“Not cut down,” Rhoswyn said firmly. “Ye stayed on yer feet until yer grandfather made ye come inside. Ye were strong, Gar, I promise.”
He sighed softly, catching snippets of memory from the battle, but what came back to him in general were the words he’d said to his grandfather when Gar had dispatched the big Scotsman who had been trying to kill him.
“I think… I said terrible things to Poppy,” he said, lifting a big hand and rubbing at his forehead. “He was fighting when he shouldn’t have been and I became angry with him. I must apologize to him.”
Jordan heard him. “Whatever ye said was forgiven the moment ye said it,” she said. “Ye mustn’t concern yerself with that now. Ye must only think of getting well again.”
Gar looked at his grandmother, a woman who had been a part of his life as much as his mother had. His earliest memories included Jordan, a genuinely sweet woman who had a soft side for her grandchildren. Reaching out, he took her hand.
“I would not have hurt him for the world, Matha,” he murmured, using the name that the de Wolfe grandchildren called her. “I should not have shouted at him. I’m very sorry.”
Jordan leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “Dunna be troubled,” she assured him. “Poppy has taken worse abuse from me.”
“And me,” Paris said as he swept into the chamber. He’d been across the landing, in a smaller chamber, and he’d heard the conversation, including Jordan’s last few words. “William will never remember what words you said to him in anger, Gar. Nor would any grandparent. You are worrying needlessly.”
Gar grinned at the sight of his uncle. “Who let you in?” he demanded weakly. “My men have standing orders never to let you into my garrison.”
Paris struggled not to grin too as he stood next to Rhoswyn, collecting Gar’s wrist to feel for the strength of his pulse. “Then your men are weak and you are a terrible commander,” he said, watching Gar chuckle. “It is a good thing they let me in, however. I saved your life. You must name your firstborn after me.”
That brought laughter all around, including from Mattie, who also blushed furiously at the mention of a child. In order to have a child, one had to mate, and she still wasn’t accustomed to the idea that everyone knew she and Gar were doing naughty, delicious things. When Paris winked at her, she thought she might burst into embarrassed flame, which he thought was quite hilarious.
“I think my grandfather would disown me if I were to name a child after you,” Gar said. “Mayhap I will name my next horse after you.”
Paris cocked his head as if thinking on that compromise. “It had better be the most beautiful stallion the world has ever seen,” he said. “Meanwhile, I do believe you will recover fully, young Gar. I will admit that I had my doubts.”
Gar’s smile faded. “Is it that bad?”
Paris sat down in the chair next to the bed and began to cut away the bindings around Gar’s torso. “It is never a good thing when the stomach has been compromised,” he said. “The blade pierced things that should not be pierced, but you are on the mend. I believe that firmly.”
Gar was clearly relieved by that statement. He looked at Mattie, standing toward the end of the bed, and smiled at her. There was joy and hope all around.
“My brave lass,” he said to her, as if she were the only person in the room. “I think your marriage to me has taken you from your peaceful life and thrown you into the fire. Thank you for not abandoning me.”
Mattie smiled, putting her hand on his foot because it was the part of his body that she was standing closest to. “I had no choice,” she said. “If I returned home, my father would only send me back. Moreover, I love you. I could not leave something I love.”
He mouthed,I love you,in return as Paris pulled away the last of the bindings and began to inspect the wound, which was healing up nicely now. Rhoswyn stepped away from the bed and went to the door, summoning a servant for watered wine and broth, and Mattie had to turn away from the bed because she still couldn’t stomach seeing that enormous gash in the right side of Gar’s torso.
Gar, however, strained to catch a look at it, but Paris told him not to move too much lest he tear his stitches. As this was going on, Mattie wandered over to the lancet window with a view of the gatehouse. It was the first time in days that she’d been able to look from that window without feeling a sense of angst and grief. But though she had every hope in the world for Gar’s recovery, there was someone else on her mind who would never recover.
And Gar didn’t know about it yet.
“Gar?” she said.
His head rolled in her direction. “Aye, sweetheart?”
She struggled not to tear up. “Maksim did not survive the battle that saw you injured,” she said. “Your father said he died a hero. I… I must take him home.”
Gar stared at her a moment before closing his eyes, grief rippling across his face. “My God,” he murmured. “What happened?”
“He sounded the alarm when the Scots breached the castle and they killed him for it.”
Gar was still trying to remember the details of that night, but some were still evading him. He didn’t remember that he’d sent Maksim outside to inspect the castle for the night watch,but that was probably for the best. More than likely, he would have blamed himself and that wouldn’t have done him any good. Instead, all he could think of was the loss and his wife’s grief.
“I am so sorry, my love,” he said quietly. “So very sorry.”
Mattie lost the battle against the tears and she wiped them away quickly. “My parents still do not know,” she said. “Your grandfather was going to send them word, but he has been in battle. I think that I should tell them myself when I bring Maksim home.”
Gar was struggling to sit up. “Of course you should,” he said. “And I will go with you.”
