Rohan’s stormy face boded bad for all. “My man is awake and screaming for God knows what. Tend him.”
Guttural bellows from the hall reached her ears. Other voices attempted to calm him. The more they tried, the angrier the giant’s foreign words became. Rohan grabbed her arm and hauled her from the chamber. “Hurry before he destroys the hall.”
A snide smile played along her lips as she was pulled along the hallway and down the stairway. It amused her to see this bold and terrible knight so far out of his controlled ways. She almost laughed when she saw the others standing helplessly about like nervous brides.
Isabel’s mien changed to serious as she came nearer to the giant. He had pulled off most of the dressings and all of the leeches. The poultice lay in a hunk on the rushes. Anger spurred her forward.
As the African moved to stand, she called out in a sure and steady voice. “Halt!” She spoke in French, doubting he understood English.
Scores of eyes followed her voice, watching her and then the giant for his reaction. Her mood was sorely prickled by her rude awakening and then by this man who would disrupt her healing efforts.
The giant’s black eyes widened, then narrowed to dangerous slits. His lips drew back from teeth as sharp as a wolf’s, obviously honed to an unnatural point. He growled low and menacing. Undeterred by his posturing, Isabel’s temper flared.
She moved toward him and slapped his hand away from the dressing he had nearly removed. “Foolish man! Sit back!” When he did not move, she pressed her verbal attack. “I gave up one of my finest shifts to save your leg, I went to the bog in the middle of the night for leeches, and I lost much sleep last night and this morn.” She unwound the tattered dressing, her movements quick and jerky. His damage was thorough. She would need all new linens and to pack a fresh poultice. She raised her gaze to his. “And you reward me this way?”
If she were not so angry, she would have laughed at the shocked expression on his tattooed face. He was not used to being treated thus, she was sure. Isabel looked over her shoulder at Rohan, who stood in equal shock. Her eyes moved from him to his surrounding men. Each of them stood in stunned silence. Ignoring them all, Isabel turned her attention back to the giant and frowned at the gathering storm on his face.
Hands on her hips, she asked, “Do you wish to walk without a tree stump to assist you?” Dark purple lips pulled back from the sharpened teeth. A low growl rumbled deep in his chest. “I will take that as a nay. Now, lie back so that I may repair what you have destroyed.”
When he made no move to follow her direction, Isabel expelled a long breath, hiked her skirt, and moved toward him. Placing both of her hands on his chest, she heaved him backward. He resisted. She shoved him harder, nearly sitting on him to have her way. Soft snickers floated around her ears. She glanced up at Rohan, who stood rooted to the floor, his face solemn, his eyes amused. She turned to face his knights, who stood now in eager anticipation of what they assumed was her impending defeat.
Her rancor rose. “You are not honorable men, and I for one look forward to the day you ride off never to return!”
She turned back to the grumbling giant and dug her elbows into his chest. “Give me your word you will not interfere with my work.”
His eyes narrowed. A lesser woman or perhaps a fool would have backed off. But Isabel was neither of those women. She was in a most unladylike position on a known slayer of Saxons, amongst battle-hardened knights. When he refused to answer, Isabel changed her tactic. Nodding, she moved off him. “Very well.” Once completely off the brute, she extended her hand to Rohan. He raised a brow. “Your ax, sir.”
The men behind her chortled, and the giant growled. “What plans have you for it?” Rohan asked, amusement twisting his tone.
“I wish to sever the leg from this
Guttural bellows from the hall reached her ears. Other voices attempted to calm him. The more they tried, the angrier the giant’s foreign words became. Rohan grabbed her arm and hauled her from the chamber. “Hurry before he destroys the hall.”
A snide smile played along her lips as she was pulled along the hallway and down the stairway. It amused her to see this bold and terrible knight so far out of his controlled ways. She almost laughed when she saw the others standing helplessly about like nervous brides.
Isabel’s mien changed to serious as she came nearer to the giant. He had pulled off most of the dressings and all of the leeches. The poultice lay in a hunk on the rushes. Anger spurred her forward.
As the African moved to stand, she called out in a sure and steady voice. “Halt!” She spoke in French, doubting he understood English.
Scores of eyes followed her voice, watching her and then the giant for his reaction. Her mood was sorely prickled by her rude awakening and then by this man who would disrupt her healing efforts.
The giant’s black eyes widened, then narrowed to dangerous slits. His lips drew back from teeth as sharp as a wolf’s, obviously honed to an unnatural point. He growled low and menacing. Undeterred by his posturing, Isabel’s temper flared.
She moved toward him and slapped his hand away from the dressing he had nearly removed. “Foolish man! Sit back!” When he did not move, she pressed her verbal attack. “I gave up one of my finest shifts to save your leg, I went to the bog in the middle of the night for leeches, and I lost much sleep last night and this morn.” She unwound the tattered dressing, her movements quick and jerky. His damage was thorough. She would need all new linens and to pack a fresh poultice. She raised her gaze to his. “And you reward me this way?”
If she were not so angry, she would have laughed at the shocked expression on his tattooed face. He was not used to being treated thus, she was sure. Isabel looked over her shoulder at Rohan, who stood in equal shock. Her eyes moved from him to his surrounding men. Each of them stood in stunned silence. Ignoring them all, Isabel turned her attention back to the giant and frowned at the gathering storm on his face.
Hands on her hips, she asked, “Do you wish to walk without a tree stump to assist you?” Dark purple lips pulled back from the sharpened teeth. A low growl rumbled deep in his chest. “I will take that as a nay. Now, lie back so that I may repair what you have destroyed.”
When he made no move to follow her direction, Isabel expelled a long breath, hiked her skirt, and moved toward him. Placing both of her hands on his chest, she heaved him backward. He resisted. She shoved him harder, nearly sitting on him to have her way. Soft snickers floated around her ears. She glanced up at Rohan, who stood rooted to the floor, his face solemn, his eyes amused. She turned to face his knights, who stood now in eager anticipation of what they assumed was her impending defeat.
Her rancor rose. “You are not honorable men, and I for one look forward to the day you ride off never to return!”
She turned back to the grumbling giant and dug her elbows into his chest. “Give me your word you will not interfere with my work.”
His eyes narrowed. A lesser woman or perhaps a fool would have backed off. But Isabel was neither of those women. She was in a most unladylike position on a known slayer of Saxons, amongst battle-hardened knights. When he refused to answer, Isabel changed her tactic. Nodding, she moved off him. “Very well.” Once completely off the brute, she extended her hand to Rohan. He raised a brow. “Your ax, sir.”
The men behind her chortled, and the giant growled. “What plans have you for it?” Rohan asked, amusement twisting his tone.
“I wish to sever the leg from this
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