Free Chivalrous Captain, Rebel Mistress by Diane Gaston

from him. ‘Captain?’
    She looked at him as if he were the bogeyman himself while she plaited her hair.
    His cry must have alarmed her. ‘Forgive me. I put too much strain on my shoulder.’ He rubbed his face. ‘Is it afternoon?’
    ‘No, morning.’ Her wariness did not abate.
    ‘Morning? Do you mean I slept all of yesterday?’
    ‘You were very feverish,’ she responded in a defensive tone. ‘And, yes, you did sleep on and off. Do you not remember any of it?’
    Bits and pieces of the previous day returned. Miss Pallant undressing him, stroking him with a cool cloth. Miss Pallant naked, her skin glowing and smooth against the dark rough wood of the stable, like a goddess thrust off Mount Olympus.
    He glanced away from her. ‘I remember some of it.’
    ‘You were feverish all day,’ she said. ‘And all night.’
    He touched his forehead. ‘I feel better today. I hope I did not cause you any distress because of it.’
    Her voice rose. ‘No distress, Captain.’
    She was like a skittish colt. What had happened?
    She stood. ‘Are you thirsty?’
    He was very thirsty, come to think of it, but he shook his head. ‘I am determined to no longer be a burden to you. I will get the water today. Tell me where to go.’ Surely he could rise to his feet today.
    ‘You will do no such thing.’ She gave him a scolding look. ‘Karel left some ale.’ She handed him the tankard. ‘Drink it if you are thirsty.’
    It was reddish brown in colour, tasted both sweet and tart, and Allan thought it was quite the most delicious ale he’d ever consumed.
    He drank half the contents. ‘Karel is the wife’s name?’
    Miss Pallant nodded, still watching him as if he were a wildcat about to pounce.
    He touched his shoulder. ‘I remember. She dressed my wound.’ The pain was finally fading.
    ‘Are you hungry?’ She reached for a basket and placed it near him. ‘There is bread and cheese.’
    He chose only one piece of bread and one square of cheese and handed the basket back to her. ‘You must eat as well.’
    She hesitated before taking the basket from his hand. What had caused this reticence towards him? A battle, a fire, andan escape had not robbed her of courage. What had? ‘Miss Pallant, when I was feverish, did I do something to hurt you or frighten you?’
    ‘Not at all.’ Her response was clipped. ‘You merely had a nightmare.’
    There was more to it, he was certain, but it seemed she didn’t want him to pursue it. ‘The farmer packed up the plunder and left us yesterday, I remember. Did he return?’
    She tore off a piece of bread and chewed it before answering, ‘He has not.’
    He wanted to ask her more, but even the minor exertion of sitting up and eating had greatly fatigued him. He could not even finish his bread. ‘If you give me the basket again, I’ll wrap this up.’
    She reached for the bread instead. ‘I will do it.’
    Their fingers touched, and her gaze flew to his face. He could not find words, but tried to show his regret for whatever he had put her through.
    Her expression softened.
    He leaned back and tried not to show how much he enjoyed merely gazing upon her.
    She rose. ‘I believe I will sweep the barn.’
    He remembered her doing so the day before. He tried to stand. ‘Perhaps I can do it today.’
    He made it to his feet, but his legs felt like rubber. She rushed over to lend her shoulder for support. She smelled of hay and a scent all her own, a combination that was pleasant to his nostrils.
    The door to the barn swung open and the farmer’s wife walked in, a little girl trailing her. ‘Goedemorgen.’
    ‘Good morning, Karel,’ Miss Pallant responded.
    The woman broke into a smile and put her palms to her cheeks when she saw Allan and Miss Pallant with arms around each other. She immediately began talking and advanced on Allan, touching his face and gesturing that she wanted tocheck his bandage. Miss Pallant backed away and he braced himself against the stable wall.
    The