passion aside, he shook his head as he grinned at her. “You are certainly not strong enough for that yet.”
“ ’Twould nicely pass the time. After all, if I must lie abed all the day—”
“Do not try to tempt me,” he admonished genially as he pulled away.
Ainslee sighed. “Ye need not keep me company if ye have work to do.”
“I have a great deal of work to do, but I have decided that you have recovered enough for one thing.”
“And what is that?” she pressed when he just looked at her, saying nothing and his expression unsettlingly somber.
“We must talk, and I have thought o’er this moment for days, weeks even, yet suddenly I found it hard to speak.”
“Now ye are truly making me uneasy.”
Ainslee tried not to let her fears show. Was he about to tell her that she would be returned to Kengarvey as soon as she was well enough to travel? He was her laird now. Perhaps he had even arranged a suitable marriage for her. She cursed herself for a fool for thinking that his bringing her back to Bellefleur meant anything more than a kind concern for her well-being. She had been injured and had even saved his life, so he had brought her to the one place where he had known she could get the best care. Although she had told herself that time and time again, she now realized that she had not really listened to herself.
“ ’Tis nothing so ominous.” He stared at her hand, idly running his thumb over her knuckles. “I have not treated you well, Ainslee.”
“What nonsense.” She pressed her lips together when he gave her a quelling glance.
“This will not go smoothly if you insist upon interrupting me.”
“I will be quiet.”
“Good. Now, I have treated you poorly. I bedded you, yet continued to search elsewhere for a wife. In that I insulted you, treating you like some whore. Although, I swear to you that I ne’er once thought of you in such a denigrating way.” He grimaced and shook his head. “I am doing this poorly.”
“Then mayhaps ye should cease trying to explain so much, and just say what ye wish to.”
“Aye, although I did feel that I had a lot to atone for ere I asked you the question that appears to be stuck in my throat.”
She reached out to caress his cheek and smiled faintly. “I can think of nothing ye need to atone for, but, if it will make ye feel better, then I forgive ye for all those little wrongs ye have convinced yourself ye committed.”
“Thank you—I think.” He took both of her hands between his and looked at her. “What I wish to ask is—will you be my wife?”
Ainslee stared at him. She had heard the words, but doubted her own ears. There had been no preamble of love words, no talk of how he had decided he could not live without her, simply the blunt question. She could not even read what emotions he felt in his expression, which was one of tense waiting.
“Ye dinna need to wed me just because ye have taken my maidenhead,” she said carefully, afraid he was acting out of a sense of honor. “And ye certainly dinna need to do this because I took the arrow that was meant for you.”
“I do it for none of those reasons. I want you to be my wife. I would have asked you the moment you awoke from your fever, except that I was afraid you would say aye for all of the wrong reasons. I wanted your mind clear, your spirit back, and some of your strength back as well. Ainslee, I had some very strange ideas of what I needed in a wife, and I had clung to them for so long that I was unable to accept any change in my plans. It was not until I thought I had put you out of my reach that I realized I wanted you, that you would make me a very fine wife.”
“And what does your family think of this?”
“Everyone at Bellefleur is pleased, and most wonder why I took so long.” When she said nothing, he touched a kiss to her frowning mouth and asked, “If you do not wish me for a husband, you need but say nay.”
“I dinna want to say nay.” She grimaced. “I fear ye have taken me so by surprise that I canna think of what I wish to say. My only clear thought is that ye might be wedding me out of a sense of honor, and that is an arrangement I would say nay to.”
“Nay, I am not wedding you out of any sense of honor.”
Before he could say anything else, a young page stumbled into the room and said, “There is a man demanding to see you, m’lord.” He flushed and backed toward the door. “Oh, I should have knocked and begged entrance,” he mumbled.
“Aye, you should have. Just recall your manners next time. Who demands to speak to me?” Gabel asked when the boy shifted from one foot to the other and chewed on his bottom lip.
“A Sir Donald Livingstone. He is most persistent.”
“I know,” Gabel muttered, then cursed. “Tell him I will be down in but a moment.” As soon as the little page hurried away, Gabel stood and looked down at Ainslee. “I will take heart in the fact that you have not refused me. While I speak to Livingstone, mayhaps you can consider my offer and we can speak on it again.” He frowned. “I had not expected the man so soon. He had said a fortnight.”
“If he seeks some gain, then ’tis my sister who has sent him early. She probably drove him from his keep with her demands.”
He brushed a kiss over her lips and started toward the door. “Well, he shall soon discover that his journey is for nothing. He will get neither you nor Kengarvey.”
Other books
Hot Little Hands by Abigail Ulman
Dance Of Desire by Sweet and Special Books
...O llevarás luto por mi by Dominique Lapierre, Larry Collins
Destiny's Captive by Beverly Jenkins
My Dear I Wanted to Tell You by Louisa Young
The Orb of Truth (The Horn King Series) by Wyckoff, Brae
The Discovery by Marley Gibson
Toujours Provence by Peter Mayle
Illywhacker by Peter Carey
Text Order Bride by Kirsten Osbourne