Page 11 of Stay with Me

“Sweet holy mother.” No wonder he’d said he couldn’t move. She was surprised he was conscious at all.

He pushed another item at her. A tin. “Salve. I need you to put it on.”

She opened the container, dipped her fingers in, and leaned across him again. As she lowered her hand against one of the long gashes, she hesitated, breathing in the pungent herbs she couldn’t name.

“Do it.” His voice was hoarse. “Without the medicine, my wounds will surely fester.”

She began dabbing on the ointment in a thick layer across the worst gash. “Where are the keys to unlock the door?”

“The guards hold them.”

“How many guards are there?”

“Two.”

She lathered more onto the next wound, tending him as swiftly as possible, fearing that at any second she would be pulled back to the lab and not be able to finish helping this man. He didn’t move except for his face to tighten in pain.

The outside of Reider Castle in the present time was dilapidated and overgrown. She knew it wasn’t that way during 1382. In fact, once he was out of the dungeon, no doubt he would need to overcome many other guards. “After I release you from the dungeon, will you be able to make your way to freedom?”

“’Tis possible.”

“Then once you are free, will you repay my kindness by putting a bottle of holy water in the crypt of CanterburyCathedral? The column with the human head has a hiding place in the mouth.”

His fingers closed around her upper arm with more force than she’d believed he was capable of having in his weakened condition. Although his grip was tight, it wasn’t menacing.

Kneeling beside him and arched over him, she paused to find his eyes open and fixed on her, his brows arched. “What need have you for the holy water?”

“It’s not for me. It’s for my brother.”

“What ails him?” Nicholas’s grip remained unswerving, as did his gaze.

She sensed he wouldn’t be satisfied unless he had the truth, but how could she explain that Dawson’s section had been in charge of disposing of munitions and one of them blew up? This man from the Middle Ages would think she was a lunatic if she mentioned land mines and shrapnel. But the longer she hesitated, she was drawing his suspicion. “He lost a portion of his eyesight during a war.” She spoke as much of the truth as she could. “As a result, he also lost the will to live.”

Nicholas was silent. And this time she could feel him studying her as she slathered more of the salve over his back.

“I’ve tried everything to bring him back to life, and now I’m desperate.”

She leaned down farther to reach his lower back. The welts disappeared into his woolen trousers or whatever they were called. The material stuck to his flesh, dark spots of blood seeping through. It was clear some of the wounds streaked his buttocks. She tugged at the waistband to pull it down.

“No.” The one word was quiet but loaded with a tension she didn’t understand. Was he concerned about his modesty? She’d seen plenty of trauma victims, and modesty was the last thing anyone worried about in a dire situation.

She glanced at him again, and this time, his lids were lowered halfway, and he was staring at the place where her body pressed against him, her chest brushing his arm. She’d only been attempting to tend his back and hadn’t meant anything by the contact. But she’d clearly overstepped the bounds of 1382, and maybe he assumed she was hinting at a sexual hookup.

She wasn’t easily embarrassed, but in this case, a strange flush settled inside. She sat back on her heels and handed him the tin. “I’ll let you finish.”

He didn’t take it. “There are two bottles of holy water in a hiding spot under the dungeon stairwell.”

She knew exactly where that hiding place was. She’d searched there already several times. “You’re sure?”

He nodded. “I put them there just in case...”

Just in case he’d located Ellen and needed to revive her?

Sybil pushed down her question. It was better not to say anything about what she already knew of the past. It would only make him wary. “We’ll use one for you, to heal your wounds—”

“With the salve, my wounds will heal on their own.”

“But you’re weak—” The candle flickered out, and in the next instant the supply shelves materialized.

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