gone. Next, she considered the bedside table and wished a cup of wine there that would be of more use than her dagger.
She reached to the weapon and was grateful her hand did not quake as violently as it had when she had earlier failed to bring the cup to hand. Had Judas’s and Sir Elias’s weapons been returned to them as well? Of course, her dagger was exclusively used to render meat of a size easily chewed.
Footsteps again. Of ascent rather than descent.
She clasped her hands in her lap.
Everard Wulfrith entered, and his gaze immediately fell upon her. However, rather than approach her, he positioned himself beside the doorway as Squire Joseph came behind bearing a platter.
Noting that the lord of Wulfen was freshly clothed as she did not think he could have been earlier when the scent of his body had revealed he had not expected to draw as near her as he had done, she turned her regard upon his squire who kept his gaze averted as he set the platter on the table beside her.
“Good health to you, my lady,” the young man said and turned on his heel.
Too soon, Susanna was alone with Everard Wulfrith, Sir Rowan absent from the doorway.
Busying her eyes with the contents of the platter—bread, cheese, slices of fowl, and a cup of wine whose pale red depths told it was well watered. Grateful for that last since she needed all of her senses about her, she lifted the cup and forced herself to sip from it as it had been impossible to do earlier without Everard Wulfrith’s aid. Throughout, she felt his stare.
She returned the cup to the platter and looked across the chamber. “I am much better,” she said the first thing that came to mind, then the next, “How long did I sleep?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Since this morn when the abuse to which it would seem you regularly subject your body proved too much and you collapsed atop your mount.”
She had, hadn’t she? Feeling her face warm, she wondered what had come afterward. Had he—
“Twas good I was there to pull you down, else you might have found your end beneath your horse’s hooves.”
Imagining herself senseless in his arms, of being carried by him, she felt herself flush deeper. “I am sorry I was such a burden.”
He frowned. “Hardly. You are not much more than bones barely covered in skin.”
His words cut, though she did not think they were meant to be cruel. And even if that was his intent, his observation was nearly the truth, for it was many years since she had eaten for the enjoyment of taste. Her belly was so often in a state of agitation that she had learned not to stuff it full and to limit herself to only a few bites of foodstuffs heavy in spice and floating in fat. It rarely ended well when she indulged.
“Regardless,” she said, “I thank you.”
He jutted his chin at the platter. “Eat.”
Happy for the excuse to look elsewhere, she determined it was best to start with bread. If it stayed down, she would venture further.
As she broke off a piece, she asked, “What of my nephew?”
“He is well.”
Though tempted to ask how he was well—with what he had occupied his day—Everard Wulfrith’s tone suggested his answer was sufficient. More, though, instincts honed by time and adversity told that she need not fear for Judas’s safety while he was under this man’s protection. Of course, on occasion, instincts had failed her.
“Eat, Lady Susanna.”
She blinked at the bread that was fast turning to crumbs upon the coverlet, hurried it to her mouth.
“And listen,” he said.
If not for the seriousness of what she knew he would tell, she might have smiled at him having waited until her mouth was full before beginning what he surely did not intend to be a conversation.
“Here are the conditions with which you shall comply if you wish to remain at Wulfen Castle. This chamber is the limit of your reach. Should I permit you outside it, you shall do so in the company of an escort. Agreed?”
Only the scant space
She reached to the weapon and was grateful her hand did not quake as violently as it had when she had earlier failed to bring the cup to hand. Had Judas’s and Sir Elias’s weapons been returned to them as well? Of course, her dagger was exclusively used to render meat of a size easily chewed.
Footsteps again. Of ascent rather than descent.
She clasped her hands in her lap.
Everard Wulfrith entered, and his gaze immediately fell upon her. However, rather than approach her, he positioned himself beside the doorway as Squire Joseph came behind bearing a platter.
Noting that the lord of Wulfen was freshly clothed as she did not think he could have been earlier when the scent of his body had revealed he had not expected to draw as near her as he had done, she turned her regard upon his squire who kept his gaze averted as he set the platter on the table beside her.
“Good health to you, my lady,” the young man said and turned on his heel.
Too soon, Susanna was alone with Everard Wulfrith, Sir Rowan absent from the doorway.
Busying her eyes with the contents of the platter—bread, cheese, slices of fowl, and a cup of wine whose pale red depths told it was well watered. Grateful for that last since she needed all of her senses about her, she lifted the cup and forced herself to sip from it as it had been impossible to do earlier without Everard Wulfrith’s aid. Throughout, she felt his stare.
She returned the cup to the platter and looked across the chamber. “I am much better,” she said the first thing that came to mind, then the next, “How long did I sleep?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Since this morn when the abuse to which it would seem you regularly subject your body proved too much and you collapsed atop your mount.”
She had, hadn’t she? Feeling her face warm, she wondered what had come afterward. Had he—
“Twas good I was there to pull you down, else you might have found your end beneath your horse’s hooves.”
Imagining herself senseless in his arms, of being carried by him, she felt herself flush deeper. “I am sorry I was such a burden.”
He frowned. “Hardly. You are not much more than bones barely covered in skin.”
His words cut, though she did not think they were meant to be cruel. And even if that was his intent, his observation was nearly the truth, for it was many years since she had eaten for the enjoyment of taste. Her belly was so often in a state of agitation that she had learned not to stuff it full and to limit herself to only a few bites of foodstuffs heavy in spice and floating in fat. It rarely ended well when she indulged.
“Regardless,” she said, “I thank you.”
He jutted his chin at the platter. “Eat.”
Happy for the excuse to look elsewhere, she determined it was best to start with bread. If it stayed down, she would venture further.
As she broke off a piece, she asked, “What of my nephew?”
“He is well.”
Though tempted to ask how he was well—with what he had occupied his day—Everard Wulfrith’s tone suggested his answer was sufficient. More, though, instincts honed by time and adversity told that she need not fear for Judas’s safety while he was under this man’s protection. Of course, on occasion, instincts had failed her.
“Eat, Lady Susanna.”
She blinked at the bread that was fast turning to crumbs upon the coverlet, hurried it to her mouth.
“And listen,” he said.
If not for the seriousness of what she knew he would tell, she might have smiled at him having waited until her mouth was full before beginning what he surely did not intend to be a conversation.
“Here are the conditions with which you shall comply if you wish to remain at Wulfen Castle. This chamber is the limit of your reach. Should I permit you outside it, you shall do so in the company of an escort. Agreed?”
Only the scant space
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