Fragments of Grace (Prequel to the Dragonblade Trilogy) (39 page)

“What do you mean?” Michael demanded. “What has
happened? How did you find us?”

The questions were coming rapid-fire. Kurtis was
looking at his brother as he spoke; he was in battle mode, having ridden for
three days straight with little rest. He was exhausted and edgy.

“I happened to be passing through the town and
recognized the chargers in the livery,” he said. “Praise God that I took this
road – I almost took a shorter route through the mountains but the weather was
so foul that I did not want to take the chance.  De Lara at Beeston told me
where you had gone so I hoped to find you, but I could truly only guess which
road you had taken.”

By this time, Michael had a hand on Kurtis’ shoulder
because the man appeared ready to collapse himself. Between Keir’s swaying and
Kurtis’ exhaustion, both brothers were about to go down.

“Chloë,” Keir grasped at his brother and ended up
grabbing him by the neck. “What happened to her?”

Kurtis’ ice blue eyes were fixed on his brother.
“She fell down a flight of stairs,” he told him, not at all gently. “She struck
her head. When I left, she was still unconscious. The physic… Keir, the physic
believes she might have badly injured herself. You must come back right away.”

Keir abruptly yanked away from him, already moving
back for the table where his possessions were. He staggered, knocking over
another table as he went. He grabbed at his gloves and bags with shaking hands,
dropping his bags and struggling to pick them up again.  Garran, having heard
the entire conversation, reached out to steady him.

“I will get your bags,” he said evenly. “Take your
helm and gloves. I will have the horses brought to the front.  Pull yourself
together, my friend. You must remain calm if you are to make it home healthy
and whole.”

Keir heard him but he lacked the understanding to
adequately respond.  He was so shaken that he was having a difficult time
functioning. As de Moray began barking orders to the bar keep and the servants,
Michael grabbed Kurtis and pulled the man over to the table ladened with the
remnants of the meal.  He shoved him down into a chair and then shoved Keir
down into another. Both brothers were walking a very brittle and exhausted
path, so much so that Michael was seriously worried for both of them.  But he
was worried for Keir more.

“Chloë was fine when I left,” Michael said as Lady
Summer poured wine for Kurtis. “What happened? How did she fall?”

Kurtis took a deep breath, gratefully accepting the
wine from the pretty young woman. “Truthfully, I do not know,” he slurped the
wine. “We did not see it happen. All we know is that she fell down the stairs.”

Keir was sitting next to his brother, looking pale
and sick. “What did the physic say?”

Kurtis looked at his brother, realizing he should
probably speak more kindly to the man. He was so upset, however, that it was
difficult.  Exhaustion had a hand in his inability to control his manner.

“He examined her and said that something was wrong
with her spine,” he muttered, his eyes taking on a painful reflection. “God
forgive me, Keir. Dear God, please forgive me.”

He slumped forward, his face in his hand.  Keir’s
ill expression washed with confusion. “Why? Why do you say that?”

Kurtis was verging on tears, unusual for a man who
was perpetually in control of his emotions. “Before… before she fell, we were
discussing Ingilby’s missive and I was telling her how foolish she was for
having sent a reply to the man.”

Keir stiffened. “She sent a
reply
to him?”

Kurtis nodded. “Her mother told her to. I did not
know about it, Keir, or I swear I would have never allowed it.” His head came
up and he looked between Keir and Michael. “I would assume Michael already told
you of Ingilby’s proposal.”

Keir nodded. “He told me.  He also told me of
Chloë’s plan.” He suddenly sat back in his chair, snorting with the most
painful irony imaginable. “So she replied to the man without your knowledge?”

“Aye.”

“With her mother’s blessing?”

“That is what I was told.”

Keir stared at his brother for a long moment before
shooting to his feet, kicking the chair out from under him and sending it
smashing into the wall.

“Where in the hell were you?” he bellowed, jabbing a
finger at his brother. “I left you in charge of her, Kurtis. Where were you
when all of this happened?”

“I stayed with her as much as I could, Keir, but
even I need to sleep.”

“I would have done better had I left Ingilby in
charge of her!”

Kurtis knew he deserved the lashing but he still
tried to defend himself. “I did my best, Keir. I could not be with the woman
all day and all night, never sleeping, watching her every move.  Moreover, I
cannot control her mother. The woman has the last word in all things.”

“I trusted you!”

“Blame her mother if you must blame someone, for I
did all I could. I swear I would never knowingly disappoint you.”

Keir began throwing things around in his grief,
smashing a couple of chairs as the patrons of the inn began to scatter.  Garran
pulled his daughter out of the way as Keir put his fist through the wooden
shutters that had been closed over the large front window. Wood exploded in all
directions. 

Keir stood in the window frame as splinters rained
down on him, hanging against the window, half in and half out of the tavern. 
It was beginning to rain again, light droplets pelting his face.  After the
initial explosion, he was suddenly still, feeling every raindrop like the
thousands of knives of anguish piercing his heart.

“My sweet God,” he breathed. “What has she done?
Chloë, what have you done?”

Kurtis was on his feet, standing behind his brother.
“She thought she was sparing you from making a heartwrenching decision,” he
offered, not sure if it would be well-met given his brother’s state of mind.
“She did not believe it was fair to expect you to make the choice between her
and your son, so she thought to make it for you. She thought she was doing what
was best for you.”

Keir had heard the same thing from Michael. With a
heavy sigh, he pulled himself out of the window frame and turned to his
brother.

“I would choose Chloë,” he said hoarsely. “I know
that sounds terrible, as if I am a terrible father for choosing a woman over my
son, but the truth is that I do not even know if the boy that Ingilby has is
mine. I very seriously doubt it because the timing of his proposal is too neat,
too convenient.  Therefore, I will choose Chloë until I know more about this
mysterious child that Ingilby claims is my son. I will not believe it until I
see the child’s face.”

“And then?”

Keir cocked an eyebrow. “And then I keep Chloë by my
side while I negotiate for my son. If Ingilby will not negotiate, then I will
do what I must in order to regain my son, up to and including razing Ripon
Castle. Make no mistake; I will have my son and my vengeance as well, and Ingilby
will rot in hell for having tangled with me.”

Kurtis knew that. But he was also concerned with his
relationship with Northumberland and if, at some point, he might be fighting
against his brother should Ingilby call on Northumberland for assistance. But
he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to cloud the issue. At the moment, he was
far more concerned with his brother’s mental state.

Without a word, he reached out and gently pulled his
brother away from the window.

“Let us eat and rest for a few minutes before we
return,” he said. “I could use something to eat, to be truthful.  I have been
riding for three days.”

Keir shook his head. “We must leave now. I must
return to Aysgarth immediately.”

Kurtis sighed wearily. “My horse is spent, Keir,” he
told him. “I would wager that your horse is as well. Let the animals rest a bit
before we drive them into the ground.”

Keir hesitated. “But I must….”

Kurtis cut him off. “You will not go anywhere if you
kill your horse. Come along, now; sit down and let us eat something while we
can. An hour will not make a difference.”

Keir reluctantly allowed his brother to push him
back into his chair, an undamaged one.  As Kurtis, Michael and Garran regained
their seats, Lady Summer dared to speak.

“Sir Kurtis,” she began respectfully. “I know you do
not know me, but I am Sir Garran’s daughter. My name is Summer.”

Kurtis looked at the woman and Garran as if just
noticing them for the first time. He smiled weakly at Garran.

“De Moray, you old ox,” he muttered. “I have not
seen you in some time.”

Garran smiled timidly. “I thought the Scots would
have hung you by now, St. Hèver. You tend to stir them up on the borders, or so
I hear.”

Kurtis actually laughed. “I do indeed,” he agreed,
his gaze moving back to Summer. “It is an honor to meet you, my lady. Forgive
me for being rude when I first entered the room.”

Summer smiled at him. “There is nothing to forgive,”
she said. “You were busy with other things. However, if you would not consider
it too forward, I would like to ask a question.”

“Of course, my lady.”

She cleared her throat softly, glancing at her
father somewhat nervously.

“I heard you say that the Lady Chloë has injured
herself,” she said. “Forgive me for asking, but I know something of healing
arts. I was wondering what her symptoms were.”

The smile faded from Kurtis’ expression as Garran
spoke. “She is a miraculous healer,” he assured the men at the table. “There is
no one finer in all of Dorset than my daughter.  She has vast knowledge of
healing.”

Kurtis looked at the woman, somewhat hesitant to
discuss Chloë’s condition.  “No offense intended, my lady,” he said, “but you
seem rather young to have acquired such accomplished skill.”

Summer was not offended. “I learned from my mother,
who was a very gifted healer, from a very young age.  I have been healing since
I was ten years of age.”

“Believe her,” Garran confirmed. “She has a skill
that few can emulate.  My dear wife, God rest her soul, passed along her
talents to our only daughter and Summer has learned well. I would not make such
claims if I did not implicitly believe in her skill.”

 Kurtis’s dubious gaze moved between the lady and
her father. He trusted de Moray and knew the man would not lie to him. After a
moment, he looked at his brother.

“Do I have your permission to discuss Chloë’s
state?” he asked.

Keir was back to drinking, which only seemed to
aggravate his brittle manner.  He looked at Lady Summer, at Garran, before
replying.

“Go ahead.”

Kurtis returned his attention to Summer. “She
tumbled down a flight of stairs,” he told her. “When we found her, she was
unconscious at the bottom. She has a massive bump on her forehead and when the
physic examined her, he said she had some kind of injury to her spine. He felt
a lump, he said.  Beyond that, I do not know any more.”

Summer listened carefully. “She was still
unconscious the last time you saw her?”

“Aye.”

“How long was it since her fall?”

Kurtis shrugged. “An hour, perhaps less.”

“And the lump on her head,” Summer persisted. “Where
was it, exactly?”

Kurtis tried to remember that beautiful, battered
face. “Here, I think,” he put his hand up to the right side of his forehead.
“It was right in front, about the size of a walnut.”

“I see,” she said thoughtfully. “And her spine; what
did the physic say about it?”

Kurtis thought hard to that harrowing moment,
realizing it was difficult to remember because he’d had so much more on his
mind.

“He said he could feel something out of place on her
spine that was causing her great pain,” he replied. “He said that it could be
bruising and nothing more.”

Summer thought on that, realizing that Keir was
watching her. She knew it could be any number of things and did not want to
give the man false hope, but on the other hand, he looked desperately as if he
needed something to cling to.  She smiled weakly at him.

“The physic could be correct,” she said. “It could
be a bruise and nothing more.  Furthermore, your brother was only aware of her
unconscious state for an hour or so, which could mean nothing at all. She could
have easily awoken after he left. There is every reason to believe that she
will recover but, of course, I do not know for sure since I have not seen her.”

Keir’s gaze lingered on her a moment before sighing
heavily and returning to his wine.

“Perhaps,” he muttered.

Summer could see how distraught he was. She didn’t
even know the man but she could see that that the situation was tearing him
apart.  She looked at her father.

“Dada,” she said. “Perhaps we should return with
them to see if I can help the lady. I would be most honored to lend my
assistance.”

Garran lifted his eyebrows thoughtfully, perhaps
reluctantly. “There is no finer healer in the land than you,” he looked at
Keir. “We would be honored to accompany you home, Keir.”