The Black Knight of Ashfern

Chapter 4

Once again, William found himself standing by the window in the hall, staring out at a seemingly endless span of night and sea, the full moon glistening down onto the black water, creating a moving mimicry of the starry sky above. Closing his eyes, he listened to the rhythmic push and pull of the waves; as a child, it had lulled him to sleep faster than his mother's voice; as a sailor, the effect had served to calm him in much the same manner, but now it did nothing to ease his restlessness. He couldn't understand himself. Ever since he'd met that confounding girl, he'd been... different. Felt different. He looked at her, and the usual loathing he felt for those of her class didn't enter into his mind. She spoke, and he found himself unable to ignore her. She moved, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. She was a beggar! She was nothing! Had nothing! So, why did he care so much? With a savage yell, he sent the small table standing before the window sliding across the hall with a brutal kick, toppling it and the vase of flowers that had been sitting on top of it to the ground.

Three days, she'd been with fever! How could a woman known for her own abilities to heal be so damned sickly! Did she not drink her own brew? Did she not think herself susceptible to such illnesses? And to walk about in clothes that were soaked to the bone, even in early autumn! He wanted to strangle her for her own stupidity. When he'd taken her from the carriage, she had been so cold and wet that her lips had begun to turn blue. Immediately, he'd ordered a fire set to every hearth in the Manor and a kettle to be set on every fire to get a hot bath started for her. Then, he'd taken her directly to his chamber and started stripping her of her wet garments. Only to be thrown out by his housekeeper and her daughter when they'd seen what he was doing.

By the time the Doctor arrived an hour later, Nan had been thoroughly bathed, dried, wrapped, and warmed by his housekeeper and her daughter's skilled hands. And only after they had gotten her tucked into his bed, had they allowed him back into his chamber. Looking only slightly better than she had, though she was still pale and cold to the touch, he'd placed himself on the foot of the bed. Where he'd intended to stay even when Lafferty had bid him leave and give the girl some privacy while he administered to her.

William knew what privacy Lafferty wanted, and he'd not have it in his house. Not with Nan. There was a reason Carrie never let Max Lafferty into her house to care for her girls, and it had little to do with the fee he would charge for his services. It had taken his housekeeper's stern words and her continued assurances that she'd let nothing happen to the girl while he waited outside, just to get him to leave.

After what seemed like an eternity, Lafferty emerged, shaking his head, saying there was naught he could do. That all he would have done for the lass had been done; now her fever just needed to break. It had taken nearly everything William had not to throttle the man, especially when he made mention of payment for a job, he'd had no hand in. With an angry bellow, he'd called his Butler and stomped back into his chamber, reclaiming his seat at the foot of his bed.

For three agonizing days and nights, he'd watched over her. Watched her toss and turn in her sleep. Cry out for some bugger named Jamie. Listened to her ask the same questions, for those small moments when she was aware, tried to get her to drink the broth his housekeeper had brought when she was. He'd thought tonight would continue in the same fashion as the previous three until he heard an audible thud from his chamber.

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When Nan opened her eyes, the world was different. Gone was the thatch roof of her little house, the straw mattress of her bed, and the loud snores of her little bedmate. The world was rich, warm, and comfortable. It reminded her of another place in another life, a dream of a past she knew was no more. But none of the items in the room looked familiar. She was in a large four-poster bed with a dark canopy, its matching curtains tied back to their corresponding posts. Blankets tucked in just below her chin and a fire burned happily in the fireplace. It was hard to tell the size of the room with only the fireplace for light, but she was certain it was far larger than her little house.