Her heart leapt in sympathy. He saw darkness in his past and she saw it in her future. She placed a hand over his fist. “It will be alright.”
He stared at her hand. “Was I alone?”
“Yes,” she said softly. “But you are not any longer.”
He slowly lifted his gaze to hers.
Gratitude and something warm simmered in his eyes. She gasped slightly and pulled her hand away. Unnerved by the connection, she gathered the cloth and flask. She began to rise. “I’ll bring you some porridge.”
He caught her hand. “That sounds good.”
His touch was warm and gentle, kind almost. She looked down at his hand wrapped around hers. It engulfed hers in a tenderness that filled her empty soul.
Suddenly, a little whirlwind flew in and she heard a cry, “Let go of my mother!”
She stumbled back when he released her. “Kit!” she called.
The knight had Kit at arm’s length, holding Kit’s balled hand away from him and the boy’s shoulder.
Kit swung his free hand, hitting the knight’s arm. “He has a dagger!”
“Kit!” Mercy called, reaching for her son. She grabbed his shoulders firmly, pulling him away from the knight. “He was not hurting me! He doesn’t have a dagger! Stop!”
Kit stilled his fight and looked over his shoulder at her, confusion in his blue eyes.
“I’m alright,” she insisted.
“I’m not here to harm your mother,” the knight said.
Kit straightened.
“Why are you here?” Kit demanded of the knight.
The knight’s swollen lip curled in amusement. “Apparently, to heal.”
“Come on, Kit,” Mercy said, taking the child’s hand. “I was going inside to get some porridge for our guest.” Mercy led him out of the barn. When they neared the cottage, she paused. “I told you not to go into the barn.”
“You need protection,” Kit replied. “He is a strong knight.”
Gratitude and fear overwhelmed her. They looked out for each other. She hugged him fiercely. “He’s too weak to hurt me.” She pulled back to look at him. “Besides. I have my own dagger.”
Kit scowled. “What happens when he gets stronger?”
Mercy thought about this. “We’ll put him to work mucking out the stalls.”
Kit grinned. “As payment for eating our porridge?”
Mercy smiled and messed his curls. “Aye. But you can’t attack him like that.”
Kit shrugged as he entered the cottage. “Joshua was right behind me. And his dagger is bigger than yours.”
Mercy’s heart sank. It worried her that Kit felt embolden because of a pretend person. “Will Joshua be here long?”
Kit paused in the doorway to look at her. One of his blonde curls fell into his blue eyes and he brushed it aside. “He goes home at night.” He said it matter of factly, as if it was apparent to everyone.
It wasn’t time yet to tell him the truth about Joshua. Not yet. He might need Joshua to help him if she couldn’t… Her chest tightened and she refused to finish her thought. “You know that Joshua can’t really help you, even if he has a big dagger.”
“Because he is smaller than me?”
