Chapter 12
Needless to say, it would have been most improper for Edwina to be present in the same room with James while the latter was bathing.
Most people in the keep may have had a general lack of concern when it came to allowing them to be alone together in James’s chamber.
It could hardly be avoided, to some degree, if she was to engage in the healing measures which were required.
But even so, there was a point at which proper decorum simply could not be denied, and a woman being in the room with a naked man who was not her husband absolutely crossed that line.
That said, Edwina also needed to be largely present or nearby whenever possible in case James had need of her (or worse, tried to escape or procure opium when left to his own devices).
With that in mind, it fell to her to remain directly outside the door of his chamber with her back to the wall, listening as he readied for the bath.
Her ears were keen, and they picked up the sounds of his clothes falling to the floor in a heap, the faint groan of discomfort from him as he moved his wounded leg, the sound of his body sinking into the tub and displacing the water…
She could not help it; she found herself picturing all of these things vividly in her imagination and felt vaguely embarrassed for doing so.
Generally, she’d had little use for fantasies of men, given how unwilling she had been to submit to any sort of sustained or serious courtship.
Such things, as a rule, were of no interest to her.
And in this case, why, the fellow in question was an absolute mess.
An opium fiend who had twisted and destroyed himself almost to the point of utter oblivion.
A man who had called her everything but a child of God in his rage at her for trying to help him!
A man who, even if she managed to rescue him from the depths of addiction, still had so many scars upon his psyche that it was highly unlikely he would ever fully recover from them.
And yet…
She found there was something about him that was nevertheless magnetic, drawing her deeper and deeper into him the more time she spent with him.
Perhaps part of it was because she was unaccustomed to being needed.
She could plainly see that her ministrations were required in order to pull James from the brink of the abyss.
No one else had managed the success she had thus far, despite the fact that they had labored at it for months while she had only been there a matter of days.
In some ways, she had often felt superfluous to her own family.
Yes, she knew they loved her, but what role did she fill?
There were so many Wallace siblings that she sometimes felt lost and ignored among them, and she knew on some level that this was largely the reason for her sharp tongue—to be noticed, to distinguish herself even if it was as someone spiteful and difficult.
To be truly needed was a new experience for her, and she found that it appealed to her.
Her affection for James did not come from pity, for she pitied him not.
He was a man with many more advantages than most had been equipped with in life, yet he had chosen to mire himself in self-loathing and victimhood.
He did not need pity but rather a good smack in the mouth (metaphorically speaking) to wake him up and get him moving again.
Her blunt and pragmatic temperament, she felt, put her in a unique position to do that for him, and she was glad of that.
But more than anything else, she felt a certain deep satisfaction at having won him over, to some degree. He had gone from bellowing and cursing at her to accepting her, and rather rapidly, at that. She could scarcely remember ever having had such a profound effect on anyone before.
“So tell me, then,” he spoke up, raising his voice so he could be heard through the door, “how did you come to be interested in healing, eh?”
She was about to give the usual reply about having been bored with the usual girlish pursuits, but when she opened her mouth, something else entirely emerged.
“In the history of my family, many Wallaces have been gravely injured, yet survived just the same. In the histories, however, little is written of such things. They are wounded, they are brought back from the brink of death, and that is that. These writings entirely ignore the impact that the healers had in the course of our clan’s history, though their talents are evident in the stated outcomes.
Therefore, I wished to acquaint myself more with their endeavors.
They fascinated me and made me want to learn more of how a body can be rescued from its own seemingly certain demise.
” She paused, then added, “Bodies are such curious things, aren’t they?
They can be as fragile as eggs or resilient as iron, depending upon so many other factors like where they are struck, and how hard, and whether the person in question has the will to cling to life. ”
“I had never considered that,” James replied, “but you make an interesting point. I have known warriors who have survived being run through the chest and others who perished from a relatively light blow to the side of the head. Such things have always been a mystery to me, but it never occurred to me to make the time to learn more about them.” He chuckled.
“I suppose I simply imagined that when I was wounded, the healers would tend to it through their obscure ministrations, and, well, that would be that. I would either live or die.” There was a morose moment of silence.
“I did not imagine that I would instead be stuck in between the two states.”
“You have rather a penchant for the dramatic now that you have more of your mind back, don’t you? I think I preferred you when you were cursing incoherently.”
He laughed. “Well, then you have no one to blame but yourself, do you?”
“You make a fair point.” She thought for a moment, frowning. “It seems a peculiar thing, you not having a wife or a child at your age. I would have thought that before you were wounded, you would have secured such things for yourself.”
“Aye, I suppose most would assume so,” he agreed. “My own childhood was…not a happy one. I have often felt that this was reason enough for me to avoid such attachments. I have no confidence that I would not unwittingly repeat the mistakes of my father.”
“And which mistakes were those?” she inquired.
There were a few moments of stillness from within the chamber. Then: “Have you not heard these things from your sister or from Fergus?”
“Darina has made mention of them, yes,” Edwina admitted. “She could hardly do otherwise, given the rather villainous part your father had to play in her marriage to Fergus. However, I have not heard them from you, have I?”
“What is the difference?” he challenged.
“A significant one,” she replied evenly. “Your perceptions and experiences are your own, and not to be properly understood through hearsay. If I am to get to know you, then I would like to get to know you, not some secondhand story of you I received from another.”
“And…you wish to get to know me, do you?”
“I must, James, if I am to heal you as you require.”
Edwina heard him take a deep breath.
“He was a cruel and manipulative man. He pitted me against my brother every chance he could. He berated and belittled us both, constantly insisting that neither of us would ever amount to anything compared to him and his achievements. He beat us often, and sometimes quite severely.” He paused for a moment.
“I would not inflict such things on an innocent child for all the world, yet if that is the way of fathers, then I fear that very thing would transpire. So I find it better to remain without wife and child.”
“My own father was not that way, and many others are not either,” she pointed out. “You might also, in such a circumstance, be in a position to ensure that your child will have a better and kinder existence than you were given. Had that not occurred to you?”
“Fergus said something to that effect once, aye. It seemed an easy thing to say but a far more difficult thing to confront in the harsh light of reality.”
“Well, you have seen how your brother raises your nephew,” Edwina observed. “Do you find that he is repeating the errors of your father in doing so?”
There was a long silence. “No. He does not seem to be, and I am immensely glad of it.”
“There you are, then.” She suddenly felt embarrassed at having probed so deeply into his past and psyche, and she tried to lighten the tone of her voice. “How do you feel?”
“Surprisingly well, as a matter of fact,” he answered. “The hot water seems to be soothing my leg somewhat.”
“I suspected that it might,” she said, relieved.
Edwina heard him grunt slightly as, from the sound of it, he was attempting to lift himself out of the tub. Then there was a sudden crash, and he emitted a sharp cry of pain as he fell.
Reflexively, Edwina raced into the room to come to his aid.