He rubbed his face, feeling the itch of three days’ growth of beard. He didn’t want to dwell on such things, to realize he’d lost his usual confidence. With no weapon except a crossbow and no real plan, nothing to do but wait, his mood grew darker, especially with Gisela telling him he didn’t have to marry her. What did she mean by that?
“My dear,” the friar was saying to Gisela, “I’m sure God has a purpose for you. You must realize that God loves you and that He places great worth on you. Do not doubt it. If you ask for it in prayer, I am sure God will give you direction and a purpose.”
A purpose for Gisela? Valten wasn’t sure when it had started, but he had begun to imagine her married to him, having his children, and living at Hagenheim Castle with him. But what if God had another purpose for Gisela, one that didn’t include him?
Why did the friar have to stir up these disturbing thoughts?
Friar Daniel stood and drew something out of his saddlebag. “I wish to share with you. ‘Such as I have, I give you.’ “ He handed Gisela and Valten a small roll of bread. “I must say my prayers, for I never eat until I’ve prayed at least half an hour.” Still smiling, the friar made his way farther into the cave and disappeared in the darkness.
Gisela looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. She looked sweet enough to … kiss, but he probably shouldn’t, not with the way she kept telling him he didn’t have to marry her. Did she not want to be his wife?
He sat down in front of her and let her smile lift his spirits a little.
“Thank you for the water.”
He nodded. “I think we should rest as much as we can today and then start toward home when it gets dark. If we travel at night, we have a better chance of getting away.”
Gisela nodded, taking a bite of her roll. “That makes sense.”
Moments later Valten was taking the last bite of his bread, thinking about going hunting for some game, when Gisela suddenly gasped. She was staring down at something, then she grabbed his right hand.
Gisela couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to look at Valten’s right wrist. She had noticed several times the somewhat untidy state of the splint on his left hand, but hadn’t paid attention to his right. Of course it would be bloody after he’d struggled so long to get the rope off. Dried blood plastered the piece of cloth to his skin, and there were rope burns on the back of his hand.
She sucked in a breath as she examined his strong, broad hand and the damage to it. “You must let me take care of this. We should go to the stream and wash it.”
“You can’t go to the stream. It’s too dangerous. Ruexner may follow the stream looking for us.”
“At least hold still and let me wash it.” She held his hand over the grass. She poured water from the flask over his bloody wrist and the abrasions on his hand. When the bandage was soaked through, she carefully worked it loose. As she stared at his poor hand, she had a sudden urge to kiss it, so strong it made her heart slam against her chest.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “It will heal.”
She poured some more water on it, trying to clean enough blood off so that she could see how bad it looked. She swallowed. “Perhaps Friar Daniel will have some clean bandages I could use.” Her voice wavered.
She turned his hand palm up and admired the structure of his fingers. Her face heated and she wished she had something to dry his hand off with, just so she’d have an excuse to keep holding it. She let go and raised her head. He was looking at her so tenderly. Was he feeling the same way?
“Your cheek isn’t swollen as much anymore. That’s good.” But his left eye was still bruised purple and blue below and above his eye. The stitches over his eye seemed to be holding well, and that cut looked like it was healing. Her gaze wandered from his eye to the growth of hair on his face. She’d always thought he looked dangerous, but he looked even more so with the short stubble on his face.
His eyes met hers, and it seemed as if she could see a longing in the intensity of their gray-green depths. She felt as if she could never stop caring about him, as if he had captured her and she would never escape … would never want to. A terrifying thought. Her heart pounded even harder, especially when his gaze moved from her eyes to her lips. He moved closer as his head bent toward her.
“There is nothing like communing with God first thing in the morning.”
Gisela sat back on her heels as Friar Daniel emerged from the dark cave.
Trying to recover her composure, Gisela jumped to her feet and asked, “Friar Daniel, do you have any clean bandages? Valten — I mean, Lord Hamlin, has some wounds on his wrist and hand —”
“Of course, my dear.” Friar Daniel turned to look through the supplies on his donkey’s back. He brought forth a roll of clean cloth.
“Thank you so much.” She turned back to Valten, who was also standing. Feeling a bit awkward now that Friar Daniel was watching them, she took Valten’s hand and carefully wrapped it with the bandage, tying it securely.