The Thorn Bearer

by Pepper Basham

  “Yes, I wish you could too.”

  “After all that’s happened, I’ve realized what’s important. That life and…love should be cherished.”

  Her mouth dropped open. Her chest pulsed into a faster pace with the surprise in her breaths. As if choreographed, their horses moved closer, bringing her walnut-colored eyes into clearer view. She shifted under his gaze, and he knew she was trying to maintain composure. Did she feel the same pulsing energy swirling between them as certain as the new electric street lights on Main Street in Millington?

  A sudden movement blinked into Sam’s periphery – a dart of fur speeding across the path in front of him from the tall grass at his right. His body clenched with surprise. Sugar reared back, whinnying out her surprise and sending him off balance. He shouted his surprise and dropped the reins. Without another hesitation, the terrified horse took off in a dead run. Perhaps ‘dead’ wasn’t the best descriptive, especially since his life started to pass before his eyes.

  Sam’s expression sent a rush of awareness over her skin, trembling to life the hope from a few days ago. The same expression of…attraction darkened his aqua eyes. Could it be true? Could something beautiful and real surface beyond her doubt, her fear? Was he talking about her?

  She broke the hold his gaze held on her thoughts and turned back to the horizon, pulse pounding a trepid rhythm in her ears. Why was she taunting those paper-thin hopes? But her attention came back to him. The look glowed with more promise. How could she give into it?

  A rabbit from the underbrush rushed across their path, shocking her from contemplation and tightening her hold on Shakespeare. He took a few steps back then stilled, but Sugar panicked and took off in a full gallop, Sam hanging on for dear life. Oh heaven help her! He’d never trust her again!

  She dug her heels into Shakespeare’s sides and urged him after the desperate duo, their pace and path leading straight for Brantwood Lake. Ashleigh leaned in, Shakespeare’s black mane whipping against her face, the scent of him rich and familiar. She moved with him, control and strength a byproduct of years of riding. As pretentious as everything else was in her world, this complete abandon and speed fed an ache restricted like the confines of a corset.

  The lake emerged from over the next hill. Sugar didn’t seem to notice, her pace not slowing. Sam’s saddle slipped to the right, his grip and scream encouraging Sugar’s panic.

  So much for keeping Sugar’s girth tight. Sneaky horse. Would she catch Sam before the saddle slipped him over the side and Sugar trampled him? Would he crash into Brantwood? A whoosh of dread catapulted her back to the Lusitania, leaving him behind, knowing he might be among the many dead.

  She closed in, trying to mentally calculate how much time she had before they reached the lake. Sam’s saddle slid further to the right, the reins flapping free to his left and his arms clasped as far around the horse’s neck as he could get them. Poor man. If he survived the ride, he’d probably kill her.

  The lake glittered nearer, Sugar in a blind run. Ashleigh rode up to Sam’s left and reached for the loose reins. The leather flipped away. Sam had his eyes pinched tight, but at least he’d stopped calling for help. Shakespeare caught the gist of her request and followed the tilt of her body, edging closer to Sugar. Her fingers slipped over the reins on her second attempt, but then fluttered away before she could grasp them. The lake was seconds away. With a last attempt she snagged the leather and jerked back with more force than she’d intended.

  The scene slowed horror by horror. The horse slammed to a stop, hooves burying into the rocky beach until he was chest deep into the lake. Water rained around him in fury. With choreographed style Sam rose into the air over the head of the horse, turned a flip, and landed in a massive splash on the other side.

  Ashleigh stared at the waves in the place he’d landed, a circle of ripples the only indicator he broke through the surface. Complete shock locked her movements. Where was he? How could she find him under the murky lake?

  Sugar’s whinny shot her into motion. She slid from her saddle and ran into the lake. The cold water poured over her boots, seeping calf-deep. She scanned the surface, moving further, hands slicing into the depths in an attempt to find anything resembling an arm or leg. The icy water seeped into her breeches, shooting a residual chill up her spine.

  Oh God, help her.

  “Sam!”

  If he landed head first, it could kill him. Hitting at the wrong angle might break a bone. She moved deeper and drew in a quick breath. The water soaked through her shirtwaist and shocked another shudder to her system. “Sam!”

  Oh dear God, not another watery grave.

  All at once, something tightened around her ankles and pulled her off her feet. She reached for a handhold, but the water sliced through her fingers like air. The chilly lake caught her in mid-scream as her head plunged beneath the water.

  She fought to the surface, but strong hands supported her around the waist, bringing her to a stand on the muddy lake floor. Familiar laughter trickled through her water-soaked hearing. Relief poured through her at the rate of the water streaming down her face.

  “You know you deserved that.”

  Ashleigh wiped her vision clear with her saturated sleeve and shot Sam a glare. “I did not.” She splashed a wave of water right into his grin.

  He pulled her into his arms to stop her splashing, his brow raised in accusation from beneath a halo of dripping ringlets. “Fall in love with it?” He shook his head and water spun from his blond curls. “There is nothing lovely about watching my life flash before my eyes.”

  She shrugged and lowered her gaze to keep it from getting lost in those familiar eyes. The warmth of his body pressed into her damp clothes, urging her to snuggle in a little closer. She stilled the impulse. “I suppose you got the worst over now. There’s nothing left but enjoyment.” She tried to turn, but with water wrapped around her legs, the weight of her soaked clothes, and Sam’s palms molded to her shoulders, she could only stand there – trapped in front of him.

  “I’m not getting back on that horse, little girl.”

  He made an exaggerated gesture toward poor Sugar, but the mirth in his expression defied the storm cloud of wrinkles on his brow.

  Her pulse continued a steady climb in her ears. Near-death experiences coupled with dramatic reunions seemed to be their pattern, of late. Each one somehow drawing her heart closer and closer toward him.

  She dragged her gaze from his and cupped her hand over her eyes as she examined the mid-morning sun. A whole host of tingles joined a shiver across her skin, but they had more to do with Sam’s touch than the chill of the water. “It will take us two hours to return on foot.”

  “I think that’s the least you owe me after all the trouble you’ve caused with that sweet horse.”

  “Trouble I’ve caused?” She caught the playful gleam in his eyes, bluer from the brilliant colored sky behind him. A smile wrestled for release. Safe. He was safe. She couldn’t imagine losing him, or letting him go. There was no other man for her but him. “I suppose you are right, as usual. Perhaps we can try again next week.”

  He grimaced and stared down at her, his gaze a riddle of unreadable emotions. “Not on your or my life, Ashleigh Dougall.” His voice closed to a whisper. “But mostly mine.”

  “Don’t be dramatic.”

  His brow tilted along with the corner of his lips. “Dramatic? Don’t you think this scene resembles more of a comedy?”

  “Now, but not when you were flying to your death. I couldn’t think of losing you again.”

  The comment slipped out, unguarded. Their faces hovered inches apart, his warm breath against her face ramrodding a strange collision of internal heat and external chill of seizure-like proportions. She shuddered and his arms tightened around her, drawing her closer. Warmth spread from his body into hers and branched out across her skin.

  “You know, I’m a big fan of comedies and…romances.”

  “Are you?” Her ques
tioned breathed out, almost silent.

  His gaze roamed over her face, a sweet caress. Love lingered in his gaze. He reached up to touch her cheek, soft and warm against her skin. She held her breath, half fearing, half-hoping. Was this all a dream?

  She swayed forward, toward the lemon-tinted air. An overwhelming curiosity about his lips kept her focused on them a bit longer than any stare outside medical necessity, but they were suddenly magnetizing. Had Fanny been right? These feelings were natural? Even good? She could almost drown in the wonderful warmth of them, the anticipation…the hope. All of her tensed emotions came unloosed by his tenderness. Would he kiss her?

  Sam held her close, marveling at the perfect opportunity. Those beautiful pink lips parted, pumping shallow breaths against his neck, and her eyes searched his, uncertain, amazed, wondering. She revealed her love for him in those words, “I couldn’t think of losing you again.” Unraveled waves of damp curls poured over his palm against her cheek and her nearness worked its magic to loosen his tongue. “I am, especially romances that start with friendship and…um…frog gigging.”

  A snicker split her tempting lips into a smile. “Sam Miller,” she whispered his name, drawing him even closer into violet sweetness and walnut-brown eyes. “You’re the only man I know who can make the word frog gigging sound romantic.”

  “It is.” His fingers trailed a gentle line down her cheek. The touch of her skin fueled sparks up his arm with the promise of something remarkable. “Only the truest romances start there.”

  She studied his lips now, chest pumping a shallow rhythm of breaths like his. The culmination of shared pain, lasting friendship, and the aching patience in a long wait drew them toward each other. Maybe even a gesture from God’s hand gave them a final nudge.

  Ashleigh peeked up at him, their noses almost touching. Her gaze asked the question before it met her lips. “Sam?”

  He knew exactly how to answer her question. He cradled her face between his palms, and held her gaze until her eyes closed in acceptance and her smile spread with welcome.

  His mouth touched hers. Warm and sweet poured through him, stirring more than fire, but a sense of coming home. He drew back only to return and take another taste, an innocent and satisfying savor. She sighed into him, and he pulled her closer, more secure. Her body settled against his chest, one rhythm of heartbeats. This was where he belonged, kissing his best friend and falling in love all over again.

  One of his hands left her cheek to slide across her loose hair, cool and soft between his fingers. Her palms trailed over his shoulders, apparently enjoying the discovery as much as him, and her fingers knotted into the damp hair curled at the base of his neck, shocking a tingle across his scalp.

  He pulled back, his thumb smoothing across the soft folds of her bottom lip. “I’ve waited a long time for that, Miss Dougall.”

  Her eyes remained closed. “As have I.”

  “I don’t know about you, but it certainly exceeded my expectations.”

  Her gaze flickered to his. She placed her palm against his cheek. “I never thought we could…I only hoped.”

  “And now we might have a bit of a dilemma.”

  She frowned. “Can’t we return to simple and straightforward? It sounds so much lovelier.”

  He kissed her again and leaned his forehead against hers. “Simple may be in the future, but right now I have a sneaky suspicion Catherine isn’t going to approve of our mutual interest.”

  Ashleigh’s gaze sobered. “Particularly since it involves me.”

  The tension he’d seen during his visit didn’t sit well with Ashleigh’s future. “Maybe we should keep our complications secret for now, until closer to the time I leave?”

  Her smile returned and he rewarded it with another kiss, drawing a sigh from her. “I think we’re fairly good at managing secrets, don’t you?”

  “Are we?” He pulled her to his side and helped her to the rocky beach. “How long have you known?”

  She lowered her gaze, the soft flush returning. “Since we boarded the Lusitania.” Her expression turned apologetic. “I think it had been gradually growing for a long time, but I became aware of it then.”

  “You are good with secrets.”

  The light in her eyes dimmed. Her brow puckered. “Only when I have to be. You didn’t belong to me. I couldn’t act on my feelings. I wouldn’t have jeopardized your heart or even Catherine’s. But now—”

  Sam wound a strand of her hair around his finger. “Now?”

  “Now I have a beautiful secret.”

  He took her hand from his cheek and placed a kiss on her palm. “How could I have been so blind? Why did it take so long to see you?”

  The impish glint returned. “Well, Mr. Photographer, maybe you only needed the right focus.”

  He kissed her charming grin again. She gripped his shirt and encouraged him to linger. Their warm mouths sent a stark contrast to the cool dampness of their faces. She tasted sweet with the slightest hint of syrup from breakfast. Yes, his view had been out of focus for a while, distracted by periphery. Not anymore.

  She stepped back, palm pressed to her chest, and moved with unsteady gait to the horses. He followed with a lighter step, a notch of pride in his kiss’ effect on her.

  “Let’s walk, my dear friend.” Her words came breathless, raw.

  He snatched her hand and pulled it to his lips, warming her wrist and breathing in the fresh scent of violets. “Seems a shame to suddenly feel all this freedom inside and not be able to express it.”

  She sighed. “As long as we both understand the freedom of it, then I don’t care if anyone else knows.”

  “For now, but as soon as I can I’m going to shout it from every cobblestone street in Edensbury.”

  He braided his fingers through hers and they each grabbed the reins of a horse, giving a reluctant tug back to their world of pretend. “Come on, my kissing friend, let’s get you home and dry.”

  Her face brightened, nearly glowed. For him.

  She gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. “I must say that ride was the single most terrifying and rewarding I’ve ever had in my life. I can’t even think of a Life Saver to describe it.”

  “Ash-honey, I think we might need the whole pack of colors for that one.” He jammed one hand into his pocket and held the reins of Sugar, the rebel, with the other. Clamping his lips tight against the impulse for a victory cry of joy, he determined to keep their secret safe--for her sake. Even if he had to avoid Ashleigh and her lips to do it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “You’ve just given this woman a lot of information in a short amount of time.” Jess replaced her blood-soiled apron with a clean one and adjusted her white cap. “You and Sam have a secret romance?”

  “Shh…” Ashleigh shot her friend a sharp look in an attempt to curb her volume from the wounded in the room behind them.

  Jessica’s frown emerged from behind Ashleigh’s palm, but it didn’t match the twinkle in her eyes. “This demolishes my poor attempt at matchmaking, I assume.”

  Ashleigh shook her head and turned back to the fresh set of aprons on the table before them. “You would focus on your matchmaking scheme first, wouldn’t you?” She tied the apron tight. “When there is Lady Cavanaugh’s rejection and Catherine’s—”

  “Power hungry lusts?”

  Ashleigh slit a glance to the doorway to make sure no one was near enough to hear. Cora and Rachel, the two newer nurses, kept open ears to gossip.

  “It’s not as if people don’t already know about your sister.” Jess rewashed her hands in the basin of clean water. “Catherine’s been living in Edensbury for a year. Her reputation keeps the local newsmongers quite happy.”

  Ashleigh closed her voice to a whisper. “You think the general public knows she’s sleeping with him?”

  Jess dried her hands and stepped aside so Ashleigh could have access to the basin, her golden brow sliced to an arch. “She’s known throughout the village as a
notorious flirt.”

  A slight pang stung for her sister. Even after all the years of anger, watching her make these choices was like watching a…torpedo hit a ship. Disastrous. “Catherine’s behavior only fueled the flames of Lady Cavanaugh’s hatred for my family. What is she doing?”

  As they passed the doorway, Ashleigh caught a glimpse of Sam, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, toting several pieces of plywood. He nodded as he passed and topped it off with a wink. Ashleigh tried to tame her smile but failed miserably.

  “Oh yes, this secret will never get out.” Jessica rolled her eyes and turned toward the room of wounded. “Please, don’t resort to acting in those new moving pictures, Ashleigh. You’d never succeed.”

  Ashleigh’s warm cheeks cooled with the awareness. What would happen if Catherine found out? Weren’t there too many secrets already? In her sister’s anger-laced, volatile state, what might she do? Did she harbor the same dark past as Ashleigh did at their father’s hand?

  She came to a stop at the end of a bed and decided to return the topic to less terrifying places. “I’ve never understood your aunt’s feelings toward my grandmother. Grandmama is the loveliest woman in the world. I can’t imagine her offending anyone.”

  “Aunt Maureen has hated your grandmamma ever since she learned that Uncle Jeffrey wished to marry her first. When Grandma Dougall graciously turned Uncle Jeffrey down for Lord Quinley it took my uncle two years to recover. Aunt Maureen will never forget it. Your family’s decreased circumstances and Catherine’s behaviors are more socially acceptable excuses than Aunt Maureen’s childish jealous.” She nodded toward the patient in the bed, and raised a brow. “Redressing?”

  Ashleigh focused on the twenty-four-year-old amputee and nodded, stepping to one side of his cot. Poor man. Perhaps he’d be one of the lucky few to recover sight after gas exposure. The red splotches emerging from beneath the bandage on his face gave no reassurance.

  She grabbed gauze from the nearby table and turned to Jess. “But that was more than fifty years ago.”