Surrender My Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

years and yearned for a roof over her head instead of an oxcart and the cold ground for her bed.

    It was not a vain hope, at least now it wasn’t, for Valda had heard that her cousin’s wife had died, and she and Blythe were on their way to visit him in Bedford. It was Aldrich’s wife who wouldn’t take them in before when they had asked, but his wife was dead now, and it was Valda’s hope that he would marry Blythe and give them the home she so desperately wanted. Blythe was also hopeful that it would be as Valda predicted. Aldrich was much older than she, but not a mean or ugly man, so she wouldn’t mind marrying him. Also, he had always looked kindly on her, despite her deformity. And a home and food every day would be nice, very nice.
    Her eyes wandered as she waited for her aunt to finish. She hated death, had seen so much of it, yet her eyes were drawn to it still in morbid fascination. And her gaze came back to one man repeatedly, until she finally approached him.
    He was one of the two men who had been picked clean, and Valda had turned him over—grunting and swearing the while, he was so big—looking for rings on his hands. He must not have worn any, for none of his fingers were missing, which was the quickest way for a scavenger to remove a ring that bloated joints would not release.
    His was a fine young body, without a wound that Blythe could see, though with enough scars to claim him as a fighting man. His was also the longest, largest body she had ever seen. But it was his face she couldn’t take her eyes from, the face of an angel, so beautiful it broughtpain to her chest. And for the first time in all the years that she had seen men dead like this, tears gathered in her eyes.
    It was typical of his effect on women that Blythe, who didn’t know him and had never seen him before, could cry over the death of a man who looked like him. This she was doing, unbeknownst to her aunt, and she even dropped to her knees beside him, her hand drawn to his cheek. The skin was warm and supple, which brought a gasp of surprise from her. But she jerked her hand back with a shriek when she felt his breath on it.
    “Aunt Valda, this man is not dead!”
    Valda looked up from folding the tunic she had claimed and said with no concern, “So? He will be soon.”
    “But he has no wound on him either!”
    Valda came to her side to look down at the man. She had wrestled long enough with his back to get it turned that she knew it bore no wound now hidden. She bent down to lift his head with both hands to feel there, and found the lump that had struck him down, the size of her small fist.
    She let his head drop back to the hard ground without a care for the pain it might cause him. He made not a sound.
    “His skull has been cracked,” she said offhandedly. “They rarely waken from that.”
    “But he could?”
    “Aye, he could, with constant care, which he will not be getting out here. Now, come along. I am finished—”

    “I could care for him.”
    Valda’s expression turned vexed. “Nay, how could you? We have not enough food to make camp here. And it would be a waste of time if we did. He is more like to die than not.”
    Staring again at the man, Blythe became stubborn. “If there is a chance to save him, I will take it.”
    “I tell you, we cannot linger here. We needs reach the next village to replenish—”
    “Then we take him with us.”
    Valda threw up her hands in disgust. “Are you daft, girl? Why would we do a stupid thing like that?”
    “To save him,” Blythe said simply.
    “But he is naught to us.”
    At which point Blythe mentioned the one thing guaranteed to make Valda agreeable. “He will reward us for saving him, and not just a few pennies, but a hundred at least. He is a lord. Why else would his every stitch have been taken? Would you not like to arrive at Aldrich’s this time with coin in your pocket so we do not appear so needy?”
    Valda was caught by the notion, but still frowned.