Free An Oath Taken by Diana Cosby Page B

without drawing suspicion. “What about the man who is running a fever? Can you check on him again before we go?”
    Sadness filled the healer’s gaze, and she shrugged. “Aye, we can, but I doubt there is any more that can be done for him today. Time will decide his fate.”
    A knot worked in her throat as Elizabet followed the healer down the narrow hall. When they arrived, thankfully Giric was asleep. His raven hair, mangled by sweat, dirt, and blood, half shielded his face. Elizabet wanted to scream at the injustice of the situation, to bring him to a warm chamber and nurse him back to health.
    â€œThe castellan should be informed of his condition,” Elizabet said.
    The old woman shot her a pensive glance. “Aye, he has, and he asked me to personally tend to this prisoner on every visit, and after report his condition.”
    â€œHe has?” Shame filled Elizabet. She should have expected as much from Nicholas.
    A frown settled on the healer’s brow as she glanced down at Giric then back up toward her. “Do you know him?”
    Elizabet looked her square in the eye. “He is a Scot. ’Tis enough.”
    Understanding dawned in Deredere’s eyes and they softened. “Aye.” Her quiet burr thickened as she glanced toward the prisoner.
    â€œThat he is.” Sadness creased her weary face. “ ’Tis hard to see our men rot in these cells, but they fight and die for Scotland’s freedom. Never forget that.”
    Nay, she never would. “He deserves better.”
    â€œThey all do, lad. They all do.” With a sigh the healer lifted her basket. “ ’Tis time to go.”
    Elizabet took one last long glance at her brother. I will be back, Giric. And I will rescue you from this den of hell along with the others.

CHAPTER 7
    F atigue washed over Nicholas as his mount cantered under the portcullis. As he headed toward the stables, he slowed to a walk and shoved back his mail hood and padded coif, welcoming the fresh summer breeze and the softness of its scent.
    He mulled his impromptu visit to the healer to learn of Lord Terrick’s condition. Her stark recount of his deteriorating state worried him. This day he would move his prisoner to the keep and place him under guard. If left within the cell, he would die.
    As he halted at the entry of the stable, Thomas moved from the shadows to meet him.
    The pleasure at his squire’s promptness changed to caution at the lad’s stilted actions.
    Thomas walked to his steed’s head, caught the halter without meeting his gaze, and waited for him to dismount.
    So, his squire didn’t like the setdown he’d received earlier this morning? He would learn that life’s lessons often came with a price. Nicholas dismounted. “After you have cared for my horse, meet me on the practice field.”
    Without turning, Thomas nodded.
    Upset or not, the lad would show him respect and learn that he must face the situations life dealt him head-on. “I will have an answer, and you will look at me when you do it.”
    Thomas’s shoulders stiffened. He curled the reins tight in his slender hands, drew himself up to his full height, and turned.
    Nicholas had expected to see anger or irritation carved into his expression, but the fragile pain, the swollen redness rimming his eyes, and the heart-wrenching loss filling his gaze threw him off guard. Without hesitation, he stepped toward his squire then halted, realizing his intent. He’d almost swept the lad into a hug to whisper words to soothe, to try to ease his obvious hurt.
    His squire watched him unsure, his eyes too wide, his face too pale, and his anguish tangible, painfully so. For a brief moment need flashed in the emerald depths before fading to despair.
    God’s teeth, he was going insane! “Go and be quick about it,” Nicholas snapped before he gave in and consoled the lad. On a curse, he dismissed the slash of need