Free Echoes From the Mist by Blayne Cooper Page A

her cheeks with the back of her hand. "Yes. You need a physician."
    "We can’t—"
    The blonde’s tone was unyielding. "That wasn’t a question, Bridget. I won’t lose you again. We can pay for his silence."
    Bridget nodded, choosing not to argue with Faylinn at this moment. The nearest physician was a half-day by boat. They would never make that in this weather. She pressed her lips into Faylinn’s soft blonde hair. "I do love you."
    Faylinn looked up and gave Bridget a hopeful, watery smile. "And I you." But as confident as the words were, Bridget could hear the fear behind them.
    "It will be all right," she cooed, her fingers stroking the soft, damp skin of Faylinn’s cheeks.
    Faylinn’s throat closed tightly and her jaw worked several times before she could speak. She allowed her need to show in her voice. "It has to be," she whispered.
    "Let’s go."
    And the women disappeared into the darkness.
     
    *  *  *
     
    Faylinn began to stir as a faint noise that lingered just outside her consciousness grew louder and louder until finally it was a pounding. Dazedly, she sat up, and glanced at the shaking door. "Yes?" she called warily, not at all sure that she was ready for the news she would hear.
    "Faylinn, are you decent?" It was Will Beynon. The door began to open.
    "Wait." Her eyes darted to the pile of soaking, dirty clothes on the floor. "My clothes, they—"
    The door creaked open again, but only enough for a hand holding a pair of dark-gray trousers and soft, russet-colored cotton shirt to appear. "You won’t be wanting to put back on your wet skirts, I suspect."
    A gust of wind rattled the shutters.
    Sick with fear, Faylinn rushed across the floor and grabbed the clothes, holding them up to herself to cover her nearly naked body. The door closed and she spoke through it. "Thank you. Can I see her now? Please, Will!"
    "As soon as you’re dressed I’ll bring her in. I didn’t think a small thing like you could wear my Katie’s spare dress. So I brought these. They were our son’s." Will’s tone was nostalgic. "He was tall but slender as a reed. They should…."
    Faylinn didn’t even hear the rest of what he was saying. She discarded her shift and quickly tugged on the oft-mended cotton shirt; its long tails hung to her knees. Next were a pair of men’s woolen knee-britches that came to her ankles and had thick leather patches sewn on both knees. It took her a moment to push the long shirttail into the waist of the pants.
    She’d never worn men’s clothing before, except for a wide-brimmed hat that Bridget had loaned her for riding on sunny afternoons. But even then, she’d only dared wear it when she was well away from the house and Cyril’s judgmental eyes. She ran her hands down her thighs out of pure habit, the way she always did with her dresses. "Come," she called hastily, stepping away from the door.
    Faylinn heard a grunt and the shuffle of feet before the door swung open and in came Will, breathing heavily as he hefted Bridget’s limp form. She was naked save for a thick coarse, blanket that carried with it the scent of horseflesh.
    Faylinn stared at Bridget in shock and her hand froze on the shirtsleeve she was rolling up. The last time she’d seen Bridget she was conscious and cursing. "No, no, no." Faylinn shook head erratically. She can’t be! "She’s not," she stopped when her throat closed around the words and the blood drained from her face.
    "She’s only sleeping," Will assured her. He carefully laid Bridget on the bed, taking great care not to jostle the arm that was sporting a splint made from what looked like two sawed off floor boards.
    Correctly interpreting Faylinn’s pasty face he said, "Don’t throw up again. I’ll not clean it up twice in one night." The words were gruff and he was still a little angry that his wife had refused to help clean up that particular mess.
    Faylinn’s cheeks colored as she was reminded of exactly why she’d been banished to the back room