CHAPTER 9
Palmer knelt by Theodosia on the floor of the storeroom. She lay cocooned in the sheep pelts but had not yet recovered.
The furrier, Gilbert, knelt opposite him, bowl of hot water in hand. “I’m sorry this took a while, sir knight.”
“We wouldn’t have it at all if it weren’t for you, sir.” Palmer put a hand to the back of Theodosia’s head. He tilted her chin forward and supported her as Gilbert brought a metal ladle full of warm water to her mouth.
“Drink this, my lady. It will put you right,” said Gilbert.
“It’s not poison?” She gave Palmer an anxious look, her imagined fear real to her.
“No.” He nodded to her to go along with the old man’s request, and she took a first cautious sip, then several more.
“That’s it.” Gilbert refilled the ladle for her.
The first minor flickers of her skin stirred against Palmer’s hand. Come on. Then her teeth rattled against the ladle as she began to shiver in earnest. Relief allowed him several deep breaths.
“Methinks she will come round.” Firm satisfaction showed in Gilbert’s wrinkled face, and his rheumy eyes lit with hope.
“I agree, sir,” said Palmer, laying her carefully back down again. “And thank you for your aid.”
Gilbert stood up with a click of his stooped knees. “No need for thanks. I’m only glad I could do summat. If you ask me, what you need now, sir knight, is a good kip. You look all in. What with the worry for your wife and everything.” His careful words showed Palmer he suspected more than he’d been told.
“I was worried, but not anymore.” Palmer closed off the unspoken question.
“Then I’ll leave you to rest awhile.” Gilbert picked up Theodosia’s wet clothing. “I’ll get Gwendolyn to dry these. You’ll be on your way after?”
“We will,” said Palmer.
“Then sleep well, stranger.”
As Gilbert left them alone once more, Palmer looked at the shaking Theodosia.
Her eyes were tight shut, and her teeth clattered so hard he feared they’d break.
He brought one hand to her cheek, and her eyes opened.
“I’m so cold,” she whispered.
“That’s a good thing,” he replied. “You couldn’t feel it before, and that’s a time of great danger.”
Her forehead creased in a deep frown. “But it hurts so.”
Palmer knew it would. The return of feeling to limbs dead with cold had a cruel, sharp edge, as if the skin would burst open and bones shatter. “Can you feel your hands and feet?”
She shook her head. “My boots are too tight.”
Her senses were still scattered. She needed more warmth. He pulled off his surcoat and loosed his chain mail. As he removed it, his muscles relaxed into the familiar sudden weariness that came when they no longer had to carry its weight.
Dressed in his woolen breeches and undershirt, he climbed under the top pelt next to Theodosia, careful to keep her covered.
She paid him no heed, lost once again in her wandering mind.
“I mean you no harm, Sister.” He said it aloud, though he doubted she’d hear. He drew her close to him. Faith, her skin was like stone. He took her in his arms, wrapped his legs around hers, brought her head close to his chest, willing her body to take the life-giving warmth from his.
Shivering still, she clung to him. It was as if her instincts took over and her body knew what it had to have.
Trouble was, so did his. Her naked breasts firm against his chest, her soft, damp hair against his chin. He kept his palms tight on her shuddering back. If he moved them lower, touched the smooth swell of her behind, then he’d lose control.
With a soft, agonized moan, she tightened her grip on him. His lips brushed her ear as she shifted in his hold.
“I keep my soul safe, Benedict,” she murmured.
Her words knocked at his conscience, and he lifted his head away. He was trying to warm her, not bed her. His body needed distraction. Now. “Benedict? You usually call me Sir Palmer.”
Theodosia tipped her head back to look at him with pain-clouded, vacant eyes. “You are Benedict. It means blessed.”
“I don’t feel very blessed. But you must be.” He moved one hand up to her neck. “Your cross is of great value, and yet you didn’t lose it in the water.”
“The water was dark…c-cold.” Her eyes widened as another spasm went through her.
“I know.” He rubbed her between her shoulder blades to calm her. “But you were very brave.”
“Cold is good. Hot is bad.”
Did her shivering ease? Her skin beneath his hand seemed a mite warmer. “Cold can be bad too, Theodosia.”