The Brat Page 0,102

he raced up the stairs and past her into the keep.

Gatty had been the one to sew Murie up. Juliana had informed her that she'd had to be cleaned up just to find the wound. According to the child, she had been awash in blood, her face almost unrecognizable.

That was where the narrative of events had ended, however. There was no need for her to tell more. The stinging pain of the needle in the thin skin of her forehead had roused Murie from unconsciousness and brought her back to screaming life. Balan had been holding her at the time, and had simply kept her still and murmured soothing words as Gatty finished the job. He hadn't really needed to hold her after the first few seconds, as she'd regained her wits and realized what was happening, but he'd done so anyway. While Murie had been feeling weak and trembly by the end of the ordeal, Balan had actually been gray-faced and sick-looking, and had muttered an excuse, then fled the room the moment it was done.

Murie had hardly noticed. Gatty had been busy helping her to remove her gown and setting her into the bed, and she'd been distracted as both her body and head protested any movement. While her head was the only bleeding wound, bruises were beginning to form down the front of her chest to her thighs where the table had struck her. She was going to be extremely sore soon if did she not keep moving. That was the only way she knew to ease pain - movement, so muscles didn't get the chance to stiffen and set. This was part of the reason she was now getting up despite Cecily's scowls and growls. The other part was that she'd had plans for her husband's return. She'd intended to greet him with the joyful news that she loved him. The incident at the village had rather ruined that, and she silently cursed her husband's attacker to hell for it.

"My lady, please," Cecily begged. "His lordship shall no doubt blame me for your being up, and then - "

"Guilt will not work either, Cecily," Murie said mildly, managing not to wince as she gained her feet and her body protested. The maid had been with her for ten years. It was Cecily who'd had the unenviable task of tending Murie when she was ill since her parents' death, and she'd tried many different ways to keep her abed through flus and colds and various other childhood ailments. None of them had ever worked, but the woman kept trying.

"Why do you not get back in bed and let me fetch you some of the ale his lordship brought back from Carlisle?" Cecily said. "It may ease your aching head."

"Bribery will not work either," Murie assured her, "Only time will cure the aching in my head."

She moved to the chest to find some clothes, determined not to show how weak she really felt by asking the maid to fetch them. While she'd not felt bad other than aches and pains in bed, now that she was up, her head was showing a distressing tendency to spin on her neck .. . either that, or the room was doing the spinning. But she felt sure Cecily would have mentioned the fact if it were, so she knew it must be her head.

"You are the most obstinate woman I know," Cecily announced with irritation. She rushed over to grab her mistress by the arm to steady her.

"Aye," Murie agreed easily. She supposed she must have been swaying, for the woman to think she needed support. Shrugging inwardly, she allowed Cecily to help her kneel by the chest, then sat back as the maid began to sift through the clothing inside.

"What do you wish to wear?" the woman asked, still sounding annoyed.

"It matters little," Murie said. "Whatever is clean and available."

"Hmph. The maid pulled out a pale cream gown and brown surcoat to go over it. "You cannot work in this gown without ruining it, so at least I know you will not be able to be that foolish."

Murie bit her lip, but did not ask her to choose something else. She really wasn't feeling up to working. She just did not wish to be trapped in the chamber all day like an invalid. Whether she was one or not.

Cecily alternated between muttering under her breath about Murie's obstinacy and lecturing that she wasn't to do anything more strenuous than sitting