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

by Amber Lynn Perry

  A low sigh breathed from Thomas. “Then we shall fight him together.”

  “We?” William pivoted, gripping his friend motionless with his gaze. “This is not your fight.”

  “Is it not?” Thomas straightened, his stare darkening. “Your life is at risk because of what you have done—”

  “What I have done—not you, not Nathaniel.” William snapped his jaw shut and looked behind to be sure his rising tone hadn’t awakened his wife. His chest pumped, holding back the edging fury. “’Tis I who acted and ’tis I who must answer for it.”

  Thomas gripped the mantel, speaking through his teeth. “You acted on our behalf. Without us, you never would have—”

  “If it had not been you, it would have been another.” William’s glare battled Thomas’s hard blue eyes. “I joined the army to defend the rights of others, not destroy them. ’Twas only a matter of time before I could no longer give my allegiance to the king.”

  Thomas turned to the fire, his jaw shifting.

  “God led me to you and Nathaniel, this I know. I will never regret the choices I have made on your behalf, nor the bonds that have been forged between us through our trials. But I alone will answer for my actions.” William clapped a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “I would not have my friends in the cross fire.”

  The logs popped, the dwindling flames casting shadows against Thomas’s ticking expression. “You placed yourself at risk on our behalf. Are we not to return the favor?”

  Teeth grinding, William shook his head. “You do not understand what you offer. I am a soldier, as is Paul—captains both. My quarrel with him is matched equally in the sight of the law. But not you. Your punishment, should you be caught, would be much greater than mine.”

  “Your punishment for defecting is—”

  “I refuse your offer, Thomas.”

  Thomas released his hold on the mantel and straightened, forcing William to drop his hand. “I respect your stand. You have made your decision and shall answer for it. As shall we.”

  Thomas started toward the door and William yanked his arm. “Thomas!”

  Shaking his head, Thomas yanked his hat from the chair and pointed over William’s shoulder. “Paul is coming and I refuse to watch from a distance when so much is at stake.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  William spun and stilled at the sight of Anna, a shawl draped over her shoulders, standing with round eyes in the doorway of the bedchamber.

  Concern pinched her forehead in the middle. “Thomas, you are here so late. I hope Eliza and the baby are not unwell.”

  Bowing, Thomas fit his hat on his head. “Eliza and the baby are well, Anna, I thank you.” He straightened. “I am sorry if our conversation has awakened you.”

  “Not at all.”

  Thomas inched his eyes back to William. He barely spoke. “We shall resume this conversation tomorrow at supper.”

  William nodded, anger fogging his throat. “That we shall.”

  “Good evening.” Thomas offered a smile to Anna before seeing himself to the door.

  When the latch was once again in place, Anna stepped toward the fire, her hands gripping the shawl at her chest. “William, what’s wrong? I have rarely heard Thomas so anxious.”

  “’Tis nothing.” He reached out and she folded against his chest. Stroking her lavender-scented hair, he lied through her trust. “We are smuggling munitions now, as you know, and the troubles mount. But we will overcome them as always.”

  She craned her neck to peer up at him and the cracks in his heart snapped deeper. Should he not tell her now? End the painful charade? With a sigh he pressed her head against his chest and ground the words between his teeth. Nay, he could not. Watching the love she carried for him drain from her eyes would bring pain beyond his strength.

  Her arms twined around his waist. “So long as you are safe.” She looked up then brought her hand to his cheek and dusted her fingers against his jaw. “So long as we are together. That is all I shall ever need.”

  He kissed her head and turned her toward the bedchamber. “’Tis late. I shall prepare the fire and be with you shortly.”

  Trailing her hand down his arm, she squeezed his fingers and returned to the darkness of their room.

  Blinking, William turned and pressed his palms against the table. Letting his head hang, he groaned as the mountain of his sins angled higher. He could not allow his friends to risk their lives on his behalf. He could not begin to think of what would happen to Anna. Peering across his shoulder, he heaved a weighted breath. After hours of debate, after sifting for the gem in a bucket of pebbles, the only option surfaced like a polished stone.

  Pushing away from the table he turned to the fire and poked the ash-laden logs apart, making room for another. If she were sequestered with the Watsons or the Smiths, Anna would question—and her presence would force his friends to risk for him the very thing he would never wish of them. Their lives were in danger enough. William stood, staring down as the fire gnawed at the wood. What if he could trust this Warren Fox to take Anna and remove her just long enough to ensure Paul was no longer a threat? William could at last be free to live as he desired—as they desired? But would Warren take her to England as Anna feared?

  William reached back in his mind to the attempted abduction. The lack of malice, the sincerity in the man’s eyes when he vowed he would do Anna no harm seemed to plead for William’s confidence. A war of questions sparked a firefight. Should he risk trusting him? Expounding his secrets to such a stranger could bring down hell upon them both. When Anna learned the truth of who William was would she even wish to return to him? Going to England might be more of a comfort than returning to a man who had lied from the very moment he’d saved her.

  Trust him.

  William stared into the rounding flames, a prickle darting over his skin. Could he trust his wife to a man who could take her away forever? Could he trust his secrets to such a stranger?

  The whisper of God’s piercing voice echoed between the doubts of his spirit.

  Trust him. And trust Me.

  Bowing his head, William answered in silence. Yea, Lord, I will trust in thee.

  He wiped a hand down his face. Now, if only he could find the courage to bring it to pass.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  In the grove of trees just past the edge of town, William clutched the pistol he’d hidden beneath his greatcoat, training his vision on the road ten yards from his position in the wood. The chilled breeze bit William’s cheeks. He exhaled a pluming breath that curled white in the air. It went against everything he knew, waiting for Warren in such a place. Far too exposed, within hearing of the townspeople should a brawl ensue. Which it might. Nay, mostly likely would.

  He released his hold on the gun and tapped his hand against his leg, the only outlet he allowed for the blistering anxiety that shot like jolts of lightning through his limbs. What if Paul had intercepted the note and came in place of Warren? What if he didn’t come alone? Like a wise reprimand, Thomas’s admonition to allow him and Nathaniel to help bring down the enemy slapped. But, like a stubborn adolescent, William pretended not to feel the sting. Putting them at risk was unthinkable. He would end it. Alone.

  His heart wrenched. Alone. Anna must leave. Telling her now would make her wish to stay and vouch for him, perhaps even fight beside him, and never would he allow that. A ripple of questions lapped against his resolve. Was trusting in Warren—

  You are trusting in Me. That is all you need know.

  William gripped the bark of the tree beside him, lowering his chin but not his eyes. Aye. He could trust God, he could follow the darkened path, knowing Providence would illuminate all in time.

  “Who are you and what is your business with me?”

  William whirled, his hand instantly on his weapon.

  Warren.

  The man’s face rounded in recognition then crashed into rage. “What have you done with her?” He pulled a club from his side and
charged forward. “Tell me where she is!”

  William dodged the in-coming blow and reared sideways, locking his grip around Warren’s wrist. In a swift, singular motion he lunged and pressed Warren’s back into the trunk of the nearest tree.

  “Quiet.” He gripped Warren’s neckcloth, impressed with the dauntless will that blazed in the man’s eyes. “You have come alone?”

  “As you see.” Warren snarled, this time his volume low, but the hate roaring. “What have you done with her?”

  Stepping back, William softened his grip, then released his hand but kept his vision locked with Warren’s. “I have married her.” The truth he’d not intended to speak sprung from his lips like a captive yearning for freedom.

  Silence killed the air between them. Diving to a deep V, Warren’s brow carried the weight of a thousand pains. He stared, his expression growing harder and more dark with every rise and fall of his chest. “Where is she?”

  William blinked, then glanced behind, both to show direction and to ease his mind that Paul was not waiting in the shadows. He inhaled deeper when only the trees answered his gaze. “She is here.”

  The man straightened. “Here?”

  “In Sandwich.”

  Warren laughed, a bitter undertone to his words. “So. You have had your fun with her and now wish to dispose of her to me? I see how it is.” He stepped forward, fists curled. “You want money. You think I will give you the promised reward—”

  “I love her.”

  Like a blade, the truth slashed through the air, slaying the vulgar accusation. Warren halted, his mouth agape. “You lie.”

  “I do not.” William’s own fists clenched. “I am sure you cannot conceive of how such can be true, but I give you my word that I love Anna more than my own life.” He swallowed the rise of feeling that soared from within. “I cannot explain why I have come to you when I know my wife’s fear of discovery—she is terrified of you.” Pausing, he strained to decipher the code of thoughts that flashed through Warren’s eyes. “But I seek your aid, and despite my misgivings, I feel in my heart that you are the one I must trust with her care.”

  Not a single muscle twitched, but those on Warren’s face. His eyes trailed downward and the tension in his mouth relaxed, replaced by a tender question. “She fears me?”

  “You tried to take her against her will—to place a gag at her mouth—”

  “I feared if she were heard then she would be taken. If she were I could not protect her, which is precisely what happened.”

  “Anna claims you were hired by her father to take her back to England.”

  At this, Warren raised his head and straightened, the motion pulling him nearly as tall as William. His voice was broad and sturdy. “I was hired by a man named Rush Martin, aye. But he is not her father. I am.”

  “I do not believe you.” William stepped forward, speaking through his teeth. “My wife has disclosed everything to me. If you were her father I would know it.”

  Not a flicker of anger, no hint of irritation in Warren’s ice-colored eyes. William paused. His eyes…

  He nearly spoke but Warren offered a polite rise of the lips and filled the quiet first. “She has not told you, for she does not know it herself.”

  William scowled and Warren answered the unspoken question. “Anna and her brother Samuel were the fruit of the love between myself and their mother Catanna.”

  Dear God, it is true.

  Like a flash from heaven, a memory illuminated in his mind. Those striking eyes. He knew he had seen them before. First in Samuel, then Anna. Now Warren. They were his eyes.

  “Why has she never known this?” William said, his question sharp.

  “When Catanna’s family learned of our love,” Warren answered, “and that she planned to run away with me, they forced her to marry Martin. They did not want her to suffer the life of a gamekeeper’s wife. Martin knew she was with child and accepted her—for her fortune.” Warren’s jaw flexed. “He despised our offspring, knowing they reminded Catanna of me. When she died, he unleashed the fullness of his malice upon them.”

  The cold wound its icy fingers through William’s limbs, but the chill that bit curled more from the inside than from without. My dear Anna, what you must have suffered.

  “She was forced to marry at sixteen,” Warren went on. “A man older than I, who wished not to have a child. Knowing Anna’s inability to bear children, Martin arranged the marriage and though she tried to escape it, she was forced to live a life of misery for ten years, until her husband died and Martin arranged another.”

  William shook his head, recoiling. “Why do you then wish to return her to England?” He balked. “If you truly cared for her then why take her against her will?”

  “Any father truly caring for his child would not wish them to remain in such a war-torn land. She is not accustomed to such a life. She never learned the skills needed to survive, let alone thrive, in such a place.” Warren looked past William to the road. “I would not return her to Martin. I would see her safely in England, at a cottage I have prepared for us in the north. Far from anyone who would wish harm upon her.”

  The man’s sincerity eased the tension in William’s fists, but not fully. “Though your intentions are benevolent, forcing her away with you is no less violent than what Martin intended.”

  Warren bit the inside of his cheek.

  “She does not wish to leave,” William said. “She wishes to continue the life she sought here. She is not blind to the dangers. Anna is the most courageous, most honorable, most trustworthy person I have ever known. We wish to build our lives here. Which is why I have come to you for help.”

  Dropping his hands to his sides, Warren neared. “Anything.”

  “I must first have your word that you will not steal her back to England.”

  “You make me ashamed of myself,” Warren said. He looked down then raised his gaze to align with William’s. “I have always wanted to protect my daughter but never could. Then when given the chance I…” A longing clouded the older man’s face. “I give you my word. What would you have me do?”

  Tension rising in his blood like a hot spring, William turned toward town. I place my trust in you, Lord. Pray, do not let him take her from me. “We must find a more secure place to talk, for tomorrow I will end the conflict. And I cannot do it without you.”

  ~~~

  Anna leaned into the large barrel by the fire and scooped the last bit of meal from the bottom when a knock on the door pulled her back to standing.

  She brushed the back of her wrist against her forehead. “Come in.”

  The door creaked open and Kitty entered, brighter than a burst of spring sun. “Good day, Anna.”

  “Welcome, Kitty.” Anna rounded the table, relieving her friend of the basket in her arms. “I’m so pleased you’ve come.”

  Kitty glanced through the room. “Is William not here? I didn’t see him outside.”

  “He said he had business. I assumed he and the other men were occupied with their duties for the war effort.”

  “Aye, the munitions of course.” Kitty nodded. “You’ve already started, I can see.”

  “Only on the pudding.”

  Kitty raised her chin, sniffing the air and smiling. She removed her outer cloak before hanging it on the hook by the door. “It smells magnificent.”

  Did it? This morning Anna’s ailments were no less potent than the days previous, and the scent of anything—be it sweet or savory—made her belly defensive. At least she hadn’t lost the few bites of day old bread William had insisted she eat to ease his fears of her becoming too weak.

  “I’m pleased you think so, Kitty.” Anna motioned to the chair nearest the fire. “Warm yourself, please.” She quickly turned her attentions to the pudding she’d already placed on the fire. Hunched by the embers, the warmth kneaded her cheeks. “I cannot imagine I am prepared to share my cooking with everyone the way you do.”

  Her friend giggled. “You a
re far more prepared than you think. Your beginnings may have been…simple, but you are a natural, dear Anna, and if anyone should know that ’twould be me, surely.” She crouched beside Anna, a spry smile in her eyes. “And I should expect that Henry will be remarkably pleased when he learns that you made this evening’s lamb.”

  Anna turned her head. “Who’s Henry?”

  Kitty’s face slackened, a sheen of white pasting her cheeks before they brightened once again the next second. She pushed to her feet and went to take the chair Anna had first offered. “Did I say Henry? How silly of me, my mind is all a jumble these days.” Clearing her throat, Kitty nodded toward the basket. “Shall we begin?”

  Anna’s stomach churned. “Kitty, I fear you put too much confidence in me.”

  “Nonsense.” Kitty sat straight with her hands upon her knees. “I shall sit here and give you instructions. Thus you may say in all honesty that you fashioned this meal without the help of my hands.” She rested her back against the chair, her dainty mouth swooped to one side. “And we shall have the pleasure of chatting while it cooks. If it turns out well, then I shall be sure to give you the credit. If it does not, the blame will be mine.”

  A sprite chuckle bounced through Anna’s chest. “No one would ever believe you capable of a failed meal.”

  “There’s a first for everything, is there not?” She smirked then pulled back, a contorted type of grimace to her face. She put a hand against her chest and squinted, breathing out the obvious discomfort until her expression released the folds of tension.

  Anna reached for her. “Kitty, are you unwell?”

  Kitty looked up and breathed again through tight lips. “Aye, forgive me.”

  Anna reached for the pitcher and offered Kitty a cup, but she waved it away.

  “These discomforts come and go,” Kitty said. “I only hope it will not last much longer.”

  “Discomforts? Surely your husband has told you what ails you.”

  Kitty looked to her hands then back at Anna, her mouth hiding a smile. “He knows nothing of this.”