Page 34 of To Protect

They stopped before her door. “I have three younger brothers, so aye, there is a chance I will be. A good one, I would say. But if Matilda becomes queen, and I am on the right side of history . . . ” Roland shrugged. “Perhaps my actions might be forgiven.”

“Or perhaps you should pursue,” he nodded into the chamber. “A different sort of happiness. With that sword arm, any mercenary army would pay you handsomely.”

Roland chuckled. “A mercenary.” He knocked at her door. What a fall from grace that would be.

“Amalia,” he called, for the second time in a sennight.

“Perhaps she is sleeping,” Darien said.

The door opened. “Roland,” she began, but stopped, spying Darien. “My lord?”

“I am no lord here,” he said. “We break our fast together each day,” he continued, the man’s charm legendary and on display this eve. “Darien, please.”

Amalia, dressed in the same cotte she had worn the other evening, peered up at him. She appeared as if she’d been abed, and Roland had to shift his stance for the visions that assaulted him. Imagining her sprawled across the bed beneath him, those hazel eyes watching him as they made love . . .

“He was injured,” Roland responded to Amalia’s questioning gaze. “It appears to us the wound has festered.”

“Has Rowena seen it?” she asked, opening the door wider.

“Nay,” Darien admitted. “I’ve not had the opportunity to visit the village yet. Roland thinks perhaps you might look at it?”

She looked at Roland. His eyes dropped to her lips. Once more. Just once more he wished to feel them beneath his own.

“Of course,” she said, ushering them inside. “Though I do not have my herbs with me. We left Ashford Manor for Evelina’s nuptials so quickly, I took little along.”

It occurred to Roland then. “None of your belongings? Your gowns?”

“This,” she said, pointing to a trunk, “and the few I have were procured in Kindridge Moor, where Evelina and Sir Gareth were married.”

“Have you considered returning home?” Darien asked. They rarely spoke of Amalia’s predicament, the reason she remained for the time being at Castle Blackwood.

“Nay. ’Twould be a disappointment to my parents, who were so very happy when I procured the position as Lady Evelina’s maid. Nor would I abandon my lady. I am certain she and Gareth will be able to return soon. Sir Eamon has another meeting planned on the morrow with Lord Ashford, given all that is happening with the queen. Now, let me see the wound.”

“It is here,” Darien said, pointing to his arm. “I would remove my shirt for you to see it.”

“Please do so,” she said with no hint of embarrassment. “I aided my village’s healer and have seen more than any maid my age should have done.”

Roland’s brow furrowed. He disliked the thought of Amalia with any other man, ill or otherwise.

When he removed it, Amalia gasped. She glared at Darien, and then Roland, as if he were to blame. “The wound festers, indeed. I will need broadleaf, which I believe can be found in Blackwood’s garden. But you must see Rowena as well, as soon as you are able.”

“I will do so,” Darien promised.

“I will dress and meet you in the corridor. We will go to the garden now. I’ll also need hot water and clean clothes.”

“Allow me to fetch both and meet you in the hall.” Darien glanced at Roland. “You will escort Amalia to the garden?”

He nearly groaned aloud. Surely his will was being tested for past misdeeds. “Of course,” he said aloud as he and Darien stepped back outside. Amalia closed the door as the two men exchanged a glance.

“She likes you,” Darien whispered. “’Tis evident.” Roland frowned, but Darien was not finished. “As evident as the fact that you like her too.”

“What I do not like, however,” Roland grumbled, “is your interference.”

Darien chuckled. “If by interference you mean honesty, then I apologize not at all.”

“I’d not expect otherwise,” Roland shot back. But it was not Darien he was truly angry with. It was his role, his duty, that Roland disliked at the moment. Earl’s son. Inheritance. There were days he wished for nothing more than to have been born the youngest son.

“A mercenary?” he mused aloud.

“You’d make a fine one, indeed,” Darien said just as Amalia’s bedroom door opened once again.