So Rare a Gift (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 3)

by Amber Lynn Perry

  The man…William…spoke before she could form a single thought. “If it…” He stopped and glanced skyward. “I fear a storm will be upon us. There will be no traveling tonight. If…if you are comfortable, there is a cabin just beyond this small wood where we may take shelter and in the morning I will see what can be done about taking you to your family. Or wherever it is you wish to go.”

  A rumble thundered high above them. He was right. It would not be long before the heavens gave up their tears. She glanced at his hand still upon her elbow, allowing her vision to travel up his muscled forearm until she halted, startled by the tear in his shirt and the blood-stained bandage that circled his bicep.

  “You’re hurt.”

  He stalled, quirking his head as if he hadn’t understood what she’d said before following her gaze to his arm. “An old wound that is healing, ’tis all.”

  He gestured forward and Anna began walking again, watching every footfall so she would not need his assistance a second time.

  She glanced up from her footing. There before her, waiting like a lost child begging for notice, a little cabin rested at the far side of a clearing. Small, but not as run-down as she’d thought on first hearing the word “cabin.” The rustic nature of the dwelling stirred the youthful cravings for adventure that had always lured her heart. Peaceful, inviting. A sense of wilderness. A far cry from the spacious estate she’d resided in these past years, but far more real.

  William’s fingers brushed against her elbow as he walked past. He stopped a few paces ahead and turned back. “This will suffice, I hope. Just for the night, of course. I will stay in the barn.”

  “Nay.” She answered on top of his words. The man was a stranger and yet the fear of being left alone was greater than the fear of sheltering with him.

  He tipped his head to the side, his expression peaked in polite questioning. She met him at the edge of the wood and stared at the small home just as heavy drops of rain began to fall. “I would be most grateful if you would…that is to say I do not wish to be—” Thunder rumbled in the clouds above them, and she put her lip between her teeth, looking away.

  “Not to worry,” he said.

  Anna flung him a glance, her tension softening as the gentle smile in his face widened.

  “I understand.” He gestured forward. “Sheltering together is a prudent course of action.” He nodded and motioned for her to continue walking to the cabin. “As promised, in the morning we will discuss what is to be done, but for now, ash cakes.”

  Ash cakes? She stepped forward, ignoring the foreign phrase, words hardly befitting the gratitude that swelled. “Thank you, Mr. Fredericks.”

  They reached the cabin just as the drops began to flick harder against the dirt.

  “Not at all.” He entered behind her, and closed the door before setting his attentions to the fire.

  Anna took measure of the dank room. Very little furniture—only two chairs and a small bed frame, no tick. She lifted her chin to follow the stairs. Was there anything in the loft?

  She stepped farther into the room, holding her bag tight against her to calm the growing disquiet. Was this his home? The man must be poor indeed. With his back to her, Anna tilted her head. He didn’t appear to have anything at all. The questions cascaded from her mind like a waterfall in spring. How old was he? Did he have a family? What was his trade, or was he simply a farmer? She watched as he gathered the logs and arranged them in the fireplace, making such a menial task look ruggedly appealing.

  William Fredericks.

  She tilted her head and mused. A strong name for a strong man. Yet somehow, the name didn’t seem to fit him at all.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Anna pulled her cloak around her shoulders, squinting as she gazed through the cabin window when another flash and crack consumed the heavens. Large drops plunked against the glass and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, pondering the question she’d kneaded for the last half-hour since their arrival. Who had her father hired to find her? She could still smell the man’s breath and feel his rough hands on her arm. The way he’d spoken her mother’s name and the familiarity of his declaration that she resembled her mother made her squirm within her stays. So why had she detected a glimpse of tenderness in his eyes before he tried to force her away with him?

  Thunder boomed again and her thoughts changed direction. She stole a glimpse over her shoulder at the man now hunched over the fire. A stranger. Yet, he had saved her. Why? To what purpose? Could someone truly be so sincere for the mere sake of Christian goodness? She turned back to study the wooded darkness and pulled her arms tighter around her. That kind of genuine kindness was not something she had often experienced, at least not from a man. But then, there had been Samuel…

  Another boom of thunder shook the ground. Caustic memories tugged at her mind, chilling her soul as another storm crashed within. Cold rains of loneliness and winds of despair threatened to topple the newly constructed hope of a better future. Anna squinted hard and pressed the destructive thoughts away.

  “It isn’t much but should fill our bellies.”

  Anna spun and glanced at the man who crouched beside the glowing embers.

  Using a straight stick he turned over several gray circular objects that rested beside the red embers. “Supper is nearly ready.”

  At the mention of a meal her belly grumbled, but another celestial boom covered the unladylike sound. Blessedly. She didn’t wish to bring more attention to herself than her circumstance already provided. Whatever he offered, how little that may be, she planned to eat as daintily as she could. The ravenous hunger would fight to be satiated, and she couldn’t bear for him to look on her with any more pity than he already did.

  Coming toward the fireplace, she reached for the nearest chair but he darted up and pulled it for her, settling it near the warmth. The hidden smile in his features snipped the remaining thread of apprehension at being in such proximity with someone she hardly knew. A mysterious, male someone. He stepped aside when she sat and she nodded her thanks, too shocked at his genuine chivalry to attempt a verbal response.

  The orange glow from the embers radiated little brightness, but what did reach him shadowed his face in perfect chiaroscuro. A magnificent contrast of dark and light. A realness with an alluring contrast of mystery.

  Again Anna looked around the empty cabin then pinned her gaze upon the man. Such a dreary place to live. Had he been here long? This house was far too bare to sustain one’s needs, not to mention lacking in basic up-keep. But then again, perhaps a man needed far less than a woman.

  His gaze met hers and she stilled at the clarity in his eyes. A half-smile tugged at his mouth then vanished when he looked away. Had she been staring? Her cheeks burned. Gather yourself, Anna. For shame.

  “Your supper.” He plucked a cake from the embers and reached out, holding a flat, gray disk in a handkerchief. “Be careful not to burn your mouth.”

  “Thank you.” She took it, cloth and all, careful that her fingers didn’t touch his.

  He pulled the other chair to the opposite side of the fire and sat. Removing another disk from the heat, jostled it in his hands before pulling off a piece, blowing on it, and popping it into his mouth.

  Anna fingered the warm, round cake and sniffed it. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the morsel in her hands. She froze and shot a look to the man who sat opposite her. Did he know it was covered in ash? Of course he must. She glanced again at the food in her hands. Calling them “ash cakes” as he had, she should have understood. But this?

  Licking her lips, she gave him a side glance, squirming. Ash! Never in her life had she eaten anything so primitive.

  She stared, gathering the frantic parts of herself that chased around her mind like screaming children, and heartily scolded every one. Who was she? The kind of woman who scoffed at anything not presented on china plates? Although in England she may have eaten only from the finest dishes, she was not that kind of woman. And this li
fe—this new life—was one she welcomed with every portion of her being. Ash and all.

  She lowered her head as the reprimand nestled in her middle and the largest portion of her humiliation fell on its back. How ungrateful could she be? And then, the largest shame upon her ingratitude slashed her remaining dignity. He had cooked it, had not even implied that such was a woman’s job as so many other men might have done. She flicked a gaze at him as he took another bite. He could have easily assumed she knew how to cook. And why not?

  She lifted the bread to her nose and sniffed as she prepared for a bite.

  “You don’t care for ash cakes?”

  Startled, Anna pulled back, flinging a smile to her face. “Nay—I mean, I do. Forgive me, I…I simply haven’t had—I mean to say I haven’t…” The words slowed and dropped away as Anna retreated into her seat as far as it would allow, praying the darkness masked the sudden heat in her face. “I mean to say, I haven’t ever been so grateful for such a meal. Thank you.”

  He chuckled lightly. “Such a meal, hmm? Well, I shall take that as a compliment. We soldiers have a lot of practice preparing ash cakes.”

  “Soldiers?”

  Instantly still, as if he’d been turned to stone, the man didn’t move. His high eyebrows and tight mouth masked a fleeting emotion before he shook his head and smiled brighter than before. He cleared his throat. “Forgive me. Every town has its own militia, and with the conflict with England at such dangerous heights, every worthy patriot considers himself a soldier now.”

  “Oh, of course.” Anna turned the cake against the handkerchief. She was in a war-torn land now. How could she have forgotten?

  He took another bite, swallowed, then pointed to the fire. “I really should have let you cook them for I have no doubt that in spite of my practice, your skills are superior to mine.”

  Her blood stalled so quick it rendered her motionless.

  He continued. “My mother could create a feast out of anything, even if we had but flour paste and fat. I fear I didn’t inherit her talent.” He pointed to her untouched cake. “I would repent and let you make the morning meal if we had flour remaining, but I fear we do not.”

  She exhaled to ease the rise of panic in her lungs. Thank goodness for that, she thought, and took a large bite. The instant bitter palate melted into a bland taste of unsalted flour. Not unpleasant in the least. For her screaming belly, it was in fact far better than anything else she could have asked for. When she swallowed, she finished her reply. “You do not do yourself enough credit, sir. These are excellent. I hope you do not think me ungrateful.”

  That familiar half-smile returned to his mouth. “I think you should eat your fill and prepare for the night.” He glanced to the window then the loft. “You may sleep there if you wish, though I fear there is no bed.”

  No bed? She glanced to the tick-less bed frame, reminding herself she’d slept in worse conditions on her voyage across the sea. “Not to worry.” She tilted her head with a slanted grin. “I am tired enough to sleep on cobblestone.”

  Just then, a boom of thunder rattled the rickety cabin. Anna turned in her seat and glanced to the window, taking a large bite of cake. Then another. And another.

  “You were more hungry than you let on, hmm?”

  Anna peeked up and halted. He stood, a flash of amusement in his face.

  She jerked a hand to her mouth to cover any crumbs. That first bite had unleashed the hunger she’d tried to suppress, but now the mere scent of food, even a meal dusted in ash, made her abandon her primary manners.

  Embarrassment heated her core. Anna dotted the cloth against her mouth as she finished the last morsel. She cleared her throat, praying her voice would reveal that she still was a lady, not an ill-mannered child. “I suppose I was.”

  He peered sideways, his eyes darting to the empty cloth in her hands. Without asking if she wished for more, he bent over and plucked the last cake from its perch on the stone nearest the heat. “Here.”

  Reaching across the warmth, Anna took the remaining piece. “Thank you—” Her words fumbled when the tips of her fingers brushed against his.

  She pulled her hand away and stared at the small round cake, the sudden awkwardness drenching her skin in heat. She took another quick bite.

  “Tomorrow I must finish my journey,” he said, the deep, masculine ring of his voice reminding Anna of both silk and stone.

  She swallowed. “Your journey?” Perhaps some of the mystery behind her fearless rescuer would finally come to light. “Where…to where are you journeying?”

  His mouth pinched then relaxed as he studied her, but he looked to the fire when he spoke. “I am on my way to…to a town twenty miles from here. Sandwich.”

  “Ah.” Was that all he would share? Then again, why would he share with her anything more personal? She was just as much a stranger to him as he was to her.

  His expression flashed with something she couldn’t name before his eyes clouded. “Where will you go?”

  The question circled her like a ghost. She stared at the partially eaten cake nestled in the handkerchief. “I don’t know.” The words flung from her lips and she nearly covered them to be sure nothing else escaped, but she clasped her hands tighter around the last few bites of her dinner. She hadn’t expected to answer so truthfully, but she allowed the reply to rest in the air, heavy and dark as it was.

  His eyebrows folded down and he glanced to the window. “You fear that man will seek you out again?” His stare pinned on her as he finished the question.

  Once again, the thunder crashed.

  Her stomach churned and suddenly she wished she hadn’t eaten. “I do.”

  Lip between his teeth, he looked away, resting his elbows on his knees. “Is there anywhere you will be safe from him?”

  Without warning, the emotions she’d suppressed since the moment her father had delivered the unthinkable news welled behind her eyes. Unable to answer in words, she gave a quick, sharp shake of the head.

  A beat of silence rested in the air before he spoke. “You may come with me if you like.”

  Jolted by his offer, Anna blinked. What had he said? She opened her mouth, grasping for words, but there were none. Was he in earnest?

  His gaze rested upon her, as if searching the response in her face. He must not have liked what he saw, for his expression dropped and he spoke again, the words coming faster. “’Tis not a demand. I do not wish for you to feel I would take you against your will. ’Tis simply that I must go tomorrow, and if it is safety you seek then you shall find it in Sandwich.”

  Truly?

  She turned the dusty cake in her fingers, her throat thick. The tears welled again, but this time, from gratitude. By grace alone she kept them from falling. Thank you, Lord. Thank you for all you have done. “I would be forever grateful, sir.”

  “It is the least I can do.” He smiled then looked to his arm and grimaced.

  Anna lowered the cake. “Does it pain you greatly?”

  He gave a quick shake of the head, clearly ignoring the question. “What will you do once we reach Sandwich?”

  She heard him but let the question rest wearily in the air. Her focus on the man’s wound secured ever more of her attention. She didn’t wish to press the matter, but it niggled. It surely pained him. How could it not? Should she offer to tend it? If she did, would she even know what to do? The red she’d noted on his bandage had turned a muddy brown. At least the flow had stopped. However if infection were to—

  “Miss?”

  “Hmm?” She met his gaze.

  “I asked, what will you do once we reach Sandwich?”

  “Oh…” She stared ahead then scrunched her mouth and studied the uneaten morsel in her fingers. “I…I cannot say.” She pressed a hand against the note in her skirt pocket. She had promised Captain Stockton she would get the vital message to the man in Providence, but now, all that was changed. Her need to find the truth of Samuel’s death must wait. But not forever, brother.


  Her companion stared at her, she knew, though she didn’t look up. The heat of his gaze radiated against her like the fire between them, as if somehow he had seen the emotions she’d tried so hard to hide. “Should you wish to stay with my friends, I am sure they would be happy to have you until you have decided on the best course for yourself.”

  She turned, her gaze colliding with his. She stilled, all thought leaving her mind as the sight of him consumed her. The scruff that shadowed his jaw, the strength and gentleness in his eyes…Anna forced her face forward, praying he didn’t see the heat that bled color into her cheeks.

  She inhaled to dispel the momentary lapse in sanity and focused on the matter at hand.

  “Miss?”

  That warm, inviting sound turned her head around. Anna tried to look away, but his stare pulled against her own and hardened, as if he tried to discover what she might be thinking.

  She blinked. Did he mean it? Could she travel with him—trust him? Who were his friends? Would they truly be kind enough to allow her to stay until she determined what she must do?

  Anna reached to her chest and felt for the ring that somehow always gave her peace, like a child’s well-loved toy. Her fingers found nothing but skin. The cake fell from her fingers. She whirled from her seat and searched the ground around her chair, but the darkness refused to restore what she’d lost. “Nay, it cannot be gone!”

  Panic surged and suddenly the anxieties and fears she’d borne since the moment her father told of his intentions weeks ago fell from her eyes. Tears as large as the drops that continued to fall against the house wet her cheeks. She put a hand to her mouth and bit her tongue to keep the sobs in the cage of her chest.

  Warm hands grasped her shoulders. “What cannot be gone?”