Page 9 of One Knight in the Forest

Chapter Four

“She is asleep,” Borden said. As he tucked the blankets more securely around Magdalen, the pounding of tiny paws echoed in the room, and then a fluffy ginger kitten leaped up onto the cot near Magdalen’s face.

“Perceval,” Cyn snapped. “Get down.”

The kitten crouched, as if ready to jump again, and mewled.

“Nay. Down,” Cyn said firmly, pointing to the floor.

“He was fast asleep in his bed in the kitchen a moment ago,” Borden said, picking up the kitten and setting him on the planks. After spinning in a circle, the feline bounded over to the dogs by the hearth and pounced on Lancelot’s shaggy tail.

Cyn returned his attention to the wound. The bleeding had slowed, but there were still splinters of wood to extract. Guilt weighed upon him that his pursuit had caused her to be injured, but he couldn’t change the past, as much as he might want to. He could only do what must be done to set things right.

Picking up the small knife he’d hidden under the towel, so as not to frighten Magdalen further, he bent over the wound.

“She is exceptionally lovely,” Borden murmured. “Do you not agree?”

A dull pain squeezed Cyn’s heart; he struggled to ignore the unwelcome sensation. “She is indeed. Right now, though—”

“Such an elegant nose. Refined cheekbones. She has distinguished noble blood in her veins.”

“Noble blood that she is losing.” Cyn glanced pointedly at the older man, but Borden wasn’t looking in his direction. His admiring gaze was still fixed on Magdalen, her jaw slack, her hair, drying to a rich chestnut brown, shimmering against the whiteness of the linen pillowcase.

An ache born of anguish and regret spread through Cyn as he returned to his delicate work. Magdalen was as beautiful as his former betrothed, Francine, had been. Beauty, as he’d learned upon returning to England from Crusade nine years ago, was no indication of the trueness of a woman’s heart. Life had taught him a most bitter lesson: that the more beautiful a woman was, the more deceitful she’d be.

Whatever secret Magdalen kept must be wicked indeed, for William to send out so many men in a bad storm to capture her. Was it her secret, though? Or was it William’s? Cyn would find out. He had to, for by taking her into his care, he’d become caught up in it.

Magdalen’s brow creased, and she made a small sound, as though she was dreaming.

After checking one last time to make sure he’d removed all of the splinters, Cyn rinsed the knife in the fresh bowl of herbal water Borden had brought. After drying the dagger and setting it aside, he thoroughly washed the wound one more time then picked up a threaded needle. “Watch her. If she seems to be suffering pain—”

“I will warn you right away.” The older man patted Magdalen’s shoulder. “Do not worry,” he said softly, even though she obviously couldn’t hear, being asleep. “Cyn knows what he is doing. He might sound awfully gruff, but he is really very kind.”

“Borden,” Cyn muttered.

The older man ignored him. “He rescued all of the animals living in this home. He made sure they got the love and care they needed to become strong and hale again. He also helped stitch the wounds of injured men while on Crusade.”

Crusade. More memories stirred in Cyn’s mind. The darkness of those thoughts left a ghastly chill in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t fix what had happened years ago—God above, if only ’twere possible—but he could save Magdalen. His mouth flattening, he drew together the edges of her torn flesh and made his first stitch.

***

Magdalen woke to a rumbling sound very close by and something soft batting her nose. Waking slowly, her eyes still shut, she sighed. A furry object swatted her mouth.

Fighting the grogginess of her mind, she cracked open her eyes, to find a fluffy orange kitten sitting on her chest. The feline purred, and as she blinked, batted at her eyelashes.

She smiled at the kitten. “Who are you?”

The little cat nuzzled its tiny nose against her cheek, and she chuckled and scratched its back, to be rewarded with even louder purring.

Footfalls carried: Cyn, coming to check on her wound? Dread and anticipation knotted inside her.

She glanced across the room to see Borden approaching. When he saw the kitten, his eyes widened.

“Oh, milady, I am sorry.” The steward hurried to the bedside and scooped up the feline. “Perceval is like a naughty child. He is far too mischievous for his own good.”

As the older man set the kitten down, Magdalen stifled a gasp. The feline had no tail, only a stump where its tail should have been.

As if attuned to her thoughts, Borden said, “Cyn found him caught in a poacher’s trap in the woods. Perceval lost his tail, but that has not slowed him down.”