If Not For The Knight, Debbie Boek [electronic reader TXT] 📗

Calder took her hand and kissed it gently. “Thank you, Gayle. I think it must be you that she gets her strength from, and I know that she will not give up the fight. You are right. We must have as much courage as she, to help her through this.”

He was interrupted when Bernia opened the door and approached the bed. “Thank you for coming,” he said, looking at her with a mixture of profound relief and gratitude.

“I have a patient to care for, Milord,” she answered simply. Her brow furrowed as she felt Regan’s forehead and realized the fever still raged as strong as ever.

“Milord,” she said, suddenly realizing the limits of her knowledge and becoming unsure of herself. “I am only an apprentice and do not know all the ways of healing. We must break her fever or she will die. I am not sure how to do so. I have tried all the herbs and tisanes that I know of.”

She looked at him, pleading silently for his understanding and trust.

He gave her a wan smile in return. “So, there is nothing more that can be done?”

“I have heard tell of dunking a person in the river. The cold water makes the body cool down and rids them of the fever.”

Calder looked hopeful for a moment, then crestfallen. “It is too dangerous. There is too much snow and ice along the banks of the river now. We could easily lose her in it and cannot chance it.”

He paced the room in frustration, feeling so inadequate and angry at what was happening that he wanted to scream his rage and bury his sword into something, anything, but realizing the futility of it. Fate had caused Regan to become ill, and fate was a fickle master that could not be challenged.

Turning to Bernia, he grasped both her hands in his own. “She is all that is good and right with my life. I cannot, and will not, live without her. Please help me.”

Bernia was taken aback by the pain and devotion with which he spoke those words and touched by the depth of his emotions. She had never spoken with Regan herself, several years separated their ages and by the time she was old enough to understand, all she heard was that Regan was possessed by the devil and had turned against her own people and into the arms of the Normans.

Looking at this handsome Norman warrior in front of her, his love so evident on his face, she wondered if she might also sell her soul to the devil and turn her back on her own people, if it was she that he felt so strongly about. Inspiration suddenly struck Bernia like a brick hitting her between the eyes and she knew what they had to do.

“Milord,” she said sharply, “have you a bathing tub?”

“Yes.”

“Have it brought here right away. Have your men bring in as many buckets of snow as they can carry. We will pack Regan in the snow to see if that will break the fever.”

She spoke excitedly, confident that her idea would work. Calder was encouraged by her attitude and quickly bolted down the stairs to do as she asked.

For the next several hours, a battalion of servants and knights continuously brought up buckets of snow to replace that which melted. At long last, Regan’s body responded and Bernia declared with a tired smile that the fever had broken.

Calder gently lifted Regan from the tub and dried her off carefully with a towel before placing her back under the heavy blankets on the bed.

“Bernia,” he said softly, unable to remove his eyes from Regan’s now pale face, “I always remember a good turn done me. You will be richly rewarded for this.”

“I do not expect payment, Milord. I did what I have been training to do most of my life. And she is not out of the woods yet. We still do not know for sure if she will recover.” She did not want Calder to get his hopes up, only to lose Regan later this day.

She touched his arm. “You should go rest now. I will call you if she wakes.”

He shook his head wearily, smiling at her. “No, I will be here by her side when she wakes. But, thank you. You have worked hard, go downstairs and eat something. As you said, it is not over yet and she will still need you.”

“As you wish, Milord,” the girl replied, turning and walking toward the door.

Gayle had been working with them in the room the whole morning. As the hours passed, she had become more and more convinced of Calder’s love for Regan. After witnessing his conversation with Bernia, she realized that he was not the demon that the other villagers had made him out to be, after all.

She approached him slowly, as he tucked the blankets tighter around Regan’s sleeping body. “Thank you, Milord, for interceding and saving my daughter’s life.”

“She is not well yet, Gayle. And there is no need to thank me. I do what I do for purely selfish reasons. I do not want my son to grow up without the love of his mother. And I cannot imagine how I would get through my days if Regan were not in them.”

He spoke softly and tenderly, and tears rose in Gayle’s eyes as she listened. She looked down at her sleeping daughter and ran a hand over her hair. Her voice was almost a whisper as she said, “Talk to her, Lord Calder. I’m sure that wherever she is right now, she will hear you. Tell her how much you love her and how much we all need her. Help her the rest of the way through this, Milord.”

“You came back to me,” Calder said softly, almost in disbelief, as Regan opened her eyes and looked at him in confusion later that day.

“Came back?” she croaked, her voice cracking, her throat parched.

“Here, love,” Calder said tenderly, lifting her head and bringing a cup of water to her lips.

“Where am I?”

“You’ve been ill, Regan,” he said, running his hand over the porcelain skin of her face. “You had us very worried.”

His voice broke as relief flooded through him. Unable to help himself, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. She groaned softly and he forced himself to release her. “I’m sorry, are you alright? Can I get you something?”

She smiled weakly at him. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a team of oxen and so hungry that I could eat those very same oxen.”

“Of course, I will see to it right away.” He ran to the door and bellowed for Bernia and Gayle, and for food to be brought up posthaste. The women arrived moments later, smiling in relief as they ran to Regan’s bedside.

Bernia respectfully had the trencher, which was piled high with food, sent back to the kitchen and asked for broth to be sent up instead.

“But she is hungry,” Calder stated angrily.

“Milord, she has not eaten in days. She must start with something light or she will not be able to keep it down.”

“Oh.” Watching the women take over with Regan’s care, Calder felt out of place and in the way. He slowly backed toward the door. Regan caught his eye before he left and, to his surprise, winked at him. He blew her a kiss in return and slipped quietly from the room.

“You’ve drunk enough for three men, Milord. Perhaps you would like some food to go with the ale?”

Draco’s raspy voice barely registered, but Calder turned toward him and smiled. “She will live,” he said softly, raising his tankard in a toast.

Draco laughed and raised his own against it. “She is one hell of a woman, Milord.”

“Aye, that she is. And she will be mine, Draco. Make no mistake about that.” His words were slurred, relief and lack of food and sleep contributing to his inebriation as much as the ale itself.

“You should sleep now, Milord, she will need you on the morrow. You’d best be ready for her.”

“Yes, my friend,” Calder replied, clasping Draco’s shoulder. “You are right, as always. Thank you for tending to things while I sat with her. Did all go well?”

“Tomorrow is soon enough to discuss those matters, Milord. Get some sleep now.”

As if he had been waiting for permission, Calder’s head slowly sank to the table. He was snoring lightly just moments later.

Even his pounding head could not keep the jubilance off Calder’s face as he raced up the stairs and into Regan’s bedchamber. “Hello, love,” he said tenderly, as he leaned down and kissed her dry, cracked lips. “How do you fare this morn?”

“I feel very sore and tired but, other than that, I am wonderful,” she said with a weak smile. “And you, Milord?”

“I feel as if I have been reborn, Regan. Had you died, the most important part of me would have died with you. I love you, Regan, and cannot live without you by my side.”

“Oh, Calder,” she said softly, tears slipping quietly down her cheeks as he took her in his arms.

Relinquishing his grip on her, he laid her back against the pillows. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“Yes, Milord,” she replied with a smile. Her face was still very pale, with deep, dark shadows under her eyes, and she ached in every joint of her body. He could see that she was still very tired and, with a peck on her cheek and a squeeze of her hand, he admonished her to get some sleep.

“Will you stay