“Frau Lena needs to” — she motioned with her hands, mimicking sewing with a needle and thread — “your head closed so it will heal more quickly.”
He should have known the sweet moment wouldn’t last.
“Will you promise to stay still and let her close your wound?”
She spoke to him as if he was slow-witted. “Of course. I’m not a child.”
“No, of course you aren’t.” She smiled in the exact same way she might smile at a child — a very small child.
She was hurting his head with the way she was dabbing at it, and he certainly didn’t want her around when Frau Lena sewed up his head. But he felt drowsy . . . so drowsy he almost stopped chewing the bread that was in his mouth. He wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t been poisoned, but he was too sleepy and warm and full to care.
Colin awoke to a sharp pain in his head and remembered that Frau Lena had stitched the wound there. She’d sent Lady Margaretha away, for which he was grateful. He didn’t want the beautiful duke’s daughter to witness him in pain. Had he cried out? His memory of it was blurry.
He seemed to be alone in the room. The light was gray through the window, but he couldn’t tell if it was morning or twilight. The walls around him were of gray stone and curved, as if he were in a round tower. His stomach growled over the faint noises coming from outside. The lady had told him he was at Hagenheim Castle.
He’d demanded to see Duke Wilhelm, but she’d refused. Lifting his head, he could see why. He surveyed his condition — horribly skinny and in need of a bath. His clothes were dirty, stained, and torn beyond repair.
Just lifting his head off the pillow made him dizzy, so he sank back.
It would take him a day or two to get at least a modicum of his strength back before he could confront Duke Wilhelm, not to mention his enemy — that deceitful lump of pond scum whose men had killed John. But he was alive, and he would not give up until he found Claybrook.
Chapter
4
Margaretha couldn’t stop thinking about the poor young Englishman who had been brought to Frau Lena’s chamber. He seemed desperate to talk to Father about whoever had tried to kill him. But why couldn’t he simply tell her? Why did he think it would endanger her to know who his attacker was?
She was sitting in the Great Hall when Lord Claybrook entered carrying a whole armful of flowers after his ride with her father and brother. Lord Claybrook presented them to her with a charming smile.
“They’re lovely!”
A kitchen maid scurried to find a vessel to put them in while Margaretha took them from him. The profusion of color from the different types of flowers made her nearly giddy.
“They are so bright! Are they selling these in the market? I didn’t know the geraniums were blooming already.” Instead of prattling on about the flowers, Margaretha brought herself up short and remembered to ask Lord Claybrook how his ride had been and what he had thought of Hagenheim.
“It is such a charming place.” Lord Claybrook went on to compliment her father’s leadership skills, as well as the peace and lawful atmosphere of the town. He praised the strength of the walls and the gates and gatehouses around the town. He spoke of the friendliness and cheer of the people, as well as their cleanliness and the beauty and upkeep of the buildings.
While he talked, Margaretha arranged and rearranged her flowers in the large pottery jar. The pink flowers looked pretty next to the lavender, and the daisies set off the geraniums perfectly. Perhaps she could take a small bunch of them to the healer’s chamber. They would brighten up the room so nicely, and the English boy, whatever his name was, could enjoy them while he was getting well. The poor thing had looked so pale when Frau Lena was about to stitch him up. Her presence in the room seemed to be disturbing him, and Frau Lena asked her to leave, but she wondered if he was feeling better. Maybe she could sneak away later and see if he —
“Lady Margaretha.”
“Oh, yes, Lord Claybrook.”
He smiled at her with narrowed eyes, then he made a “tsk-tsk-tsk” sound with his tongue against his teeth. “You were not listening again.” He shook his finger at her.
“I was listening. You were telling me all about the town and how much you liked it and the security of the gates and — ”
“And then I asked you what you would do tomorrow while I am out hunting with Duke Wilhelm.”
“Oh, well, I shall find something to do, I am sure. I never have trouble keeping myself busy.” Margaretha smiled at him.
“I have another gift for you.” Lord Claybrook pulled something from a pocket inside his surcoat, and while holding it behind his back with one hand, he held out his other hand to her.