his grasp with surprising ferocity.
This time the girl’s eyes stayed open, muddy pools of fury and pain. She called for Matilde by her given name—not maman—but the rest of her words came out in a panicked rush. Matilde ran her hands over the sides of the girl’s face and crooned to her in English to calm her down.
Alex grabbed her flailing arm. They could delay no longer.
“No!”
The girl tried to pull away again, but her strength was ebbing. He prayed the pain would make her sleep once more. It would be easier that way.
“No, no, no,” she gasped. Her fevered gaze burned into him.
With a hard yank, he had the arrow out of her. The girl shrieked and mercifully passed out. Once Alex was sure he had removed all of the arrowhead and shaft, he helped Matilde bandage her shoulder and dress her in a clean gown.
After Matilde administered an infusion of herbs to allay fever, Alex pulled her away from the bed. “She is not your daughter.” Matilde started to shake her head, but Alex cut her off. “She is the Lady Isabel.”
“Th-that is ridiculous.”
“I think not,” Alex said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Her clothing is as exceptional as her weapons.” He paused, gauging her reaction. “Despite Dumont’s generosity with his servants, I find it hard to believe such quality is bestowed upon a waiting woman’s daughter.”
Matilde shook her head, her gaze dropping to her gnarled, calloused hands. When she remained silent, he sighed and turned his back on her. “Watch over her, and be sure to get some rest yourself. If her health worsens, I will hold you responsible.”
“I will keep her safe,” Matilde said fiercely.
“I thought as much,” he said over his shoulder.
He stalked back to the main hall. What business did Lady Dumont have participating in a scouting party? Did she have any knowledge of her father’s whereabouts? He was relieved she had been found. Yet, a woman who would pull such a stunt would not be easily dealt with. He had heard tales of Englishwomen who fought like men defending their homes. William had not exaggerated when he had spoken of the young lady’s spirit. No mild-mannered girl would leave the safety of her home with only the company of a few men and the steel she carried at her side.
Matilde’s defense of her mistress was admirable, though. Perhaps she really thought of her as a daughter. The woman had answered his questions, though he could not help but feel she had not been entirely forthcoming with her short replies and uneasy bearing. However, one thing was certain. As they had conversed, Matilde’s responses in French had become more fluid and rapid. She had lost her stutter.
Alex had just won a bet with himself.
* * * *
“Jerome leads the first watch,” Hugh reported, joining Alex as they walked toward the main hall the following afternoon.
Alex nodded. “Bon. I do not want us caught off guard if more visitors come to Ashdown.” He glanced at his shield bearer. “Any reports from the patrol?”
“Non, but Matilde’s descriptions of the boundaries were most helpful.”
Alex’s mouth twisted. “I am glad, despite her reluctance to share the information with us.”
He had badgered Matilde into describing the extent of the Dumont holding, and his men spent the morning monitoring the territory. They located a clearing to the north that had seen a fierce battle, and a handful of dead Welshmen covered the ground. It explained the sudden arrival of Dumont’s men the previous afternoon and the extra mounts they brought back with them.
“Matilde did as you bade and sent out messengers to the neighboring thanes for news of Lord Dumont’s whereabouts,” Hugh reported.
“Bon, but I do not expect them to be much help.”
“The last of the messengers returned but a few minutes ago,” Hugh said.
“And?”
Hugh shrugged. “No word.”
“Worry not. I am certain our new charge holds the answers to many of our questions,” Alex said as they entered the hall. He surveyed the room. Although it was not quite time for supper, men had gathered and were arranging the tables. “Indeed, it is time I checked on Lady Isabel. I will rejoin you at the meal.”
He stopped just outside the open door. The gray-haired knight from the day before stood at the girl’s bedside next to Matilde. The man had managed to slip away from Hugh and Jerome yesterday, and they had not seen him since. The older man brushed a curl from Isabel’s forehead with a familiarity that tightened Alex’s chest. As soon as the pair discovered his presence, the English knight gave a curt bow and left the room.
“Who was that?” Alex asked.
“Captain Thomas trains my Lord Dumont’s men-at-arms.” A note of caution lit Matilde’s voice.
He nodded and cast about the room. A captain… He must be privy to all of the Dumonts’ comings and goings. Why was he not with his Lord? If Captain Thomas did not know some French, since he was in such a trusted position in the Dumont household, he would be surprised.
“Bring him to me at supper.” It was past time he attempted to speak with Thomas. “You will translate.”
“As you wish.”
He motioned to the still-slumbering young woman. “Any improvement?”
“The fever has subsided only a little, but she is strong.”
“No doubt,” Alex said, thinking back to her numerous weapons. The old woman fidgeted with the folds of her dress. “Carry on then.” He left, knowing his continuing presence would only distract her from her charge.
After the meal was served, Matilde approached him at the high table. “Pardon, sir, but I am unable to find Captain Thomas. The other servants have not seen him since this morning.”
“I see.” He gestured to Jerome. “My man here will help you locate him.”
He dismissed them with a curt nod. He took a last sip of wine and thumped the cup down on the table. The English knight had no desire to be found. He rose to his feet. The young Kendrick had also been scarce since the confrontation in the courtyard, but that was probably because Hugh was keen to see the young man punished, if only for the nick on Alex’s neck. The accursed thing still stung.
Alex once again stalked down the hallway to Matilde’s room. Perhaps the knight was checking on his lady again. He stepped inside.
The room was empty except for the girl. A sheen of sweat covered her forehead. Her fever must have finally broken. She moaned and writhed around in the bed, blindly wrestling with her blankets. If she continued to thrash around, she would reopen her wound.
Someone had placed a water basin on a nearby chest. Alex grabbed one of the cloths set beside it and briefly let it soak in the cold water. After wringing out most of the liquid, he tried to place it on the girl’s brow, but her flailing
