A Knight to Remember by Christina Dodd Read Free Book Online Page B

his mouth and down his throat, she wanted to hit him. He acted like a typical man who’dbeen ill. Angry at those who’d saved him, impatient with his own weakness, aware only of himself.
    Yet he wasn’t typical at all. His gaze lingered on her breasts as if he recalled touching her, then his eyes lifted to her face. He observed her—an uncomfortable feeling when one has bared one’s miserable soul. Placing him back on the rag pillow as rapidly as she could, Edlyn said, “You were wounded. We thought you would die.”
    For the first time since he’d recovered consciousness, he seemed aware of his injury. His hands curled, his fingers searched, and he touched the edges of the mat as if that would help develop substantial recollections. “Wharton brought me to an abbey.” His gaze swept the room. “I’ve been hidden in the dispensary.”
    “That’s right,” she said, trying to encourage him.
    Again he looked at her. “You’re the healer.” His forehead crinkled as he groped among his fevered memories. Then it smoothed, and with a great effort he stretched out his fingers and touched her skirt. “You’re…Edlyn.”
    Holy Mother, he remembered! But did he remember from that first day when Wharton had brought him in? Or did he remember from last night? Her mind buzzed and fretted, and she made a production of examining the bandage over his wound.
    “You’re Edlyn from George’s Cross,” he insisted.
    It would hurt him when she removed the bandage, she thought. Regardless of her care, it would hurt.
    Then she felt a small tug on her skirt and looked up to see him still watching her.
    “At George’s Cross,” he repeated, “you were the daughter of a baron.”
    He wanted an answer, and she nodded reluctantly. “And you were the son of a baron.”
    “You learned a lady’s duties under the instruction of Lady Alisoun.”
    Her mouth quirked. He seemed lost in harmless old reminiscences. “You learned a knight’s duties under Sir David.”
    “You were a proper girl, gentle and kind, as befitting a ward of Lady Alisoun’s.”
    He didn’t recall her confession of the night before, or he wouldn’t have said that. She hurried to speak and cover her relief. “You were the best warrior in all of George’s Cross, as befitting a student of Sir David’s.”
    He closed his eyes as if the effort of reminiscing had tired him. “We were children together.”
    Children together? Is that all he remembered? Curiously, that angered her, and she shot him a glance of such scorn it should have cauterized his wound. But actually, it helped to be so angry, for someone had to peel that bandage off his wound and Wharton had proved unable to deliberately hurt his master, even for his master’s own good. “Prepare yourself,” she said.
    He opened his eyes again and realized what would happen, then nodded weakly.
    She eased the clinging linen off the forming scab.
    He arched his back as if she’d burned him. Wharton handed her the jar of ointment she’d used every day to combat the infection, and she hurried to spread it with her fingers. Deep sighs of relief shuddered through him, and she was glad. Glad he’d returned to consciousness. Glad she had the skill to relieve the pain of recovery.
    When she had bandaged him, he looked at her deeply, and she bore the examination proudly. She wanted him to realize the girl she had been had grown up, gained skills, and saved his life. Heopened his mouth to speak, and she straightened her spine.
    “You look the same,” he said. “Pretty as ever.”
     
    “Wharton.” Hugh laid on his side on the pallet and in a rich voice spoke persuasively to his servant. “You’ll need to leave before the sun rises much higher in the sky, or someone here might recognize you.”
    Like a she-wolf guarding her pup, Wharton squatted beside Hugh. Setting his jaw, he looked annoyed. “I don’t like leaving ye here day after day in th’ hands o’ that woman.”
    From her place at the long