The healer stepped back. “Now she needs to rest.”
“She will.” He started to reach inside his clothing for coin to pay the healer.
She shook her head. “We will settle anything owed on my return. For now, take care of her. ’Tis what is important.” In silence shepacked her supplies away with neat precision and then started out. At the door she turned, her wizened gaze leveled on him. “She is not to be moved.”
At her emphasis on the last, another shard of unease trickled up his neck. “Aye.”
After the healer departed, Colyne secured the door, his disquiet about the healer lingering. Why? Her aged eyes had scoured Marie with experience, she’d asked prudent questions, and she was knowledgeable in her craft, proven by how she had selected the necessary herbs without hesitation. In fact, during her brief visit the healer had acted more like a doting mother than a stranger.
He stilled.
Had she recognized Marie? Would she send word to King Philip? Shaken, he looked down.
Marie’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, her breaths even; she slept.
Colyne dismissed his worries. With fatigue weighing heavily on his mind, having eluded Renard’s men for days on end in addition to his fear for her life, he searched for deception at every turn. Now, when he found a woman who cared about those she tended, he branded her a threat. The tension in his body eased and the room wavered before him.
More than ready to catch a bit of rest, Colyne stripped off his wet clothes and crossed to the bed. He climbed in beside Marie, removed her sodden garb as well, and then drew her against him.
Her every shiver speared him like a lance. “I am here,” he whispered. The fire he’d started earlier heated the room with a meager efficiency, but it didna offer the warmth she needed.
He cursed the fact that circumstance had forced him to choose such a dismal hovel and he couldna trust anyone here to send word to King Philip of Marie’s safety. She needed the best care possible. Instead, she lay freezing beside him.
Nestled against his chest, she murmured incoherently and continued to shiver.
The hours passed, each one stoking his fear.Please, God, make her well.She meant everything to him.
And more.
Shaken by the depth of his feelings for her, Colyne stared at Marie as if seeing her for the first time. His heart trembled.
He wanted her.
Needed her.
Forever.
On a hard swallow, he awaited the surge of fear, the rush of panic at thoughts of permanence.
Instead, he found renewed strength and a need so deep any thought of walking away from Marie left him devastated. . . . He loved her!
An anguished moan fell from her lips.
“There, lass.” Colyne willed her to overcome the misery she suffered as he embraced his newfound feelings, overwhelmed, overjoyed, and anxious to share his realization. “I love you, Marie.”
At his soul-drenched whisper, she frowned.
As if in her state he’d expected her to reply? But he’d told her, would continue to tell her how much he loved her until she could understand.
Memories rolled through him of when she’d admitted how she cared for him deeply. With the way she’d given of herself when they’d made love, how she’d touched him, caressed him with infinite care, he refused to believe she didna feel more.
She shivered in his arms.
“I love you, Marie.” He stroked his fingers through her hair. From the flames in the hearth illuminating the chamber, he noted a light sheen of sweat had begun to cover her forehead. He pressed his fingers against her brow. A sword’s wrath! She’d begun to run a fever.
He must send for the healer. And if she couldna be found, he’d find a horse and ride with Marie this night to her father. Bedamned the risk; he’d do whatever he must to ensure Marie lived.
Colyne gently slid a gown over her head and then tucked her beneath the covers. “I shall be but a trice.” He kissed her cheek. As he pulled on the last of his garb, a soft knock sounded on the door.
