“I came to check on your patient,” he said quietly. “He seems to be the only one not sleeping.”
“He is having difficulty breathing,” Toby explained. “I am telling him stories about my cats.”
Stephen’s smile grew. “Cats, is it? I see I have come in the nick of time to save him from boredom.”
The youth laughed silently as Toby scowled. With a lingering glance at Toby, Stephen proceeded to unwrap the bandages on the boy’s chest and look underneath. All Toby could see was blood and ooze and she turned her head, not wanting to study that particular gore. She’d seen enough of it lately. After a moment, Stephen replaced the dressing.
“I will need to place fresh bandages on this,” he told Toby. “I will return.”
She nodded, watching him as he stood up. As she looked at him, walking through the darkness, she suddenly had visions of him taking Ailsa from her arms and whisking her little sister off into the darkness. It was an odd transition from comforting a wounded man to thinking of her sister, but as she watched Stephen walk away, the urge to find out about her sister’s whereabouts suddenly became very strong. She had been fighting off thoughts of Ailsa for some time but found she could no longer do it. For her own peace of mind, she had to know. Now that the battle was diminished and the wounded seemed to be settled, she could no longer fight her sisterly instinct.
She reassured the boy that she would return before following Stephen’s path across the floor. He had his medicaments set up on the large eating table, an entire corner confiscated. Everything was in ordered arrangement. Toby walked up behind him as he organized new wrappings.
“Is the boy going to die?” she asked softly.
Stephen turned to look at her, his gaze moving out of the darkened hall to the lad on the other side. “If poison does not claim him, the wound should heal,” he replied.
Toby continued to watch as he drew forth phials of white powder. “Sir Stephen, I was wondering…,” she swallowed, collecting her thoughts. “I mean to ask where you have taken my sister.”
Stephen looked at her; she seemed calm and rational enough. Frankly, he had been expecting the question and was prepared. “She is in the store room,” he said quietly. “I put her there because it is cool and I was not certain when we would be able to bury her.”
As much as she was trying to be strong, tears sprang to Toby’s eyes and she wiped at them furiously. “So she has been beneath me all the while,” she murmured.
Stephen nodded, not unsympathetic. “Wallace built her a nice, sturdy coffin and Tate has found a place in the chapel to bury her.”
Toby was quickly dissolving into tears. She put her hand on Stephen’s arm. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For showing my sister such concern, I thank you. I am sorry that I was so unreasonable yesterday when you came to take her.”
She moved to pull her hand away but Stephen covered it with his own hand and Toby realized that he was gripping her fingers. “I am truly sorry for your loss, mistress,” he said quietly. “If it had been in my power to save her, please know that I would have done so. I would have done anything to spare you such grief.”
Toby felt there was more to his declaration than simple words and it made her uncomfortable. In the midst of her tears, she could only nod her head and gently, but firmly, remove her hand from his grasp. But Stephen wouldn’t be so easily put aside.
“You really should rest,” he grasped her by the upper arm as she tried to walk away. “Wallace and I can handle the wounded. There is no need for you to remain.”
“I am not tired.”
“A noble lie. I will give you something to help you sleep.”
“Stephen, truly,” she pulled herself from his grasp almost irritably. “I do not wish to sleep. I want to help.”
He smiled faintly at her. “There is nothing more to do for now. You will be needed more when the sun rises and these men awaken.”
She hadn’t thought on it that way. She looked around the room uncertainly, wiping what was left of the tears on her face. “Are you sure?”
“I am sure. If anything arises, I will send for you. But for now, you must rest.”
As she sighed indecisively and fidgeted around, Stephen took one of the powders from his bag and put it in a cup. Taking some of the wine that was still left on the table from their earlier meal, he poured it into the cup and swirled it around. He tapped her on the shoulder and extended the cup.
“Here,” he said when she turned to him.
She eyed the cup. “What is that?”
“Nothing that will harm you; it will help you. Just drink it.”
She stared at the cup before taking it out of his hand. Drinking the contents without stopping, she made a face as she handed the cup back to him.
“Whatever that was, it tastes awful,” she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
He just smiled. “Go up to bed now.”
