More Secrets and the Horse Race - Book 8 - The Frencolian Chronicles

Chapter 6

The 'master' —a man, who as a new-born baby, was named by his father, 'Elliad John Prewitt' —lifted the thick curtain shrouding the sedan chair, drawing the rug away from his latest and most longed-for acquisition.

"Ah —at last! —My princess!" he exclaimed, "My promised reward for saving her life. But look at her!"

Bright light from the descending full moon shone on her.

His voice-tone overflowed with delighted approval that none had heard from him for a long time, "She's so —grown up! So much more of her, taller too. Such a scrawny little piece she was. I can see why he wanted to keep her." Turning to his army chief, he said, "Tod and his team did extremely well, didn't they. They're headed back to Frencburg?"

"Yes, Sir, but I didn't see any of his team this time. Victoria came ahead and wishes to seek sanctuary with us rather than returning to Bruis."

Drawing the hair back from Jobyna's lower face, the master's brilliant blue eyes feasted on her lips, her nose and her neck before traveling the full length of her body, down to her boots and back to the beauty of her long, dark, closed eyelashes. Lifting the coppery curls away from her forehead, he gasped. With an accusative tone, he demanded, "What's this? How did this happen? I thought it might have been a graze or such, but this has been made from a heavy impact! Some instrument hit this very hard, not just the dirt path."

"Perhaps there was a small rock..." Sir Beswold offered.

"It was struck with a big rock. She must have fallen hard, face down; her forehead hitting first. She could have broken her neck! Was she conscious when you reached our cottage?"

"She was sleeping, Sir, drugged, I believe."

The master touched the bruise lightly, then pressed it firmly, all the way around before placing his palm across her brow. "It's hot. You'll order cold compresses at the ready for this as soon as she arrives, but not icy cold. Go ahead, have them draw water from the North well." Holding two fingers on Jobyna's jugular vein, he felt her pulse. No one dared to move or speak. "It's a slow beat. That could be bad, or it could be good."

Springing up on his horse, he ordered, "Recycle the sedan runners and keep moving. I want her at my castle as fast as you can get her there. I expect you to be right behind me."

Turning his horse to point back the way he had ridden, the master urged his horse to canter. The company with him divided into two, half following their master and the rest forming rank behind the sedan.

~~~~~

Jobyna roused several times, finding herself between satin sheets in the luxury of a large soft bed, not knowing where she was and not remembering that she had come to consciousness several times over the past twenty-four hours. It was early in the morning; again, still dark. Each time she opened her eyes, either the forewoman or the under-forewoman had sent for the master and then spoken to her, hoping she would wake and talk to them so that when the master arrived, he would be able to speak with her, and she to him.

True to his nature, and that of his late brother's, the master grew impatient. He had learned to control this much more than the King, Elliad, who had little to no patience with anything that didn't go the way he wanted.

The master had lived for this day! —To have this unique creature in his castle —at last! —His to have, to hold and control.

"Where am I?" she managed. She closed her eyes and would have slept again but a female voice insisted, "You're awake, Princess, I know you're awake." Turning she called, "Inform the master that his princess is awake and talking to us."