Page 33 of Always
By the morning of our second full week of traveling, we finally reached the thick meadows bordering Inglewood Forest. We were too near a small peasant village by the name of Cannock for my comfort. Nevertheless, I couldn’t resist stopping at a clear brook, especially when Felicia begged for the chance to wash in it. Since we’d gone days without the most basic of bathing, I felt the grime and knew she must too.
“Only for a few minutes,” I said, guessing we would come to no harm if we took a small break. The area wasn’t secluded enough for staying overlong, and I’d hoped to reach the cover of deeper forest before stopping to sleep for the day. But the sun had just risen, and we still had time to spare before we needed to hide ourselves away.
Her tired smile at my acquiescence made me realize how hard I’d pushed her, how once again she’d withstood the pressure like a valiant soldier. Although I admired her already, my respect for her had deepened. She was the strongest and bravest woman I’d ever met. Even now, as I cradled Emmeline in my arm, my heart swelled with a rush of emotion for Felicia I couldn’t begin to name.
I’d turned my back to give her a few moments of privacy and so I could keep my focus on the surrounding meadow and anyone who might be approaching. But at her sharp intake of breath and a subsequent cry of pain, I pivoted, my knife already drawn. A sweeping glance around the grassy bank and the few trees told me we were still alone, and yet my heart doubled its pace.
“Something’s wrong,” I stated as I crossed toward where she sat on a rock next to the gently rippling water. Her stockings and boots lay discarded on the ground beside her along with the peasant scarf she normally tied over her head. She’d taken to wearing her hair simply, in a single plait down her back.
“I am fine,” she said, although her voice was shaky.
Still holding Emmeline, I knelt next to her. She’d pulled her skirt and petticoat to her knees, revealing her delicate ankles and dainty white feet. Part of me said I was her husband and therefore had every right before God to look upon her. Even so, I cast my eyes away from her bare skin.
We’d maintained a friendly relationship during the fortnight of travel, working well together, and even enjoying each other’s company and talking of many things. Of course, I’d experienced incidents when my attraction had swelled, and I’d wished for more than friendship. But I’d kept the boundaries firmly in place. After all, I’d told her at St. Cuthbert’s I wouldn’t dishonor her. And I always kept my pledges and would continue to do so. Even now.
I focused on her face, where she happened to be nibbling on her lower lip. Her beautiful, full lip. I could admit I’d been more than fascinated with her mouth since the day she’d woken me with her kiss. Her lips were so perfect above her delicate chin and framed by high cheekbones. Her lashes were impossibly thick and long. And her striking green eyes never ceased to slay me.
As she dipped her toes into the running water, she grimaced.
Her reaction forced my attention back to her discomfort. “Are you in pain?”
“Just a little.”
Chancing a look at her feet again, I sat up in dismay at the sight of the red welts and blisters that had formed, some of which were bleeding. All the walking had chafed her feet, and she hadn’t once let on how uncomfortable she was.
I passed Emmeline to Felicia and reached for her foot, this time heedless of the impropriety of her state of undress. I examined the raw, open blisters on one foot and then picked up the other to see the same. Anger swirled in my chest at the same time as frustration.
“Why didn’t you tell me of your blisters?” My voice came out harder than I intended.
“I did not want to slow you down,” she said wearily.
“You should have said something.” I ripped a strip off my shirt and soaked it in the cold water before gently dabbing her wounds. A cry slipped from her lips, which only pierced me deeper.
She didn’t respond as I tended first one foot, then the other. When I’d finally washed and dried them, I lifted her into my arms.
“No, Lance.” She snaked one arm around my neck and clutched Emmeline with the other. “I can walk. Please.”
Ignoring her objection, I carried her a short distance away to a ravine shaded by an oak, though my ruined leg protested at each step. There, I rapidly flattened a bed in the tall grass and lowered her onto it, helping to situate Emmeline next to her.
“Don’t move,” I ordered, knowing my voice still carried frustration but unable to soften it. I was too angry with myself for not seeing her pain sooner, for not being sensitive, for not taking care of her the way I should have.
I limped away, tended the mule and goat, tied them nearby, and then returned to Felicia bringing along her socks and shoes. She was lying where I’d left her, and her eyes were closed like Emmeline’s. Had she already fallen asleep? I debated letting her rest, but at a glance at her mangled feet, I dropped to my knees and lifted one of them to my lap.
Her eyes flew open, startled and glassy from her exhaustion. “Just a little rest and I shall be fine.”
“You need more than a little rest,” I said as I began to apply the salve Sister Katherine had made for my wound. For long moments, I worked in silence until I’d covered her feet with the salve and then the bandages.
“I am sorry, Lance,” she whispered. “I did not wish to be a burden to you, and now I have only made things worse.”
The regret in her voice stopped my efforts to wipe my hands. I glanced up to see a tear slip down her cheek. Was I making her cry? I loathed myself for the hurt I’d caused her spirit as well as her body. Before I realized what I was doing, I reached for her, swiped the tear from her cheek, and then pulled her into my arms.
“You’re not a burden,” I murmured.
“Even though you are injured, you are stronger than I.” Her statement ended on a sob, which she quickly cut off by pressing her face against my chest.
“Nay.” My fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, combing back the strands of her hair that had come loose from her thick plait. “I should be the one apologizing to you. And if I’m angry, it is only at myself for not being more sensitive to your needs.”
She shook her head but didn’t pull away. “You are more than kind to me.”
