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Emberley’s first awareness was of someone rolling her gently onto her back. She groaned in pain as her bruised and swollen body shifted, in particular the left side of her head. Julian had beaten her soundly about the head and shoulders and she had covered her face with her hands, trying to protect her mouth and nose. Consequently, her left ear was horribly swollen as was the entire left side of her head. Both hands were seriously battered from having defended herself.

Only half-conscious, she caught a glimpse of very large hands and she panicked. But the big hands grabbed her before she could move away.

“Easy, lady,” a very soft, very deep voice whispered. “You are safe. Everything will be all right.”

Emberley managed to open an eye, seeing Gart’s unfocused face in her field of vision. She thought she might have been dreaming. “Gart?” she whispered.

He smiled gently at her. “It is me.”

She was mildly incoherent, trying to push him away and get out of bed at the same time. “My children,” she mumbled. “I must get to my children.”

He gently, but firmly, eased her back onto the bed. “The children are fine,” he assured her softly. “They are being tended.”

Confused, she allowed him to push her back to the mattress simply because the pain in her head and neck was so great. It felt much better to lie down. “Where are they?”

“In the hall, eating their meal.”

She looked up at him as if not quite understanding him. The dark blue eyes were struggling to concentrate. “What… what are you doing here?”

“I am here to help you.”

It took her a moment to understand what he was telling her. As he watched, she burst into tears.

“Nay,” she sobbed softly. “Please go, Gart. If Julian finds you here, he will kill us both.”

Gart couldn’t help it. He reached up a big hand to stroke her head simply to comfort her, but she yelped with pain when he touched her. Concerned, he moved to get a better look at the left side of her head and he could see that nearly the entire side of her head and scalp was bloodied. It was matted in her beautiful hair and dried blood filled her ear canal. He sighed with dismay, struggling to keep his anger at bay. He had only just quelled it and it threatened to surge again.

“He will not find me here,” he said softly. “He is leaving for London. I have been given permission to remain behind to tend you.”

Tears ran down her temples as she gazed up at him. “Who gave you permission?”

“My liege,” Gart began to look around for water or anything else he could use to clean her up. She was a bloodied mess. “He has told your husband that I have already gone home. No one knows I am here.”

Emberley watched him as he moved over to a table near the window and peered into a big pewter pitcher. He sniffed it and, determining it was rosewater, poured it into the earthenware basin that was next to it.

“He will kill you if he finds you here,” she whispered. “Please go.”

He looked at her. “I am not going anywhere,” he said. “I am responsible for your misery. I must make amends.”

Emberley was in too much pain to argue. She closed her eyes as Gart went in search of a rag or something he could use with the water, coming across great squares of linen that were neatly folded in the giant wardrobe. He pulled out an armful, dropping half of them on the floor as he made his way back to the bed. It was a children’s room and the clean linen mingled with the clutter of toys and socks on the floor. He put the linen and the water next to the bed and took a knee.

Emberley felt him very gently begin to clean the blood from the left side of her head. She put up a bloodied hand and grasped his wrist, stopping him. Her dark blue eyes opened slowly and fixed on his intense green.

“Please,” she whispered. “I want you to go. I want you to leave and forget you ever saw me here.”

He gazed down at her, feeling something he couldn’t describe began to blossom in his chest. It was as if an unseen hand were squeezing his heart, hurting him. He’d never felt such a thing in his entire life.

“I will not,” he responded softly. “I will not leave and I will not forget you.”

Her eyes began to tear up again. “Please,” she begged softly. “Please go. I… I do not want you to see me like this. I do not want… you to remember me like this.”

He smiled gently and resumed cleaning the dried blood from her chin and jaw, completely ignoring her request.

“Do you want to know what I remember of you?” he asked her. “I remember a little girl that looked like an angel with her long, blond hair and big, blue eyes. I remember how she used to follow Erik around and he would scold her to stop following him, but then she would pout and he would relent and let her come along with whatever he was doing. He could not refuse such a sweet little face.”

Weak, Emberley lay there as he cleaned, remembering Erik through Gart’s eyes. She remembered the brother with the dark, blond hair and blue eyes, the clouded memories of an adoring young girl of her only brother.

“It seems like an eternity ago,” she murmured.

“Do you remember what he used to call you?” he asked softly.

She closed her eyes. “Kitten.”

“Do you remember why?”

She smiled faintly. “Because I was never without a cat in my arms,” she said softly. “They would breed in the barn and I would collect armfuls of them to play with. I have not heard that name in years.”

He smiled as he focused on cleaning the blood off her ear. “It suits you. Do you still have cats?”

“Four.”

He snorted softly. “I should have guessed.”

She fell silent as he gently wiped at the dried blood, trying not to cause additional pain to her swollen ear. He thought she had fallen asleep, losing herself in blissful unconsciousness to remove her from her pain, but after several moments she stirred again.

“Gart,” she whispered. “Will you do something for me?”

He stopped cleaning and looked at her. “Anything.”

“Please leave. I do not want you here.”

He lost some of his confidence. “I only want to help. Please let me.”

She shook her head, closing her eyes. “Just… let me be.”

“Why?”

Tears began to pour out of her closed eyes. “Because,” she breathed. “If Julian finds you here, he will kill us both. That is enough of a reason.”

Gart watched her struggle. “He will not kill you and he certainly will not kill me,” he insisted softly. “I can adequately defend us both from your husband.”

Her eyes opened and she looked at him. “Why?” she asked, almost angrily. “Gart, he is my husband. It is his right to do with me as he pleases and even though I appreciate your noble intentions, the fact remains that you have stirred up a good deal of trouble and I have suffered for it. You will leave here in a few days and I will be left with the consequences of your actions. You can easily leave the situation. I cannot. I must stay and bear Julian’s wrath.”

He stared at her, hurt and confused by her words. His chest began to constrict, knowing she was correct but still somehow trying to rationalize it. He set the bowl and rag on the floor and stood up, deeply troubled.

“Do you remember when you were about twelve years of age, you returned from Chepstow in the summertime?” he asked, crossing his enormous arms. “Erik and I were about twenty and one years old, newly knighted and very full of ourselves. We believed we were the greatest knights to have ever lived. Do recall that summer?”

Emberley nodded. “I do. It was the last time I saw you.”

“Do you also remember that you and your silly friends went to swim at the lake one warm August day? What were their names? You know who I mean, the St. George girls.”

In spite of herself, Emberley warmed to the remembrance. “Sorsha and Caroline.”

He made a face. “Sorsha and Caroline,” he muttered with exaggerated distaste. “Caroline wanted to marry me. That is all she would speak of. She followed me around so much that I had to hide to avoid her. One time, I was running from her and tripped into the well. Erik had to fish me out.”

Emberley couldn’t help but laugh, remembering that particularly humorous event. “You cannot fault the girl for her good taste.”

He gave her a half-grin, pleased to see that his storytelling was having the desired effect. He had her interest and she was smiling. “If you want to know the truth,” he said, pretending it was a great secret, “I would have much rather have had you.”

The light of surprise came to Emberley’s eyes. “Me?”

He nodded. “You were the prettiest girl in Shropshire.”

She was flattered, bringing a flush to her pale cheeks. “You never told me. You never said a word about it.”

“I was an idiot. Besides, Erik would have run me through for lusting after his sister.”

She giggled softly. “Did you really lust after me?”

He winked at her. “Are you serious? How could I not?” When she continued to giggle, he continued with his story. “At any rate, you and your silly friends went to the lake to swim and you swam out too far. Your legs became entangled in the underwater grass.”

Emberley’s smile faded. “I remember,” she murmured. “I would have drowned had it not been for you and Erik. You two jumped into the lake and risked your lives to cut me free. I remember that you in particular spent a good deal of time under the water cutting my legs free. Once Erik brought me back to the shore, he had to practically drag you out of the water as well. You nearly killed yourself trying to save me.”

Gart’s green eyes were intense. “As I would do the same thing today,” he said softly. “Never doubt for a moment that I would kill or die for you, my lady. I have been doing it since you were young. Therefore, your husband does not frighten me. Not in the least. I would willingly go to the vault or worse if it meant you would be safe and whole.”

She sighed, understanding his point. Having known the man most of her life, he had proven his selflessness time and time again. As her brother had also been, Gart was a man of extremely good character and altruism, qualities that were very endearing.

“I understand and appreciate your chivalry,” she said quietly. “But this situation is different. I am married and….”

He cut her off. “And your husband is a fool,” he rumbled. “He does not deserve you, Emberley. Has he been treating you this way since you married him?”

She averted her gaze from his probing eyes. “Aye,” she whispered. “We have been married for eight years. It has always been this way.”

Gart shook his head, turning his gaze to the lancet window and the blue sky beyond. He could smell the sea wafting in on the breeze, as Dunster sat right on the coast. Seagulls cried as they rode the drafts and he watched them a moment, his thoughts lost and tumultuous. There was so much on his mind that it was difficult to isolate only one thought. But he did know one thing for certain.

“I am sorry,” he finally muttered.

She watched his handsome profile, her gaze moving over his big body, long torso, and very long legs. “Why?”

“Because,” he admitted, turning to face her. “I should have married you and saved you from all of this.”

She smiled again. “You are being foolish,”

“Why?”

Her smile grew. “Must I answer that question?”

“If I want you to, you will.”

She shook her head at him as if she truly thought he was foolish. “In the first place, you had no interest in me and in the second place, you and my brother were full of dreams of big wars and big glory. A wife did not fit into those plans. Moreover, it would have been as if I had married my own brother. You and Eric were too close.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you still feel that way?”

“What way?”

“That I am as your brother?”

Her smile faded. “Nay,” she whispered. “I see you now as a very dear, very old friend. It has done my heart a world of good to see you and I shall miss you when you go.”

“A few minutes ago, you were asking me to leave. Do you still want me to leave?”

She regarded him closely. After a moment, she weakly nodded her head. “Aye.”

“You do?”

“Aye.”

“Well, I am not going anywhere. I cannot leave you like this.”

“But I wish it.”

“I do not care. For once, I will not bow to your wishes.”

“Even at the cost of Julian killing me should he discover you here with me?”

Gart’s expression hardened and he made his way back over to the bed, going to his knees again and picking up the wet cloth. “He will not kill you,” he replied. “I will kill him first.”

Her beaten hand flew to his rough cheek and she forced him to look at her. When their eyes met, her deep, blue eyes were roiling with emotion.

“Gart, you cannot,” she whispered firmly. “I will not let you do it. The penalty would be death and I could not live with that. I have already lost one brother. I could not lose you as well.”

Gart stared at her, feeling unfamiliar emotions swamp him. True, he had known her the vast majority of his life but as he gazed at her, he was seeing an exceptionally beautiful and poised woman.

He felt himself warming to her as he had never warmed to anyone in his life. Something magnetic and wonderful was brewing in his heart, warm and powerful emotions he felt every time he looked at her. He had always known her on a youth level, as a boy to a girl. Now he was coming to know her as an adult, as a man to a woman. It was completely different than what he had known in the past. He couldn’t explain it any other way.

Swiftly, he gripped her hand and kissed the palm that was on his cheek, twice, before setting her hand back down to her side. In silence, he picked up the rag and resumed cleaning the blood off her face.

He was afraid to say anything more to her as he cleaned her up, afraid that the odd, warm sensations filling his chest would cause him to say something he should not. Emberley lay still, her eyes closed, as he wiped off as much dried blood as he could manage. The left side of her scalp was still caked with blood but he didn’t want to disturb her too much by washing it out of her hair, so he just left it alone for the time being. As he moved to her hands to inspect the wounds, the door to the chamber began to rattle.

Gart froze, eyes and ears alert, as the panel continued to clatter. Then, he could hear children’s voices from the opposite side and realized it was the boys calling to their mother. Gart glanced at Emberley. She was dead asleep, exhausted from her injuries. Setting the bloodied rag aside, he stood up and made his way to the door.

Leaning his ear against the panel, he could hear the boys discussing what they should do because the door was locked. Silently, with great care, Gart unlocked the door and pressed himself back against the wall so that when the door opened, he would be concealed by the open panel.

Predictably, the door flew open when the boys realized it was unlatched and it slammed back, bumping against Gart. The three boys and one very little girl walked through, Orin holding on to his baby sister’s hand. Gart eyed the little girl curiously from his position behind the door. He could see long, curly blond hair through the crack between the door and the wall but little else. But his master plan ultimately worked against him when Romney turned around to shut the door behind him and caught sight of Gart. The boy’s mouth flew open.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded loudly.

Gart slammed the door and bolted it, turning to look at the four young faces gazing back at him with various degrees of astonishment. He considered Romney’s question, locking the door before returning his attention to the children.

“Your mother is hurt,” he said simply. “I was helping her.”

Romney eyed him with some suspicion, turning to look at his mother passed out on the bed. His brow furrowed with confusion. “Did Father let you come?” he asked.

“Nay.”

Romney was baffled but he wasn’t sure what to do about it. In fact, he wasn’t sure he wanted to do anything about it. For lack of a better response he lifted the bag in his right hand.

“Gerta sent us with this for Mother,” he said.

Gart looked at the sack. “What is it? And who is Gerta?”

“Gerta is our nurse,” Romney said, looking back to his mother as he lowered the sack in his hand. “She told us to bring this to mother. It will help her.”

Gart stepped forward and took the sack, a rough thing sewn from crude plant fibers. Peering inside, he could see tied off bunches of herbs and weeds. Making his way over to the oak table near the bed that Emberley was lying upon, he began to pull the ingredients out and lay them on the table. He sniffed them one by one.

“Mint,” he set down a green bunch and pulled out a few more, sniffing them in succession. “Lemongrass, and I’m not sure what this is. This looks like white willow.”

The children were clustered around him, watching him remove the ingredients. “Gerta says we need to mash them up and put them on her hurts.”

Gart asked the question even though he was fairly sure he knew the answer. “Why is Gerta not here to help?”

Romney looked sad. “Father told her she could not come.”

“But he said you could come?”

“He did not tell us anything. We just came.” He looked up at Gart, his expression somewhat fearful. “Does he know you are here?”

Gart shook his head. “Nay,” he said seriously. “He does not know I am here. He must not ever know or else he might hurt your mother again. You must never tell him. Do you understand?”

He looked to all of the boys as he spoke and received two serious nods from Romney and Orin. Brendt had no idea what he was saying until Orin snapped at the little boy and he finally nodded his head. Little Lacy, a gorgeous child who looked just like her mother, stared up at Gart with a thumb in her mouth. She was too young to understand in any case, but after several moments of staring at Gart, she wandered over to her mother and climbed onto the bed next to her.

Gart watched the little girl snuggle down next to Emberley, who was in such a deep sleep that she didn’t even stir. His gaze lingered on the pair a moment before he turned back to the herbs and began to pull them apart.

“Gerta said we must mash them up?” he asked Romney.

Romney helped him pull apart the mint. “She said to mash them and put them on Mother’s hurts,” he repeated. “It will make her feel better.”