Page 2 of His Dark Delights
Her head swung. “Moo!”
“I will not argue with you. You will help me get him home. It’s not right to leave him here to die!” I firmly believe in the sanctity of life. Knights and soldiers were living beings and deserving of help.
The stubborn cow snorted, then lowered her head as she relented to my demands. She trudged nearer, lowering her head and sniffing at the man’s mop of dark hair. A stray curl flopped over his forehead on her exhale. My finger twitched to brush it back, but I remained on task.
Years of working on a farm served me well as I hefted the bulky mass off the blood-soaked ground. Multiple attempts followed, but he eventually sagged onto Millie’s back. He didn’t make another sound, and the lack of noise concerned me. During the trek home, I periodically checked his pulse. Worryingly slow.
The path home stretched abnormally. Every step was short, and the trail extended with the eerie shadows. Nature continued shouting imperceptible warnings of something dangerous prowling the mountains. The blood on my hands and the trees parting distracted me from hearing it. A second wind filled my lungs, energizing me as the meadow and farm rose into view. Millie and I quickened our pace.
Strokes of rust-orange and watery violet painted the horizon. The creeping maw of gray clouds, pregnant with a dense storm, made the usually scenic imageominous. Jutting from the land as jagged and crooked as broken teeth, the mountain peaks cleaved through the clouds bowling down from the sky.
Unseen behind my retreating back, a spiral of ashen fumes swirled from the trees. Fire or smoke corrupting the forest, but out of sight and not my primary concern. Encroaching darkness descended on the mountain, blanketing the range and shrouding my view of the mountain. A veil matching the incoming weather settled over my mood.
Flowers swayed as we ran, reaching out and hoping to brush me as we passed. Petals shivered with delight upon contact. Millie and I breezed through the meadow, committed to reaching home in time. The village sat too far out of reach, and the knight might not stand a chance if I risked going for help.
Frantic blathering from the farm animals erupted on our approach. I spared a single, “Out of the way!”
Dashing ahead of Millie, I unlatched the leaning gate to the cottage. The wood sagged and groaned in protest, making me wince at the poor state of it. At the front door, I slapped myself.
“I’ll have to take him inside myself.”
“Moo!”
“I’m aware he’s heavy, but I can’t let him die because he weighs a ton!” Millie relented to my frantic gesturing and leaned enough that the man slid off her back. A renewed burst of strength allowed me to catch him and drag him over the threshold.
He remained unconscious, yet his large presence encompassed the meager size of my home, making it feel even smaller. Someone of his stature and handsome features wasn’t meant for humble cottages hiding onthe outskirts of forgotten villages. Though I tried not to focus on his features as I hauled him through the main room of the cabin into the primary bedroom.
Ashes smoldered into the hearth to the left. One of the knight’s boots caught on a chair leg for the wobbly table on the right. Once I reached the door near the stairs to the loft, I nearly dropped him. With great difficulty, I shoved him through a door I hadn’t touched in months and momentarily succumbed to apprehension upon entering the unused room.
Only then did he make a sound—something mirroring a long sigh, as if expelling the last air in his lungs. Alarm swelled in my chest and choked me, propelling me into action. Bolstered by my resolve, I hefted the man onto the bed with an unceremonious thump. His weight created a veritable crater on the mattress.
Frazzled, breath sawing through me, I hastened toward the cabinets housing medical supplies. Head whizzing in circles, I nearly forgot where everything was. One lungful of air cleared the fog enough for me to locate anything that might keep the man alive. With arms full, I bolted to his side and set to work.
Old, trusty sheers shredded through the remnants of his clothing to better access his injuries. Rich material slithered away into frayed strips, giving way to his bare torso. I presumed he was well-defined with muscle, but seeing it first-hand squeezed an embarrassed squeak from me. A thin layer of dark hair spread over a broad chest and enhanced the toned grooves of his stomach before disappearing under the waist of his trousers.
I had never seen such a sculpted V on a man’s hipsbefore. Didn’t know it was possible. A hot flush crept over my cheeks at the state of the half-naked man on the bed. Even as wounded as he was, the man was glorious to look upon. An odd fluttering in my stomach joined the stirring in my chest.
Questions arose as I examined him. Had he been the victor or loser in whatever battle he’d gotten into? In his bloodied and beaten state, I mused he might have nearly been the loser.
“Focus, Lilliana,” I reprimanded myself. Shaking wayward thoughts from my head, I poured my attention into washing and cleaning the wounds before applying what remained of my supply of healing poultice. No healer by any means, but I had unfortunately gained knowledge of tending to injury and sickness. The very reason for the unused room, yet I tried not to doubt myself when a life balanced in my hands.
Starting with the nasty gash on his side, I delicately applied the green goopy poultice. A harsh hiss belted through his clenched teeth, which startled me away from the bed. Only biting my tongue stifled my yelp.
As the light of day bowed under the weight of the gloaming night, I quickly set about lighting candles about the room. Dusty candlesticks, unused for months, that refused to light. I grumbled nasty words under my breath as I fetched logs for a fire in the bedroom fireplace. Despite the comfortable spring weather, a storm inched closer, and the knight’s skin remained cold to the touch.
The golden-orange light from the fire highlighted the sweat on the man’s furrowed brow and jaw, flexing with tension. Unconscious and unresponsive from thepain. A weight settled on my shoulders, seeing someone so fraught in the throes of agony. I didn’t hesitate or question my actions as I unstopped the leftover bottle of my father’s poppy milk. The tiny vial pulsed with an aura of liquid death in my fingers, and recent memories flashed behind my eyes. I shied away from them and shoved them back into the box in my mind before pouring a small amount through the man’s lips. He needed the potent pain reliever and sleep aid more than my anxiety needed to consume me.
The knight sputtered and gasped as it went down. Thankfully, he managed every drop. A handful of chilling seconds passed as slow as dripping molasses, but eventually the tension smoothed from his expression and his next breath flowed easier.
Relieved, I set about washing the rest of the visible dirt and blood from his skin. To my consternation, he was even more handsome under the grime. In the end, I had him clumsily wrapped in bandaging good enough to keep him alive.
My gaze roamed the expanse of him once again, and I drew my bottom lip between my teeth. With a soft gasp, I tucked a blanket over the knight and blamed my heated face on the fire crackling away in the hearth.
I fled the room with a basket of stained rags and his torn shirt. Outside, I faced the reality of the world. As if the unseasonably cool wind from the storm snapped me out of whatever spell lingered in that once abandoned bedroom. Dusk provided enough light for me to find my animals and prepare for the long storm ahead.
After leaving the rags with other linens to be washed, I moved onto another task. Millie wasn’t happywhen I ushered the animals toward the aged barn. Her “moo” said “I am not staying in there.”
“Yes, you are. You all are. The first spring rains will be harsh this year.”
