He lifted her chin with a gentle finger and kept it there even after she met his eyes. They were soft and warm. “Thank you for listening. You are the only person in my new life that I’ve told of this.” Sarah started, surprised. Propping himself up against the back of the couch, Damien grinned weakly, but it was genuine. He pulled her up to sit beside him. She shifted to face him, and he brought her hand to his lips. The carefully manicured scruff on his chin brushed her hand, and Sarah felt something shoot down to her toes. “And thank you for caring.” Damien’s breath brushed her knuckles.
“Of course,” she rasped past a suddenly dry throat.
Damien leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, clearly spent. But he still clutched her hand to his chest like she might disappear while he slept. His lips parted as he began to fade, and Sarah allowed herself a moment to study him in the soft light.
A thin line of dark scruff ran along his jawline and then reached up to touch his full lower lip. A matching set of dense lashes fanned out over usually olive-toned skin on either side of the narrow, perfectly sculpted nose that spoke of his high breeding. The boyish dent in his right cheek, where a dimple had permanently left its mark, and the smile lines on either side of his mouth contrasted with the ever-present crease on his forehead and the squint-marks at the corner of his eyes.
His strong features were definitely refined and handsome, she couldn’t deny it. But while these things had certainly drawn her in when they’d first met and only grown on her since, it was becoming increasingly apparent to her, as she watched him rest in childlike trust that she would watch over him, that it had been the vulnerability and pain she had seen behind the self-confident swagger that had intrigued her.
Sarah was caught up in her thoughts and didn’t realize that her patient had one eye trained on her, a cheeky glimmer in his gaze. “Something you find interesting?”
And then there were moments when her compassion ended with a roll of her eyes when his self-assuredness leaked through. How could the man elicit so many different emotions from her in one sitting?
Sure her face showed her internal struggle, Sarah tried to recover without inflating his ego further. “Actually, I was just thinking that you looked a little sickly and tired.” His grin only broadened, and she knew she hadn’t convinced him. Softening her tone, she urged, “You need to rest.”
Damien tugged her a little closer and draped one arm heavily about her shoulders, forcing her to lean against him as the weight of it pulled her down. He grinned defiantly down at her. “Actually, I’m quite comfortable where I am. You look lovely tonight, by the way.”
Sarah pushed against him so he could see her reprimanding look. “Be serious. You looked ready to drop a minute ago, and I don’t think I can carry you to your bed if you fall asleep.”
Weariness entered his gaze when he looked at the few feet between the bed and the small couch. “I think this spot is perfect. Besides, the worst is over.”
Sarah suddenly understood why his arm felt so heavy across her shoulders; he clearly did not have the strength to brave the minute distance.
Gnawing on her lower lip as she stared at the bed in thoughtful silence, she finally rose on cramped legs, grimacing at the needles that that shot through her numb feet as the blood returned to them. She snagged a pillow and the ornate quilt from the mattress and lugged them back to him, half carrying-half dragging the monstrosity behind her.
“You could sleep here, if you want to,” she said delicately, conscious of his manly pride and the fact that her urging him into bed like a fretting mother might insult said manhood. Especially if he couldn’t make the journey in the first place. “It’s probably better not to move around so much, anyway.”
Damien looked relieved that she had taken the decision away from him and nodded eagerly. “Yes, the nurse is always right.” She grinned indulgently and pretended she didn’t catch his tight-lipped grimace as he lowered himself to his side. Sarah slipped the pillow beneath his head and watched it sink heavily into the downy-soft feathers. She started to heft the blanket over him, but his hand snaked out and caught her wrist.
“You have done enough, Sarah,” he said. “It must be getting late.”
She wasn’t quite ready to leave him alone, and she would have more peace of mind watching him here than she would fretting over his condition from her own room. “I don’t mind staying a little longer—just until you get settled.”
Damien frowned, and she could tell he was about to argue with her. Though she couldn’t help wondering if a part of him wanted her to stay. “You should not—”
“How long were you like this tonight?” she asked abruptly.
He stared up at her, hesitating. “Not too long.” His answer was careful—to spare her feelings, she knew.
Sarah bit her lip, troubled. She should have known that something was wrong when he didn’t come for her and then gone to find him. Maybe she could have done more if she had discovered him earlier, or at the very least been there for him. She gently slipped her arm from his grasp and arranged the blanket over him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” she murmured. When she slanted him a glance through her hair, she caught his lips curving in a contented smile.
He said with a low voice, “It has been quite some time since I was taken care of so well.” Damien’s eyes were alight with warmth even as his lids drooped to half-mast. He took her hand again before she could pull away, tired eyes searching her face. “You could have done nothing more if you had been here sooner. Believe me.”
“But I could have at least been here,” she countered.
He smiled, a little bit of the old, playful Damien returning. “I admit that I feel far more at peace with you near. But I suppose if you feel that way, then by all means, my lady, stay with me until the sun sets fire to the darkness.”
Sarah bit her lip to keep from grinning, his teasing manner automatically dismissing any underlying implications. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” She sat down on the floor and folded her legs Indian-style.
His smile remained on his face a moment longer before it ebbed. He propped himself up on his elbows, brow furrowed in concern. “I didn’t think this through properly, and I cannot request that you to stay.”
“What?”
“A man should never ask a lady to take the ground, and it wouldn’t be proper to have you remain unchaperoned. I would hate to tarnish your reputation.”
He looked so genuinely torn up about it that Sarah couldn’t suppress her grin. “That’s sweet of you to think of that, but I’m not that worried. Besides, I’m pretty sneaky, so no one will see me leave.”
“But—”
“Sleep, Damien,” she urged. He watched her another second before lowering himself once more, his eyes closing in fatigue.
“I am a weak example for my entire sex,” he muttered, half asleep already.
Sarah chuckled softly. His lips tipped almost imperceptibly in a grin before it faded as he succumbed to his exhaustion.
She leaned against the front of the settee, pressing her back to his bent knees, angled so he could fit on the small couch. She wondered if the contact was meant to comfort him in his sleep, or if it was to reassure her of his presence. Either way, in the silence of the room, she couldn’t ignore the fact that there was something in Damien that pulled her to him.
Yes, he was attractive, self-confident, and ridiculously charming, the kind of man that got under your skin whether you wanted him to or not by being so irritatingly endearing. But beneath the layers of confidence and charm, there was also sadness that Sarah wanted to wipe away. Maybe God had brought her into Damien’s life so she could draw him to the Lord. She had failed to do just that where Will was concerned, but this might be her second chance. Convenient that she only seemed to remember to mention God and faith when the man she wished to save was unconscious.
Sighing, Sarah rose and went to the fire, dumping the contents of the pitcher beside
the hearth onto the dying embers. The orange-yellow glow quickly went out with a prolonged hiss as the water sloshed over the logs.
She slipped out of Damien’s room, with a final glance at her sleeping patient, into the empty hall. Closing her own door with a muted click, she quickly readied for bed and slipped under the quilts. Her body tense with concern, she forced it to relax and prayed for peace and safety for Damien while he slept. Then she tried to close her mind for the night, but it refused to shut down completely, and she remained awake as her mind raced to put all of the missing pieces together.
Yet no matter how hard she tried to fill in the blanks, there were just too many unanswered questions that left huge chunks in her theories. She wasn’t any good at solving these things alone.
Sarah smiled to herself in the dark room, reminded that she would never be entirely alone. She whispered a quick prayer for wisdom and decided that tomorrow she would see if there was a way to get a message to Karen. But it was a comfort to know she had at least one friend out there, and for now, she chose to remember that Someone was always with her.
~Chapter 25~
Will closed the door with more force than he’d intended. Though the dull smack as wood met wood was perfectly satisfying, it did nothing to lessen the dark cloud hovering over his current mood. Yes, he had been in the right when he decided to let her go, he was sure, but that did not mean that he was pleased about it. He hadn’t even gone back to tell Robert that he was leaving for the day, but had come straight home.
Irritated, he stomped his heavy leather boots on the entry floor, knowing he would have to clean up the mess later but needing to act irrational for one blasted moment. Shrugging off his coat as he kicked his boots into a corner, he tossed the garment carelessly onto the rocking chair, setting it in a hazardous motion and nearly toppling it.
The chair had been his uncle’s house warming gift to him, and, craftsman that he was, Thomas had spent weeks carving ornate designs into the arms and legs of the chair, all things that reminded him of his nephew, he’d told him—the leaves and trees of the forest, tangled vines, animals of the wood, and a bow loaded with a single arrow in the center of the oak headrest; the string was pulled back, always at the ready.
Will frowned. He would hate to break something that his uncle had put so much thought and effort into in one childishly hotheaded moment. But he felt too worked up to go over and still the rocking chair.
He crouched before the hearth, starting a fire with little effort. It would take hardly any time for the heat to permeate the sparse one-room cabin he and his uncle had built when Will decided it was time for him to be a man. At the present, he felt more like a petulant child than the grown businessman that he was.
Sighing, he rose, walking to the chest in the corner of the “bedroom.” He gingerly removed the patchwork quilt his mother had made and given to her older brother, Thomas. When Will’s parents died, his uncle had given it to him, saying that he needed it more than he did.
As with every other time he touched the fabric, he allowed himself a few seconds for the memories to surface as he reverently held the quilt. But when the pain returned with those fond memories, as it always did, he quickly folded and placed it on his bed and out of sight, tamping the remembrances down with it.
With only a brief hesitation, Will knelt and hefted the chest lid open, the rusty old hinges groaning in protest. He pulled out the stack of trousers and shirts and set them on the floor. His breath caught in his chest as he stared at the past, out of sight but never completely forgotten.
The thick woolen cloak had been carefully folded, and atop it laid his precious bow. He had placed them at the very bottom of the cedar chest beside his quiver—stocked full of unused arrows—in the event that someone went searching through his possessions. Will reached inside and pulled out his trusty bow, which his father had helped him make when he was yet too small for the weapon. So many memories. . . .
But he had made a vow, had he not? As much as he wished to don his cloak once more and be useful, he was no longer benefitting Serimone as vigilante for the people. With Captain Quinn back on the royal guard, the riffraff on the streets were quickly being purged, and the Shadow was becoming more and more obsolete. And the vendetta that had caused him to create his alter ego was a moot point now, what with Gabriel being nearly nonexistent.
Sarah’s words about him being needed came back to haunt him, and he thoughtfully plucked the string of the bow. It had felt good to be needed.
His head snapped up at the sound of cracking branches and an animal’s high-pitched squeal, shattering the perfect stillness of the forest outside. He quickly stashed his bow back in the chest and closed the lid in one familiar movement before silently making his way to the tightly shuttered window—the only one cut into the side of the small house. Listening for any further sound from outside, his body tensed as he unlatched the shutter and cracked it open before pulling it wide. A badger that had no business being out of its hole this time of year scurried away through the cascade of powder falling from a low branch. The animal must have been seeking high shelter and fallen from its unstable perch.
Will re-latched the window as his pulse slowed. He was being jumpy, out of practice after so many months in reclusive hiding. He glanced back at the chest and frowned. But he did need to be more careful.
Opening the lid again, he placed everything back inside before covering it with the beautiful quilt. It was a life he had buried long ago, and along with it, his belief that he could make a difference. Experience had taught him that the past was best left in the past, however much he wished to resurrect it.
****
Sarah watched as Edith dutifully shoveled the ashes from the fireplace. She munched on her apple, feeling idle even though the older woman had scoffed at the idea of them working side-by-side, the lady and the maid.
“I don’t see why I can’t just help a little.”
Still gripping the small scoop, Edith cocked her head so that Sarah could see the streak of ash on her cheek and the smudge on the tip of her nose, as if she had face-planted in the pile she was scooping. Sarah was going to bring it to her attention when the older woman quirked an amused brow. “Is this the face of a lady?” she asked wryly.
Sarah grinned and took a cloth napkin from the tray, holding it out to her. “Yes, it is the face of a lady, but you still might need this.”
Edith smiled in return, though she declined. She said, “It would just be a waste to clean up now,” and went back to scraping the ashes into a pile.
Leaning against the hearth, Sarah watched as the sky gave way to dusk through the small crack in the window. She felt nothing but gratitude for their friendship and knew that Edith was on the same page—today she seemed brighter and happier.
“What does the good lord have in store for you today?”
Sarah blinked, surprised. Then she realized that Edith was referring to Damien, not the Lord. That was a little easier to answer; she was still trying to sort out what God’s plan for her was, exactly. “I don’t think that we have any set ideas for today. I haven’t even seen him yet this morning.” That fact had worried her, and she had walked past his door four times since the morning, listening for any sounds of movement. She thought he might have awakened early and gone out until she spotted a servant tiptoeing into his room with his lunch tray and leaving quietly a moment later. Though she wanted to give him space after his ordeal last night, she was still tempted to check on him.
“Oh?” Edith leaned back on her heels and studied her. “It seemed that the both of you were getting rather close, so I assumed he would have engaged you for the evening.” She paused. “Neither of you attended supper.”
Sarah swallowed, feeling caught. Did she know something about last night? But her face was merely curious, and there wasn’t a note of suspicion in her gaze.
Sarah breathed a little easier. She shrugged. “He wasn’t feeling well, so we decided to reschedule for another night.�
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Nodding, the older woman rose from her cramped position and clapped her palms together, sending a cascade of pale ash onto the floor. She pulled a well-worn handkerchief from her apron pocket and went about dusting her face and hands, though it only served to smudge the gray color over her skin.
Edith held her arm up for her inspection and chuckled. “I will certainly be needing a thorough scrubbing before traipsing about the castle. I’ll be doing more harm than good in this state!“
Smiling, Sarah remarked, “You’re in an awfully good mood this morning.”
Glancing around, Edith leaned in. Sarah had never seen her eyes so bright or her face so radiant, coming from within. She took the younger girl’s hands in her own. “We can’t talk here—someone might overhear. But, oh, Sarah, I have such good news.”
Sarah gave her hands a quick squeeze, watching her face with curiosity. “Well, what is it?”
“Later. It was simply something you said yesterday. I was up all night thinking about it!”
Her eyes were so bright that Sarah had to laugh. “You can’t even give me a hint? What if—”
A woman’s scream rent the air a heartbeat before a cacophony of objects clattering over stone echoed downstairs.
Edith and Sarah shared a worried look before bolting from the room. Running to the stairs with identical strides, they leaned over the short length of banister and saw a young servant girl on her knees the level below. She was weeping, wooden bowls and utensils strewn about from when she had dropped the tray in her fall. A single arrow lay broken a foot from the wall, having shattered when it connected with the hard stone. Sarah suddenly understood the girl’s distress: It had only missed her by a few inches.
A commotion sounded on the lower level above the girl’s cries, and a menagerie of workers and servants converged in the large room to investigate and offer help. Some questioned the distressed servant, while others began collecting the things she had dropped or offered her words of comfort.
Chasing Shadows Page 27