“Your head,” Margaretha began, pointing to her own head. “How did you hurt it?”
“I did not hurt my head,” he grumbled irritably. “Someone hit me. He did it!” He gestured with his hand. “His men tried to kill me. They killed John . . . they killed him . . . then beat me and left me for dead.”
“Who?”
“I mustn’t tell you.”
“Very well. But you must not become so . . .” Again, Margaretha couldn’t remember the correct English word. “You are too excited, and it is not good for you. You must rest, and eat and drink something. Rest.”
The man closed his eyes, but not as though he was trying to rest. More out of frustration. How could she convince him to be calm and rest?
He suddenly sat up and put his feet to the floor. His breath was labored, and he pressed his arm against his middle.
“No, no, he mustn’t get up!” Frau Lena put her hands on his shoulders to stop him, and he collapsed again onto the bed, his eyes closed. Frau Lena pulled his legs back up on the bed.
He lay, pale and limp. After a moment, Margaretha realized he’d passed out.
“How unfortunate that his injuries have him so addled,” Margaretha whispered.
“Perhaps he will recover his senses in a few days,” Frau Lena answered.
Margaretha set back to work, dabbing at his bloody head wound. Lena leaned over to examine it and said he needed stitches. “But I’m afraid to try to stitch him up. He might wake up and injure himself further.”
Might he not also injure Frau Lena?
A few minutes later, he awakened again, groaning.
“Now will you tell me where you hurt?” Margaretha frowned down at him, wondering if he would try to get up again. What made him so frantic?
He only blinked at her. “Where am I?”
“You are at Hagenheim Burg, Hagenheim Castle.”
“Thank God.” He blinked, then licked his swollen lips. “Who are you?”
“I am Margaretha, the oldest daughter of Duke Wilhelm, and this is Frau Lena, our healer.” Margaretha indicated the thin, red-haired woman behind her. “You must listen to her and do as she says, for she is trying to help you.”
“When might I be able to speak to Duke Wilhelm?”
Margaretha shook her head at his boldness. “You have not told me who you are.”
“I do not want to endanger you. I need to speak to your father first.”
“You are in no condition to have a meeting with the duke.” Margaretha smiled indulgently as she tucked the blanket around him. “If you lie still and answer Frau Lena’s questions, I will try to arrange for you to meet with my father when you are feeling better.” And looking and smelling better. “You did not answer my question about where you hurt.”
His jaw clenched. He seemed to try to take a deep breath, but he winced, then took several shallow breaths. “I am grateful for your help to me, Lady . . . What did you say your name was?”
“Though you refuse to tell me yours, I shall tell you mine again. It is Margaretha.”
“Lady Margaretha. Forgive my lack of manners.” He spoke slowly, as he was obviously in pain. “And please tell your healer I am grateful to her as well. But the man who tried to kill me would come after me again if he knew I was still alive. I must bring him to justice, and I will need Duke Wilhelm’s help.”
“So you know who tried to kill you?”
“Yes. But I cannot tell you his name. It is too dangerous.”
“Very well, very well. We can talk about all that when you are better.” Best to placate him for now, but the idea that she, Duke Wilhelm’s daughter, could be in danger seemed preposterous. “Now you must tell me where you feel pain so Frau Lena can help you.”
He looked rather sullen, but finally said, “My head throbs, it hurts to breathe, and I feel like I’ve been trampled by a horse. Other than that, I feel very well.”
Margaretha smiled. “How humorous you are.” She turned to translate to Frau Lena.
Humorous? There was nothing humorous in his situation. He probably did seem lacking in sense, as he was murmuring to himself and telling a duke’s daughter that he couldn’t tell her his name or she would be in danger. But his head hurt so much, it was hard to think straight. Another moan slipped, unbidden, from his throat.
After speaking in her language to the healer, she turned back to him with a cup and a small loaf of bread. “You must eat and drink something.”
He took the cup from her and drank more of the bitter herbal concoction. Then he took the bread and ate a bite. It was the best bread he had ever tasted. He began to feel better instantly. Even his pain seemed dulled.
He watched the beautiful Lady Margaretha as she took a clean cloth and new bowl of water from the healer. He continued to eat and watch her as she wet the cloth and started dabbing at the cut on his head. He liked the way she smelled as she leaned over him — like flowers and fresh air and feminine warmth.