Lady Gallant (23 page)

Something was wrong. She knew it the moment she got inside. Serving men and women were rushing up and down the main staircase with linens and jugs of water. Guards were positioned about the house, and Nora saw almost twenty of the Earl's men-at-arms gathered in the hall. The whole household was up and dressed.

The steward recovered enough to send one of the Earl's lieutenants to her as she stood at the foot of the staircase, Arthur's hand clasped in her own.

"My lady, is something wrong?" the young man asked, but he didn't wait for her to answer. "You must allow me to escort you back to the palace, for the Earl can't see you. He is ill."

"What's wrong?"

"He was attacked by thieves last night, my lady. Lord Montfort as well. My lady!"

Nora was already racing up the stairs with Arthur in tow. That nuisance of a lieutenant plucked at her cloak, but she slapped his hand away and ran. It wasn't difficult to decide which was the Earl's chamber. It had to be the one with the gaggle of physicians hovering outside. She pushed two of them aside and thrust through a half-open doorway.

She collided with the solid Edward Hext.

"My lady," Hext said as he grasped her arm.

"Let me past. Let go."

She was in an antechamber. Beyond was the door to the Earl's bedchamber, but Hext wouldn't release her. Arthur and the lieutenant scrambled into the room, halting when they saw her and Hext.

"My lady," Hext said, "the Earl is grievously wounded, and you must leave."

She shook her head. "Lord Montfort."

"There isn't time, my lady. I'm trying to convince Lord Montfort to see a physician. He's been with the Earl since they returned home after the attack, and he won't leave his father's side. I fear for his life as well if his wounds aren't seen to."

"I can help," Nora said. She saw the disbelief on Hext's face. "I can."

"I don't see how."

"I saved him from the Queen, didn't I?"

Hext chewed his lip but finally stepped aside. While the lieutenant protested, Nora walked into the Earl's bedchamber. The windows were still shrouded against the night's cold. She smelled beeswax candles, the sweet scent of rosewood furniture, and spices. Across the expanse of the room she saw a bed hung with the Earl's colors and standard. On it lay the Earl covered in white linens, and sitting on the bed beside his father was Christian.

Christian's back was to her. Neither man moved, and Nora thought they resembled a tableau on one of the marble sepulchers in her family's burial vault at home. The Earl was almost as white as one of the vaults. And though Christian's hand covered his father's, she detected no movement in it.

As if approaching an altar, her dread growing with each step, she crossed the room to them. She crept to the side of the bed on which Christian perched, and when she was an arm's length away she noticed the wide bandage fastened around his upper thigh. Dark with old blood, it was moist, and new trails of bright red trickled down his leg. He rested on his right hip, keeping the injured leg stretched out and braced on the floor. His left arm hugged his body unnaturally, and Nora was sure it was damaged also.

She moved into the light shed by the candles on a table beside the bed, but Christian showed no sign that he knew she was there. His gaze remained fixed on the Earl. Nora took another step, gaining a better view of the desecration of Christian's body. His doublet had been sliced diagonally from right shoulder to left hip and hung in two bloody halves. His shirt had slipped off one shoulder to reveal a neat cut that began at the join of arm and torso.

His face was untouched, yet ravaged. And it was his face that most frightened Nora. Drained of emotion, it was like the face of one of those figures clockmakers mounted on their more costly creations. The Queen had one on which a knight, fashioned in silver, knelt before his sword as if it were a cross. Silver, cold, and unreal.

He was so unmoving she was afraid to speak. She hesitated, wishing her own breathing weren't so loud, wishing she had the courage to say something. Then she remembered the first time she'd seen Christian with his father. At the sight of the Earl he had transformed from a viper into a submissive angel. This man who tormented and toyed with murderers called Sebastian "sire," as a nobleman addresses his king.

Nora held her breath and put out a hand. She touched the bleeding arm with one finger.

"Get out," Christian said, "before I kill you."

Once she would have bolted at his threat. Mayhap she'd heard too many threats from men these past few days and had grown used to them. Mayhap she was too frightened by the death-vault stillness of Christian and his father to take heed. Or mayhap she'd lost what few wits she had after a day of running and hiding.

Whatever the reason, she didn't run now. She waited for Christian to say something more or to move. He did neither, so she reached out again to touch his arm. The touch was light, but he sucked in his breath and jerked away, his hand coming up to ward off another liberty.

"Don't make me throw you out into the streets," he said. "They're littered enough as it is."

At least he was talking. "What happened?"

"We were out whoring and were attacked. Would you like to know what we bought and how we used it?"

"I—I'm not going, my lord." She covered her ears with her hands.

Christian didn't smile, but she could see a glimmer of halfhearted amusement in his eyes. His shout caught her off guard.

"Hext!"

The man appeared, his face alight with hope. "Get some of my men to cart this parcel back to the palace," Christian said.

He was going to throw her out. Nora lifted her skirts and sprang away from Christian, running around to the other side of the bed as he shoved himself to his feet. Limping, he nevertheless caught her before she could dodge him. He snagged her arm, dragged her to Hext and thrust her at the man.

"At once, Hext. And see to it that she understands just how unwelcome she is." He turned away, back to his father.

Hext started pulling Nora out of the chamber, and she panicked.

"No, please. I can't go back."

Arthur burst in, drawn by her cries. "Take your hands from my lady!" He kicked Hext's shin, and the man yelped.

"You let her go!" Arthur proceeded to shout and kick at Hext while pounding him with both fists.

Christian's roar made the boy squeak and hide behind his victim and Nora. "Silence! By God, I've had a surfeit of whining and whimpering."

Reaching behind Hext, Christian fished Arthur out by the neck of his shirt and held him off the ground, wriggling like a river eel. He dropped the boy in front of Hext, who grabbed Arthur's hair with one hand while he kept hold of Nora with the other. He began to drag them away.

"God rot your soul," Arthur said. "We aren't going back and marry that devil's minion."

Christian had resumed his vigil at the Earl's side. At Arthur's words, though, he lifted a hand, and Hext immediately stopped.

"What did you say?" Christian asked Arthur.

Nora made shushing noises, but Arthur stuck out his chin and glared at the man across the room.

"They tried to make us sign those marrying papers, but we hid. And we aren't going to marry that man. He has fits."

Christian glanced at his father, then rose and walked with an uneven gait back to the three of them. "Hext, take this golden-headed shrike to the kitchens and feed him."

"We aren't going back," Arthur repeated.

"Don't try my patience, you infant Mars, or I'll put my good hand to your arse."

Arthur stomped out followed by Hext, and Christian returned to his father. Left by herself, Nora had no idea if she was meant to go with the others or stay. Christian wasn't going to throw her out, at least not at the moment. Perhaps she should leave. She could speak to him when he'd rested. Only he wasn't going to rest. She could see that he intended to keep vigil at his father's bedside until he bled to death. Tiptoeing as quietly as she could, she crept back to the two men on the bed.

Christian didn't acknowledge her, but he didn't try to chase her away either. His inattention allowed her to gather her courage to speak.

"What do the physicians say?"

"What they always say. He is in God's hands."

She winced at his laugh. A tortured, lost-soul's laugh it was, and it turned her insides to boiled cabbage.

"He was in God's hands last night," Christian said, "but I was there to see that he fell out of them and into the path of a dagger."

Speaking before she lost the resolve, Nora asked, "Mean you that those brigands were yours?"

"Don't be any more of an ass than you can help."

"Mean you that you knew there would be trouble this night?"

"Of course not. Beshrew you. I can't take much more of your foolishness."

"But, my lord, you can't mean that you are responsible for the evil of men who try to attack honest subjects in the dark, any more than you could help being taken by that terrible outlaw Jack Midnight."

From the table beside the bed, Christian grabbed a cloth and gently touched it to his father's brow. The Earl hadn't moved in spite of all the commotion around him.

"Go away," Christian said. "My steward will give you chambers."

"I'll stay."

"This is no time for you to become a little donkey. And I've no patience left."

He stood, and Nora knew he was going to toss her out. She skipped backward when he reached for her.

"Please," she said.

"No, I don't please."

He limped toward her, and it was the limp that gave her the idea. She stopped skipping away from him. Allowing him to catch her, she let her body go boneless. Christian caught her and stooped to lift her in his arms. His leg gave way. Dropping to his knees, he cursed as his arms lost their strength.

Nora scrambled out of his grip in time to slip her shoulder beneath his arm as he swayed. His free hand came up to grasp her other shoulder, and she felt the slick, wet smear of blood. Knowing she would draw his fury if she called for help, she pried him upright. It took all her strength, but she succeeded in dragging him to the bed. When they reached it, he fell on his side, gasping and clutching at his thigh.