Page 37 of Ena’s Surrender

Renault nodded even as he inwardly cringed. Ena and Bran would lose their home because of him.

He would make it up to them. Once Renault dug up the coin that he’d buried in the outskirts of Kershopefoot, he’d have enough to repay them for their losses.

“Thank you, Walter,” said Renault. “I owe you.”

“I know.” His friend winked at him, then considered Ena once more. “Have a good life, Renault. For both of us.” He gave a thoughtful smile, the one given by someone when they know they’ll never see that person again. “Go on. I’ll hold them back.”

Renault nodded at his friend, expressing as much gratitude in the motion as was possible. Walter returned the simple sentiment and raced back in the direction of the castle and the men who followed Renault.

Within minutes, they passed over the border and the hoofbeats disappeared behind them.

“Stay with me, Ena,” Renault whispered against her hair. “Stay with me, my love.”

She did not reply.

Her silence clamped at his chest.

He wanted to say more, but it was too difficult to speak when he had to concentrate on holding her, on traveling at a speed that would not cause further injury to her wounds. They were so close to the healer’s cottage. So damn close, but too far away for his liking.

He increased his horse’s speed slightly, eager to get Ena to help. Bran and the Scot raced ahead, no doubt to wake the healer.

By the time Renault arrived, a young woman with light blonde hair was waiting by the door. She waved him in and bade him settle Ena onto a pallet. Herbs hung from the rafters like sleeping bats and the scent of the drying plants filled the air with a clean spiciness.

Renault stared down at Ena, unable to remove himself from her side. She lay still, blood staining her ruined gambeson. He couldn’t tell how much, but it was enough to leave her unmoving. Enough to leave her pale as death.

That last realization caught at his throat, a forceful knot that ached so much, he could barely croak out the worst question in his life. “Is she still alive?”

Another woman, older than the first, knelt down beside Ena and put her fingers to her throat. “Aye.”

Heat tingled in his eyes and it became difficult to speak.

She glanced up at Renault. “Ye need to leave us now.”

He didn’t reply. He couldn’t. Instead, he slowly backed toward the door as the older woman pulled at the ties of the gambeson and issued orders for a pot to be set on the fire to boil.

It was the younger woman who finally approached Renault where he stood rooted in the doorway, and lightly set a hand to his shoulder to guide him out. “Ye must let us work to save her life.”

“I love her,” he choked out.

She regarded Ena, studying her with thoughtful concentration as if listening to something no one else could hear. “She loves ye as well.” A soft smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Her heart is verra strong. I am certain she will be well.”

The touch at his shoulder turned to pressure. “Please.”

With that, he had no choice but to leave the cottage and allow the door to close between him and the woman he loved.

Outside, Bran glared at him. “How did they let ye stay inside for so long, but no’ me?”

“They had to make me leave,” Renault conceded.

“Is she…” Bran searched the air, as if seeking the right word. “Is she…”

“Nay.”

Bran scrubbed a hand over his face, but it didn’t clear away the tears watering in his eyes.

“That should be me in there,” Renault said, finally speaking the truth. “She saved me and now…”

“And she’d do it again and again and again, the stubborn lass.” Bran swallowed. “I’d say I shouldna have let her go, but short of tying her up, I knew she wouldna be held back from ye.”