At the sight of the men Jane hesitated, but felt James’s hand at the small of her back urging her forward. She was met by the heat of the braziers and immediately realized the hot air would add to the knight’s misery.
“Please,” Jane appealed to her brother Alex, “bring him outside where it’s cool and sit him on the grass.”
The young knight’s tunic had been removed and Jane saw that his burn extended from his left elbow all the way up his arm and across his shoulder. She also saw that he was in agony. As she knelt before him to examine the injury, seven men crowded about her, all talking at once.
A furious Thomas told her the two brainless young knights had been wrestling and that there would be hell to pay when Lord de Warenne returned. The injured man’s friend, Sir Harry, the knight with whom he’d been wrestling, proclaimed it had all been his fault and Sir Giles must not be blamed. The two dark Welshmen began to question Jane about the contents of her medicinal box, pressing her to tell them what herbs she used to heal burns.
Filled with dismay at the men crowding about her, Jane turned beseeching eyes upon her brother. “James, please, make them step back.”
When he realized Jane was agitated simply by being among strange men, he urged the men to give her some space. “Ma sister is very shy of men. If ye want her to help, ye’ll have to stand back an’ keep yer tongues from clatterin’.”
“Alex, I need a bucket of cold water,” Jane directed, and watched three men run to do her bidding. Jane took a clean linen cloth from her box and looked into her patient’s eyes. “Sir Giles?” When he nodded in response, she said softly, “This will take the fire from the burn.”
Jane noticed how bloodless his face was and that his eyes welled with tears that he stubbornly refused to shed. She dipped the linen into the cold water and wrung it out over the man’s shoulder and arm, over and over again. Her repeated action fell into a deliberate rhythm and seemed to have a hypnotic effect on the wounded knight. She never actually touched the cloth to the burn, but squeezed cold water over it like a waterfall.
When two buckets had been emptied, she knelt before Sir Giles, patiently waiting for the breeze to dry the arm and shoulder. From her box Jane took a pot of aromatic green unguent and spread it thickly, coating the entire area, which had already begun to blister.
When the air no longer touched his skin, Giles closed his eyes, a tear running down his cheek. “You have the gentlest touch I’ve ever known, demoiselle,” he whispered hoarsely.
His friend, Sir Harry Eltham, drew close. “Do you need bandages, demoiselle?”
Jane looked up into his face with alarm, but when she saw how young he was and how concerned he was for his friend, some of her apprehension melted away. “No, it is better not to bind it. The unguent must be applied every few hours.”
Impulsively, Sir Harry grabbed her hand and lifted her fingers to his lips. “Thank you, demoiselle.”
Embarrassed, Jane snatched her hand back and gave her full attention to her patient. She knew the terrible shock his system had received; a burn caused a greater degree of agony than the pain of other injuries. Jane knew she had the power to alleviate and diminish that pain, perhaps even eliminate it altogether.
“Please lie prone,” she asked shyly.
Sir Giles obeyed immediately. She was the only one who had been able to help him.
“I want you to distance yourself from the pain. You must do it, but I will assist you.” Jane’s fingers brushed the long hair from the nape of Giles’s neck then pressed down firmly at the base of his skull. After about two minutes, she ran her fingertips down the length of his back on either side of his spine and repeated the strokes a dozen times.
“It has gone!” Giles said with a dazed look of disbelief on his face.
As Sir Harry and Taffy came forward to help Sir Giles to his feet, Jane held up her hand to stop them. “He should rest,” she said firmly. She handed the jar of unguent to Sir Harry and told him to put on more in about four hours.
“Thank you, demoiselle, we are forever in your debt.”
“You are an angel of mercy, lady,” Taffy said. The looks on the young men’s faces were akin to worship.
Thomas came forward with the two dark Welshmen at his heels. “Lady, this is Rhys and Gowan, our Welsh healers. Will you show them where to gather the herbs for that green salve? The plants are strange and it is imperative that our Welsh healers learn the properties of the herbs that grow here.”
Jane hesitated. “My grandmother has taught me to guard our knowledge of healing plants.”
Thomas said shrewdly, “If you will not pass on your knowledge to our Welsh, Lord de Warenne will order you to nurse all his men who fall sick.”
The threat thoroughly intimidated her as it was meant to. “I’ll teach them what I know about our plants,” Jane reluctantly agreed, “but I will not go into the forest with strange men unless my brother James comes with us.”
By late afternoon they had gathered a dozen different plants, filling big cloth bags with Scotch thistle, alkanet, bryony, and hemlock. As Jane listened to them converse with James, she realized the two Welshmen were not so very different from her brother. Their English was sprinkled with Celtic words and their appearance was also similar, with their dark hair and muscular, stocky builds.
As Rhys and Gowan began exchanging their knowledge of the medicinal properties of plants with her, Jane lost her fear of the Welshmen. As they picked and examined the plants Jane pointed out, they realized there were great similarities between what grew here in Scotland and what grew in Wales.
Jane pointed to a plant that seemed to grow everywhere. “That is balm, one of the two herbs that go into the green unguent for burns.”
“What is the other, lady?” Rhys asked.
“Scotch thistle, which also grows in abundance here.”
“Thistles are prickly-headed instruments of the devil. How do you pick them?”
“Ah, there is a secret to it. If you pluck them gingerly, they will cause sharp pain to your fingers, but if you do it boldly, grasping the whole head firmly, the thistles collapse and feel like thistledown. Here, let me show you.”
When Rhys attempted to pick one, it stabbed his fingers cruelly and Gowan laughed at him, but he didn’t give up, and his second attempt brought success.
When they sat down in a clearing to share bread and cheese, the exchange became lively. They were amazed at the things Jane knew about herbs, things they had never dreamed of. She pulled betony from her cloth bag. “This is good for belching.”
“To start it or to stop it?”
Jane laughed. “To stop it of course, who on earth would want to start belching?” She pulled a leaf-covered branch from her bag. “This is black alder, it gets rid of lice.”
They hung on her every word and by the time they returned to Dumfries and followed her into the castle still-room, their admiration for the young woman was plain for all to see.
Inside Dumfries Castle word had spread like wildfire that Jane Leslie had tended the burned knight and Jane’s sisters were pea-green with envy.
When Lynx arrived at Lochmaben, he was surprised to learn that Robert Bruce had returned to Carlisle for a couple of days. Nigel Bruce took de Warenne to one of their tenant sheep farms where Lynx paid for a flock of two hundred black-faced sheep, which he allowed his shepherds to select.
He watched with interest as Ben and Sim culled the animals they wanted from the huge flock, then turned them over to their shaggy-coated black-and-white dogs to herd into a pen.
“Best brand the lambs when ye get them to Dumfries, there’s a good deal of raiding that goes on in these parts,” Nigel advised.
“By the English?” Lynx asked.
“English my arse! ’Tis the bloody Scots who do the reiving,” Nigel informed him.
Lynx de Warenne fixed his shepherds with an icy green stare. “I will hang any man caught lifting Dumfries’ sheep, and by the same token a harsh punishment awaits any
man of Dumfries who goes out raiding others.”
Lynx was disappointed that Robert was away. He had held off approaching Jock Leslie until he saw what his friend’s reaction would be to the proposed handfasting of his steward’s daughter. But when he thought it over, Lynx realized that he had already made his decision, so Robert Bruce’s reaction was immaterial.
As Lynx de Warenne and Jock Leslie rode back down the Annandale Valley, followed at a fair distance by the two shepherds and the newly acquired flock, he decided to broach the matter that dominated his thoughts.
“Jock, your daughter who is not yet spoken for— would you consider handfasting her to me?”
“Are ye serious, my lord?”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life. If she conceives, I’ll marry her immediately.”
“Ye would truly make my daughter Lady de Warenne?” Jock asked doubtfully.
“I would consider it a small price to pay for a son.”
“What if her first child is a lass?”
“A son or a daughter—it would make no difference. I’ll wed her when she conceives, not when she is delivered.”
“That’s uncommonly generous, my lord. Are ye not heir to a great earldom?” Jock asked with suspicion.
“The earldom of Surrey,” Lynx confirmed.
“How could ma daughter possibly become the Countess of Surrey?” Jock asked, seemingly overwhelmed at the idea.
“By giving me a child,” Lynx said simply. “How soon do ye want the handfastin’?” “Immediately. The king could send for me at any time. Do we have an agreement?” “We do, Lord de Warenne.”
“Good.” A short laugh escaped from between his lips. “All that remains is for your daughter to agree.”
“Nay, my lord. I spoke for her when I agreed, as is my right. My daughter Jane will be honored beyond belief. But of course ye will wish to meet her, question her, see if she meets with yer approval.”
“Jane?” Lynx tested the name upon his tongue. “She mustn’t be forced.”
“Forced?” Jock almost choked. “Forced to wed into the nobility and become a countess someday? Her answer will be yes and she’ll have naught else to say in the matter.”
Lynx grimaced. If he knew aught about women, she would have a hell of a lot to say in the matter!
“No! No! No! How could Father ever think I would agree to such a thing?” The Leslie women had once again congregated at Judith’s house.
“Don’t be a silly fool, Jane. I definitely heard the word handfasting. Any of Lord de Warenne’s men could take ye without a legal handfasting,” Kate pointed out.
“I bet it’s one of the Welsh bowmen who wants ye, or do ye think it could be one of the lord’s squires?” Mary pressed her. Both sisters were breathless with excitement over what they’d overheard their father tell their grandmother, Megotta.
A picture of Taffy flew into Jane’s mind and she recalled how he had flushed when he’d spoken with her. “Oh Lord, I hope and pray not. Megotta promised me I would never have to wed,” Jane said wretchedly.
“It has naught to do with Megotta. It’s what Father says that counts,” Mary assured her. “They were having a terrible row and Megotta lost the argument. Father was furious with her over refusing to tend the knight who was burned. He told her in no uncertain terms that de Warenne was master of Dumfries now and that his word was law.”
Jane wrung her hands in distress. “Oh, may the goddess Brigantia protect me! What if it’s Sir Giles? I tended his burn and took away his pain, and out of some sort of gratitude, mayhap he thinks he must repay me by offering for me.”
“But Sir Giles is a knight,” Kate pointed out. “Surely he wouldn’t reach so far beneath himself.”
Jane bit her lip. “Of course not, how silly of me.”
“Still, he might have fallen under her spell. Jane has strange powers,” Mary insisted, unable to keep the jealousy from her voice.
Judith’s new babe had fallen asleep at her breast. She put him in his cradle and joined the other women. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime, Jane. We’ve all been worried that no man ever offered for ye.”
“I don’t want a man!” Jane said desperately.
“But it’s not what ye want, it’s what Lord de Warenne wants. If he handfasts ye to one of his knights, ye’ll be called Lady Jane,” Judith pointed out.
Kate and Mary exchanged a look of alarm. “Mayhap when the lord sees her, he’ll change his mind,” Mary said hopefully, wishing she’d never urged her father to find Jane a husband.
“When he sends for ye, make sure yer hair is plaited neatly away from yer face,” Kate advised.
“And wear yer brown woolen dress,” Mary insisted.
“Oh no, that will make her look too plain,” Judith protested.
Kate and Mary soon overruled Judith. Better by far that their little sister be plain Jane, rather than Lady Jane!
When Jane arrived home, her father was waiting for her. Megotta’s face looked like a thundercloud and obviously she was talking to no one. She took herself off to her room and slammed the door in protest.
Jock totally ignored his mother-in-law and bade Jane sit with him before the fire. “Ye did a good thing today, Jane, tending the knight’s burns. Lord de Warenne wants to speak with ye.”
“Tonight?” she asked in great alarm.
“Nay,” Jock said laughing. “Tonight he is busy tearing a strip off his young knights fer their irresponsible behavior in his absence. I’ve never seen a man so grim-faced.”
Jane felt relieved. If the lord was angry with his knights, it was unlikely he would listen to a request for a handfasting. “I heard a rumor Lord de Warenne wanted to see me about a handfasting,” Jane said cautiously.
“Christ! Rumors are thicker than ticks on a sheep hereabouts. Yer sisters overheard me telling Megotta, no doubt.” He wasn’t really angry, he was too excited. He ruffled Jane’s hair. “This will mean such good fortune for our family. ’Tis an unlooked for opportunity of a lifetime.” He didn’t want to spoil the surprise for her. “Go up to the castle in the morning. Lord de Warenne wants to tell ye himself what he and I have agreed to.”
Jane’s heart sank. “You’ve already made an agreement? Father, I don’t want to get handfasted! I want to use my healing powers as the ancient Celtic priestesses did.”
“You sound just like Megotta! I’m sick an’ tired of her putting ridiculous ideas in yer head. It is yer duty to obey me, not yer grandmother. Get off to bed!”
Jane did not dare to argue further with him. Megotta must have protested the handfasting and what good had it done? She knew she would have to summon the courage to face Lord de Warenne and make him understand her refusal.
After she undressed, Jane looked down at the lynx touchstone that lay between her naked breasts. Her pulses raced at the thought of seeing Lord de Warenne in the morning. There was a strange thread that linked their destinies, which excited and troubled her beyond belief. He was easily the most powerful man she had ever encountered. He stirred passionate emotions inside her, the most predominant of which was fear.
Jane knew that tomorrow she would somehow find the courage to defy him. She was going to refuse the handfasting and tell him plainly she wanted no man breathing, not now, not ever! The thought of pitting her will against his made her feel weak all over. But she was going to say no to Lynx de Warenne and enjoy doing so!
Early the next morning, however, some of Jane’s bravado had fled. She couldn’t dispel a feeling of dread at seeing Lord de Warenne because at all of their previous encounters he had become angry with her. Then an idea came to her. As well as making herself unappealing as a candidate for a handfasting with one of the de Warenne men, she would disguise herself in the hope that he wouldn’t recognize her.
With Megotta’s help, she bound her breasts tightly so that her chest looked as if it were almost fiat. “Make it tighter, I want to look thin and scrawny.”
“Are ye sure ye can breathe, child??
??
“Yes, I’ll be fine. Oh, whatever will I do with my hair?”
“We’ll pull it back and cover it with a linen head cloth.”
In the brown woolen dress Jane entered Dumfries Castle and was met by Thomas, the lord’s squire. He looked at her curiously, but made no comment about her appearance. He led her to a small chamber off the great hall where Lord de Warenne conducted the castle’s business. He bade her wait, disappeared inside for a moment, then came out and motioned for her to enter. Jane lifted her chin, walked into the chamber and heard the door close behind her.
His back to the mantelpiece, Lynx de Warenne stood watching the door. When the young woman entered, disappointment washed over him. “You are Jane Leslie?” he asked.
“Yes, my lord,” she said softly, almost overwhelmed by his commanding presence.
Splendor of God, Lynx thought, she was nothing like Jock’s other buxom daughters. “How old are you?” he asked brusquely.
“Eighteen, my lord.” Jane lowered her eyes.
“I’m almost thirty,” he stated baldly. He watched her lashes flutter up in surprise. She’s too young, too innocent, and too unwordly, he thought. Then he chided himself. Were these not the qualities a man wanted in the mother of his child? Surely these qualities were preferable to guile, deceit, and wantonness? Still, he had more or less expected a brood mare, not the unbroken filly standing before him who had perhaps never been ridden.
In Lynx de Warenne’s experience women were calculating and manipulative. Was it possible that this girl had led such a sheltered life she was as yet untainted? She seemed to be in awe of him and he assumed it was because he was of noble birth and she was not. Such an advantage would give him the upper hand. She would defer to him in all matters. He would be able to control her with a look or a word.
Lynx looked her over from head to toe. She was certainly a plain little thing. Still, he wasn’t looking for a mistress or a roll in the hay; he was in the market for a mate. He plunged forward. “Your father and I have agreed to a handfasting.”
Jane gathered all of her courage. “My lord, do I have your permission to speak plainly?”