far north other than de Wolfe, de Norville, and Hage. You should have your pick.”
She cast him a dubious look but ended up breaking into soft laughter. “I doubt my father will let me select my own husband again,” she said. “I failed miserably with Steffan. He will not trust me again.”
Fraser was grinning because she was. He was rather enchanted by her silly little giggle. “Then mayhap some fine man will select you instead.”
She looked at him with interest. “Do you think so?”
“Possibly.”
“Do you know of one?”
“That is very possible.”
Her eyes lit up. “Do you really?”
“As I said, it is very possible.”
“I am intrigued,” she said. “Tell me more.”
Fraser was becoming upswept in the gentle game of flirtation when sentries from the inner gatehouse began to send up a cry. They could see the gatehouse from where they were standing and they could see a bit of commotion.
The portcullises were open and a soldier was coming through the opening, heading for the hall. As he came closer, he caught sight of Isabella and veered in her direction. Curious, Isabella came away from the wall and went to meet the soldier halfway.
“My lady,” the man was breathless because he had run. “We have a seriously ill man at the outer gatehouse. Would you come and see to him, my lady?”
Castles were beacons of food, shelter, and help, so it was unthinkable to turn away a sick traveler. It simply wasn’t done. But Isabella balked.
“I do not know anything about healing,” she said. “I would not do any good.”
“But he needs help, my lady,” the soldier said. “We can put him in the troop house, but someone should see to him.”
Fraser was standing behind Isabella, listening. “Who is the man?”
The soldier shook his head. “He gave his name as Joe or Joseph,” he said. “It was difficult to tell, as he could not tell us more. The man seems delirious.”
“Feverish?”
“He seems to be, my lord.”
Fraser looked at Isabella. “You do not want a fever spreading among the men,” he said. “I would recommend not putting him in the troop house. Is there anywhere else you can put him?”
Isabella knew Blackpool fairly well, but not as intimately as if she lived here. “I do not know,” she said. “Barbara and Lenore would know better than I would and they would tend him as well. I know they have done that sort of thing. Mayhap he should be brought to Lady Isalyn’s former chamber where Barbara and Lenore are?”
“That is reasonable,” Fraser said. “He can be isolated there. Who has the keys?”
“Tor does, I think.”
Fraser gestured to the apartment block. “I saw him go inside,” he said. “Find him and have him unlock the chamber where the chatelaines are being held. I will bring the sick man to the chamber so those two can tend to him.”
Isabella nodded quickly and fled, running into the apartment block as Fraser headed for the gatehouse.
A dramatic day was about to get a little more interesting.
“Why should we tend him?” Barbara said stiffly. “Clearly, we have been removed from our duties. You do not expect anything more from us.”
“I expect you to be useful,” Tor said flatly, keys in hand from so recently unlocking the chamber door. “I am still putting a roof over your heads and food in your bellies, so you will do as I say. What do you need to tend to this man?”
Two soldiers were carrying a limp knight between them as Fraser followed, helping them put the man upon the uncomfortable straw-stuffed mattress that had been so thoughtfully prepared for Isalyn. Fraser instructed the soldiers to remove the knight’s protective gear, gloves, belt and helm, as Tor faced off against Barbara and Lenore.
A battle was brewing.
“We do not know what is wrong with him yet,” Barbara said, eyeing the man on the bed. “I do not know what I need.”
Tor was losing his patience. “Then look at him and figure it out,” he said. “Do it now.”
Barbara hesitated for a moment but the look on Tor’s face told her any semblance of rebellion would not be well met. Still, she wasn’t going without a fight, so he would know how displeased she was at being sequestered with her sister.
Slowly, she moved.
The knight on the bed was unconscious as his clothing was stripped away. As the soldiers pulled off his boots, Barbara and Lenore leaned over the man, visually inspecting him before Barbara gingerly reached out to touch his forehead. It was clammy