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Mair asked, “Did he hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine,” Elwyn said. “It was just rather unsettling. I don’t think he was entirely sober.”
“Well, we have no need for the likes of him here,” the miller said.
“It wasn’t really his fault,” Sara Smith said. “She was the temptress. She’s a strumpet living with a man in her house. Now what will we do without that peddler?”
“I thought he was your competition,” Mair said. “You and your husband make pots and pans. I’d think you’d be glad to see him gone.”
Sara turned away from her with a huff. Elwyn knew the smith’s wife was wrong, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d said or done anything that the peddler might have misinterpreted. A couple of people in the marketplace gave her looks that made her wonder if Sara’s words had landed on fertile ground.
Fighting to ignore Sara, Elwyn took Bryn’s arm and brought him over to the Chicken Lady. “Thank you,” she said to the woman.
“’Twasn’t me. ’Twas the chicken. They can be fierce creatures when they’re riled.”
“Well, I appreciate the chicken, then.” Elwyn took the jar of sage out of the basket Bryn held and said, “This is for the sore throat. Make a strong infusion of this—steep it in hot water for about ten minutes, then let it cool—and gargle with it a few times a day.” She handed over that jar, which he had labeled, she noted, and picked up the second one. “Make a tea out of this one. One spoon of the mixture per cup of water, steep about five minutes and drink a couple of cups of this a day. That should keep any illness from developing into a proper cold. Avoid drafts if you can, and get plenty of rest.”
“If you’d like us to make a tea for you, we’ll have the shop open and serving tea this afternoon,” Bryn added.
“I can’t leave my chicks for that long. But I thank you. Here, take more eggs.” Her basket was fairly full, so Elwyn took a few more. This would be almost as good as having meat.
“Is there anything else you need?” Bryn asked Elwyn softly as they moved away from the Chicken Lady.
She shook her head. “No. I got everything I came for.”
“Then let’s go home.”
She could feel the shakiness in the aftermath of the incident coming on and nodded. “Yes, let’s.”
He took her elbow and escorted her away from the market. She doubted he could do much to protect her in his condition, but his presence was reassuring and comforting. It felt good to have someone to lean on.
As soon as they were out of earshot of the market, she said, “‘Unhand her, you varlet?’ What was that?”
She looked at him to see him looking back at her with a sheepish grin. “I don’t know. It seemed like the right thing to say at the time. Perhaps it was my knightly instincts coming to the surface.”
“I’ve never heard a knight say anything like that, other than in stories. And what were you planning to do if the chicken hadn’t intervened? You weren’t armed, and you could have reopened that wound if you’d tried to fight him.”
“You used the distraction from my challenge to break away from him,” he pointed out. “Then the villagers and the chicken took care of the rest. It worked perfectly without me having to do anything but shout.”
It struck her then that he had come to her defense. Even wounded and unarmed, he’d stood up for her, which was a sharp contrast to the last time she’d been in trouble. The villagers had also rallied around her. Even the ones who didn’t know her, who hadn’t yet needed her aid, had supported her. She blinked back the tears that stung her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. Perhaps she had found a home.
But she couldn’t count on Bryn remaining a part of it. He was bound to leave once he was fully recovered, either to return to the home he’d finally remembered or to try to recover his lost memories. She couldn’t afford to include him in her idea of home. He was a patient, nothing more.
Back in the cottage kitchen, he said, “He probably left bruises on your arm,” and went to the shop, coming back with a pot of salve. “Sit, and I’ll see to it.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“You can’t see the back of your own upper arm.”
She couldn’t argue with that. With a sigh, she sat and loosened the drawstring at the neck of her blouse and tugged it from under the strap of her bodice to leave her shoulder and upper arm bare. He bent to peer at her arm. “There are some red marks here. This should prevent it from bruising too badly.” He gently smeared salve on the affected area, and she fought not to shiver at his light touch. He was only touching her arm, but she felt it through her whole body. She clamped down on her magical senses so that she wouldn’t feel what he was feeling while he touched her. She didn’t want to know since she didn’t know which would be worse, that he was feeling something that would complicate matters between them or that he was feeling nothing more than friendly affection.
“There,” he said. “That should help. It doesn’t look like it should be too bad.”
She pulled up the neckline of her blouse and retied the drawstring. “Thank you. And now it’s your turn. I want to take a look at your wound.” She stood and he took the seat she’d vacated. He took off his jacket and his shirt. She unwound the bandage and surveyed the wound. “Looks like it’s knitting well. I’d better remove these stitches, but then you’ll need to be especially careful for a day or two.” She got her kit and used the small scissors to snip away the knots, then pulled the thread out as gently as she could with tweezers. He hissed sharply a couple of times but otherwise was quite stoic about it. She dabbed the spots where the stitches had been and dropped in some tincture before putting on a clean bandage. “I may put a poultice on it tonight, but it looks like it’s doing well. The cut wasn’t very deep, which helps. Now, you should go to the sitting room and rest while I get lunch ready.”
He stood. “No, you go to the sitting room and rest, and I’ll make lunch. You’ve been looking after me long enough. It’s time I returned the favor.”
This was awkward. She wasn’t sure how Gladys would take having an interloper in her kitchen. “You know how to cook?” she asked skeptically, hoping she could deter him.
