Richmond listened calmly; if the second soldier was as experienced as the first, he was long gone by now. He squeezed her gently. “It doesn’t matter. You are safe now.”
Individually, Arissa’s eyelids weighed a hundred pounds; certainly, she did not possess the strength to keep them open. But as she attempted to doze, Richmond shook her gently. “I know you are tired, kitten, but do not go to sleep. Not yet. Regine has prepared a bath and we must warm your body.”
“I do not want a bath,” she mumbled weakly. “Let me sleep first and I shall bathe later.”
He smiled, relieved that the stubborn Lady Arissa he had seen on occasion was making an appearance. When she was feeling particularly tired or ill, her usually sunny demeanor fled in lieu of a bitter, combative shrew. But he would rather be subject to her insolent mood than to witness her continued unconsciousness.All will be well, he told himself firmly. If she was willing to contradict him, then she would be fine.
“Bath first, sleep later,” he countered quietly, firmly.
Regine moved to her sister’s side, her eyes wide as she waited for Richmond to direct her further. He looked to the young girl, managing a feeble wink. “She will be fine, Regine. Tell me; where is your mother?”
“In her bower with Lady Livia and Lady Maxine, I believe,” Regine said, shaken and fatigued by the day of events.
In Richmond’s arms, Arissa suddenly twitched and her eyes opened wide. Fat tears began to spill down her temples. “Bart! One of those men killed him!”
Regine let out a horrified cry and Richmond grabbed hold of the younger girl in a supportive, if not quieting, gesture. He eyed her as she sobbed heavily, his brow furrowed with concern as he returned his attention to Arissa.
“You are sure, kitten? How do you know?”
Weeping softly, Arissa struggled to answer. “They…. they broke into Mossy’s sanctuary and Bart tried to defend me. They killed him!”
Regine’s sobs grew louder as Richmond continued to gaze at Arissa, his age and exhaustion suddenly evident on his features. They had already lost Carlton to the attack, and now Bartholomew. Lady Maxine had not yet been informed of her husband’s passing; Richmond had been making his way into the castle to inform her of his death when he had been met by a frantic Mossy.
Richmond had forgotten all about Carlton when Mossy demanded that he save Arissa from her abductors. The only matter of import had been to rescue his charge, his love, and he cursed himself for being neglectful enough to forget the death of his friend until reminded inadvertently at this moment. As if Carlton’s death had been meaningless. On the contrary; Carlton had taken a blade meant for Richmond himself.
He sighed heavily, closing his eyes briefly in a blatant display of disgust. He simply could not understand what was happening; from the details of Tad de Rydal’s ambush to the revelation of Arissa’s abduction, nothing made any sense and he was too weary at the moment to attempt the feat of detailed comprehension. Whatever the answers he sought, he would hap upon them soon enough.
The only matter of concern at the moment, however, was taking care of Arissa and informing Lady Maxine of her husband’s death. After that, he would confirm Arissa’s story of Bartholomew’s demise and brace himself for the eventuality of delivering the news to the young man’s parents. An event he was dreading already.
But he forced himself to focus on the task at hand as Arissa began to quiver in his arms. She was cold and damp and he was eager to plunge her into the hot water.
“Regine,” he gently shook the hysterical young girl. “Be a good lass and see what’s keeping Penelope. Go on now; that’s a good girl.”
Hiccupping and weeping, Regine shuffled across the floor as Mossy and Gavan appeared in the doorway. Gavan peered curiously at the youngest de Lohr.
“What’s the matter, love?”
“B-art’s dead!” she sobbed.
Shocked, Gavan looked to Richmond as he stood with Arissa in his arms. Before Richmond could reply, Mossy moved into the room with far less energy than he usually exhibited. “He’s not dead, though I expect he will be shortly,” he said in a thin voice. “The lad defended Arissa bravely, but he simply was not skilled enough with a blade. It was a short fight.”
Richmond sighed heavily with sorrow and disgust. “God be merciful,” he murmured fervently, moving towards the tub. “Where is he now?”
“In my sanctuary,” Mossy replied. “I did what I could for him. The rest is up to God.”
Richmond reached the tub with Arissa lethargically in his arms. “Gavan, see if there is anything else to be done for the lad. If he’s already dead, then move him to where Carlton lies. And see what is transpiring outside and report back to me. I would know what level of resistance we are currently meeting with.”
Arissa couldn’t decide if she should be delighted that her brother lived still or grief-stricken because he was not expected to survive. ’Twas a wild field of emotions wreaking havoc in her muddled mind. But over her concern for Bartholomew’s predicament, she understood Richmond’s words regarding Penelope’s father and a new measure of sorrow gripped her.
“Carlton is dead?” she asked.
Richmond set her down gently, peeling away the coverlet. “Aye, kitten. But Penelope does not know. Not a word to her, please. I have not told her mother yet.”
Gavan escorted Regine from the room, closing the door softly. When the last of the coverlet fell away from Arissa’s shivering body, Richmond gently helped his very naked charge into the tub. With a sniffle and a sigh, Arissa submerged herself up to her neck.
As she soaked in the steaming water, Mossy examined the lump on her forehead. “It’s not too severe,” he observed. “Do yer ears ring, Riss?”
“A little,” she said quietly. “I am terribly tired.”
