Jamie nodded and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “He is the best of fathers.”
“And your mother?”
“I wish she were here,” Jamie whispered. “The rest doesn’t seem important anymore.”
Stephen gave Jamie’s shoulder a squeeze and led him back to the cot where William lay. Under the old monk’s ministrations, William’s color was already much improved. He appeared to be resting comfortably.
“Your father is in good hands,” Stephen said. “He will be fine, I am sure of it.”
This time when the old monk shooed them, Stephen thanked him for his care and left with Isobel. Outside in the cloister, they found Geoffrey waiting. The tall, distinguished-looking man with him could only be the abbot.
“We are grateful for your hospitality,” Stephen said after Geoffrey introduced them.
The abbot took Stephen’s arm and led him a few steps down the walkway. “We welcome travelers, of course, but these are troubled times,” he said in a low voice and shook his head. “And we are a small abbey. It is… difficult… for us to accommodate… female guests… comfortably.”
Stephen suspected the abbot was concerned not so much with Isobel’s comfort as with the brethren’s peace. Having a beautiful woman—dressed in leggings, no less—within the confines of the small abbey was a disruption the abbot did not want.
“We shan’t stay long,” Stephen assured him. “I intend to ride back to Caen under cover of darkness tonight and return on the morrow with a large contingent of soldiers.”
The abbot’s eyes widened in alarm. “We have but two small guest rooms—” he began in a querulous voice.
“If it is safe to move my brother,” Stephen interrupted, “we shall all depart by midday tomorrow.”
The abbot heaved a sigh of relief. “One of our brothers grew up in the next village. He can lead you the first part of the way in the dark.”
The abbot wanted them gone.
“I will have food brought to you in the guest quarters,” the abbot said.
“You are too kind,” Stephen said. “Perhaps after we eat I could take Lady Hume outside for a walk?”
“A walk would be just the thing to soothe her,” the abbot said, brightening at the prospect of having Isobel removed for the afternoon. “There is a lovely path that goes along the river and up to our orchard. The land is within the precinct walls, so it is quite safe.”
Stephen ate with Geoffrey and Isobel at the small table in the woman’s tiny guest room. As they ate, he questioned Isobel about what happened after he left her and William in the wood.
His stomach tightened as she told him. How close he’d come to losing them both! It took his breath away to think about it. He hoped Isobel did not realize the men would have raped her first; he wished he did not know it himself.
The image of her sprawled over William’s body, when he thought them both dead, was burned into his memory forever. He took her hand, not caring what her brother might think.
“A walk would help take our minds off all that has happened,” he said. “The abbot told me there is a path we can follow along the river.”
“If we are to leave tomorrow,” Geoffrey said, getting to his feet, “I would like to spend the remaining hours praying before the abbey’s holy relic.”
Isobel gave him a faint smile. “ ’Tis why you came.”
“But please take Isobel,” Geoffrey urged him. “It will do her good.”
Isobel’s brother was naive to the point of foolishness. Stephen knew damn well what would happen if they went out alone this afternoon. After their brush with death, neither of them was likely to exercise caution this time.
Stephen got to his feet as Geoffrey went to the door.
“I shall pray for Lord FitzAlan’s recovery,” Geoffrey said.
“Thank you,” Stephen said. Looking down at Isobel, he added, “We are all in need of your prayers today.”
As Geoffrey’s footsteps echoed on the stone floor outside the room, Stephen held his hands out to Isobel. He knew what he wanted now. If she was willing, he would have her.
Isobel met his eyes, making no pretense she did not understand. She took his hands.
