A Widow Plagued (6 page)

Withdrawing his hand, Gavin turned his back on Sara, in hopes of controlling this clawing longing. He would not allow himself to be dependent upon another again. He would care for her and her children and they would be duly appreciative in return. He would not allow himself to need them or their affection. The risk was too much. Closing his eyes against the image of her sleeping form, Gavin ordered himself to sleep. Unfortunately for him, he never was good at taking orders.

Chapter 3

Competition Arrives

The cool grey fingers of the pre-dawn sky slid through the edges of stone and glass, clutching at Sara’s calves and thighs. Each frigid digit cooled her cheek and neck with their caress, mimicking Gavin’s touch the previous night-Sara sat up chilled.
Tis no time for regret
s
, Sara thought to herself as she glanced back at the slumbering form of her new master.

Slipping from beneath the covers, Sara padded to her desk chair, pulled her woolen wrap from its back, and swaddled herself in its frigid warmth. Sara could not seem to shake this chill. Poking the dying embers, she blew life into the tiny flames at the base of the chimney's hearth, then added a few thin branches for fodder. With a brief glance at Gavin's sleeping form, Sara slipped behind the privacy screen and dressed quickly. The chickens would have lain, and the cow would need to be milked. She felt certain that the rest of the household could attend to these tasks, but if she could do so first, she would have a good hour to herself to think.

Shuffling from the room, Sara sat on the first step to put on her leather slippers. She now had to spread her legs wide to make room for her belly when bending over to pull on her shoes. Sara felt lucky that she was tall enough to make room for the child within her. She knew not how she would manage if her belly poked out much farther. Standing, she padded down the stairs and through the kitchens to reach the chicken coop.

In truth, Sara hated taking the eggs from the hens. Millie had taught her the proper technique when she was eight and had finally reached the height necessary to reach the top tier of nests.
Slide thy hand beneath the nesting hen; ye have to move smoothly. If ye hesitate or rush, if thy movements cause any distress in the churlish fowls, they will reprimand thee with several sharp stabs at thy wrist with their beak.

Years of practice had rendered her skilled but never alleviated the racing heart and dislike of the feathered beasts. They would flutter, peck, and peer at her with their beady eyes. She disliked the way she could not predict their actions. She much preferred the chomping, stamping, swishing of the cows to these tiny, bleating birds.

Twelve nests and five eggs later, Sara emerged from the coop unharmed.
Tis the pregnanc
y
, she told herself. Now that she herself was nesting, the chickens recognized a fellow mother and allowed her access to their brood. Nevertheless, she would happily turn the chore back over to Millie come the morrow. She felt ridiculous being intimidated by such frail and simple creatures.

Sara returned to the kitchen and placed the full egg basket on the table, in plain view. Entering the storage closet, Sara picked up two milk buckets and swung them merrily on her way to the stable. They had only two cows, more than enough for four people, but not nearly enough to support twenty-five. She had forgotten to ask Gavin just how many men he expected...perhaps he would not have as many as all that...she would ask at breakfast. Sara felt relieved that she had a topic of conversation. Humming to herself Sara picked up the three-legged stool from the corner of the stable and made her way to the back where the two cows were penned.

Both stood, eagerly anticipating the meager offering of oats she provided. “I am sorry girls, but we have to conserve our stores,” Sara explained as she allowed the black and white Ann to feed first. Pulling up her stool, Sara patted the lean flank of her sweet Ann and rested her cool cheek against the warmth. Grasping two teats, Sara worked the milk into the bucket.

Day dreaming of her child and thinking of names, Sara was surprised to discover that the bucket was full and the utter empty of milk. Ann lifted her back leg in anticipation of her release. Unhooking Ann, Sara tied Gail to the oat trough before opening the back door latch and letting Ann out to graze. Gail lacked the patience of her partner, so Sara worked quickly to accommodate. Filling the bucket and untying the young cow, Sara issued her from the stable. “I’ll be back this afternoon,” Sara promised and headed back to her heavy buckets of milk.

Each week, the lugging of extra weight became more difficult. Thus far, her pregnancy had not been overly burdensome but Sara resented not being as physically capable as she was accustomed. Her progress across the yard was slow. Sara had to stop twice to rest her arms and straighten her back. Her back was contracting in weird twinges. Rubbing the lower portion, Sara again picked up the buckets and proceeded to the back door of the kitchen.

Both Sara and Adam were within, preparing the breakfast and gossiping, “She got the eggs, Adam. Did ye not hear what I said? What do ye suppose that means? He couldn’t have hurt her or anything, but do ye suppose she is avoiding his company?”

“Millie, I suppose I will keep my thoughts to myself about the lord and lady. She got the eggs, now hush up and be grateful about it. I am happy to not have to milk those pushy cows this morning. If the stars be so aligned, mayhap she was inclined to feed and rub down the horses as well.”

“Not so, Adam. I milked the cows, but the horses are up to thee.” Grimacing, Sara set the buckets on the kitchen floor and shuffled to lean over the small chair at the servant’s table.

“Art thou well, My Lady?” Millie asked anxiously.

“Oh, I am fine, Millie. My back hurts a bit, but I suppose tis to be expected.”

“Aye,” Millie offered suspiciously. “Thou must let me know if the pain worsens, though, Lass. Ye never know when the baby might be ready to be born. Sometimes they come early.”

“I doubt it, Millie,” Sara said, her heart racing at the thought. She was not prepared to face child bed quite yet. “I will wake Hannah. She is normally up by now.”

“She has been up and out to the creek to gather water.”

“I will go and meet her, then,” Sara returned. “Perhaps walking will help my back to feel better. I must have slept on it the wrong way.”

“Mayhap,” Millie returned, eyeing her young mistress knowingly.

Sara disliked the observant gaze. Stepping out into the pale sunshine, Sara took great gulps of brisk air and set a steady pace to the stream. She was avoiding her new husband, and she knew this. Twas normal to need some time to adjust, she assumed. It took her several weeks to adjust to her first marriage. This time might take even longer, as she did not know this man she had married.

Making her way closer to the stream, Sara noted a discord to the sounds about her. Birds squawked, and a scuffling sound issued from the saplings shooting up about the creek. Sara rushed up, concerned for Hannah’s welfare. There, two men had Hannah by the arms, dragging her across the stream. Her mouth was gagged, and her eyes were open, wild with fear.

“Hannah!” Sara screamed in horror. “Hannah! My God, someone help! Adam! Gavin, help!” Sara picked up a stone to throw at Hannah’s captors but stilled herself, fearful she might harm her child. “Stop, by God. Leave her be!” She screamed at the men. One man handed the struggling bundle of Hannah to the other and began to cross the creek towards Sara.

Sara knew she had to run. Turning, she picked up her skirts and ran screaming in direction of the kitchens. About thirty yards off, she saw Adam and Millie come out and then Millie run back in. Adam picked up a pitch fork lying against the back wall of the keep and came running towards Sara’s pursuer. Sara fell, wrenching the muscles in her stomach; she felt as if her torso were on fire. Pulling herself up past the pain, she stood and continued to run. Adam passed her.

“They have Hannah,” Sara gasped out. “Please, get Hannah!”

Adam kept running. Sara turned to see that the man who chased her turned tail back to his accomplice. Sara looked towards the keep and saw the reason. Gavin dashed past, sword in hand.

Sara ran back into the kitchen and grabbed her largest knife. “Come, Millie, we must help the men to save Hannah!” Millie grabbed the fire poker and followed Sara from the kitchen at a run.

By the time the two women made it back to the creek, Adam and Gavin had climbed halfway down the slope, after their pursuers. Sara slid the butcher knife in her belt and turned to climb after them.

“No, ye won’t! They would just as like to get their ‘ands on ye as the girl. Stay here!” Millie ordered. “Give me the knife!” Millie handed Sara the poker and placed the knife in her belt to follow the men. Quick as a cat, she descended the rocky slope, gaining on Adam and Gavin. Just as the three made it down to the boat, the small craft set sail, speeding down the tributary, towards the ocean.

“Do something!” Adam screamed. “If they get to the ocean, all is lost!”

Gavin pulled a knife from his boot and aimed it at the back of Sara’s pursuer. With a quick flick of his wrist, he directed the knife into the neck of the closest man. The man grasped at his neck, making the fatal mistake of pulling the object from his artery. Blood spurted everywhere. Hannah, temporarily freed from her captor’s grasp, jumped into the gushing river. Adam had anticipated the move of his young mistress. Tied to the tree at his feet, lay a thick rope the villains had used to pull their small craft up stream. Tying the loose end about his waste, he dove into the water and allowed the current to carry him to Hannah. Hannah worked hard to swim against the current but could do little more than maintain her position.

Gavin, meanwhile, kept close watch on the boat. It continued down the river, so he stopped and called to Millie. “Help me pull them back to shore!” Together, Millie and Gavin heaved the burden of the two sodden bodies. Inch by inch, the rope gathered at their feet. Inch by precious inch, Sara's daughter came closer to shore. Finally, Adam and Hannah lay in an exhausted heap before them. Gavin kneeled to remove the gauze in Hannah’s mouth. Coughing and spurting water, Hannah lay on her side and sucked in wet rasps of air.

“She’ll catch her death out here,” Millie clucked. “Let’s get her inside and warm.” Gavin scooped his child in his arms, shaking from the fright he had just been given. Walking back towards the slope, his mind repeated the litany over and over, “Thank God, Thank God, Thank thee, God.”

Strangely, his relief had nothing to do with the fact that his competitor nearly stole the title from beneath his nose. His relief came from the fact that Hannah would be fine. Looking down at her shivering form, he worried that she might have swallowed too much water.

“I-I can walk,” came Hannah’s timid voice as they reached the foot of the slope. Gavin’s heart ached as he set her on her feet. The long, red scrapes that cut across her arms and face screamed of her struggle down the slope just minutes earlier.

“Allow Adam and me to help ye,” Sir Gavin returned. Each man climbed the slope, offering a hand where needed and Millie followed, pushing her dear mistress from behind. Finally, they made it to the top, only to discover Sara, white and writhing on the creek bed.

“Art thou injured?” Gavin asked in alarm.

“I m-must have twisted something when I fell earlier,” Sara gasped out. “My stomach is on fire and my back burns. I’ll be fine; I j-just need a moment.” The four ragged members of the rescue party stared down at Sara in disbelief.

“Shall I carry thee back to the keep?” Gavin offered.

“Nay,” Sara exhaled. “Just help me up, please.”

Gavin did so, but looked questioningly at Millie. At Millie’s imperceptible shake of her head, Gavin's jaw clenched.

“Thank God, Hannah. Art thou unharmed?” Sara asked, unsteadily examining her daughter’s body.

“I will be fine,” Hannah responded tremulously. “I would like to lie down for a bit, I think.”

“Millie, wouldst thou build up the fire in the master’s room and bring us our breakfast there? Hannah and I will rest today.”

“Of course,” Millie responded.

Adam and Gavin escorted the two women to the open bed chamber. “Adam,” Sara asked between surging back spasms, “wilt thou bring up some hot water for the bath? I would like to get Hannah washed up and warm.”

“Of course, My Lady,” he returned and bowed from the room.

Gavin pulled the hip bath down from the closet room and set it in the center of the room. “I will fetch the food so that Millie can get Hannah some dry clothes.” Gavin left the room.

Sara gasped as the pain returned and leaned over the bed for support.

Hannah, shivering, turned glazed eyes towards her stepmother. “Art thou injured?” she asked through clattering teeth.

After a few moments, Sara straightened. “Tis fine, Hannah. The pain comes and then goes. I think I have pulled some part of my body out of place. Twill get better with rest. I will have Millie heat a stone for my back.”

Walking to Hannah, she helped the young girl from her soiled clothing and wrapped her in a blanket, seating her by the fire. Soon, the pain returned and she was again leaning over the bed for comfort.

“H-has the babe been harmed?” Hannah asked, concerned over her mother’s flushed complexion.

“I...know not, Hannah. I haven’t felt the child move all day. I am worried. Tell no one.”

Hannah nodded. She knew that it was important for this child to be born healthy and a male. She was less worried, now that Sara had married, but she knew that a marriage must be consummated. Her stepmother was not in a condition to consummate the marriage and was therefore at risk of losing her husband to a more eligible bride. After today, she refused to think that the new Lord Sanders would ever do such a thing. However, she had seen how easily her own father had turned from dead wife, to mistress, to new wife without a moment's angst, or the slightest tear.