Immortal Love by Victoria Craven Page A

two.”
    “You did your very best. It is now in God’s
hands. You have quite the skill for healing.”
    “We will see soon enough if that’s so.”
    “The master will not hold you responsible, my
lady. He is a reasonable man.” Martha collected the leftover
bandages and mending materials and walked out of the great
hall.
    Eleanor was about to leave when Dominick
called out to her from the stairs. Nervously, she made a pretense
of wiping imaginary dust from the table as he approached her. A
shock ran through her when he took her hand and gently
squeezed.
    Looking up into his eyes, she saw something
she hadn’t expected to see—gratitude.
    “Thank you for helping Henry,” he said
softly.
    “What did you expect me to do?”
    “Nothing.”
    “What do you mean nothing?”
    His thumb stroking across her palm was making
her edgy. “Most noblewomen would have run to their chambers at the
first sight of blood, but you didn’t. You took the initiative and
mended Henry’s wound.”
    Pulling her hand away allowed her to think
more clearly. He was too close, and her body was reacting
strangely. She hid her emotions behind a façade of indignation and
insult. “You forget, my lord, that we were at war with McPhearson.
Many were wounded, and I treated my share of them. These men are my
responsibility. A responsibility I don’t take lightly.”
    Dominick stepped closer, sending the
unexplainable current through her nerves. “You told me Martha
usually cared for injured men, but responsibility or not, I’m
grateful.”
    “Gratitude is not necessary,” she said
fighting the urge to run away.
     

Chapter
Seven
    D ominick dragged
himself to the evening meal. His body was used to the long hours of
hard work, but his mind was in turmoil with the circumstances of
his marriage.
    That afternoon, Eleanor had shown compassion
he rarely saw in noblewomen. Yet when he only wished to thank her,
she practically spat in his face. The contradiction was
confusing.
    Dominick understood Eleanor’s anger about the
marriage and her hatred for men. But did she hate all men or
just noblemen? He suspected noblemen, because her compassion
for Henry was evident. In just the short time he had known Eleanor
he had discovered she was a very independent woman. With him coming
to Godwin her choices had been taken away. He understood her anger,
but would he spend the rest of his life paying for the actions of
others?
    Her vow in the meadow made it clear—he would
never have her heart. The fluid waters of helplessness left him
unsteady. He couldn’t slay the monster that instilled her fear and
hatred, for he was already dead. Hopefully, suffering the fires of
the underworld.
    McPhearson came to mind. Eleanor had nearly
waited too long to ask for the king’s help. A few more days and
Godwin would have been in McPhearson’s hands, and she would have
been forced into a hellish existence.
    But just putting down the siege was not
enough. King William knew Godwin needed a permanent solution or
McPhearson would attack again.
    Eleanor couldn’t see the reason behind the
marriage. She only saw the King’s general, another warrior, forcing
her and her people into submission. Despite her stubbornness, she
struck a protective cord in him. Her small stature and thin frame
pulled at his heart. Her jade eyes captivated him. Her courage
inspired him, yet her obstinacy drove him to near madness.
    “What is troubling you, Brother?” Randolf
joined Dominick at the head table in the great hall.
    “Eleanor was not what I expected.”
    Randolf’s brows furrowed. “What did you
expect?”
    “I have seen many marriages of convenience.”
He took a sip of ale, then continued, “For the most part they have
worked out amicably. But Eleanor meets our marriage with a great
deal of resistance. I thought she would be grateful for the match
and the protection I bring to her people, yet the woman wants no
part of me.”
    “Maybe time is what you need. She