His eyes fluttered open, revealing overly dilated pupils. Focusing the best he could on my face, his brows creased in agitation. “There’s been a mistake,” he slurred.
I gave an undignified snort of laughter. “Precisely which one are you referring to?” I asked, torn between vexation and amusement, as our list of mistakes seemed only to be growing today. Did he mean our being attacked by a group of scoundrels or how my dress was covered in blood from two different men? Or maybe that he had been shot in the back and should actually be dead by now rather than traveling on to the next inn? Really, he needed to be more specific.
“It’s my name,” he said, growing more agitated. “I am not Mr. Alan.”
“Of course you are,” I said soothingly. “It’s written right on your contract for indenture.” Henry wasn’t my first patient to suffer delusions. Once he was rested and the shock worn off, he would return to normal—memories and all.
“No,” he said and tried to push up. Barely making it to his elbows, he winced in pain from the effort. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Lie down before you cause more damage,” I ordered, placing a hand on his chest to make him obey. The initial healing had been exhausting, and I didn’t want to start again anytime soon. It was a wonderful gift, but as with everything great, there was a price. Supper and a good night’s sleep would restore my physical strength. The fire, though, could only be replenished in another world.
Henry lay back down and stared up at me intently. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“So you’re not the King of England?” I teased. “I was hoping to call you Georgie once we got to Brighmor.”
He fell silent, and I thought the fit had passed when he reached over and took my hand. “You are so beautiful,” he said, his green eyes boring into me. “Just like an angel.”
My spine stiffened, and I pulled my hand free. “Shush now,” I said, this time with real urgency. “No more talking.”
I don’t know if it was the tone of my voice or just plain fatigue, but he closed his eyes and fell back to sleep. Overcome by a heavy weariness, I slumped against the bench, feeling as though all my bones had been turned to lead. In his present condition, Henry would retain no memory of the words that now echoed inside my head.
Just like an angel...
This time it had meant nothing.
In the future it could mean my death.
*
When we reached the inn, Ben helped Henry out of the carriage and inside to a bed. Still at risk of serious infection, his remaining wounds had to be tended to right away, and I went straight to the kitchen to speak with the cook. Finding her decently competent, I decided to get cleaned up while she put fresh water on to boil and fetched needle and thread.
A basin of warm water had already been delivered to my room when I arrived upstairs. Quickly washing, I summoned the maid to help me into a clean gown. The brown silk was beyond repair, torn in several places and stained with blood, and I felt no remorse when I ordered the girl to see it burned.
The cook sent word when everything was ready, and I crossed the hall to Henry’s room to get started. Expecting him to be asleep or at least fairly miserable, I knocked softly before letting myself in. To my surprise, I found him fully awake and talking with the maid as she tucked a pillow behind his back. She was a very pretty girl despite the lovesick look on her face.
“There ye go, sir,” she said, giving the pillow one last pat. A wooden tray rested on the bed, and she picked up a bowl for him. “Yer sister didn’t ask for it, but the cook thought ye could use some warm broth.”
“Thank you, Ruthie,” he said, gladly accepting the bowl.
I tensed at the warmth in his voice. Already on a first name basis, are we?
“Those highwaymen that attacked ye must have been awfully frightening. Did ye really kill three of them by yerself, sir?”
“Who told you that?” Henry asked curiously.
“That other man who came with ye. He told my mistress how ye was set on by five bandits, and that ye managed to kill three by the time he finished with one. Is it true?” Admiration shined on her face.
Henry flinched slightly as he lifted the bowl to his lips for a drink. “It’s true,” he said. “But I’m afraid I’m now worse for the wear.”
“Would ye like me to feed it to ye, sir?” Ruthie asked hopefully, still taking no heed of my presence.
Oh, bother! I rolled my eyes and stepped further into the room. “I see you’re feeling better, Mr. Kilbrid. You will please excuse us, Ruthie, while I tend to my husband.”
A faint pink came into Ruthie’s cheeks, making her even prettier. “Oh, yes, ma’am. Begging yer pardon, I thought he was yer brother with ye taking separate rooms and all.” She stole another peek at Henry. “If ye want, I can stay and help with the wounds.”
“I am quite capable on my own,” I assured her. “I will pull the bell if there’s anything else for you to do.”