“Not ever.”
Sorrell winced now and again when John cleansed her wound. He was gentle, but the gash to her head proved painful to the touch. She tried her best not to show it, since every time she did wince, John’s blue eyes flared with anger. Anger not directed at her. It was meant for the person who did this to her.
“Lift your chin,” he ordered gently.
She did and he ran the freshly rinsed cloth along her jaw, cleaning off the last of the blood.
“It isn’t as bad as I first thought. All the blood made it look far worse,” he said, relieved himself. “At least you won’t look as bad when your sisters see you.”
“They’re used to my wounds and bruises.” Sorrell yawned again.
“I’m not,” he said with a gentle tap to the tip of her nose. “Get some rest. You need it.”
“I need to return to the keep.”
“After you rest a while,” he urged.
Sorrell went to sit up.
John’s hands went to her shoulders, easing her back. “You will do as I say and I will wake you before the hour grows late and someone comes looking for you.”
“You will not leave?”
“I will be here when you wake.”
“And you will stay one more day?” Sorrell asked anxiously.
“I will promise you one more day, no more,” he said, though he wished he could promise her forever.
Sorrell sighed and closed her eyes. “Good. I look forward to the day with you.”
John waited until she was sound asleep and left the cottage in search of Sorrell’s cloak, though he really hoped he’d come across whoever did this to her. The person deserved a good beating and he intended to give it to him.
The light snow had stopped and left a dusting on the ground. The heavy cloud covering was gone, the stars bright in the night sky, and a nearing half-moon cast a good glow, making it easier to see in the dark.
He hadn’t gone that far when he caught movement in the shadows. He stilled and listened and once he determined where the noise had come from, he followed it. The person wasn’t light on his feet, he stomped through the woods like a troop of warriors on the march.
When the heavy footsteps stopped, so did John. He proceeded slowly and silently, keeping his footsteps light so as not to be heard. He stopped again when he saw someone sitting on a fallen tree… Peter.
He should have known.
John was nearly on top of him when Peter finally realized he was there and he scrambled so fast to get away that he fell back off the fallen tree trunk onto his back.
“Don’t hurt me! Please, don’t hurt me! Peter begged, trying desperately to scramble away from John.
The lad cringed in fright when John’s booted-foot came down on the fallen tree trunk and a crack echoed throughout the woods.
“Sorrell really did lay a beating on you,” John said when he got a good look at Peter’s face.
Blood still oozed from a sizeable gash on his forehead above his right eye and blood covered his mouth and chin. The white of his other eye was completely red and there was a large bruise on his one shin.
John found himself doing something he hadn’t expected, he held out a helping hand to Peter.
Peter eyed him suspiciously.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I only want to talk,” John assured him. “Besides, if I wanted to hurt you, you’d be writhing in pain by now.”
Peter sighed as if resigned to his fate, though still extended a cautious hand out to John.
John yanked him up and sat on the fallen tree trunk, nodding to the spot beside him. “Sit.”
Peter cast his eyes about.
“Run and I promise you’ll regret it,” John warned, though he understood the lad’s instinct to try and escape.
Peter sat and turned to John. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just wanted to scare her some.”
John narrowed his eyes, staring at Peter. “Did Sorrell knock one of your teeth out?”
“Two,” he said, sniffling back tears.
“And your eye?” John asked, seeing how it was red where the white should be.
“She shoved her finger in it. It hurt bad.”
John saw it for himself but couldn’t believe the damage Sorrell had done.
“My da beat me the day I got home and saw the mud all over me and found out it was Sorrell who had done it. He told me I better make her pay for making a fool of me. I thought if I jumped at her from out of the dark, I’d stand a chance against her.”
“Stand a chance against her? She’s a wee bit of a thing,” John said.
“That’s what my da said, but you both don’t know what she’s like when she’s roaring mad. And once she gets anything in her hand that she can throw… watch out. She hits her mark every time.”