“I do. She grows giddy every time their path crosses and he finds chores for her to do that keeps them near,” Snow confirmed.

“I’m glad for them both. He deserves a good woman and Eleanor has proven to be one. She has been a great help here and…” A yawn stole the rest of her words.

“You need to rest,” Snow said, though it sounded like an order.

Willow was surprised and pleased by the strength she heard in Snow. Her absence had been good for Snow. Even though Eleanor had been here to help her, it wasn’t the same as one of her sisters she had grown dependent on.

Eleanor entered the room. “Your husband is bathing. He says when he is done, he will come sit with his grandmother so that you may bathe and rest. I will have a fresh bath prepared for you as soon as he is done. Food and drink also awaits you in your parents’ bedchamber.”

“I am most grateful for that, Eleanor,” Willow said, looking forward to finally having a good washing and donning clean garments.

“Come, Thaw, it’s time for supper,” Snow called out and the pup got up with a stretch from where he slept by the hearth, gave a quick bark, and hurried to Snow’s side.

Alone, Willow went and sat by Sara, her legs and feet far too tired to remain on them. Sara rested comfortable. Willow had redressed her wounds with clean cloths and had washed her and got her into a soft wool nightdress. Eleanor had helped, combing and plaiting Sara’s hair. She had sipped a good portion of the brew Willow had ordered prepared, and thankfully her fever hadn’t returned. Slatter had been right about his grandmother. She was a strong, stubborn woman.

She wondered about the conversation that had taken placed in James’s solar. What had James said to Slatter and Slatter to him? And what nonsense had Rhodes spouted?

“Slatter.”

The soft whisper had Willow moving from the chair beside the bed to the bed itself. She sat beside the old woman and gently took her hand. She was about to let Sara know that her grandson would be there soon and that she was Slatter’s wife when words rushed out of the old woman’s mouth.

“Not safe,” she said, squeezing Willow’s hand. “Not safe.”

“You’re safe now, Sara. There is nothing to fear,” Willow said, trying to reassure and calm her.

Sara shook her head and grew more agitated. “Not safe. Not safe.”

Willow stroked Sara’s arm. “It is safe, worry not. Rest and grow strong.”

Sara’s restless stirrings eased and once again she fell into a peaceful slumber.

Willow returned to the chair and sat. The warmth of the fire soothed and the crackling and spitting of the logs was like a comforting melody that lolled her, and she soon found her head bobbing as she dozed on and off.

A gentle hand on her shoulder had Willow turning her head.