“I promise, but you must promise me that you’ll be honest with me,” she said, turning pleading eyes on him.
“If only I could,” he said and it pained him to see the disappointment that filled his wife’s eyes.
A moan had them both rushing to Walcott.
“It’s all right. You’re safe, Walcott,” Slatter said, placing his hand on his friend’s limp one, letting him know he was there. “Willow tends you. You need to rest and grow strong.”
Walcott moaned again, turning his head slowly from side to side.
“You’re not alone. I’m here and I’ll see you kept safe, my friend.”
Walcott calmed and his moans faded.
“Time will tell,” Willow said.
Chapter 22
“What do you mean some believe Slatter stabbed Walcott? How could they think such nonsense?” Willow threw her hands up agitated and shook her head at James. The last four days, my husband has sat by his friend’s side a good portion of the day.”
“A ruse some say,” James said.
“Tell me, it’s Tarass’s warriors who spew such lies, isn’t it?”
“They feel he attacked Walcott to make them think otherwise,” James explained.
“That’s nonsense and you know it. And how do they explain Slatter getting past them without being detected?” Willow asked.
“Lord Tarass wants to know the same, but he got no answer. Though, wagging tongues say your husband sneaks out at night and blends with the shadows and shapes of the darkness.”
“That’s ridiculous. His nights are spent with me in our bed. The warriors waste time thinking it’s Slatter when they should be searching the area for the culprit.”
“Searches have been going on and no one has been found.”
Willow turned a glare on him. “What do you mean searches have been going on? Why wasn’t I made aware of this?” She gasped. “Don’t tell me you think I shouldn’t be trusted with such news?
“It’s Lord Tarass who has insisted upon the search and that no one be told about it.”
“Particularly me,” Willow said.
James’s silence confirmed she was right.
Willow lost the will to argue. It would do no good. No one believed her. She felt James even held some doubt. And how could she or Slatter prove otherwise when he was confined to the keep and village. If he even dared near the woods, warriors descended on him.
How did she prove her husband innocent?
“One good thing,” James said, trying to cheer her some. “I discovered that Lord Tarass has heard no word from the Slayer. So at least Slatter doesn’t have to fear that.”
Willow had no intentions of telling James that the Slayer had contacted her. That would be her and Slatter’s secret. She hadn’t even told Snow, knowing her sister would worry.
“There is nothing my husband needs to fear from the Slayer. He is innocent of all that has been said against him.”
“I do hope that can be proven, Willow,” James said, “or I fear Lord Tarass will take matters into his own hands, and there’ll be nothing we can do to stop him.”
James’s warning followed her like a gray cloud overhead as she left the room. She felt so helpless. If only her husband was free to go and come as he pleased. She stopped suddenly, a different thought intruding on the others.
Her husband had managed to sneak out of the keep the other night without anyone seeing him and without her knowing it. Had he done so other times? Could the gossip be right? Had her husband been sneaking out of the keep at night? She shook her head. She would have known. Or would she? Sometimes after making love, she would fall into a deep sleep and didn’t wake until morning. But she never woke alone. Slatter was always there wrapped around her. Or he’d wake her with gentle caresses and they’d make love. Could he have just returned to their bed on those occasions? She had to know and she hurried off in search of him.
She found him with his grandmother. She was doing well, getting out of bed to sit in a chair by the fire for a while each day. She ate good, slept well, and complained little. It was obvious she was content and Willow believed it had much to do with her grandson.
Slatter was helping his grandmother out of the chair, his strong yet tender arm wrapped around her, lifting her gently to her feet and supporting her as he walked with her to the bed and helped her in it. He tucked the blanket around her and pushed a stray strand of her hair off her face to tuck behind her ear.
It was a scene that would live long in Willow’s memory, her husband so strong and powerful lovingly assisting his petite, frail grandmother with such care and patience.
“You will rest now. I will visit with you later,” he said and kissed her brow.
“You must have important things you need to see to. Worry not about me,” she said, patting his arm.