Page 38 of Ena’s Surrender

“I didn’t want that.” Renault shook his head. “I didn’t want—” His voice broke.

Bran nodded in understanding and clasped an arm over Renault’s shoulder, drawing him in as a brother. Even as his sister hovered at death’s door, Bran did not blame Renault. It was better than Renault deserved.

Ena was better than he deserved. And he was helpless to do anything but wait while the healers fought to save her life.

12

It hurt to breathe. Ena shifted and a burning sensation sizzled over her torso.

“Ye dinna need to move,” a woman said.

Ena squinted her eyes open to find Efric, the old village healer, smiling down at her. “I fed ye a tea that will help with the discomfort. It will only take a few minutes before ye feel the effects.”

“Why do I need a tea?” Ena tried to sit up and the pain increased.

“Dinna try to sit up,” Efric cautioned. “Ye were injured. Were it no’ for the gambeson ye wore, ye’d be dead.”

The gambeson? Ena’s concentrated on the women’s words. A memory flashed in her mind. A blade, coming down. Not on her, but on Renault. She’d jumped in front of him, in front of the sword as it connected with her body.

She shuddered as she recalled how it had sliced through the gambeson and cut into her flesh, the injury reminiscent of the attack when she’d been a young girl. “Renault?” she asked.

“I’m assuming ye mean the handsome Englishman that hasna left my doorstep since ye came here two days ago.” Efric chuckled. “Between him and Bran fussing about us like old women, I’m surprised we were able to get ye fully stitched.”

Ena lifted her head to see her own body, clad in a simple, homespun kirtle. A neat row of tiny, careful stitches peeked from the neckline of the dress.

Efric shook her head. “Dinna worry, lass. I tried to keep ye from scarring as best I could. Better than the injury ye sustained before, at least.”

Ena’s face heated, but Efric rubbed her hand with the quiet comfort of a mother. “In a month or two, ye’ll be fine,” she said.

All at once, a soothing warmth melted over her body and took away the worst of the pain. Tension Ena hadn’t realized she’d been holding relaxed.

“Ach, the tea appears to be taking effect.” The healer nodded, as if confirming her observation to herself. “Ye can let them in, Afrid.”

Efric’s granddaughter opened the door to the hut and waved in Renault and Bran. The men both rushed to Ena, faces lined with concern.

Efric moved back with an exasperated shake of her head. “I told ye lads, she’s fine.”

“Are ye?” Bran asked.

Ena nodded. “Ye saved me again.”

“No’ this time.” Bran looked to Renault. “He carried ye the whole way back to Scotland. We dinna think…” He swallowed and shifted his gaze to the floor.

Renault. Her heart flipped inside her battered body.

“Ye should know better than that. I wouldna go down so easy.” Ena grinned at her brother. “I’m too damn stubborn.”

“And I thank the good Lord for it.” Bran ruffled her hair with a lighter hand than usual, as if he feared breaking her. “I promise to no’ ever let anything happen to ye again, Ena. I’ll always protect ye.”

“As will I.” Renault stepped forward and took her hand.

Bran shifted back, smiled at Ena once more and muttered something about checking on Maribel and Moggy before slipping out of the hut. The healers made themselves scarce as well, leaving Ena alone with Renault.

“Ye saved my life,” Ena said.

Renault shook his head. “I endangered it. You saved mine. Ena, you risked yourself. I’m not…” He took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m not worth the cost of your life. You could have been killed. You nearly were.”

“But ye made sure I was taken to the healer to be cared for.” She reached for him. “I would do it again for ye, Renault. I love ye.”