“Lady Adele, might I beg a moment of your time?”
Leofric watched the two women look toward him, and was startled to see a strange look of guilt pass over their faces as they broke off their whispered conversation.
“There is something amiss, sir?”
It was Lady Adele that spoke, and Leofric fancied that her voice was a touch huskier than on the occasion of their last meeting. Her demeanour, apart from that faint flicker of unease, was composed.
“I am afraid so, my lady,” responded Leofric. “A man has been wounded and he…” Leofric was irritated to find that the words caught in his throat. “He does not fare well, my lady.”
“I see, Finn said…” Adele broke off flushing painfully.
Great goodness, would it always be thus? Here was yet another person who had known that Lord Rafe was deceiving her. Had he laughed at her or pitied her? Either thought brought choking rebellion up into her throat.
“Lord Rafe mentioned that someone had been hurt.” Adele paused, drawing a deep breath. She was determined that she would not open herself up to more ridicule. She would behave with the decorum that Mistress Ardith would expect of her as a lady of Berron.
Leofric heard the discomfort in her voice and, even through his own troubles, had sympathy for her.
“He is very ill with fever and, although we have done what we can for him, he… he…” Leofric was obliged to swallow several times before he could go on. “He does not revive. We know not what more to do for him.”
Adele’s eyes rested, in their softly unfocused way, upon the man that stood before her. That which she saw in his face brought the ache of tears to her throat. His features were restrained, as though it were a fight to keep his emotions in check.
“Eda, where are the herbs Mistress Ardith sent with us?” Her voice was brisk, trying to hide how much this man’s concern for his friend had moved her. Eda pulled a large bag from its hiding place, carefully running a hand over its surface.
“’Tis still dry,” her voice held a tremor of relief, and Adele turned to Leofric again.
“Perhaps if you might lead the way?”
Leofric was hard pressed not to hug her thankfully. His thoughts drifted to Rafe, and he decided that his gratitude was not so very overpowering after all.
“Thank you, my lady.”
-------
The camp had changed. Adele was not sure what was different, but something was. The daylight had faded an hour since and, as she passed into the tent, she blinked against the brightness of the fire. The enclosed space held a great many people.
“Randwulf?”
There could be no mistaking his lanky form as he sat in a chair by the fire. She was shocked to see the worry in his eyes. It dulled somewhat as his gaze fell on her, and he looked perplexed.
“Adele? What…?”
“I thought they might be able to help,” came Leofric’s voice.
He was not actually in the tent, for Adele had stopped barely a step into the room, and Eda had been forced to halt behind her, leaving Leofric neither in nor out. He gave Eda a hefty shove and propelled both ladies inside. Adele’s eyes travelled to the man lying on the makeshift bed. The last time she had seen him she had thought him to be her betrothed. She blushed faintly and moved towards the bed, placing her hand on his brow. Her fingers were cold from the night air, but even so she knew that he was much too hot. He seemed to radiate almost as much heat as the fire.
“How long has he been like this?”
The man kneeling across from her, who seemed to be in charge, passed his hand across his brow before he spoke.
“Since yesterday night, my lady.”
“Great goodness, for so long! What have you done for him?”
Adele noticed his hands were shaking and that his eyes were puffy from lack of sleep.
“At first it was mild, I thought that there might be some sickness in the wound and so I… I…” He swallowed vainly. “I tried to bring the fever on hotter.”
Adele felt sorry for the man. He had obviously tried his best, and in his place Adele would have done the same.
“I think that it would be best if we tried to bring the fever down.” She pulled a strand of leather out of the pouch on her belt and tied her hair back. “What is your name?”
“Drogo, my lady.”
“Mine is Adele, I will need your help.”
“Yes, my… Lady Adele.”
She smiled and started to fold back her sleeves.
“We will need to bathe him with cold water to take the heat from him, I need you to prepare him for that.”
Drogo nodded.
“I will need hot water too, but mostly cold.” Adele’s brow creased. “And some cloths.”
“What do you want to give him, Adele?” asked Eda. She had spread the bag open over the floor.
“I thought maybe a yarrow tisane?”
Adele’s voice was faintly questioning as though asking whether Eda concurred. Eda nodded and, picking up one of the leather pouches, unbound the tie.
Drogo returned, carrying a pot of hot water that he placed at the fire’s edge. Eda took a small wooden bowl and small wooden spoon and, measuring some of the contents of the leather pouch in to the bowl, reaching out to fill it with water from the pot Drogo had placed by the fire. Then both ladies stood.
“Now you have to prepare him for bathing, Drogo.”
Adele smiled toward him, and she and Eda left the tent.
“What is going on here?” demanded Rand.
“I do not know,” replied Leofric, a little confused. “Do you think they will come back?”
“Just as soon as you have him ready.” It was Adele’s voice, coming from outside of the tent. Leofric jumped violently and staggered against the wood pile.
“Where did you think we had gone?” queried Adele, interested.
“Further away than that,” muttered Leofric, “or I would have spoken more quietly.”
Within a few moments Finan was ready and both ladies re-entered the tent.
“We will need that cold water now, Drogo.”
“The men are bringing it up from the stream,” he replied. Even as he spoke a soldier staggered in with a large cauldron of water. Adele directed that it should be placed at her side. Finan was moving restlessly on the bed, and she reached out to touch his forehead again as Eda took her place on his other side. Another soldier arrived with more water and placed it next to Eda.
“It is enough for now.”
Adele’s hand was still pressed against Finan’s brow.
“How he burns, Eda, I wish there was some way to submerge him.”
For the first time her voice was a little uncertain.
“This way will do well enough, ‘twill be harder for us is all.” Eda pulled a face of mock disapproval. “Trust a man to make things difficult.”
Adele smiled gratefully at this attempt at humour.
“I think we had better cool him first; he is so restless I do not think we could force him to swallow the tisane.”
Eda nodded her agreement, and both ladies dipped their cloths into the icy water, wringing them out, and placing them against Finan’s burning skin.
Adele was not sure how long they sat applying the cold cloths. After an eternity it seemed as though Finan was a little cooler, surely he seemed more restful and moved less?
Adele had hopes that between them, she and Eda would be able to make him swallow all of the tisane. She wrung out her cloth and placed it on Finan’s forehead, then she slipped her arm beneath him, cradling him against her shoulder, and managed to wedge his head still against her neck.
He tried to jerk away as Eda carefully spooned the brew into his mouth, but Adele held him firmly in place and the liquid was reluctantly swallowed. It took a long while to feed him the whole bowlful and much patience. By the time he had swallowed the last of the fluid he was burning again and Adele was overheated from contact with him. She pushed the damp hair b
ack from her face, thinking that never had she been so hot before.
“I had best make some more.” Eda straightened from her awkward position with difficulty.
Adele nodded, already trying to bring some coolness back to Finan’s skin. It seemed an almost impossible task and she shifted her pose, stifling a groan as her aching muscles protested.
“Will you be alright for the moment?” asked Eda.
Adele nodded briefly, and Eda stood and moved back to the fire. Adele continued with the task before her and was startled when someone took Eda’s place at the other side of the bed. It was the young man that had brought her here. She had a vague recollection of Randwulf calling him Leofric. As she watched he grasped the cloth that Eda had left floating in the cauldron, wrung it out, and placed it against Finan’s feverish face.
“He is still very hot.”
His eyes were worried and she felt herself smiling with reassurance.
“’Tis too soon to tell if there is much of a difference,” she responded. “Give him more time.”
Leofric nodded and, turning back to the task at hand, they laboured together in silence. It was some time later when Adele sat back from the bed and raised her arm to push the clinging tendrils of hair from her flushed face. She felt a hand fall heavily on her shoulder, and looked up to see Finn standing over her.
No, he was not Finn, she reminded herself: he was Lord Rafe.
“’Tis my turn I think.”
Adele remained completely still, looking up at him with the dazed expression of someone very tired. He bent down, caught her elbow, and gave a gentle tug. Somewhat to his surprise he found Adele stood obediently. She was looking him straight in the eye, a slight furrow between her brows, and he realised she was too tired to feel awkward with him. He took the cloth from her loose grip and, looking over her at someone who stood behind, jerked his head slightly. She turned to find Randwulf vacating his seat by the fire.
“No, please.” She shook her head. “Not by the fire, I am too warm.”
Rafe dragged the seat to the tent opening where there was a slight breeze. Then he took her place beside Finan. Adele watched him closely; he looked tired, and the same worry that she had seen in Lord Leofric and Randwulf’s eyes was also present in his.
Adele could not remember very much of the man that now lay senseless on the bed. He had seemed brusque when they had spoken, but then, she understood why now. Later when Finn… Lord Rafe, Adele reminded herself sharply, and Randwulf were fighting he had seemed irritable. Yet there had to be something about him that was special. Lord Rafe and Lord Leofric would not show such sadness and worry at his condition otherwise.
And Randwulf.
Adele closed her eyes and leaned her head back. For a while she rested, but something was nagging at the back of her mind. She screwed up her eyes trying to ignore the feeling, then shook her head and opened them again.
Randwulf was watching Eda.
Adele could see that her friend was unaware of his eyes upon her; she was fully occupied with her task. Eda reached for the hot water that kept warm by the fire but, before her fingers could grasp the pot, Randwulf had taken it from the fire and was pouring it into the bowl for her. She looked surprised, and muttered something that could have been a thank you before turning away.
Randwulf.
Adele’s eyes cleared sharply. Why was Randwulf so worried? It made no sense. It was obvious why Lord Rafe and Lord Leofric were so concerned; Finan was obviously a close friend. However, why should Randwulf share their concern?
“What is it, Adele?”
Adele realised that she had been staring at Randwulf and suddenly he was returning her regard. She shrugged as he moved to her side and leaned against her chair.
“I was thinking how very anxious Lord Rafe seems to be for his friend, Lord Leofric too.” She allowed her eyes to rest on the two men labouring at the sick man’s side, before turning to catch Randwulf’s expression. His face was closed against her scrutiny, giving nothing away. It was far too careful an expression for a man who had nothing to hide. “Who is he precisely, Randwulf?”
“From what I gather he is the captain of Lord Rafe’s army, and his eldest foster brother; the two have been friends since childhood.”
“I see.”
For a moment Adele was distracted by the thought that Finan was such an old friend of Rafe’s. She felt tears pricking her eyes and was conscious, for the third time in the short while she had known him, of an overwhelming desire to comfort Rafe.
Eda rose from her place by the fire and took the medicine she had made to Finan’s bed. Leofric received it from her with the assurance that he would see that Finan swallowed every drop. Eda seemed awkward, having no idea what she should do now that her duties had been commandeered by another. She turned to Adele but, seeing Randwulf standing so close, did not move to join her.
“And how long have you and he been friends?” asked Adele.
Randwulf managed to school his features into a blank mask. Adele had the satisfaction of seeing surprise, and even a little panic, leap into his eyes.
“I do not understand your meaning, Adele,” he responded frostily, straightening to tower over her. Adele regarded the movement with just a touch of insolence in her expression, reflecting that he must be shaken to try and intimidate her.
“I think that you are only too well aware of my meaning, Randwulf.” Her eyes met his, large, wondering, and soft.
Randwulf regarded her warily, knowing that those mesmerising eyes of hers were nothing more than a trap. They lulled him into the belief that he was safe and then when he least expected it, the trap sprang shut.
“I do not know what it is that you are hiding from me, but I am fully aware that there is something; there always has been.”
Rand opened his mouth to speak but no words would come. Adele continued to watch him, her expression the same. He could feel the trap closing, forcing the truth into his throat where at any moment it would spill as words from his lips.
“Leave Eda alone.”
Rand’s head jerked round to find Adele’s eyes still upon, him and he fancied he saw a hard glitter in their depths.
“I beg your pardon?”
Adele made an irritated noise in the back of her throat.
“Let us not pretend that you know not what I mean.” She tilted her head a little to one side. “Or perhaps you would like me to go into greater detail?”
Adele saw Rand compress his lips and turn from her, but did not feel any the less annoyed with him.
Rand’s face remained blank, but within he felt a seething emotion bubbling furiously. No one, absolutely no one, had ever dared to talk to him like that. Even his father had known that there was only so far he could be pushed. Yet here was Adele, little Adele, barely more than a child Adele, daring to speak to him as though he had been an erring boy.
He had done nothing of which he was ashamed. He had never given any sign, or made any move, that might lead either lady to suppose that he had any feelings toward them than were warmer than friendship. Rand kept silent, he knew whatever he said in a moment of anger would be wrong and he would regret it later.
His eyes shifted to where Rafe knelt beside Finan. He was no longer the gangling youth Rand had known once. Rafe had always been tall, but the years had brought muscle to fill out his shoulders and Rand knew, from painful personal experience, the punishment that he was capable of inflicting.
Yes… he would regret anything said to Adele in a moment of anger that might cause her distress. Rafe, he was more than certain, would see to it. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he had done no wrong.
But.
Damnation, it always came back to that. He should have known. They had only been girls, very young and very innocent. He should have realised that something like that might happen. How could he have been so blind? It must have seemed like some sort of fairy tale to them; a mysterious warrior climbing over t
he wall of the fort in which they were ensconced with little freedom and much curiosity of the world outside.
He felt quite sick just thinking about it. The pity of it was that he liked Eda; he liked her sharp tongue, and her dryness amused him. Even more than that, he had liked the way she had looked at him. It had made him feel important and clever. It had made him feel older and wiser. It had made him feel good; she had made him feel good, better than he had ever felt before. Few things in his life had been good, let alone imparted that feeling onto him.
It hadn’t hurt that she had been one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She was radiant, stunning, breathtaking, striking… as always the words ran out long before he had done justice to the excellence of her person.
Most importantly she had been obvious in her admiration of him, it had been her best quality. It had flattered his pride and, having felt that rush of pleasure at her attitude once, there had been an urge to feel it again, and then again. It had been hard to stop.
Goodness knew he had not wanted to, but in the end there had been no other choice. Rand sighed; the truth was that he had used her, used the feelings she had displayed toward him as a balm.
The worst of it was that he had been content to keep on using her, regardless of the danger. That knowledge would always haunt him. He wasn’t sure what he felt most guilty for; the way he had treated her at first, or the dishonourable way he had shirked the consequences of his actions later. She had deserved better than that, but he had panicked when he realised the extent of her feelings for him.
He was ashamed to own that had it not been for Adele, for the breach he was trying to heal, Eda would probably not have seen him again.
Then again, perhaps a clean break would have been better after all.
Surely it could have been no worse than that which had followed. The continued visits where he had all but ignored her, treated her with a coldness he had not felt but which had nevertheless been necessary. Perhaps it would have been easier for her if it had just ended. He knew it would have been easier for him. He had suffered the sharpest twinges of conscience watching the hurt and bewilderment in her face, the disillusionment. It had been his penance. Nothing could have been more effective in impressing upon him his stupidity, than making him watch the pain his own thoughtless actions had inflicted upon another.
Adele was watching his face closely for some sign as to his thoughts.
There was nothing.
She sighed irritably and turned again to the trio on the other side of the tent. Her eyes clashed with Rafe’s and all thought of Randwulf and Eda, along with the rest of humanity, flew from her head.
Rafe’s face, unlike Randwulf’s, was very expressive. It had been one of the first things she had noticed about him, and she still held it as one of the most attractive. He looked bleak, a little uncomfortable, and very irritated.
“Is there nought more we can do for him?”
It was Leofric’s voice.
Adele stood, moving to where Rafe kneeled and sinking down beside him. She leant forward; reaching across Rafe to place her fingers against Finan’s brow, then his cheek and lastly his neck.
“He is much cooler; if we can keep him like this until the fever has run its course he will be fine.”
Both Leofric and Rafe let out huge sighs, and before Adele’s eyes their large frames seemed to deflate. Rafe’s face took on a relaxed, peaceful cast.
How much affection he must have had for the sick man. Adele couldn’t believe how desperately she longed for him to feel that level of affection for her also. She resolutely reined in her thoughts and took the cloth from his slackened grasp.
“How long will it be before the fever poses no threat?” asked Rafe.
Adele continued in the task of cooling Finan, a slight furrow between her brows as she considered his question.
“The yarrow tisane will take the fever away. It should not be more than a few hours before he wakes, but he will be weak.”
She took a quick look up at him from beneath her lashes. Now that the worry had left his face he looked tired; white with dark smudges of fatigue beneath his eyes, and pale, bloodless lips.
“You look exhausted, you should get some sleep, Finn…” Adele blushed at her mistake and looked away. “I-I… forgive me…”
Rafe shook his head, making a clumsy gesture of reassurance.
“Do not be; I think you were right.”
Adele lifted her eyes to him hesitantly.
“When we first met, you said Finn was a friendly name,” Rafe swallowed awkwardly. “It matters not to me if you call me by it sometimes. I mean… that is…”
For a moment he floundered and then his eyes met hers, a comradely smile in their depths.
“It reminds me of easier times.”
Rafe winced; that hadn’t come out as he had meant it to. He had been trying to tell her that, even with the worry and anxiety he had felt, there had been an underlying happiness in the days they had spent together.
Adele continued to regard him steadily. More than anything he wanted to say something, to explain to her his thoughts. He knew that if he tried it would only become more tangled. It always did.
Adele had said nothing, she didn’t smile but she didn’t seem offended either. Rafe felt horribly uncomfortable under her unflinching glaze. With those huge eyes she seemed capable of seeing into his very soul, though why she should want to he couldn’t think. Finally she seemed to decide something.
“I was happy too, Rafe.” She stumbled a little over his name, but he was glad she had made the effort to used it. He shifted uncomfortably.
“Do you think, Adele, that you could be happy again?”
Adele disconcerted him by remaining silent for some time.
“I would like to be.”
Rafe heaved a sigh of relief, and then it struck him that she had not really answered his question. Before he could say anything more Eda arrived with another brew for Finan. Rafe stood, moving out of her way with reluctance. He would have liked a more definitive answer to his question.
Strangely, he would have been satisfied just conversing with Adele for a little longer. He found that he liked the way she paused before she spoke, her eyes softly unfocused as she collected her thoughts before uttering a word. He stepped back from the bed and watched as the two ladies coaxed the medicine down Finan’s throat.
They had saved his life, Rafe realised. He owed them much, and shuddered to think what might have happened if they had not been present. First Evoric and then Finan, could he have taken that? It was not an idea he really liked to dwell upon.
His gaze shifted back to Adele and he found he derived great enjoyment from watching her. He felt a sudden and unaccountable pride in her. She was his bride and she was lovely; not just in form, but also in spirit.
The warm glow that he was experiencing disappeared as he turned and found Rand’s eyes regarding Adele rather too closely for his liking. Adele seemed unaware of his stare but Rafe remembered, with a sickening lurch, how close Rand had stood to her chair. They had seemed comfortable together, Rand leaning over her, his head a scant few inches from hers. They had been so deep in conversation and absorbed in each other that they might have been alone. Rafe’s jaw clenched and he felt his fingers curl into fists.
Adele was his!
He was damned if he would let Rand take her from him. Suddenly he had an uncomfortable picture of Adele’s face, how she had gazed at Rand as though he was the most important thing in her life. Her eyes had travelled Rand’s face, soft and dreamy, as though she was seeking to imprint his every feature on her memory.
He had a horrified recollection of how Adele had looked staring into the flames as they had sheltered from the rain one night on their journey from the fort. Her words came back to him, filled with warmth for Randwulf. Even then he had wondered if perhaps there was more than friendship between them. Now he found that instead of the uncertainty those words had created r
eceding, it was gathering in force.
What if Adele had feelings for Rand, feelings that he reciprocated? Rafe looked again to where Adele kneeled beside Finan, her hand gently pushing the damp hair back from his brow. If she and Rand loved one another, could he deny her freedom?
Rafe’s face twisted into a bitter smile. It was strange to think that one of the reasons all of this had started was because he was too proud to accept any affection from her as her saviour. He would always have felt that whatever was between them had been bought, that she was trying to repay him somehow for all he had done for her.
The idea had sickened him. He had travelled to the fort to find what she would make of him when she knew not who he was. Pride had set these events in motion. Yet here he was, completely willing to throw his pride into the mud to be trampled upon just so long as he could keep Adele. Life, he reflected bitterly, was a funny thing.
Chapter Twenty Five