Chapter Seven #2
Cortez nodded to agree with her, glancing at Sophie and her pets one last time before politely excusing himself and making his way back to the front of the column.
He’d decided that he wasn’t going to say anything more to Diamantha since ignoring the woman had seemed to make her marginally more sociable.
Perhaps that was the way to handle her and he had been doing it wrong all along.
In any case, he was willing to make an experiment out of it.
He left the woman without so much as a hind glance.
Diamantha watched him go, her gaze lingering on the man who was now her husband.
The more she reminded herself of the fact, the more accustomed she was becoming to it.
As he walked away, she found her attention lingering on his rather large form.
For such a big man, he moved quite gracefully and had an easy gait about him.
As he moved through his men, he gave them a word here and there.
She could see that his men were pleased with the attention.
That was an important attribute of a knight as far as she was concerned, whether or not he showed interest in those he commanded.
Compassion was a rare and valuable trait in a fighting man.
He’s a good man. James’ words ran through her head again as she lost sight of Cortez in a group of soldiers up towards the front of the column.
She was coming to think that perhaps James might be right.
For all she’d put Cortez through, his attitude towards her hadn’t changed.
He was still polite, and still very kind to Sophie. A good man, indeed.
As she plodded along next to the wagon, lost in thoughts of Cortez, her horse suddenly slipped on the soft shoulder of the road and tumbled down a small incline, sending Diamantha flying.
She went face-first into the wet grass, landing heavily on her left wrist. She could hear the shouts of the men on the road and as she was shaking off the ringing in her ears, hands were reaching down to help her.
“I am fine, truly,” she insisted to those trying to assist her.
“Stay down, lady,” someone said to her. “Do not try to rise. Just sit a moment and gain your bearings.”
Diamantha lifted her right hand to wipe the wet and grass from her eyes, looking up into the concerned faces of two of Cortez’s knights. She recognized Drake de Winter first.
“My horse?” she asked, straining to look about. “Is she well?”
Drake, crouched down beside her in full armor, looked over to see someone tending to the now standing horse. “She looks well enough for the most part,” he said, returning his attention to her. “And you? Did you hit your head?”
Diamantha lifted her left arm, moving to put a hand to her head, but she winced when pain shot through her wrist. Instinctively, she gasped and grabbed it. “God’s Bones,” she hissed, realizing she had hurt her arm. “Now, that is not a good sign, is it?”
It was a rhetorical question. But there was a second knight with de Winter and he, too, crouched down next to her. Oliver St. John was a very tall man with piercing blue eyes. He had heard her comment and his expression was one of concern.
“May I see, my lady?” he asked, holding out a hand. “Mayhap it is not broken.”
Timidly, Diamantha extended her hand about the time Cortez came thundering up on his big hairy war horse. The entire column had come to a halt by now and he bailed off his charger as he hurried to her side. St. John was just starting to examine the wrist when he came up.
“What happened?” he demanded, looking rather frightened. “My lady, are you well? Did you hurt yourself?”
She opened her mouth to answer but winced when St. John touched a tender spot. “I am well enough,” she said, sounding disgusted. “It was stupid of me, really. I was not watching where my horse was going and she slipped down the embankment. Is she truly well?”
De Winter stood up and went to check on the horse himself for the lady’s peace of mind. Cortez took his place beside her, realizing when he looked at her face that it was covered with pieces of grass. It was in her beautiful hair. Before he could comment, St. John looked at him.
“We must wrap this wrist,” he said. “She must have used it to catch her fall and it is already swelling.”
Cortez was concerned. “Is it broken?”
St. John shook his head. “I do not believe so,” he said. “But we must wrap it just the same.”
Between Cortez and Oliver, they managed to pull Diamantha to her feet as the rain pounded down upon them.
She turned to walk back up to the road but Cortez was already in motion.
He swept her into his big arms and carried her up to the wagon where Sophie was trying to catch a glimpse of her mother.
When she saw Cortez carrying the woman in the direction of the wagon, she popped out from beneath the oiled tarp.
“Mama!” she called. “Mama, what ’tis wrong?”
Cortez set Diamantha carefully down on the end of the wagon bed. “Nothing is wrong,” Diamantha assured her child. “My horse slipped, ’tis all.”
As St. John and Cortez moved to wrap Diamantha’s wrist with items brought around by Cortez’s quartermaster, Sophie plopped herself onto her mother’s wet lap. Diamantha shrieked softly.
“Sophie, nay,” she said, trying to hold her child back with one good hand. “I am all wet!”
Cortez intercepted the little girl and picked her up, taking her away from her mother and tucking her back beneath the oiled tarp where it was dry. When the little girl started to whine, he pointed to her caged pets.
“Have you named them, yet?” he asked, trying to distract her. “I should think you would have thought up many names by now. What have you named the kittens?”
His ruse was working. Sophie turned to look at her little pets, who were sleeping contentedly after their feeding. As Cortez had hoped, she crawled back beneath the tarp and went to the cage, hovering over it and pointing.
“This kitten’s name is General,” she told him.
Cortez shook his head. “You already have a pony named General,” he said. “The kitten deserves his own name. What else have you thought of?”
Sophie’s brow furrowed as she thought on his question. “I do not know,” she said. “I do not know any other names.”
Cortez cocked his head, mulling over the situation. “Well,” he said slowly, “when I was young, my mother had two cats named Edward and Eleanor, after the king and queen.”
Sophie’s expression brightened. “I will name my kittens Edward and Eleanor, too!”
Cortez grinned. “What about the rabbit?” he asked. “Rabbits like grass and clover. Why not name him Clover?”
Sophie squealed happily and nodded her head. “What about the fox?” she wanted to know. “I want to name him after my father!”
Cortez patted her little leg. “I believe he would like that,” he said softly. “The fox shall be called Robert.”
Sophie’s face fell. “But I want to call him Father.”
Cortez bit off a chuckle. He was trying to prepare a reply she would not only understand, but agree with, when Diamantha spoke.
“Sweetheart, your father’s name is Robert,” she told her. “You know that is his name. You cannot name a fox Father.”
Sophie was moving into a pout. “Why not?”
Cortez and Diamantha looked at each other. Why not, indeed? With a shrug, and fighting off a grin, Diamantha replied.
“Very well,” she said. “If that is what you wish, my little love.”
Sophie was back to being happy again and Cortez’s gaze lingered on the little girl for a moment before returning his attention to Diamantha, whose wrist was very nearly wrapped by now.
St. John, who usually tended the wounded because it was a great skill he had acquired in the Holy Land, had wrapped it quite neatly.
The knight tightened up the bindings to the point of Diamantha wincing.
“There,” he said, inspecting his work. “That should do for now. I will take a look at it tonight to see how it fares. Meanwhile, we should keep it cold. The cold will help with the swelling. Keep the wrist exposed to the rain and let it soak. The temperature is so cold that it will keep it chilled.”
Diamantha had never heard of such a thing but she didn’t argue with him; she simply nodded. “May I ride my horse?”
St. John and Cortez glanced over their shoulder as a soldier brought Diamantha’s mount up onto the road. The horse had bloodied knees. Cortez went over to the animal and ran his hand up both front legs, feeling for injury. After a moment, he turned to Diamantha.
“I feel some swelling in the left front leg,” he told her. “Mayhap you should ride in the wagon with Sophie until we stop for the night. You do not want to put undue strain on your horse right now.”
Diamantha had no choice but to agree. As they tied her horse to the back of the second provisions wagon, next to General, Diamantha moved beneath the oiled tarp where her daughter was.
Sophie was excited for her mother’s company and happily pointed out her bunny and fox kit.
Diamantha showed interest in her daughter’s pets as she removed her wet cloak, using it as a blanket to better cover her from the rain coming in off of the oiled tarp.
Even as she listened to her daughter speak of Clover and Father, her attention seemed to drift back to Cortez, who was speaking with one of his men about Diamantha’s horse.
They were both watching the horse as it walked, making sure nothing else was wrong with it.
Diamantha thought it was rather kind of the man to take such an interested in her palfrey.
And sweet, aye, it was sweet. He was showing an inordinate amount of kindness and concern towards her.
When he had picked her up and carried her back to the wagon, the power of his arms hadn’t gone unnoticed by her.
In fact, she rather liked the hard bulk of the man, his strength radiating out from behind the armor.
It was hard to miss. She realized that in those brief few seconds that she felt safe and protected.
She hadn’t had that feeling in a very long time.
She wasn’t hard pressed to admit that she liked it.
Perhaps she was coming to like him, just a little.