Waiting.
“Douglas?”
Isabel’s usually strong voice was a mere whisper. He sat up, peering at her more closely.
“Aye, my lady?”
“Itisyou?”
“It is, my lady.”
“Fancy a game of chess now?”
He smiled weakly. “I would only beat you,” he said. “Mayhap you have had enough excitement for today.”
Her eyes fluttered open, moving slowly until she found him sitting beside her. “You mean that I have had enough tragedy for today.”
He nodded slowly, with resignation. “That is a harsh word,” he murmured. “And I am sorry to agree with it.”
“Douglas?”
“Aye, my lady?”
“Will you hold my hand?”
He didn’t hesitate. He reached under the blanket to find her left hand, soft and warm, but he knew that her arms were broken and didn’t want to jostle her, so he simply held it gently without moving it.
“I am holding it,” he said. “Can you feel me?”
“Nay,” she said. “I cannot feel anything.”
“Trust me when I tell you that I am,” he said. “Shall I prove it to you? Shall we arm-wrestle?”
He was rewarded with a weak grin. “I would beat you and then you would be ashamed because I would tell everyone,” she said, but it was clear that she was having difficulty talking. She sounded weak and winded, as if she couldn’t catch her breath. “But I will spare you that for today. I am not feeling up to it.”
“Mayhap another time.”
“There will not be another time,” she said, the mirth fading from her eyes. “You needn’t pretend, Douglas. I know that I am dying. I am at peace with it.”
His expression went from one of warmth to one of sorrow very quickly. “If there is anything I can do for you, my lady,” he said, “please ask. Anything at all.”
“Do you swear this?”
“Of course I do,” he said. “What is your wish?”
Isabel’s gaze fixed on him, and for a moment he wondered if she had died right in front of him because she didn’t move. Her eyes didn’t move at all. But then she coughed weakly.
“I have been lying here, thinking,” she said softly. “We must speak on a few things before I leave this world and I want to ensure that you carry out my wishes.”
“As I said, I will do whatever you wish.”
That seemed to give her the strength to continue. “You are a strong man, Douglas,” she said. “I know you are the fifth son ofthe Earl of Hereford, but surely you are the strongest son. You are wise beyond your years, but more than that, you are a man of noble character. I admire that about you greatly.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
Isabel’s eyes closed for a moment before reopening. When she spoke again, her voice was weaker. “Eric,” she said. “He died trying to save me.”
“I know.”
