Read Online A Highland Knight to Remember (Highland Dynasty Book 3) by Amy Jarecki - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amy Jarecki
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shall have you up in no time. I’m sure you are anxious to return to your kin.”
“If I could spring from this bed this moment, I would.”
“You must take one thing at a time. ’Tis a long process to recover from a disease like paralysis.” He patted her leg then resituated her skirts. “Let us see how your arms are faring today.”
Her fingers twitched and she closed her eyes. Clamping her teeth and scrunching her face with effort, she forced herself to lift them from the bed. Sucking in a gasp, the worthless limbs dropped back down. She glared at Brother Wesley. “They’re useless.”
He lifted her hand and held it in his palm, offering a serene smile as if he had not a care. “You raised them twice as far as yesterday. I am impressed with your progress.”
If only Gyllis could share in his subdued exuberance. If Brother Wesley were to raise one of his thick eyebrows, it would be an untoward display of emotion. “I most certainly am not pleased. Do you have any idea how miserable it is to lie on this cot hour upon hour unable to move?” And now she’d begun to suffer from bed sores.
“It must be very monotonous indeed.”
“’Tis unbearable.”
The monk frowned. “I shall continue to pray for you, Miss Gyllis.”
That’s all she’d heard since arriving at this miserable priory. “Praying? What good will that do? I cannot even feed myself—and the indignity of being changed like a bairn.” She turned her face toward the wall and groaned.
“I am sorry—I shall continue to try to help, though my efforts have not met with your satisfaction.”
Gyllis cringed. She’d just insulted the kindest, gentlest person she’d ever met. Devil’s bones, this illness turned her into a curmudgeon. “Apologies, I did not mean to imply your ministrations have not been met with my sincerest gratitude.” She took in a deep breath and willed the air to fill her limbs right through her fingers. With her exhale, her hands rose at least six inches. She chuckled and glanced at Brother Wesley.
“Praise be to God, Miss Gyllis.” He stood and clapped his palms together. “I do believe the Lord’s strength just showed the greatness of its power right through the tips of your fingers.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Let me try again.” She closed her eyes. Please, please, please . Once more her hands rose from the bed. They trembled a bit, but she’d done it. No matter how small the win, it was something. She splayed her fingers. Without telling Brother Wesley, she tried to wiggle her toes. Possibly the toes on the right foot moved. She couldn’t be certain.
The door opened and John stepped inside, holding a lute and a parcel. He grimaced at Brother Wesley and bowed his head. “Have I interrupted you?”
“I was just finishing.” The monk straightened and smiled. “Miss Gyllis lifted her arms further than ever before.”
John smiled. “Very good news.”
“Indeed.” Wesley bowed. “I should prepare for vespers.”
“I shall be in the nave shortly.” John sat on the stool beside her bed. “Mother sent a few things.”
Gyllis eyed the lute in his hands, her spirits again sinking. “I doubt I’ll ever have the wherewithal to play that again.”
The cell was so small, he simply leaned back to place the instrument in the corner across from the bed. “We’ll keep it here until you are ready.” He reached inside the satchel and pulled out a book. “You might start with this first. We can prop you up and I’ll wager you’ll be able to turn the pages since you can raise your arms a bit.”
Gyllis squinted at the title. The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle & other Romantic Tales . “My heavens, ’tis not the Holy Bible?”
John smoothed his palm over the leather binding—with light dun hair, her brother posed a handsome man. “I suppose Mother thought you’d prefer something lighter, though I’d be more than happy to replace this with a Bible from my own library.”
Gyllis’s
“If I could spring from this bed this moment, I would.”
“You must take one thing at a time. ’Tis a long process to recover from a disease like paralysis.” He patted her leg then resituated her skirts. “Let us see how your arms are faring today.”
Her fingers twitched and she closed her eyes. Clamping her teeth and scrunching her face with effort, she forced herself to lift them from the bed. Sucking in a gasp, the worthless limbs dropped back down. She glared at Brother Wesley. “They’re useless.”
He lifted her hand and held it in his palm, offering a serene smile as if he had not a care. “You raised them twice as far as yesterday. I am impressed with your progress.”
If only Gyllis could share in his subdued exuberance. If Brother Wesley were to raise one of his thick eyebrows, it would be an untoward display of emotion. “I most certainly am not pleased. Do you have any idea how miserable it is to lie on this cot hour upon hour unable to move?” And now she’d begun to suffer from bed sores.
“It must be very monotonous indeed.”
“’Tis unbearable.”
The monk frowned. “I shall continue to pray for you, Miss Gyllis.”
That’s all she’d heard since arriving at this miserable priory. “Praying? What good will that do? I cannot even feed myself—and the indignity of being changed like a bairn.” She turned her face toward the wall and groaned.
“I am sorry—I shall continue to try to help, though my efforts have not met with your satisfaction.”
Gyllis cringed. She’d just insulted the kindest, gentlest person she’d ever met. Devil’s bones, this illness turned her into a curmudgeon. “Apologies, I did not mean to imply your ministrations have not been met with my sincerest gratitude.” She took in a deep breath and willed the air to fill her limbs right through her fingers. With her exhale, her hands rose at least six inches. She chuckled and glanced at Brother Wesley.
“Praise be to God, Miss Gyllis.” He stood and clapped his palms together. “I do believe the Lord’s strength just showed the greatness of its power right through the tips of your fingers.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Let me try again.” She closed her eyes. Please, please, please . Once more her hands rose from the bed. They trembled a bit, but she’d done it. No matter how small the win, it was something. She splayed her fingers. Without telling Brother Wesley, she tried to wiggle her toes. Possibly the toes on the right foot moved. She couldn’t be certain.
The door opened and John stepped inside, holding a lute and a parcel. He grimaced at Brother Wesley and bowed his head. “Have I interrupted you?”
“I was just finishing.” The monk straightened and smiled. “Miss Gyllis lifted her arms further than ever before.”
John smiled. “Very good news.”
“Indeed.” Wesley bowed. “I should prepare for vespers.”
“I shall be in the nave shortly.” John sat on the stool beside her bed. “Mother sent a few things.”
Gyllis eyed the lute in his hands, her spirits again sinking. “I doubt I’ll ever have the wherewithal to play that again.”
The cell was so small, he simply leaned back to place the instrument in the corner across from the bed. “We’ll keep it here until you are ready.” He reached inside the satchel and pulled out a book. “You might start with this first. We can prop you up and I’ll wager you’ll be able to turn the pages since you can raise your arms a bit.”
Gyllis squinted at the title. The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle & other Romantic Tales . “My heavens, ’tis not the Holy Bible?”
John smoothed his palm over the leather binding—with light dun hair, her brother posed a handsome man. “I suppose Mother thought you’d prefer something lighter, though I’d be more than happy to replace this with a Bible from my own library.”
Gyllis’s
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