Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 111362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
The noise came again.
A soft knock, he thought. Or was he imagining things, or hoping?
He went to the door and opened it.
Sorrell swayed in front of him, blood running from a cut just above her left eye down along the side of her face.
“John,” she barely uttered, and fell into his arms.
Chapter 10
John lifted her gently into his arms and her body fell limp against him. He turned to carry her to the bed he had fixed and a tremble rippled through her. It was either from fright or the cold since she wore no cloak, though he wondered if she had lost it when assaulted.
He went to lay her gently on the bed.
“No! No, I don’t want to leave your arms, not yet,” she said and slipped her slim arm around his neck.
John didn’t argue, since he preferred her right where she was. He went to the chair near the fire, wanting to get her warm, then he’d tend her wound.
“You didn’t intend to come to supper. You were going to leave, weren’t you?”
“You come to me wounded and bloody and you want to know if I was leaving?” he asked and shook his head that she was more concerned with him than herself.
“I see it for myself. Your sword is sheathed on your back. A cloth packed with food lays on the table. You were leaving.”
“And you were?”
“Coming to stop you.”
Had that been the reason he had delayed his departure? Had he waited to see if she would come looking for him when he had not shown up at the Great Hall? He had wanted a few stolen moments with her, one last kiss, one last time to hold her in his arms, wishing he’d never have to let her go again.
Damn, what had this wee woman done to him? He had trusted and cared for no one these past two years. How had she managed to make him do both?
“Who did this to you?” he demanded, anger churning his stomach.
This was his fault. If he had shown up for supper as he had said he would, this wouldn’t have happened to her. And he intended to see whoever did this suffered a far worse beating.
“He is worse off for it than I am,” Sorrell said. “So there is nothing you need to do.”
Seeing how she looked, bloody and the wound swollen, he found that difficult to believe, but he hadn’t known her to lie. Still, he’d find out for himself and throw the person another beating.
“Did you leave him writhing in agony? Anything less is not acceptable,” he cautioned.
Sorrell thought him teasing, but his serious tone and the way his blue eyes seemed as turbulent as a raging storm, she realized he meant it.
“He suffered his fair share.”
“I’ll see for myself. Who did this to you and don’t make me ask again,” he warned.
There was that tone again, commanding and sounding as if he was born to it.
“You need not fight my battle,” Sorrell said.
John was ready to argue with her. He damn well would fight her battles. However, her wound and the fatigue he saw heavy in her eyes stopped him.
“Let me tend your wound and clean away the blood,” he said and this time when he carried her to the bed, she didn’t protest. But then she thought she had won the battle, foolish lass.
“You lost your cloak in the altercation?” he asked, after placing her on the narrow bed.
“I did,” she admitted, a yawn following.
He wanted to remind her that she had barely recovered from the injury Seth had left her with and now here she had suffered another. Also that she had to stop getting herself into trouble, but she didn’t need a lecture right now. She needed someone to look after her, and she damn well needed a husband who would protect her, especially from herself.
Her tremble had turned to a shiver, the cold having settled deeper into her bones. He hurried to remove her boots, needing to get her warm.
“What are you doing?” she asked on a yawn.
“You’re bloody, bruised, cold, and exhausted. I’m going to see that you get warm and tend your wounds so when your sisters see you they don’t get upset.”
“You are kin—”
“I’m not the man you think I am,” he said, stopping her before she could finish and tucked the wool blanket around her.
Her eyes were closed when he finished, the altercation and the cold having taken its toll. He went to the door, needing to fill a bucket with water from the rain barrel, and he no soon as opened it than Sorrell called out to him.
“Don’t leave me, John, or I’ll hunt you down.”
He had to smile. That was the Sorrell he knew.
“You have my word, I won’t leave you now, Sorrell,” he said and he barely heard her whispered words that drifted over to him.