Adele stood just inside the tent opening and Rafe cursed roughly under his breath. Nothing in Adele’s face suggested that she had heard his remark, but somehow he knew she had.
“Good morning, my lord.” She moved toward the bed and the men parted before her. “How do you feel, Finan?”
As she spoke her fingers touched his forehead, exploring his skin for any sign of lingering feverishness. Finan gritted his teeth and glowered at Rafe.
“Well enough,” he answered shortly.
Nothing in her demeanour changed at the sharpness of his tone, but she dropped her hand to his cheek and then his neck.
“Are you hungry?”
It was on the tip of Finan’s tongue to deny it, purely on principle, but his stomach overruled his brain and he nodded.
“Some bread and cheese with a little meat.” His eyes took on a faintly glazed expression of anticipation. “And some mead.”
Adele shook her head regretfully.
“I think perhaps it would be unwise.” She turned to Drogo and asked that he might bring her eggs and milk. Finan’s mouth dropped open.
“Eggs? Milk!” His tone was disbelieving. “I am no infant, my lady!”
Adele turned to him, her eyes sympathetic.
“’Tis best, Finan, you are still weak and need your rest.”
Finan came close to telling her precisely what she could do with her eggs and milk. Just in time he caught sight of the warning in Rafe’s eyes, and decided better of it.
“This is not necessary,” he managed to grind out. “I do not wish to trouble you.”
Adele’s rich laughter filled the tent.
“No indeed, Finan; ‘tis I who you wish would cease to trouble you!”
Finan could not deny the truth of her statement, but that only made things worse. She smiled again and turned to kneel beside the fire. Finan cast a furious glance at Rafe and reached out, grasping a handful of his tunic, to jerk him down so his head was next to his.
“Get her out of here.”
“You know, I do not think I shall.”
“Rafe, I mean it; I will not be petted and cosseted by that woman.”
Rafe’s shoulders began to shake.
“I rather think you will,” he observed. Finan gazed up at him, his indignation taking away the power of speech. Rafe relented.
“Finan, please; she has brought you this far. Allow her to stay and see you recover as quickly as possible.”
Finan snorted.
“She will drive me out of mind, and I will not be held responsible for my actions if I have lost my senses.”
Adele returned from the fireside, carrying a wooden bowl in one hand and a cup in the other.
“I promise I will not drive you to insanity, Finan,” assured Adele. “And if you will submit to just a little cosseting, the barest minimum, I think the experience will not kill either of us.”
Finan looked a little abashed that she had heard his whispered comments. She kneeled beside him and held out the prepared eggs. Finan was surprised how appetising their aroma was and felt his stomach growl in anticipation.
“Where is Eda?” asked Rafe.
“Sleeping,” replied Adele. “I did not like to wake her.”
She turned back to Finan, watching in satisfaction as he demolished the eggs she had placed before him and holding out the cup of milk. Finan looked at it mistrustfully for a few moments before taking it with a sigh of resignation. He drained the goblet swiftly, finding it to be surprisingly good. Adele had warmed the milk and it brought him a comfortable feeling of wellbeing.
Adele took both the bowl and cup from his unresisting hands and washed them in the water Drogo had provided. Finan’s brow wrinkled in thought and he turned to Rafe with a hunted expression in his eyes.
“Does she know?”
“About Lord Merrodon?”
Finan shook his head, casting Adele a wary glance. Before he could speak Adele’s voice floated across from where she stood.
“I think Finan is wondering if I am still under the impression that I am betrothed to him.” She turned from her task and dried her hands on a piece of cloth. “Fear not, Finan, I shall not drag you before an altar. The mistake has been set right.”
Rafe listened to her speech closely, trying to discern if there was any resentment in her words. She spoke lightly and there was even an inflection of amusement in her voice. A wave of relief swept over him; perhaps in time she would bear him no grudge at all over the deception.
“I do not wish to be uncivil, my lady, but you relieve my mind greatly,” answered Finan reassured.
Rafe saw a strange expression enter Adele’s face, almost as though she had been struck. Her features became suddenly arrested, and her hands began to twist the cloth she still held around her fingers. Becoming aware of just how her hands betrayed her inner anxiety, she dropped the cloth and it fell to the floor.
“Forgive me, but I think I should check Eda. I would not like her to wake up and find me gone, she would worry.” She hesitated before the tent opening. “You will not try to get up, will you, Finan?”
“I think I can promise that I shall not try to do so today, my lady.” Finan forced a smile, trying to ignore her interference, knowing that she meant well.
“And would it be too cosseting to ask that you might try to sleep a little?” she asked softly.
A touch off irritation was evident on Finan’s face. He caught sight of her eyes and saw that they were sympathetic and apologetic. Against his better judgment he felt a good deal of his temper flee.
“I think, my lady, that will be possible,” he replied.
“Thank you, Finan.”
Before Finan could be surprised at the grateful tremor in her voice, she was gone.
“I think you are getting soft, lad,” remarked Leofric with a lazy smile. “Next you will be letting her feed you!”
Finan threw him a scowl.
“Anyone can see she means well,” he responded. “She knows a man is not returned to childhood just because he feels unwell. Yet she is aware that if a man is not restrained he will hinder his own recovery with restless impatience against that which restricts his freedom.”
Finan settled himself further down on the bed that he might comfortably drift back to sleep.
“What? You mean you actually are going to go to sleep?” gasped Leofric amazed.
“I gave her my word,” answered Finan evenly. “‘Tis probable that she is right and I will heal quicker if I rest, then I shall not have to endure this petting for so long.” He looked at the men gathered around his bed, gazing down at him in various stages of surprised amusement. “What do you do here? Be gone!”
Rafe was already at the tent opening, watching Adele as she walked away. He wanted to follow her; he felt that there was something wrong, but was unsure if he should go after her. He might only make things worse, he seemed only to hurt her rather than make matters better. He remained undecided for a moment longer and then suddenly strode after her.
Adele had not expected to be followed and so had allowed a few tears to fall from her brimming eyes.
Was she that terrible?
Was it such a dreadful fate to be married to her?
She knew that she was not as attractive as Eda, there were few women surely who could come close to her friend. However, she had not been used to thinking of herself as a form of torture.
“Adele!”
It was Rafe’s voice, speaking just behind her. She came to an abrupt halt in the midst of the tents, but did not turn. He stood barely a step away, not reaching out to her or trying to make her face him.
“Adele?” His voice was soft.
Adele hunched a shoulder and dashed a hand across her cheek before turning. He stood looking down into her tear filled eyes in horror, for a moment he knew a cowardly wish that he had not pursued her.
What was he supposed to do? He thought of his sisters; what did he do when they became upset? Generally he f
led the room and left them to his mother. He grimaced wryly, looking down at Adele’s trembling mouth. What he would give to do that now.
He shifted, it pained him to see her so miserable and yet do nothing. If his mother were here she would embrace Adele and tell her that all would be fine. He looked down at his arms; they seemed suddenly alien, as though he had never seen them in his life before. All he had to do was slip one around Adele and pull her against him, offering her all the comfort he could give.
He couldn’t do it.
Not as things stood between them. What if she shrank from him in confusion? He would be awkward enough without maidenly reticence making matters worse. What if she were horrified by the action? What if she only accepted that sort of comfort from Rand?
Rafe’s mouth dried out, his breathing speeded up just a little at the thought, and he almost dragged her into his arms in defiance of the idea. But no, it was a risk he could not take. He must not give her the chance to refuse him while her pride was still smarting. He might never be able to forgive her the rebuff.
Adele remained still. She had promised herself that she would not cry before him and yet here she was, horribly conscious of her damp cheeks and wet eyelashes. With a petulant sniff she reflected that her nose was probably red. No wonder he looked so appalled.
Why did he not say something? Why must he embarrass her like this? Although in truth he looked as ill at ease as she felt. She sighed, he only ever looked like that when he was with her. Among his men, or with his friends, he was assured and relaxed. Perhaps Eda was right and this was just as hard for him. She dropped her gaze to the grass.
“I am glad that Finan is going to recover.”
Was that why she was crying? Rafe thought not but felt very grateful to her for making it easier on him.
“So am I.” He reached out and, before he was aware of his own intention, he took her hand in his. It was small and soft, the fingers long, elegant and very, very cold. His own hand seemed huge and clumsy in comparison, roughened by years of training, and swallowed hers completely. He raised his eyes to find that she was regarding their joined hands with a strange expression of surprise on her face. Hesitantly she looked up at him, and Rafe saw a shyness in her expression that had not been there before.
“Finan was fostered into my family before I was born and has always been as a true brother to me. We have shared much together, and I cannot tell how grateful I am to you for looking after him.”
Adele looked down at the hand he still held and then swallowed twice before forcing herself to meet his eyes again.
“I am only pleased that we could be of help.”
They stood silent for a while. Rafe had no desire to release her and as Adele made no move to disentangle herself. He realised that she had no particular wish to be released. His heart had begun to hammer faster, and where their hands touched a fiery warmth had sprung up. He swallowed with difficulty.
“How was it that you knew that which had to be done?”
He spoke the words for no other reason than to distract her from the caress of his thumb as he brushed the soft skin of her inner wrist. He did not wish her to pull away at the liberty.
Adele shivered, faint colour staining her cheeks.
“Mistress Ardith taught us, she… she…” Adele shook her head as though trying to clear her thoughts. “She said that it would always be useful.”
“I must remember to convey my thanks to her.”
“Rafe!”
Rafe and Adele sprang apart guiltily at the sound of Rand’s voice, and a crimson wave of colour suffused Adele’s features.
“Eda will be… I should… goodbye!”
Before Rafe could say a word Adele had fled. Rafe watched her hasty retreat, a slow smile spreading over his face. He was acutely conscious of the tingling sensation Adele’s hand had left where their skin had met.
“Rafe?” It was Rand again.
“Yes?”
“Was that Adele? Why did she leave?” asked Rand, lifting one eyebrow.
“It matters not.”
Rand’s eyes travelled to where Adele was disappearing into the tent. He would have been easier if he had known what their discussion had been about, but he doubted Rafe had any intention of telling him. He returned to his reason for searching Rafe out.
“We have a visitor to the camp.”
“Who?”
“An old friend of yours.”
Rafe said nothing but his brows drew together ominously.
“Daegmund, Lord of Gradock.” Rand pulled out his sword and admired the gleam of steel, rotating his wrist lazily so that the blade turned in perfect circles. “He brought Lord Merrodon with him.”
Chapter Twenty Seven