Page 40 of A Duke Under Her Spell
There upon the ground was a young man lying in a pool of his own blood, his leg mangled beyond repair, a rope wrapped around it to stop the bleeding. Off to the side lay a dead horse its eyes rolled back in its head. The blood streaked whites of its eyes showed the fear and pain it had felt in its last moments before it had been shot in the head. “He was gored by a stag during a hunt.”
“I have never seen such a thing before,” she shook her head, not at all sure that she could help his son.
“You will fix him, or I will make you suffer far more than your pitiful little mind could begin to imagine.”
Terrified, angry, and horror stricken, Marybeth slid from the back of the horse and knelt down beside the wounded man.At least someone had known enough to stop the bleeding,she noted. Taking stock of the situation her training as a healer took over and she pushed aside her rage to aid the man suffering before her. Turning to Lord Enfield she rattled off a list of items she would need from her croft. Nodding, he took off on horseback toward her grandmother’s croft.
Marybeth contemplated running away, but if she did, she knew that the young man before her would die. As angry as she was at Lord Enfield, his sons were innocent of their father’s wrongdoing and did not deserve to die for the sake of their paternity, just as she would not wish to do so. Resigning herself to the situation in which she found herself, Marybeth went about doing what she could to save his life without her supplies.
The wounded man’s brothers all stood around staring down at her. The stone-cold grey of their eyes did little to give away any emotion.Heaven forfend that they be as their father.Looking around she saw a nearby stream and ordered the brothers to build a fire so that she might heat some water for when her supplies came. The brothers did as she asked without comment or question. Not a one of them spoke a single word to her in greeting or otherwise.
The man on the ground had lost consciousness, a small mercy as she was quite certain that the pain was most unbearably intense. She could not imagine the torture that he had endure before passing out. As she waited for Lord Enfield to return, she studied the faces of the men around her. They all had the same grey eyes, the same eyes that she herself looked at in the mirror every day. She marveled at the similarities in their features. The one key difference in their appearance, however, was their coal black hair.
Lord Enfield has grey eyes as well.As much as she might wish it not to be true, it was. Lord Enfield was her father and these men were her brothers.I have a family. I have brothers and I am the daughter of a cruel villain who raped my mother, and not only that but he left her for dead.Marybeth’s head ached from the intensity with which she had been clenching her teeth since leaving Arkley Hall.
The man on the ground began to rouse, moaning in pain. He opened his eyes and stared up at her face in surprise. “Who are you?” he mumbled unable to speak clearly through the agony that gripped him.
“Marybeth Wright, I am a healer. I am also apparently your sister.”
“Sister? I was unaware that I had a sister,” he mumbled. “How?”
“That is a tale best left for when you are feeling better. For now, just rest. Lord Enfield will return soon with my supplies and I promise to do all I can to see you put to rights.”
“Are you another one of our father’s bastards?” one of the other brother’s asked moving forward to take in the situation. “Your eyes are the same as ours, your features a feminine version of our own, naught but your hair is different.”
“My mother’s hair,” she murmured. Her heart felt as if it bore an open festering wound as it ached with every beat in her chest.
The brother’s nodded their heads in unison. “We too have our mother’s hair.”
By the time that Lord Enfield returned, Marybeth had learned all eight of her brother’s names, ages, and their family background. She had used conversation to distract the eldest brother form his pain and had learned a great deal in the process. Their mother had died in childbirth many years before. Out of all of Lord Enfield’s children, Marybeth was the youngest that they were aware of. She also discovered that they were all oblivious as to the story of her creation.
Marybeth’s stomach turned over at the thought of what had befallen her mother.How can anyone do such a thing to another person? It is unconscionable.
When Lord Enfield arrived with the supplies, Marybeth set straight to work. Peeling away the torn clothing from the wound, she cleansed it as best as she could given the circumstance of being on the forest floor. After she had cleaned the wound, she stitched it up as best she could. Even when she had done all that she could do, Marybeth was not at all certain that he would live. He had lost a lot of blood and was very weak.
“He will need constant care to ensure that his leg does not become putrid. You will need to wash it out, reapply the poultice, and rewrap it daily just as I have done here.” She explained to them exactly what she had done and with what herbs. She made him some white willow bark tea for the pain and then handed the remaining supplies to the nearest standing brother. “If you do as I have instructed, he stands a chance at living. If you do not, he will die.”
“Should she not go with us, Father, to care for Stephen?” one of the brothers asked.
“She would be more trouble than she is worth. If something goes wrong, we will know where to find her.” The Duke moved his horse forward and lifted his injured son up onto the horse’s back. Mounting he placed a protective arm around his son to keep him from falling off. The other brothers mounted up as well and the nine of them rode away without a backward glance in her direction.
Chapter 17
Felix returned from the hunt with the Earl and descended the stairs to look in on Oliver. He found him awake and conversing with one of the kitchen maids. Smiling, he left him to his flirtations and went upstairs to check on his mother. What he found there gave him pause.
“Mother, what has happened?” The Dowager Duchess had been crying and now looked as if she were on the warpath. Lady Cordelia was pale and silent as she sat listening to the Duchess slinging slurs upon Lord Enfield’s name.
“Lord Enfield has taken Marybeth!” the Dowager Duchess exclaimed, fiery balls of rage glowing in her eyes.
“Yes, he needed her to aid him in the care of his son and heir, Stephen.” Felix did not understand why his mother was so angry. He knew that she was fond of Marybeth, but to become so enraged over her being loaned out to another person in need seemed a bit extreme. He had never seen his mother in such a state before.
“No, Felix. He took her against her will. Lord Enfield is the man who raped Marybeth’s mother and was directly responsible for her death.”
“What!?” Felix could hardly believe his ears.
“Lord Enfield is Marybeth’s father. He came in here calling her a witch and demanding that she go with him. When she refused, he grabbed her by the arm and drug her from the house. We were helpless to stop him.”
“I did not know.” Felix ground his teeth together in anger. He had given Lord Enfield permission to come and get Marybeth, as the man had been in great need of her healing abilities, but he would not have done so had he known of the lord’s true identity.
