Thornbear (Book 1)

  She must weigh as much as most grown men, he thought, eyeing the steep slope. There was no help for it, though. He began making his way up, the muscles in his calves and thighs protesting as he took the incline. Almost—the top was close, but it was too steep for him to carry her up it. He would have to lift her over his head to get her onto the level grass above before following. There was no way to make it while carrying her as he was, the sand kept sliding out from under his feet.

  He tried.

  Lifting a couple of hundred pounds straight overhead was no easy task even in normal circumstances, but with a living, moving sheep, it was nigh impossible. He did it anyway, ignoring the strain in his back and shoulders. She was almost over the top when the sand collapsed beneath him. He caught her as they fell, but her weight knocked the wind from him as he landed on the soft ground.

  “Damnitt!” he swore, once he could finally get a good lungful of air. He never thought of giving up, though. Instead he was considering how much farther he would have to carry her if he followed the stream until he found an easier place to get her out.

  “Need some assistance?” It was a woman’s voice.

  Two figures had appeared, rising above the top of the embankment, both were on horseback. It was Lady Alyssa and Perry Draper. She wore a bright blue riding dress while he was accoutered in mail and a brown doublet.

  Out for a ride, and he’s serving as her escort through the dangerous farmland, thought Gram uncharitably. He chided himself for that, especially considering his own recent predicament. Well, perhaps it is a little dangerous.

  “Nah,” said Gram in a droll voice. “I was just enjoying the scenery.”

  She laughed, but her smile vanished when she caught sight of the right side of his face. “There’s blood all over you. Stay put, I’ll come help you.”

  Perry had been silent so far, but he protested at that idea. “You can’t, Lady Alyssa, you’ll ruin your dress.”

  “Then you go down there and help them up,” she told him angrily.

  He eyed the mud and sand, knowing it would be a serious chore to clean his armor if he got into the muck. His other option would be to remove it first, which would make the work of getting the ewe up the bank easier. “I’d rather not leave you here, unprotected.”

  She stared at him, “Honestly, Perry, how dangerous do you think this pasture is?”

  Gram had been watching them while he gathered his strength for another attempt. What amazed him most was her initial offer to climb down in her dress. It had been her first suggestion, before even considering having her companion help. She’s obviously used to doing things herself, he observed. “Actually, I was just attacked by a panther,” he announced, thinking to reinforce Perry’s argument.

  In the past Perry had always gotten along with Gram, despite an undercurrent of envy that ran between them. They were similar in many respects, despite their differences in station and the fact that Perry would likely someday be a knight. Today, however, was different. Today Alyssa was with them.

  “A panther?” scoffed the captain’s son. “Do you seriously expect us to believe that?”

  At that moment, Gram couldn’t have cared less, “Well… yeah.”

  “And where is this dangerous beast now?” asked Perry. “I suppose you’ll tell me it ran off.”

  “No,” said Gram, shaking his head. “It’s dead. I drowned it in the brook.”

  Perry looked at him unbelievingly, “Where’s the body then?”

  Gram was growing angry now. “Are you calling me a liar, Perry?” he growled. “I didn’t roll around in the dirt down here just to impress you.”

  “I’m just suggesting that perhaps you got dirty playing with your girlfriend…” began Perry.

  Alyssa stopped him before things got out of hand, “Perry! Do you have any rope?”

  The question interrupted the argument better than any protest could have. “What?” he said, pausing for a moment. “No…”

  “Why don’t you ride back and get some? We can use it to make a sling, to get the ewe out,” she suggested.

  “What if there’s a panther?” he said sarcastically.

  “Weren’t you convinced that there wasn’t?” she asked, glaring at him. “And if there was one, then Gram has already dispatched it.”

  Perry could feel her anger, and he knew then that he wasn’t improving his reputation with her. Rather than make things worse, he nodded. “You’re right. We should focus on the problem rather than argue about make believe.”

  She dismounted as he was speaking, and before he could ask she answered him, “I’ll wait here.” Her eyes dared him to argue with her.

  “Very well,” he said at last. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  As soon as he had passed from sight, she spoke to Gram, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize he was such a jackass.”

  Gram’s brows went up in surprise at her invective. Obviously there were some things about Lady Alyssa that went beyond the normal definition of ‘ladylike’. “He’s not normally like that,” said Gram, but he stopped himself before giving a reason for Perry’s behavior. He was working hard to rein in his temper.

  Alyssa was undoing the laces on her sleeves.

  “What are you doing?” he asked her.

  “Well, one thing he was right about is my dress. If I try to help you, I’ll ruin it,” she said simply.

  “So…”

  She grinned at him, “So I’m taking it off.” Her hands were working at the laces in the back now. Fortunately the riding dress wasn’t as complicated as some of the fancier dresses ladies sometimes wore. She soon had it loosened up enough to begin shucking it off over her head.

  Gram was stunned, torn between the desire to watch her undress and extreme embarrassment. Shaking off his paralysis, he turned around.

  A minute later her voice called to him. “You can’t get her up here that way, turn around and hand her up to me.”

  Peeking over one shoulder he saw her lying down on the grass above. She was clad in white underclothes that covered her from shoulders to knees, her arms outstretched toward him. “I thought you were waiting for Perry to come back with a rope.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she told him. “Between the two of us we can get her up and back home before he’s even halfway back.”

  “But…”

  “Are you going to hand her up or not?”

  “She’s very heavy, Lady Alyssa. You won’t be able to hold her,” he replied, beginning to think in more practical terms since there was obviously no dissuading her. “Perhaps if we walk down that way…”

  “Just hand her up,” she insisted.

  Thinking he was certain to wind up falling with a ewe on top of him again, he nevertheless worked his way back up the sandy slope. At the steepest point, close to the top, he lifted the now struggling ewe. Alyssa caught its head and shoulders in her hands and began to pull, allowing him to push from farther down, behind the hindquarters. Once the sheep was halfway up she caught it around the middle and took it from him dragging it up and over the edge.

  As she did he couldn’t help but note the lean muscles moving under her skin. She wasn’t overlarge, but her slim figure disguised a surprisingly athletic physique. Obviously Alyssa got more heavy exercise than most of the women Gram was familiar with in Cameron Castle.

  Free of his burden, he clambered over the embankment and joined her. He found her already examining the ewe’s wound. “This looks ugly,” she announced, “but the bones are whole. She’ll probably be fine if the wound doesn’t turn sour.”

  She sounded a lot like his grandmother. Elise Thornbear was an expert herbalist and an old veteran at patching up wounded men. She didn’t have to do as much of it any more, the wizards of Cameron Castle fixed most serious wounds before she was needed these days.

  “I think the shepherd’s cot is over that way,” he said, pointing to indicate the direction. “Thank you for helping me.” He kept his eyes down, focused on the ewe. The damp
ground had soiled Alyssa’s thin shift, and parts of it were now disturbingly semi-transparent.

  She watched his face, staring at him with deep brown eyes. “We can probably keep her atop your horse if we walk on either side and hold her.”

  “It will be simpler if I just carry her,” he responded. “You should wait for Perry. It will give you time to put your dress back on too.”

  “I’m not putting it back on over this,” she said, using her hands to indicate her soiled chest. The movement served to draw his eyes there, and his face began to grow hot. “I’ll have to take this off before I put the dress on,” she continued, well aware of his inner turmoil.

  “Let me get started before you do that,” said Gram hastily, averting his eyes again.

  As he turned his head, she got a much closer look at the right side of his face. “Wait, let me look at your face,” she told him.

  “It’s fine.”

  “No, it isn’t,” she said with authority. “Hold still.” She had already taken hold of his chin with one hand and was leaning close. “It’s bleeding still, and those gashes are deep. You’re going to have some serious scarring if this isn’t sewn up properly. We need to clean it before it starts to dry.”

  “Grandmother can take care of it when I get back,” he told her.

  She stood and took him by the hand, pulling him along. “Let’s wash it in the stream. It will be much easier if we do it now.”

  He gestured weakly at the ewe, “What about…”

  “…she’s not going anywhere,” she said firmly.

  She didn’t release his hand until they reached the stream, a fact he was inordinately aware of.

  When she let him go he leaned down at the water’s edge.

  “Not there,” she said sharply. “Farther out, where the water’s moving. It will be cleaner.” Without waiting she took his hand again and led him into the water. “Ooh!” The cold water stole her breath for a moment.

  Gram laughed, “Didn’t think it was that deep did you?”

  She smirked at him before replying, “No. Come here.” Teeth chattering, she grabbed his ear and pulled him out farther, until the water was up to his chest. She pushed down on his head to get it under the water.

  Being taller and stronger he could have resisted, but he didn’t. After he came back up she kept his face close to the water while she splashed it again. “This is going to hurt a little,” she warned, using her fingers to lightly rub the torn skin. “I have to get the dirt out.”

  It hurt considerably more than ‘a little’, but he kept that to himself, hissing softly only when he absolutely couldn’t keep quiet.

  “That wasn’t so bad was it?” she asked as they waded out.

  “No,” he replied, trying to sound truthful. “Ah!” he exclaimed as he looked down at her.

  The water had done predictable things to her underclothes, and the cold had had other effects. “Don’t be such a prude,” she told him, ignoring his embarrassment. She climbed up the embankment without looking back.

  Despite himself he studied her as she went, long limbs helped to emphasize her healthy muscle tone. To distract himself he brought his hands and shirt up to dab at his face.

  “Don’t touch it,” she warned from above. “Your shirt is already ruined. Just let it bleed for a while. I’ll sew it up after we deliver your ewe.”

  Grimacing he let go of the shirt and followed her up. Once there he wasted no time scooping up the wounded ewe, lifting her as gently as he could.

  Alyssa watched him silently, her dark eyes inscrutable. She gathered up her horse’s reins and then walked her over to do the same with Pebble. “I’ll lead the horses. Which way is it again?”

  “Just follow me,” he said hurriedly. He was certain it would drive him mad if he had to watch her walking ahead of him.

  Chapter 12

  It took them almost a half an hour to reach the shepherd’s cot, and when they got there Alyssa waited some distance back to avoid being seen in her current state. Apparently she did have some sense of propriety, at least when it came to people other than Gram. His mind didn’t examine that fact too closely. He was too busy trying to keep his mind away from mental images of her.

  Alan McDermott was none too happy when he saw the condition of his sheep, but he was grateful to Gram for bringing her to him. “Thank you, milord,” he said sincerely.

  “I’m not a lord,” corrected Gram. “Someday perhaps, but not yet.”

  “No matter, good master. You’re a true nobleman for bringin’ me Nelly back,” replied the shepherd.

  “Nelly?”

  “Aye, that’s her name,” said the man.

  He left shortly after that, returning to where Alyssa waited. “I thought you might have gotten your dress back on by now,” he commented.

  She smiled, “Not until my things dry. They’re thin, though, so it shouldn’t take too long.”

  I know all too well how thin they are! “If someone sees us there will be terrible rumors,” he cautioned.

  “Let’s walk a while,” she told him. “The horses will make it less likely someone will see me. We can find a sunnier spot, and after I dry I can put the dress back on.”

  The entire field was sunny, so Gram wasn’t entirely sure what a ‘sunnier’ spot would look like, but he kept his doubts to himself. They walked beside the horses for a half an hour before she broke the silence.

  “You don’t talk much do you?”

  “Not often,” he agreed.

  “Why not?”

  “There are not many things I need to say. I’ve never been one to talk just for the sake of filling up time,” he answered.

  She didn’t comment, and they walked a bit farther, until they reached a slightly more sheltered hollow. The ground rose slightly around them, making them less visible in the distance. Alyssa stopped and began rummaging through one of her saddlebags. After a minute she brought out a leather roll and began unwrapping it. Within was a collection of curved needles, cloth, and string; everything needed for wound dressing.

  “Why do you have all that?” he asked, curious.

  “Habit,” she replied. “My Nana taught me when I was young, and I’ve always believed in being prepared. Back home we had to do a lot of doctoring after the war.”

  She would have been a child back then, thought Gram, what sort of childhood did she have?

  Alyssa walked in circles for a minute to flatten the grass in a small area before sitting down. “Come,” she said, “Sit here.”

  Gram hesitated, “You look drier. Why don’t you put your dress back on first?”

  “This way the worst thing that happens is I get blood on my underclothes. I prefer that to my dress,” she reasoned. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”

  He sat, reluctantly, assuming a cross-legged position. He could feel Pebble’s eyes on him, faintly disapproving, or maybe that was his guilty conscience playing tricks on him.

  She leaned close, examining the torn skin and he became acutely aware of her nearness. Beautiful ears, he noted silently, mentally tracing the line of her jaw and examining the smooth olive skin of her neck. Warm breath touched his cheek, and his heart began to pound. Why am I reacting like this? he wondered. He had never had such an extreme response to any other woman getting close to him.

  He already knew the answer, though, even if he couldn’t put it into words.

  “Close your eyes,” she ordered. “It will be easier if you aren’t trying to watch the needle—for both of us.”

  She knows, he thought, alarmed. He knew he’d die of shame if she told anyone else what an infatuated fool he was.

  “Relax,” she said softly, then the needle bit into his skin.

  He flinched as the pain brought his mind back to his more immediate concerns.

  She paused, thoughtful. “This won’t work. Here, do you mind lying down?” She smoothed her lap, indicating he should put the uninjured side of his face there.

  His mind went blank and he
did as she asked. It was a comfortable position, and it allowed her an easier time working with his cheek. He stared out at the grass, ignoring her warmth. The pain of the needle stole his breath, and he fought to keep from yelling.

  Minutes passed with agonizing slowness as she delicately stitched his face, working her way from the end of each tear until she had completely closed it. There were two long gashes and one smaller one that passed through his right eyebrow. It had narrowly missed his eye. That one hurt the worst.

  It might have been an hour before she finished, it felt more like days. Gram was exhausted from the effort of trying to remain silent. He had mostly succeeded, though he had let out the occasional grunt or yelp when it got particularly bad. Alyssa’s hands were stained with blood, he noted, as she packed away her needle and thread. It was probably safe for him to move now, but she said nothing, and he stayed silent. Now that the pain was over, he was loath to move from his peaceful place.

  “Close your eyes. It’s alright to rest a while,” she whispered.

  And so he did, content.

  She watched him sleep, observing his chest rising and falling slowly, until she was sure he was unconscious. Then she waited a while longer, before finally resting her hand lightly on his chest. It was an innocent gesture, unless one were to look at her eyes. There was no innocence in them. Gently she traced his chest, feeling the muscles there and admiring the contours of his body.

  Eventually her legs went numb, and she woke him, unable to take the discomfort any longer.

  He gave her a worried look as he came to, “I’m sorry. How long have I…?”

  “Not long,” she said reassuringly, gracing him with a smile.

  He sat up, edging away, suddenly aware of her femininity once more. He stood and offered her his hand, “Let me help you up.”

  She took it, staggering as her legs began to come to life once more. She held onto his hand longer than was strictly necessary, studying his face boldly with no attempt to disguise her interest.

  Time seemed to stop, except for the thumping drum in his chest, but he held her gaze.

  Alyssa tilted her head, shifting her eyes. “Not a bad job, if I do say so myself.”