He had eaten dinner leaning on his elbow, but now sat up slowly and braced himself on his hands. He was used to being agile, and finding himself pinned down by the knife wound in his thigh was not only physically painful, but emotionally draining as well. He had thought he could stand up long enough to relieve himself, but just getting upright posed a serious problem.
Because Hunter had ridiculed her last offer of help, Alanna stood silently waiting for him to politely request her assistance, should he need it. Thinking he probably outweighed her by at least fifty pounds, she hoped she wouldn't be too weak to make a difference. She wondered if he was getting cold without his leggings, but waited to ask that question.
Hunter felt Alanna hovering over him, and knowing she did not deserve to be the target of his ill humor, he swallowed the harsh demand that she leave him be. It wasn't until he finally had to accept the fact he could not get up on his own, that he looked up at her. "I need help," he admitted grudgingly.
Not one to gloat, Alanna moved to his right side. "If I put my arms around your waist, you can lean on me to
stand, and then use the cane. Shall we try it?"
Hunter nodded. Realizing clearly that it was going to hurt, he still cried out in pain, and Alanna quickly let him sink to the ground. "I can do it," he insisted.
"Of course, you can." Alanna waited until he had caught his breath. This time he managed to find the leverage with his right leg to push himself up. Afraid he might pass out again, Alanna kept her arms locked around his torso, until he seemed firmly balanced on one leg and the makeshift cane. Then she released him and took a step back.
"Can you make it?" she asked.
Hunter's head felt impossibly light, at the same time his body felt at least double its usual weight. When he swayed slightly, and came dangerously close to falling, Alanna again encircled his waist with her arms. "I'll help you walk over to the bushes. Is that where you want to go?"
To be dependent on a slender girl for a walk of no more than ten paces left Hunter feeling totally humiliated. He knew he would probably fall without her help, but he was loath to ask for it. It was only the very real possibility of bleeding to death should he hit the ground on his injured leg rather than his seat, that prompted him to nod.
"I grew up with Byron and Elliott," she reminded him. "They liked to swim in the nude, so how men are made is no mystery to me. I know you're embarrassed to have to ask for my help, but you needn't fear that I am."
Hunter was concentrating so hard on just reaching the bushes, he couldn't respond to her encouragement. He had a firm grip on her with his right hand, and an even tighter hold on the cane with his left, but the combined weakness of his limbs and dizziness of his mind made what should have been an easy few steps, close to impossible. Alanna kept guiding him gently, however, and once they had reached the shrubbery, made certain he was steady enough to take care of himself, before she stepped away and turned her back.
Hunter remained upright long enough to relieve himself, but then when he tried to reach out for Alanna again, he pitched forward into the bushes, and would have slid all the way through them to the ground, had she not been quick enough to yank him out of them before that tragedy occurred. His buckskin shirt had saved him from suffering any deep scratches, but his dignity was definitely tattered. He resorted to his native tongue to express his displeasure, but Alanna could easily tell he was swearing by his tone.
"Come on," she coaxed sweetly, "let's get you back to bed." She eased him around, and he hobbled back to the pine mattress without further mishap. Getting him back into a reclining position was almost as great an ordeal as helping him to stand, but she finally succeeded in returning him to bed. "We'll do better next time," she assured him.
"There won't be a next time," Hunter grumbled. "I'll be much better in the morning, and I'll take care of myself."
"Good. Would you like another cup of water? I wish I'd thought to look for berries, so we'd have some dessert. I'll find some tomorrow."
Missing dessert was a matter of absolutely no consequence to Hunter, and he motioned for her to lie down beside him. "You come to bed, too," he ordered in a lazy slur.
Alanna hadn't planned to sleep with him, but she had had no time to gather additional branches to make her own bed. With Hunter so weak, she easily convinced herself she ought to sleep next to him, just in case he awoke and needed her. "Are you cold? Do you want your leggings?" she asked.
The prospect of having to wiggle into them, when it would surely be a painful ordeal, convinced Hunter they were the last thing he needed. "No, come to bed."
Alanna spread out her shawl to soften the crude mattress. "I had thought yesterday was bad," she related absently. "I'm almost afraid to hope that our situation will improve tomorrow."
Hunter was too weak to reply, but when she stretched out beside him, he reached for her hand and gave it a fond squeeze. "You should have stayed at home," he mused darkly, but if she bothered to argue with him, he didn't hear it before he fell asleep.
Chapter 20
Alanna awakened each time Hunter stirred during the night, but he appeared to be only shifting position slightly, rather than in distress, and she quickly fell asleep again. She didn't realize he was in trouble until dawn, when he complained of feeling too warm and asked her to help him remove his shirt. The instant her fingertips brushed his skin, she drew back.
"It's no wonder you feel warm." She raised her hand to his forehead to confirm her suspicions. "You're feverish."
Hunter had fallen asleep believing he could not feel any worse, but he had been wrong. "I'll get over it," he boasted without conviction.
The Barclays had seldom been ill, and in those rare instances, they had relied on Doctor Earle or bought herbal remedies at an apothecary shop in Williamsburg, so Alanna had never gathered medicinal plants in the wild. Even if she had, she doubted the forests of New York would contain the same varieties that grew in Virginia. "Do you know which herbs to gather for a fever?" she asked.
"Among my people, medicine is women's work."
"Then it's unfortunate we don't have one of your women here with us." Alanna was deliberately parodying one of his complaints, but either he didn't notice, or didn't care. She reached for the fringed hem of his shirt, and helped him peel the garment off over his head. "Even if we can't brew any herbal teas, you should try and drink all the water you can. I'll get you some now."
Hunter watched her carry the cup she had fashioned down to the lake. She was still barefooted, and it suited her. She had to bring him three cups of water, before he had his fill. "You need to make a bigger cup," he teased weakly, "then you won't have to make so many trips."
"Rather than a larger cup, what I need is a bucket. I'll have to look for a piece of wood the right size to hollow out. Until then, we'll just have to make do with this one pitifully small cup."