Eye of the Wind

Dropping the blood-soaked kerchief onto a soiled towel she carefully washed around the deep gash. He would carry the scar for life. Then smearing salve onto a thick pad of folded muslin, she fastened it firmly in place with a strip of clean linen. Behind her she heard a blanket shaken out, and felt a swish of air as the butler spread it over Gabriel.

“Lobb, will you help me with his shirt?”

“Not much of it left,” Lobb murmured as he moved round the bed. They eased the ripped garment up and freed Gabriel's arms. Lobb drew the unconscious man onto his side so Melissa could lift it carefully over his head. Then rolling him the other way as Lobb pulled the shirt free he saw Gabriel's back.

“God a'mighty! What - ?”

“He's not a deserter,” Melissa said quickly.

Gently releasing the unconscious man so he lay flat, Lobb frowned at her. “And how would you know that, miss?”

“Because I saw” – she gestured – “accidentally – at the yard,” she added, heat climbing her throat and face at the lie, “and he told me.”

“So how did he get those stripes then?”

“He was a prisoner in France ,” Melissa said quietly. She unwound the filthy bandages from his wrists and added them to the pile on the towel. Then with great care began to release the dressing around his throat. “They chained him to a wall and tortured him.”

“Dear life!” Horrified, Lobb glanced up from the scarred wrists. “Why, for pity's sake? What had he done? I've never seen the like of that.”

“They wanted information.”

“What information? What could he know? A man like him? It don't make sense.”

“He didn't say. But it must have been important. Why else would they…Oh God.” As she lifted the last covering, the livid wound across his throat was revealed, and Lobb inhaled sharply. Biting her lip hard against a surge of anger and compassion she dimly recognised as a mask hiding something far deeper, she dropped the stained and crusted linen onto the towel.

“Did he tell them?” Lobb's voice was barely audible.

As she sponged the worst of the mud and blood from Gabriel's chest and arms, Melissa shuddered. “He says not. And I believe him. He managed to escape.”

“Poor bugger should have got out sooner. Begging your pardon, miss.”

But Melissa wasn't listening. “There's earth and grit embedded in these grazes.”

Another knock made them both jump. As Lobb started towards the door, Melissa laid a fresh towel gently across Gabriel's upper body, and Sarah entered carrying a folded nightshirt and a cup and saucer. She handed them to Lobb, her gaze flickering to the figure on the bed.

“Anything else, miss?”

“Yes. More hot water, bread poultices, and burn these.” Bending, she made a loose parcel of the towel and its contents and handed it to the maid.

“Miss.” Sarah bustled out.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Melissa wrung out the cloth again, but before she could resume her sponging and drying, Lobb removed it, and handed her the cup and saucer.

“First things first.”

“I don't want – “

“Yes you do, miss. Believe me, you'll feel all the stronger for it. Come along now, while it's nice and hot.” He stood over her, encouraging but implacable.

Thick, sweet, and pungent with brandy, the creamy liquid slid down her throat and curled warmly in her stomach. But stopping allowed reaction to take hold. Her eyes filled and her mouth began to tremble. Bending her head over the cup she made herself keep on sipping and swallowing, forcing the choking lump down. The painful stiffness in her throat receded and she felt new strength spreading through her body.

“Now, isn't that better?” Lobb demanded as she handed him the empty cup.

She smiled back unsteadily, clinging by her fingertips to a façade of control. Before she could speak, Sarah returned with a pitcher of hot water and the poultices.

By the time the remaining cuts and grazes had been thoroughly cleaned, poultices applied, and fresh dressings fastened around his throat and wrists, Gabriel was beginning to stir, his head turning on the pillow, restless and uneasy.