wcEND.rtf (16 page)

She picked up an apple and turned to leave. "I guess it is not here."

"May I ask what it is you seek, my lady?" Godfrey asked. "I might be of help."

Isabel shook her head. 'Thank you. I think I have an idea where it might be now. I will not disturb your work anymore." She forced herself to walk to the door and step outside as if unhurried.

"My lady," Maude asked as she caught up with her in the great hall. "What is it that you seek? Surely not a needle in a war chamber."

Should she trust Maude with her quest? What if she went to Hunter with the information? How would she explain to him her earnest interest in a simple chalice? Better not say anything, but now Maude expected an explanation.

"Nothing really," she confessed. "I thought it might be a way for me to familiarize myself with my surroundings without having to reveal my lack of memories."

"Oh," Maude said. "Very keen, my lady! Thus you learn what you need while you keep your malady hidden, as Lord Hunter advised."

"Exactly." Not really! "Where to now?" Isabel asked as they stopped in the middle of the great hall, which was beginning to fill with people. Several tables were set throughout the large room and servants were setting jars and cups on them.

Was it
l
unchtime already?

"
There are the kitchens, the laundry chamber, the candle-making chamber, the garden, the orchard." Maude paused. "I assume we shall go outside the castle walls to the village."

Good God! The village? Could Hunter have taken the chalice outside the castle? That would complicate matters
tremendously. But she still had several places to search right here before she ventured outside.

"No, Maude. Let us just stay within the walls for now."

But where within these walls could Hunter have hidden the chalice? Surely not in any place she could have easy access to, therefore the kitchens, laundry room, and garden should be scratched off her immediate list. Maybe the orchard, however. Had he taken the chalice
th
ere as she'd thought yesterday? And if he had, would it still be there?

Most likely Hunter had chosen a place where Détra wouldn't normally go, like the stables or knights
’
quarters. But if ladies weren't accepted in those places, how would she
be?

Isabel's hand tightened around the apple she still held. She took a big bite as she thought where to go next. Her gaze turned to Maude. Wide-eyed, Maude stared back at her.

"You loathe apples, my
l
ady," Maude whispered as if she'd caught Isabel eating worms.

ISABEL swallowed down the last bits of the delicious apple with considerable difficulty. "I guess I just forgot about that," she said. If she could forget about her past why couldn't she forget about her dislike of apples? She'd have to explain to Maude and Hunter the ramifications of memory loss. Maybe they just didn't understand what that entailed.

A commotion at the entrance of the great hall distracted her and she turned to the door. A knight came rushing in and Hunter followed behind with a young man close at his feet.

"Forgive me, my lord," the young man chanted, upset to the point of tears.

Hunter was hurt. Blood dripped from his left hand, staining his white shirt and leaving a bloody trail behind.

The room suddenly closed in on Isabel as her heart slammed against her chest and her blood thrummed
against her ears. She fought the painful memory suddenly filling her mind and heart, and shut her eyes to the sight of Hunter's blood, hoping it'd chase away the resurgent memory, but there was no running away, for one was as real and vivid as the other.

In one terrifying moment reality fused with remembrance in Isabel's mind and she was once again living that fateful morning so long ago. Back in the same bedroom she'd shared with Jack. In the same bed that cradled the creation and the destruction of precious life. Forced, once again, to witness with powerless anguish as blood spilled from deep within her womb, running warmly down her thighs to form a crimson pool on the white sheets of her bed, cruel
l
y and unmistakably robbing her of her only chance at motherhood.

"My
l
ady wife, I am in need of your assistance."

Dragged out of her trance by Hunter's calm voice, Isabel flared her eyes open. Unclenching her jaw, she swallowed down the bitter taste of sorrow and tore herself away from the lacerating memories. She had suppressed the agonizing recollection in such a way that not even in her sleep had she allowed the nightmare to accost her. She'd often dreamed of her baby but never the circumstances of his death.

And to have it come to her like this tore her inside.

With immense effort Isabel controlled her trembling and despair and faced Hunter. He stood before her, eyeing her expectantly, clearly waiting for her to tend to him.

Was one of Détra
'
s duties to tend to the wounded?

Isabel scanned the roo
m
—
t
he hall seemed to have
f
illed out all of a sudde
n
—
a
nd the people's collective expression clearly revealed they counted on her to do just that.

"It is naught but a scratch," Hunter said, as if to reassure her.

Isabel took a deep breath. "A scratch can fester as easily as a deep cut," she said, proud her voice didn't quaver. If she concentrated on helping Hunter's injured hand she might forget her heart's festering wound.

"Let me take a look at it." Isabel took Hunter's hand into hers. A deep gash, way beyond a scratc
h
—
a
nd therefore her pitiful nursing abilitie
s
—
s
lashed his left palm. Indecisio
n
stayed her mind. She had two options; she could either tend to his injury, as seemed to be expected, or bail out. To bail out she'd have to offer an explanation, and the only one that'd work would be her lack of memory. However, that presented a problem since the hall was full of people and she was supposed to keep her amnesia a secret.

Maybe she could fake her way through this. After al
l
, it wasn't as if she was expected to perform surgery. However, being watched closely by so many pairs of eyes made her doubly uncomfortable. She'd gotten away so far with her lack of knowledge but the longer she remained in this time the more chances her luck would run out.

Ignoring the shiver coming up her spine, Isabel sought the embroidered scarf she'd tucked underneath her sleeve earlier and used it to stop the flow of blood in Hunter's hand.

"It is too beautiful a kerchief to waste on a man's wound," Hunter said.

Isabel acknowledged his attempt at small talk with a weak smile. Was he trying to reassure her or distract himself? "Need surpasses beauty," she said, then, turning to Maude, asked the maid to get water and clean rags. "And the potions, of course," she added, purposefully vague in her request. Surely Maude knew exactly what to use, and all Isabel would have to do was clean the wound, dress it with whatever herbs they used in the Middle Ages, bandage it, then send Hunter on his merry way.

She could do that!

"Forgive me, my lord," the young man said yet again.

"Lord Hunter shall deal with you later," the knight behind the young man said.

"I shall have a word with Jeremy now," Hunter said. "You," he addressed the knight, "may return to your duties or to your midday meal."

The man stiffened, obviously unhappy on being dismissed. As if realizing his curtness, Hunter added, "I wish to thank you for your concern and prompt reaction, Gervase.
"

Soothed, the knight bowed his head in acknowledgment. Hunter then turned to the visibly shaking Jeremy. "Follow me," he said.

They a
l
l walked to the war room. As they entered, Godfrey rose from his table. "At your service, my lord," he said.

"I give you leave to join the others at the great hall for the midday meal," Hunter said. "Later I shall speak with you about the rents and other matters."

Godfrey nodded and left.

Hunter turned to a downcast Jeremy. The young man, not wanting to wait for his dressing-down, rushed to kneel before Hunter. "I beg your forgiveness, my lord. I should have been more alert and noticed when you moved. It was my fault. I await my punishment," he said in one breath.

"It was not your fault," Hunter said.

Jeremy lifted a startled gaze to Hunter. "But it was. I should hav
e
—"

"Cease, Jeremy." Hunter pulled the young man up. "I was distracted, and a distracted warrior risks losing limb and life, his own and of others as well. Let this be a lesson to you. Never lower your guard in battle, for any reason whatsoever."

The young man looked at Hunter with what was certain adoration, drinking in every word.

"Now," Hunter continued. "Return to your duties. I want to see not a speck of blood on your sword when I inspect it later." The seemingly harsh words belied the kind gaze Hunter rested upon Jeremy.

"Aye, my lord. As always I owe you a debt of gratitude." He bowed deeply and then left.

Obviously, Jeremy felt responsible for the accident, and whatever had happened, it was kind of Hunter to ease his mind.

A kind gesture, an understanding word, a sympathetic ear: Deeds only caring people, like Hunter, were willing to give. Isabel's former husband's lack of generosity to her in the most traumatic moments of her life showed how little he'd cared.

Jack's accusing words still reverberated in her mind as clearly as if the man now stood before her, hurling those hurtful words at her.

"You must be happy now," he'd coldly told her, when days after she'd lost her baby she'd tried to share her pain, to talk about their loss. "You never wanted to be a mother, anyway," he'd accused. "Well, you got your wish. Your freedom is intact, Isabel. Enjoy it." He had stomped out of the house and out of her life.

Isabel admitted she'd been reluctant to get pregnant, utterly frightened of the immense responsibility of nurturing another human being, of having someone so dependent on her for its survival, its happiness. But when it finally happened, she had been elated and therefore utterly devastated at her loss.

Jack had not understood; he had only cast blame her way.

Isabel turned her thoughts to the present when she realized she was gripping Hunter's hand a little too hard.

He was looking at her with curiosity, probably wondering what was wrong with her.

"I am sorry," she said, relaxing her grip.

Maude returned to the room, carrying in her arms enough paraphernalia to rival a hospital emergency room. Of course there was no mechanical equipment but several bowls in different sizes, vials containing herbs and powders and God knew what else, rags, and a small leather box that Maude set on the table.

Still applying pressure to Hunter's hands, Isabel was reassured she'd seen no knives or cutting objects among Maude's apparatus.

And no leeches.

Isabel urged Hunter to sit and he straddled the bench by the table. Standing by his side, she removed the blood-soaked scarf. She held Hunter's hand over a large bowl and thoroughly rinsed the wound with water, removing any vestiges of dirt, hoping that would be enough to prevent infection. Though the wound no longer bled copiously Isabel picked up a clean rag and continued to apply pressure to the cut.