older woman sounded weary as she sighed and said, “I mun go home and get the meal ready for my Sean now, if you’ve no more need of me.”
Rowena nodded quickly, feeling guilty for keeping the older woman from her work for so long. Hagar’s son was Rowena’s closest friend and had been since the day Rowena had first wandered down the forest path to their cottage. Of late Sean had seemed somewhat agitated and demanding, wanting her to take long walks and such when she was quite busy. He was wont to talk endlessly of a lass named Berta, whom he had met while delivering fish to a village farther inland. Rowena had no quarrel with his preoccupation, only his insistence that she hear his every thought. But she loved Sean wholly, and he would be hungry from his morning’s work. “I will keep you no longer. Thank you so very much for all you have done.”
The older woman shrugged as she moved to the door, her face filled with affection and approval. “I’ve done no more than yersel, my lass. You’ve a good heart in ye. If ye have need of me I will come.”
Rowena felt a rush of both happiness and self-consciousness. She whispered, “I love you as well.”
Hagar smiled, flushing with pleasure, and nodded, closing the door behind her. Her cottage was just a short distance away and close to the main path through the village. It would be no great effort to fetch Hagar if she was needed, but Rowena was determined to manage on her own.
No more than an hour had passed when Rowena was given cause to put her skills to the test. The man in the bed had begun muttering to himself again. By the time a new batch of potions was ready he had grown far louder, tossing and turning as she moved toward the bed to give them to him.
When Rowena reached out to put her arm around his neck to lift him up, he shocked her by grabbing hold of her wrist and rearing up in the bed, those blue eyes flying wide. The bowl fell, spilling the contents upon the coverlet, even as fear raced through her.
Her terror grew as the man cried, “Ashcroft…must find Rosalind….” He shook his head violently. “Dragon dead…the babe dead…not dead…”
Ashcroft, for the love of heaven—the stranger knew of Ashcroft and clearly connected it to this unknown Rosalind. But the references to dragons and dead babes were utterly incomprehensible. Desperately Rowena forced herself to break free from the terror that gripped her. Yet it took all her strength to pull her arm away from his.
Just as suddenly as he had risen up the sick man fell back upon the bed. His eyes were closed now, but the ravings continued, as did his thrashing about. With shaking fingers, Rowena grabbed the bowl and clutched it to her, backing away from the bed.
Calm, she told herself over and over again, she must be calm. Breathing as evenly as she could, she moved to the table to refill the bowl.
And all the while she could hear him repeating the same disjointed phrases. Her chest ached as she realized that he had obviously gone mad, as the other women had feared. It was such a pity for one so strong and virile to be brought so low.
How much of his mind might return when, and if, he recovered, she could not say. All she could do was attempt to keep him quiet, not only for his sake, but for hers.
By the time Rowena had returned to the bed with the bowl and a spoon with which to feed him the liquid, the sick man had quieted somewhat. That strong, tanned forearm lay across his brow, and though she was watchful, he made no effort to take hold of her again as she fed him a strong dose of the mandrake potion.
That done, she rubbed more of the rue upon his forehead and placed a bag of dried rosemary beneath his head to ward off anxiety of the mind. Finally he fell silent once more, his arm dropping to the coverlet.
Rowena stood for a long moment looking down at him. As when she had first seen him on the beach, she felt a deep sympathy for those who loved this man. Who would grieve for the loss of him? Did they even know that he had come to Ashcroft, and thus know where to search for him? If he died having never returned to his right mind, she would not know whom should be sent word of his passing. His people would never know what had happened to him.
He might have a young child—a daughter who would always…
She stopped herself there. She had no reason to think he had anyone, even this Rosalind, who could be as much a product of his addled mind as the dragons he raved on about. Rowena would be far better served by not getting overly involved in what happened to this man. She would tend him, as any other, and accept what came.
Rowena barely glanced up as the door opened without ceremony some time later and she heard Sean’s voice say, “What is my mother on about? A stranger washed ashore? And you tending him?”
She spoke with deliberate calm. “Aye, Sean, ’tis true. And here he is.”
Hagar’s voice was filled with exasperation as she spoke from behind Sean. “As I told ye.” Obviously his mother had accompanied him.
Rowena kept her gaze on the strong column of the stranger’s throat as he swallowed without fully rousing. She felt strangely self-conscious about holding his head against her breast as Sean moved to stand beside the bed, exclaiming, “Dear God, where could he have come from?”
She shrugged and sighed as the man took the last of the liquid, and allowed his head to fall back against the pillows. She met Sean’s gaze briefly, seeing the agitation in his strong but sensitive face. “That is as much a mystery to me as to you. Has anyone sighted a ship?”
Sean shook his dark head. “Nay, there would have been some mention of it amongst the men.” He cast an assessing glance over the sick man as Rowena placed the small wooden bowl upon the table beside the bed.
Sean scowled as the stranger passed an agitated hand across his brow. “Why have you brought him here?”
Rowena shrugged again, meeting his green gaze with surprise. “To minister to him, of course. Where else would he be taken?”
“Why, anywhere. To our cottage. To…”
Rowena felt her brow crease with puzzlement as she looked to Hagar, who was frowning. Clearly this notion hadn’t come from her. “Why would I have him taken to your cottage when everything I need to treat him is right here?”
Sean’s scowl deepened. “You must see that this man cannot stay here with you.”
“Others have done so.”
He took an exasperated breath. “Those others were known to you and us. This man is a complete stranger. He could—”
Rowena laughed in spite of her irritation with his overprotective manner. They had been struggling over things like this ever since they were children, Sean telling her she could not climb trees and the like, Rowena ignoring his every directive. “And pray, what could he do? The man cannot even raise his hand to wipe his own brow, let alone harm me in some way.” She recalled just how strong he had been in that one moment when he had grabbed her wrist, but she would be much more careful to keep him from waking to that degree until he showed some signs of improvement.
Nonetheless, she did not meet Sean’s gaze as she said, “You can see the state he is in. I have given him medicaments to quiet him and will continue to do so.”
“He could awaken fully at any time.”
Rowena said, “I will certainly keep that in mind, and should he awaken with the intent to do me
