Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] Read Online Free

marked trepidation Elizabeth followed theknight through the entrance. Quickly she scanned the room and was frankly amazed, for it was exactly as she had left it. Her chamber was smaller than the others, but it had been her favorite of all the bedrooms, both for its isolation from the others and for the breathtaking view it allowed from the small window that over-looked the forest beyond.
    The hearth took up most of the far wall, and was flanked by two wooden chairs with royal-blue cushions her sister Margaret had sewn for her.
    Her gaze moved to the banner hanging above the hearth, its blue color matching the cushions with pale yellow threads interwoven in the design of her two wolfhounds. The banner’s only other coloring was that of a deep burgundy, near the top of the tapestry, outlining the design of her pet hawk. Her heart ached as memories of the many times she and her mother had worked on the banner assaulted her.
    No! her mind cried. ’Tis not the time. Elizabeth shook her head and this action was not missed by the watching knight. He, too, studied the banner and then turned back to Elizabeth. He recognized the fleeting torment she tried to hide. Speculation and curiosity appeared in his eyes but Elizabeth gave him little attention. She had turned to look upon the bed, and with the blue and yellow draping tied back on each side, she had a clear view of the leader. She was immediately struck by the largeness of the man, thinking he was even taller than her grandfather.
    His hair was the color of the raven, and almost touched the drape at the head of the bed while his feet nearly hung over the other end. For some unexplainable reason, even in his weakened condition, he frightened her, and she stood transfixed while she studied the harshness of his features. He was a handsome knight, she admitted, handsome and . . . hard.
    The warrior began to thrash about from side to side,moaning in a weakened yet deep voice, and his movement prompted her into action. She quickly placed her hand upon his damp, bronzed forehead, gently brushing the wet hair out of her way as she felt his skin. Her milky white hand was in stark contrast to his deeply tanned and weathered skin, and her touch stilled his motion.
    “He burns with fever,” Elizabeth remarked. “How long has he been like this?” Even as she spoke, she noticed the swelling above his right temple and gently probed around it. The warrior’s companion watched her from his position at the foot of the bed, a frown upon his face.
    “I saw him take the blow. He fell to the ground and has been like this ever since.”
    Elizabeth frowned in concentration. She wasn’t sure what she should do next. “This makes little sense,” she countered, “for a blow does not bring the fever.” She straightened then and with determination in her voice commanded, “Help me strip him.”
    Elizabeth did not give the companion time to question her motives, for she immediately began to unfasten the lacings at the warrior’s back. The knight hesitated for a brief minute and then helped by pulling the chausses from the lower half of the now-sleeping form.
    Though she tried mightily, Elizabeth was unable to pull the quilted hauberk, made of thick cotton, and soaked with the fever’s sweat, over the massive shoulders, and she finally admitted defeat. She instinctively reached for the dagger she carried at her waist, thinking she would have to cut the material in order to sponge the heat from the warrior’s chest.
    The companion saw the glint of metal and, not understanding her reasoning, knocked the knife to the floor with the back of his hand.
    The dogs began to growl but Elizabeth quickly silenced them and turned to face the knight. Her voicewas gentle and devoid of all anger. “Though you have no reason to trust me, you need have no fear. I was merely going to cut his shirt.”
    “What is the need?” the knight demanded with frustration.
    Elizabeth ignored the question and bent to