“I ken.” Going off the pain in her gaze, she’d been scarred deeply. “I ken because as ye saw this morn, I face difficult memories as well.” He cupped her cheek. “But I will, with ye. We will do it together.” He wrapped a blanket around her and then sat with her on his lap. “Why not start with why ye said ye knew me in those moments when I lost control on Bartholomew.”
“I think I need to start a little further back than that,” she whispered, swallowing hard before she found her voice again. “I should start at the beginning. The moment my friend and I decided to visit a village on the French border.”
He frowned, not liking the sound of that.
“We were young and had no idea how dangerous it would be.” Greer stared at the fire, someplace else. She shook her head. “In truth, though we’d heard rumor of how bad the war had become, we thought ourselves invincible.” She pressed her lips together, struggling. “Our parents would have never allowed us to go there. They thought us visiting friends, but we were adventurous…and so very, very foolish.”
His body grew more and more tense.
“Alfred was soldiering in the area at the time, so we thought ourselves all that much more invincible.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “It really was such a lovely day. Sunny and warm.” Her voice grew wobbly. “But then I suppose what kind of day it was matters naught.”
“It does matter,” he said softly, recalling all too well how much the little things mattered during wartime. Most especially when trying to grasp on to anything good. “I remember a day much like that. The temperature was just right, the sky cloudless and blue.”
“As though nothing bad could happen beneath it,” she went on. “We laughed so much, truly enjoying the villagers. The children, women, all of them. They were so welcoming.” A soft smile curled her lips. “And it gave me a chance to practice my French.”
“They were innocents,” he whispered, there with her, understanding perfectly. “Yet so bloody vulnerable. Unprotected.”
“Yes,” she murmured. “So very unprotected.” Her eyes remained glazed. A smile lingered. “I still remember my friend throwing back her head and laughing at something one of the children said.” Greer's smile faded. “Then someone called out we were under attack.”
“Aye,” he continued on. “With but a single soldier to protect ye.”
“Yes, Alfred…I…” Greer closed her eyes again as if trying not to see her past before she forced them open. Made herself see. Faced it. “Warriors were everywhere, cutting down men, women, and children as if they’d caused them some great affront. As though their lives had no meaning.”
“Men turned monster,” he whispered, seeing the carnage all over again. The broken bodies.
The soldier over the near-lifeless woman.
“We had no idea which way to go.” Greer flexed her hand. “I tried to keep hold of my friend, but we got separated in the mayhem.” Another tear rolled down her cheek. “Alfred managed to hide me and another woman in a cottage.” She put a finger to her lips. “Quiet, he mouthed. Do not breathe a word.”
Teagan brushed away her tear and waited for her to go on.
“Then he stood inside the door and waited with his blade in hand.” More tears. “Would they open the door? Was that the end?” She touched her ear. “I could hear the cries of pain, the awful sounds of…” She inhaled a ragged breath. “You could not imagine the guilt I felt. The cowardice. I should have been out there doing anything I could to help…”
She trailed off and swallowed hard again before her gaze finally drifted to his face. “But I did not. I stayed there, trapped in terror. Useless. Helpless. Waiting for my certain death.” She shook her head. “But they never came…they never opened the door.” Though her eyes turned to the fire, he knew she peered into the past. “When it grew quiet enough, I crawled to the window, praying to God, hoping they weren’t all dead. That my friend…my very best friend…”
He barely breathed, feeling not just his pain but hers. So very much of hers.
“The animal horn window had a crack I could peer through, but the lighting was so dim I could barely see.” More silent tears. “But I saw her…” Greer’s gaze drifted to his face again. “And I think I saw you defending her…then covering her, praying over her...” Her breathing grew choppier. “Holding her hand when she left…” She tried to speak again and couldn’t. Eventually, she managed a few shaky words. “When Margery left…when she died.”
“Och,” he murmured, seeing it all so clearly now. Greer had been one of the lasses Alfred got out of there that day. “I cannae tell ye how sorry I am.” He clenched his jaw, angry all over again. “Had I just gotten there sooner, mayhap…”
“Mayhap what?” she said softly. Her brows drew together. “What could you have done against so many?”
“I might have had time to get more men,” he ground out. “At the verra least, I might have gotten to Margery before she was harmed. I could have stopped it before it ever happened.”
“Perhaps.” Greer shook her head. “Or perhaps not. It could be you were cut down first, and she died regardless.” She threaded her fingers with his, in the moment again, rather than the past. “You were there when you were meant to be there, Teagan.” Another tear trickled down her cheek. “There to salvage her dignity and lend her comfort in her final moments when I could not.” Her voice cracked. “I could not even give her a proper burial or say goodbye.”
“Ye did the only thing ye could, lass.” He shook his head, heartbroken she’d had to see all that. “Had ye run out there, ye would have suffered the same fate.” He squeezed her hand. “And Margery wouldnae have wanted that for ye.”
“But perhaps if Alfred and I had faced things together, we could have—”
“Nay.” He cupped her cheek, making sure her gaze stayed with him. “There were others about that day, Greer. Even as Margery was attacked. Too many for ye and Alfred to face alone. Yer cousin took the verra best course of action he could have. It ensured yer survival.” He shook his head. “Understand that, lass. Understand that ye were where ye needed to be and ’twas not cowardice. Ye knew naught about fighting, and even if ye did, ye would have been outnumbered.”
She managed a nod but gave no response.
“As to Margery having a proper burial, ’twas seen to.” He brushed her tears away. “Edmund and I saw them all buried and prayed for.”
“Thank God,” she whispered, leaning her cheek into his touch. More tears fell. “Thank you… Thank you both so much. I never knew…”
“Ye dinnae need to thank us,” he replied. “Margery was laid to rest in the end. Someday, if circumstances allow it, I will take ye to her burial site.”
“I would like that.” She rested her head against his shoulder. Silent tears kept falling. “Very much so.”
“What happened to the other lass who was with ye?” he asked. “Did she survive?”