A Stranger's Touch

‘Yes, of course. My mother would never have left anyone to die of neglect, whoever they might be. I care nothing for whether he will pay or not.’

‘Then you’re a fool. We work hard for what we have, girl, and he should pay if he can. There, I might have known what you would say. Your mother was never one of us,’ he muttered. ‘I’m not a murderer. I’ll allow you to keep your survivor—and don’t think I don’t know you two were in it together. Nurse him, but be careful. Remember he’s a stranger and keep a still tongue in your head. You tell no one anything that is family business. This is important. Listen to me, both of you—make one slip and we may all find ourselves in trouble. It won’t be just me they hang, it will be both your brothers, Morwenna—and if they think you’re involved you could find yourself in chains and whipped at the cart’s tail or in prison.’

‘I should never tell anyone even if I knew what you were doing—and I don’t,’ Morwenna said, a flash of fire in her green eyes. ‘You’re my brother, Michael. I don’t want either of you to hang.’

‘Well, remember that when this man starts to recover and becomes curious.’

‘I’m not a fool,’ she flared back. ‘I may have a different mother, but I’m a Morgan the same as you.’

‘Just remember that and we shan’t fall out.’ Michael finished his soup and nodded to Bess. ‘Very good. Away to your bed now. You, too, Morwenna—unless you need something for your patient, don’t come down again for a while. I’ve something to say to Jacques and my men, and it’s better if you don’t know, then you can’t tell.’

Morwenna was smarting inside. As if she would tell even if she did know! She didn’t answer him, but simply filled a jug with clean water before following Bess from the room. Behind her there was silence. Michael was waiting until she was safely out of earshot before telling his men whatever he did not trust her to hear.

She felt a little resentful and yet she knew that he probably thought he was protecting her. If she could truthfully claim she knew nothing of his darker activities, she might escape should he and the others be caught.

Pray God it would not happen! She did not wish either of her brothers to die a cruel death or the men who sailed Michael’s ship—but Jacques was the only one she truly felt close to, the only one who ever took any thought for her. Michael took her service for granted, forgetting that she should have been waited on instead of waiting on them.

She thrust the thought of Michael’s secrets to a tiny corner of her mind as she went into the room in which her patient was lying. He appeared to be peaceful, his eyes still firmly closed. Touching his forehead, she was relieved that he did not appear to be suffering from a fever as yet, though he could of course develop one in the next day or so.

She poured some water into a bowl and dipped a cloth into it, then she bent over her patient and bathed the wound at the side of his head. It had bled quite a bit, but was not deep enough to have opened his skull. He had been lucky, because she’d seen men pulled out from amongst the cruel rocks with their heads cracked open and their brains spilling out. There was never any hope for them and if they still lived Michael despatched them with his knife. It was quick and less painful than seeing fatally injured men suffer a slow death.

‘You were lucky,’ she said as she bent over him, noticing that he was a fine-looking man. Jacques was right to say he looked like gentry. ‘If we had not found you, you might have lain there all night and died of cold.’

For a moment his eyelids flickered, but they did not open. Morwenna poured some of her water into a horn cup and set it on the chest beside the bed. Then she took the salves she had stored in this room and a strip of linen and bound his head. Once again, his eyelids flickered, but did not open.

‘You are safe here,’ she said, though she was not sure he could hear her. ‘My brother Jacques brought you here and Michael has given me permission to nurse you. I’m not sure if you can hear me—but be careful, sir. My brother does not care for strangers. Do not go wandering about the house at night or you may find yourself in trouble.’

The man gave no sign that he’d heard her.

‘I shall leave you and return later,’ she said. ‘I do not know who you are but be careful.’ Leaving him to rest, Morwenna went out and closed the door behind her.

She hoped that Jacques had not helped her carry a spy into her home. It would not be the first time the militia had sent someone to try to discover the truth about her brother’s activities. If Michael discovered that this man was one of them, he would not hesitate to kill him—and that would be a shame, as well as dangerous for them all.

Her brother claimed he was not a murderer, but if he acted in defence of his family he would not consider it murder. He had learned to be ruthless since their father died and he’d been forced to seek his living from the sea. Yet at times she could still see in him the brother that had carried her on his shoulder when she was too tired to climb the cliff to their home.

Even so, she would not like anything bad to happen to the stranger.

Morwenna smiled to herself. She was used to the company of strong handsome men, but she liked the look of the stranger and she would not have harm come to him if she could prevent it.

Chapter Two

Morwenna woke as a hand shook her shoulder. She opened her eyes to see that Bess was bending over her and struggled to sit up.

‘What is the matter?’ she asked groggily. ‘Have the Revenue men come?’

‘Nay, lass. ‘Tis the stranger you brought from the beach. He’s burning up and calling out loud enough to waken the dead. ‘Tis as well your brothers have not yet returned.’

‘Why?’ Morwenna leapt out of bed and pulled on a wrapping gown that lay over the chair. ‘Michael sleeps like one of the dead and Jacques is the same.’

‘Aye, well, best they don’t hear what I think I heard him call out.’

Morwenna looked at her curiously. ‘He must have been having a nightmare. What did he call out?’

‘Your name and then …’ Bess glanced cautiously over her shoulder ‘… I’m not sure what he said then for ’twas slurred, but I think he said “Nest of traitors,” but I can’t be certain.’

‘If Michael heard that then he would think the worst. Yet on the beach he asked my name and I told him. It might just be that it was all that came to his mind. Mayhap you imagined the rest, Bess.’

‘I might have done for ’twas not clear.’

Morwenna went ahead of her servant into the bedchamber where her patient lay. Bess had left a lantern burning and she saw immediately that the man was ill. He had thrown off his covers and she could see his body was covered in a fine layer of sweat. Going to him at once, she touched his forehead.

‘He is in a bad fever, Bess.’ There was no doubting that he was ill now. ‘I must bathe him with cool water. Brew the tisane you use when any of us is ill, please. We’ll do our best for him, whoever he is.’

‘You’ll have to keep him quiet once Michael returns or all your good work will be for nothing.’

Morwenna didn’t answer, but a cold shiver ran down her spine as Bess left the chamber. If Michael suspected the man had come here to spy on them he would show no mercy. Gazing down on him as she began to bathe his body with cool water, Morwenna felt something protective stir inside her. She did not know who this man was and he could mean nothing to her, but he was a human soul and entitled to her care whilst ill.

‘Morwenna Morgan … no …’ he muttered suddenly, flinging his arm out in an arc. ‘Jane … please don’t leave me …’

‘Rest easy, sir. You are safe now,’ Morwenna said, stroking his damp hair back from his forehead.

‘Nowhere … no place to hide …’ the man muttered. ‘Alone … she’s gone, nothing left … Morwenna … Morwenna …’ He cried out in anguish, ‘I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean to kill him … it wasn’t my fault … please …’ He was tossing in agony, clearly suffering from the dreams or memories that plagued him. ‘Forgive me … forgive me …’

Morwenna’s heart wrenched. ‘You are forgiven. Hush now.’

‘No, no, she will never forgive me.’

Wringing her cloth out, Morwenna bathed his forehead again. She thought he felt a little cooler but it was clear he was still wandering in his mind. Was her name on his lips because she’d told him who she was on the beach? What was it that haunted him so much?

‘It’s all right,’ she whispered softly close to his ear. ‘You’re safe here with me. Hush now and you will soon feel better.’

His eyes flew open suddenly and for a moment he stared up at her. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said and leaned forwards, as though he would sit up or touch her. Then his eyes closed and he fell back against the pillows. ‘Morwenna … lovely name …’

‘Here, my lovely, give him a sip of this.’

Morwenna turned as Bess entered bearing a tankard of hot liquid. It smelled strongly of cinnamon and she knew it contained brandy and the herbs that were effective for fever.

‘Help me lift him,’ Morwenna said. She took the cup, one arm beneath the man as she and Bess lifted him into a sitting position. ‘Open your mouth, sir. This tisane will help you recover.’

She pressed the edge of the tankard to his mouth, unsure that he would respond or could even hear her. Surprisingly, his lips parted and she was able to tip a little of the mixture into his mouth. He coughed and choked, but when she tried again he allowed her to pour some of the mixture into his mouth and this time he swallowed it easily. When she tried again his hand gripped her wrist, pushing her away.

‘Enough,’ he muttered. ‘No, Mother, enough.’

‘He must be sick if he thinks you’re his mother,’ Bess said with a sniff. ‘He looks cooler now. He’ll probably settle. Go back to your bed, lass.’

‘No. If I’d thought he was truly ill I wouldn’t have left him last evening. I’ll sit with him for a while, Bess. You go to bed. If he is ill for a few days, we’ll have to share the nursing and you need your rest too.’

‘So do you, miss, but have it your way. Just watch yourself if he starts to fight—and don’t let him shout out. Your brothers came in a few minutes ago and they’ve gone to their beds.’