He let the boy out and watched him run down to Benet’s door. To his surprise Benet and Joan’s two boys poked their heads out the door, grabbed hold of Andrew, and tugged him into the room. Gybbon hoped the boys suited each other well. Andrew could find himself with more brothers even if they were not blood connected. Bonds formed at their age could last a lifetime. Young as they were, all three could understand the fear, sorrow, and anger Andrew had bubbling inside him.
Stepping back into the bedroom and shutting the door, Gybbon returned to Mora’s bedside. He reached down to brush her hair back and froze. She was shivering, shivering hard, like some poor, naked beggar caught out in the snow. Despite telling himself it did not mean anything truly bad, he felt the touch of panic.
When Annys tended someone, he remembered that she always left a bell for the one who would sit with the sick person, one they could ring and Annys would come. He told himself to let the poor woman sleep, but then Mora hissed out the words “so cold” between tightly clenched teeth. Going to the door, he found the bell. He could still hear Mora mumbling behind him as he stepped out into the hall and rang the bell, before hurrying back to her side.
In just a few minutes Annys rushed in and hurried over to the bed. Deciding he would not mention that her voluminous night shift was on inside out and backward, Gybbon had to fight a grin. She looked at Mora, then dashed over to the chest set near the fire, opened it, and pulled out another blanket. He took it from her and spread it over a still shivering Mora. They did that twice more in the next hour, but Mora continued to shiver slightly.
“I have ne’er understood why this happens, but it often does,” said Annys. “I have ne’er had anyone appear to have suffered badly from it though. Dinnae look. I am just going to take another quick peek at her wound.”
Gybbon just shook his head. As soon as she had Mora’s night shift tugged up, he glanced at the wound himself. It looked healthy to him, still sealed and no hint of the poison that could too easily grow in such injuries, making even the smallest one become deadly. It was just an ugly reminder of how someone wished her dead and did not belong on such smooth, pale skin.
Annys stood up, put the night shift back in place, and pulled up the covers. “Just keep her warm and, if anything else changes, ring the bell.”
Gybbon looked at the door Annys had shut and decided it would have to be a big change and a worrisome one before he rang that bell again or he would never hear the end of it from Harcourt. He stood by the bed and wondered what he should do. The blankets had not solved the problem. Then he recalled what he had done from time to time when a boy forced to sleep in a cold room with other boys.
Smiling, he started to shed his clothes. When he was naked, he crawled under the covers, tugged her into his arms, and waited until her shivering stopped. Not long after, he decided that as soon as he could he would pull down a few of the blankets as it was too hot for him.
He lightly rubbed her back and she snuggled closer, putting her arms around him and laying her cheek against his chest. He could grow to like this, he thought, and smiled. Her night shift hid little of her shape when he held her so close. Curious if her skin felt as soft as it looked, he slipped his hand just under the hem and stroked her leg. Then he pulled his hand away with reluctance, knowing it was a grave trespass and not wishing to get caught and then have to try and explain what he had been doing. He had proven his suspicion. Her skin was as soft and smooth as it looked.
Moving just enough to reach out and turn down the added covers, he then held her close and closed his eyes. He would have a short rest, then return to just watching her for any sign of some new turn in her illness. Briefly peeking at Freya, who sprawled on the pillow near her head, he caught the cat watching him.
“Wake me when the sun starts to rise,” he said, and chuckled as he closed his eyes again.
*
Mora woke up slowly. She was so nice and warm when she could faintly recall being so very cold, the kind of cold that sank right down into your bones. Snuggling closer to the warmth, she suddenly realized that it was not a blanket wrapped around her legs. It was a leg. She shifted her legs a little. It was a big leg, too.
Cautiously, she opened her eyes and found herself staring at a big arm wrapped around her shoulders. Mora knew she should not be having so much trouble figuring this out, but it was as if her brain was wrapped in a fog. She turned her head and felt the slight tickle of hair against her nose.
It was hard, but she resisted the strong urge to leap out of bed. She felt no fear, which was odd, she thought. Leaning back a little, she looked up and saw Gybbon’s sleeping face. He looked years younger with his face relaxed in sleep.
That was why she had no fear, she decided. She also had no idea why he was in her bed and—she lifted the covers, then quickly put them back down—why he was naked. Glancing around, she saw no one else in the room and rested against him again.
Gybbon was why that cold she recalled was gone. A glance at the window told her it was just dawn, and still early dawn for the sun was down by the horizon. Despite the hilly land around them she could still see a bit of the sun. So, too early to be awake, she decided, but she felt no strong need to go back to sleep.
After lying there for a while trying to decide what she should do and enjoying being held close by Gybbon more than she probably should, she noticed a sore spot on her head, one that throbbed enough to try and make her head ache. Mora sat up and grabbed the tankard on the table by the bed, having a long drink of the cider left for her. She then reached up and felt around her head before finding a bump on the back. Try as hard as she could, she could not think of where she might have gotten it.
Gybbon opened his eyes and watched as Mora rubbed the spot on her head that had hit the floor. He had begun to wake up when she had started moving around, a little afraid she would panic when she found him there. Mora had either figured out why he was there or she was still groggy.
“Morning,” he said, and looked at Freya. “Ye were supposed to wake me when the sun rose.”
Mora laughed and watched as her cat patted him on the face. “The sun has just risen and ye should be glad I was slow this morning or ye might be the one needing a wound tended.”
“Ye were shivering from the cold, although it was warm enough in here.”
“I could remember that much. My mither got the chills bad once and my da climbed into the bed with her, then had me and Andrew crawl in as well. However,” she said sternly and looked at him, “we kept all our clothes on.”
“I believe I mentioned once that I dinnae wear them when climbing into a proper bed.”
She just harrumphed in a soft way, then rubbed her head again. “Why does my head hurt?”
“It didnae like the floor it met with.” When she looked at him in confusion, he just smiled.
“I fell?”
“Like a stone. Ye were right outside the door to the hall and headed to the stairs when ye went down. Ye had the fever again. Annys thinks it was simply because ye did too much too soon, had too much weighing on your mind and heart.” He reached around her, grabbed the tankard, and used the last of the cider to rinse away the taste of the night from his mouth.
“I didnae ride a horse and that was all Jolene said I couldnae do.”
“Aye, I ken it, but Annys thinks ye have had far too much to deal with for a while now and that may have made the cart ride enough to make ye sick again. Your wound is just fine—before ye ask. Your head didnae split open or the like, so that will stop being painful soon.”
“Well, I guess that was lucky as that floor is hard.”
“Ye could put a cold cloth on the spot. I dinnae ken why, but it can help.” He reached out to find the spot giving her trouble. “’Tis a sizeable knot ye have there.”