Read Online Knights of de Ware 03 - My Hero by Glynnis Campbell - Free Book Online
Authors: Glynnis Campbell
Tags: Romance
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your—“ she began, halting as Garth caught up to her and seized her shoulder.
He hunkered down between Cynthia and the youth and unfastened the lad’s swordbelt and the buckles of his breastplate. They slipped off easily enough, but the mail hauberk beneath would be difficult. Beckoning with his hand, he summoned two of the squires forward to support Will’s broken arm. While the lad clamped his teeth against the pain, Garth slipped the heavy chain mail off his good arm and over the top of his head. Then, as the boys carefully lowered Will’s arm, he guided the hauberk off the injured limb. The brave lad made no outcry, but beads of sweat stood out on his brow.
“Thank you,” Cynthia murmured as he dropped the chain mail to the ground. “Now, Will, let’s find out where the break is.”
She pressed her thumbs along the boy’s arm, working her way up under his sleeve. Halfway up his forearm, he gasped sharply, and she halted.
“All right. I can feel the break. Just rest for a moment. Roger will be along with my medicines soon.” Then she sat back on her heels, closed her eyes, and began rubbing her hands together as if warming them by a fire.
Garth scowled. What was she doing? The boy was suffering. The steward might not arrive for another quarter of an hour. The longer the delay, the more difficult it would be to snap the arm back into place. Something should be done…now.
He watched the lady for a moment more as she bowed her head over her hands as if in prayer. Then he made a decision. While she continued with her meditative ritual, he wiped his palms on his cassock and handed the boy his swordbelt, directing him wordlessly to clamp it between his teeth. The lad screwed his eyes shut and bit down hard.
Garth blew out a sharp breath. He’d watched the physician at de Ware set bones. How difficult could it be? The trick, he remembered, was distraction.
He braced his foot under the boy’s upper arm and adjusted his hand around the boy’s wrist, preparing to pull it. But just before he yanked, he raised his left hand and clouted the lad smartly across the face.
Gasping in shock from the blow, Will had no time to yelp as Garth hauled hard on his arm. In the wink of an eye, the bone popped back into place.
Garth’s satisfied smile lasted exactly two heartbeats before a female fist cracked it from his face and he rocked backward into the dust.
Cynthia couldn’t believe she’d hit him. But then she couldn’t believe what he’d done. Priests were supposed to comfort the sick, not pummel them. And if she’d knocked Father Garth onto the ground with the full force of the power she’d summoned for healing, it was no less than he deserved.
“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” she cried as he stared at her in stupefaction.
With a groan of frustration, she turned her attention to poor Will, who lay as pale as linen on the cold ground. She shook her hands. There was still a vestige of energy remaining in her fingertips, but it felt scattered. She’d wasted most of it on that punch, and she knew her knuckles would be bruised tomorrow. In fact, she doubted she could harness the power now at all.
“Are you all right, Will?” she asked, bending near.
The boy’s eyes were glazed as he looked at her.
“He hit me,” he mumbled, spitting the leather belt from his mouth. “That priest hit me.”
“How is your arm?”
Will frowned. “It hurts…but not as much. Why did he hit me?”
Cynthia pursed her lips. She wanted to know that as well. She eased her thumbs tenderly along Will’s forearm, feeling for the separation, and discovered to her astonishment that the bone was set perfectly. Apparently, Garth had been lucky.
“We’ll splint it properly when Roger arrives,” she told the boy with a forced smile of reassurance.
Then she let her gaze slide over Garth, unable to hide her anger. She had many questions, and she cursed the vow that would allow him to answer none of them.
He hunkered down between Cynthia and the youth and unfastened the lad’s swordbelt and the buckles of his breastplate. They slipped off easily enough, but the mail hauberk beneath would be difficult. Beckoning with his hand, he summoned two of the squires forward to support Will’s broken arm. While the lad clamped his teeth against the pain, Garth slipped the heavy chain mail off his good arm and over the top of his head. Then, as the boys carefully lowered Will’s arm, he guided the hauberk off the injured limb. The brave lad made no outcry, but beads of sweat stood out on his brow.
“Thank you,” Cynthia murmured as he dropped the chain mail to the ground. “Now, Will, let’s find out where the break is.”
She pressed her thumbs along the boy’s arm, working her way up under his sleeve. Halfway up his forearm, he gasped sharply, and she halted.
“All right. I can feel the break. Just rest for a moment. Roger will be along with my medicines soon.” Then she sat back on her heels, closed her eyes, and began rubbing her hands together as if warming them by a fire.
Garth scowled. What was she doing? The boy was suffering. The steward might not arrive for another quarter of an hour. The longer the delay, the more difficult it would be to snap the arm back into place. Something should be done…now.
He watched the lady for a moment more as she bowed her head over her hands as if in prayer. Then he made a decision. While she continued with her meditative ritual, he wiped his palms on his cassock and handed the boy his swordbelt, directing him wordlessly to clamp it between his teeth. The lad screwed his eyes shut and bit down hard.
Garth blew out a sharp breath. He’d watched the physician at de Ware set bones. How difficult could it be? The trick, he remembered, was distraction.
He braced his foot under the boy’s upper arm and adjusted his hand around the boy’s wrist, preparing to pull it. But just before he yanked, he raised his left hand and clouted the lad smartly across the face.
Gasping in shock from the blow, Will had no time to yelp as Garth hauled hard on his arm. In the wink of an eye, the bone popped back into place.
Garth’s satisfied smile lasted exactly two heartbeats before a female fist cracked it from his face and he rocked backward into the dust.
Cynthia couldn’t believe she’d hit him. But then she couldn’t believe what he’d done. Priests were supposed to comfort the sick, not pummel them. And if she’d knocked Father Garth onto the ground with the full force of the power she’d summoned for healing, it was no less than he deserved.
“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” she cried as he stared at her in stupefaction.
With a groan of frustration, she turned her attention to poor Will, who lay as pale as linen on the cold ground. She shook her hands. There was still a vestige of energy remaining in her fingertips, but it felt scattered. She’d wasted most of it on that punch, and she knew her knuckles would be bruised tomorrow. In fact, she doubted she could harness the power now at all.
“Are you all right, Will?” she asked, bending near.
The boy’s eyes were glazed as he looked at her.
“He hit me,” he mumbled, spitting the leather belt from his mouth. “That priest hit me.”
“How is your arm?”
Will frowned. “It hurts…but not as much. Why did he hit me?”
Cynthia pursed her lips. She wanted to know that as well. She eased her thumbs tenderly along Will’s forearm, feeling for the separation, and discovered to her astonishment that the bone was set perfectly. Apparently, Garth had been lucky.
“We’ll splint it properly when Roger arrives,” she told the boy with a forced smile of reassurance.
Then she let her gaze slide over Garth, unable to hide her anger. She had many questions, and she cursed the vow that would allow him to answer none of them.
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