Her smile faded and Jordan watched the expression on her face, a young woman trying so hard to be courageous when her happiness hung by a thread.
“Then I’ll let ye sing it again if it pleases ye,” she said. “But dunna ask me the rest of the words. A lady should not know such words.”
Mattie smiled weakly. “I will not ask,” she said. “But… if I may, I do have a question.”
“What is it, lass?”
“Have you ever seen anyone injured this badly recover from it?”
Jordan nodded without hesitation. “Of course,” she said. “Mattie, there is always hope. Let me tell ye a story about Poppy. Ye’ve noticed that he’s missing an eye.”
Mattie nodded. “Aye.”
Jordan pulled her old, tattered shawl more tightly around her shoulders as her mind wandered to the memories surrounding William’s missing eye.
“I was pregnant with Scott and Troy,” she said. “William had been in London serving the king and part of those duties had him in Wales. The details of the battles are mostly lost tae me now, but he received a bolt tae the eye in one particular fight. That is how he lost the eye.”
Mattie frowned, sympathetic to such a horror. “That is awful,” she said. “How in the world did he survive it?”
Jordan sighed. “That is the question,” she said softly. “The bolt should have gone through his head, but only by the grace of God, it dinna. But it destroyed the eye well enough. By the time I reached London, William was in a terrible state. He was feverish and quite ill. I lay with him, I talked to him, I pleaded with him. Truly, Mattie, he should have died. But he dinna. ’Tis amazing what love can do.”
Mattie looked at Gar.’Tis amazing what love can do. She’d told him once that she was fairly certain she was in love with him. Perhaps that was not when he’d needed to hear it.
Perhaps he needed to hear it now.
A knock on the door roused Jordan out of her chair as Mattie remained on the bed, looking at Gar. As the older woman toddled over to the door to answer it, Mattie leaned down, her lips next to Gar’s left ear.
“I love you, Gar de Wolfe,” she whispered, kissing his ear. “If you need something to believe in, something to bring you back, then believe in us. Believe in what we can be, together. Believein the children we shall have and the legacy we shall create. I promise you that our love will outlast the sun.”
Tears sprang to her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. She hadn’t wept in an entire day and she was trying to stay strong about it. Behind her, the chamber door opened to reveal William and a man who was probably as old as William was. He was big, his thick hair cropped and gray. As William put his arm around Jordan’s shoulders, the other man came right up to the bed, acknowledged Mattie with a nod, and then bent down to lift up both of Gar’s eyelids, one after the other.
As Mattie watched curiously, he felt Gar’s pulse, checked his temperature, and then asked Jordan to help him inspect the wound. Since Mattie didn’t want to see it again, she came off the bed and took Winchester with her because the dog was still lying on Gar’s feet. She and Winchester went over to a chair near the hearth, making sure they were turned away from Gar as Jordan unfastened the wrapping around his torso to show the man the injury. When they finally fell away, she heard the man hiss.
“Did they try to slice him in half, then?” he demanded. “A little more force and Gar would be in two pieces.”
Mattie tried not to gasp, but she couldn’t quite help it. She turned her head away, trying not to weep yet again, as Jordan frowned at the man.
“If ye wish tae upset his new wife with yer flapping lips, then ye’ve accomplished yer goal,” she snapped. “Ye dunna have tae say such things, Paris. We know what it looks like.”
Paris.
Mattie had heard that name before. Paris de Norville, William’s oldest and dearest friend, and commander of Northwood Castle’s army. Clearly, he had arrived with the gaggle of men who had come over the past day or so and now, he wanted to see to Gar. As Mattie sat there, head turned, she could hear the elders behind her.
“I was not trying to upset Lady de Wolfe,” he said, contrite. “It was simply my anger at the Scots speaking.”
Jordan eased up on her angry stance. “Ye’re in good company because we’re all feeling enough,” she said. “We’ve cleaned the wound well and stitched it up, but there is poison. I fear we’ll have tae reopen it and clean it.”
“Have you given him the rotten brew?”
Jordan nodded. “Twice,” she said. “He’s not been awake enough tae drink much of it and the last time we tried, he nearly choked.”
Paris nodded, his expression serious as he looked at Gar. “We must get the brew in him,” he said. “I will stay and assist. I have a willow powder in my bags. That will help with the fever.”
“Then bring it,” Jordan said. “I’ll send for more wine and boiled linen if we are tae clean out the wound again.”
Paris nodded, then he glanced over his shoulder at Mattie, sitting near the hearth. “Lady de Wolfe should not be here when we do it,” he said quietly. “William? Will you take Lady de Wolfe in hand while we work?”
William had been listening to the conversation and he knew what Paris meant. He, too, glanced at Mattie before moving closer to the bed, addressing Paris and Jordan directly.
