HealingPassion Read Free Page A

the same time, Ralf asked, “Did you find him?”
    “Nay,” he said, answering the second question first, and
added, “I’m well. The bolt merely grazed my wrist. Did someone retrieve it?”
    “I have it here, Sir Thomas.” The servant who’d led them
thus far spoke from behind the group, which parted as all turned to stare at
him. The man looked shaken, his eyes very wide, his face pale. He held out the
crossbow bolt. Sir Thomas took it from him, then grimaced in disgust. It bore
no markings or distinctive shape that would tie it to a specific individual.
    A group of ladies, drawn by the commotion, hurried down the
hall toward them, a pair of maids, and Lady Juliana herself. She ran ahead of
the group when she saw him.
    “Sir Thomas, what has happened?” She gasped out the words
between panting breaths. She looked down at his sleeve and her breath caught on
a sharp gasp. “You’re injured!”
    He noticed the sting at his wrist again for the first time
since he’d taken off after the wielder of the crossbow. A red stain spread on
the fabric above.
    He shook his head. “It’s naught. Just a scratch. I’m more
concerned with who fired the bolt. And why?”
    Her eyes widened as she looked at his arm then up looked up
to meet his gaze. “A bolt? A crossbow bolt? Was fired at you?”
    He nodded toward the manservant still holding the bolt on
his outstretched hands. “Had I not heard him a moment before he fired, ‘tis
likely I’d have been killed.” He stopped and considered. “Unless ‘twas not I
that was the target. Yet I cannot imagine why anyone should want to kill Ralf
or Bertram or your manservant. In truth, I know not why anyone should be bent
on my murder either. Is your household always given to such violence, my lady?”
    She sucked in a sharp breath. “Nay, Sir Thomas. I…I know not
what to say. I’m beyond words.” And for a moment, it appeared she was. “Never
before, to my knowledge, has a guest been threatened or harmed within these
walls. I’m mortified that it should happen now. May I see it?” She nodded
toward the bolt.
    He handed it to her. She called one of her ladies, who bore
a torch, to move closer to allow her a better look at it. She turned it over in
her hands several times before she sighed and gave it to one of her maids. “I
see nothing on it to indicate who it may have belonged to. Save that in my
chest, Avice.”
    She turned to Thomas and reached for his sleeve. “A scratch
this may be, Sir Thomas, yet does it need cleaning and possibly stitching. In
your quarters, please.” She signaled the manservant to lead the way again.
    “You needn’t concern yourself with it, my lady,” he said. “I
barely feel it. I doubt it needs stitching.”
    In truth he wasn’t so sure, but he did know that the lady’s
presence was doing things to him he could scarce bear. In her concern for the
attack on him, she appeared to have forgotten that she’d removed her overgown.
The shift she wore now did little to conceal the curves of her lovely figure.
He could see clearly beneath the fabric the outline of her breasts and the
darker tips pressing against the fabric. He desperately wanted to reach out and
touch them, test whether they were as soft as they looked. She’d removed her
cap as well, and her hair hung loose around her face, a fall of thick, glossy
brown curls halfway down her back.
    She looked smaller this way, and younger, yet the strength
of her will and authority forestalled all argument, and he allowed her to
accompany them to his quarters without demur.
    While Ralf and Bertram helped him remove sword and mail, she
sent her maids for water, clean linen, and salve. When he stood in his shirt
and breeches, she took his hand and pushed the sleeve up from his bleeding
wrist. She used the sleeve to wipe away the blood, promising to have the shirt
repaired and laundered.
    As he’d told her, the wound was little more than a scratch.
He heard her sigh with relief as she