Knight Triumphant by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page B

for a moment’s time.”
    Arching a brow, Igrainia rose from the bedside and walked to where Father MacKinley stood.
    â€œI will return her immediately,” the priest vowed.
    The man nodded, turning back to his wife.
    Still amazed, Igrainia followed the priest into the hall. “Where are we going?”
    â€œSir Robert Neville tosses in a fever, but he has asked to see you. It may well be a last request, and so Sir Eric has said you may have a minute.”
    They hurried down the hall to Robert’s chamber. Igrainia swept in, alarmed to see how seriously ill Robert had grown in such a short time. She immediately took the water by the bed and began bathing his face. Robert was a handsome man, her husband’s second cousin. He was gifted with sable brown hair and deep, haunting eyes. His features were very fine, as Afton’s had been, and usually, when he stood, he was lean and straight, and he both rode and fought with courage and skill.
    Now his face was pale, and his eyes seemed like stygian pools. He caught her hand as she cooled his face.
    â€œIgrainia!”
    â€œRobert, rest.”
    â€œYou’re alive, safe . . .”
    â€œAye, Robert. I’m well.”
    â€œThey have the castle. The outlaws, the barbarians . . . you must find a way to leave.”
    â€œAye, Robert, don’t worry.” She glanced at Father MacKinley; they both knew she’d be forgiven any lie. “Don’t worry. I will get away. They pay little heed to me.”
    He almost seemed to have forgotten her.
    â€œIt should have been mine now. It shouldn’t have fallen. . . to this. To them. King Edward should have bestowed the castle on me. Now . . . it is death, they are death. You mustn’t worry. I was Afton’s kinsman, I will take the castle again, I will see that you are safe . . . that you are safe with me.”
    â€œAye, Robert, don’t worry. You must save your strength. I’m brewing herbs in warm wine, and you will drink it and sleep and fight this illness. We’ll survive, we’ll both survive, and the castle will be ours again.”
    He still held her hand, but he had no power. She slipped free from his grasp, slipping his arm back beneath the sheets. When she looked up, she saw that Eric Graham had come to the door and was watching her. She didn’t know what he had heard.
    â€œYou must come,” he said simply.
    She nodded. Robert Neville’s eyes had closed; he wasn’t dead, she saw with relief, only sleeping. She hurried to the Scotsman, and walked back across the hall again.
    Margot was tossing again, burning with heat. Igrainia immediately began bathing her with cool cloths, harnessing the rampaging fever.
    Eric imitated her every action. At last, the fever somewhat abated. It appeared that Margot slept in some peace once again.
    The Scotsman continued to pace, then paused by the mantel at last, staring into the fire.
    Igrainia sank into the chair by her bedside, watching Margot.
    She kept that vigil through the night.
    When morning came, she stretched, having fallen into a doze in the chair. The woman still breathed.
    The Scotsman was still standing by the fire. She doubted that he had taken a minute’s sleep, all through the night.
    Igrainia touched Margot’s lips gently, then rose and told Eric, “She is still with us. I need more kindling for the fire. And now, we must get some more plain, cool water past her lips. If you would help me here . . . please.”
    He turned away from the mantel where he had leaned. His color had gone from the ruddy glow of health to the pale ash of illness.
    â€œTell me what I must do.”
    His voice rasped. It seemed he would walk to her, but could not manage to make his legs move.
    Igrainia gasped, staring at him, then walked instinctively his way.
    â€œYou are about to—”
    Even as she neared him, the great power of the man gave way, and his imperious length of muscle, sinew and