Chasing Shadows (16 page)

Yet.
Sarah grimaced.

“But my girl and I took trips less frequently when we noticed highly unique changes such as this”—he pointed to his gray-specked eyes—“that appeared a little over a year ago. Some cases were more or less severe, regardless of whether the subject had traveled five times or fifty. Even inanimate objects were affected over time.”

The last part really caught her attention and managed to distract her from the image of an extra eye in the center of her forehead. “Other subjects? Like the guinea pig?” She felt her stomach coil. “Or your assistant and Karen?”

Through the scruff on his neck, Sarah caught the subtle movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Nervousness. “I’ve taken up enough of your time, and the lord will be in need of his poultice by now, I believe.”

He stood, snatched an empty wooden bowl from the table, and walked away from her to sift through the vials and other containers on the shelves before Sarah could voice her objections. She watched as he collected herbs and tossed them into the bowl, adding liquids and powders to the mix.

Charles brought the bowl back to the table and ground everything together until it resembled a thick paste. Pouring the contents into a leather pouch, he said, “Apply a
very
thin layer of this to the wound. Make sure your hands are properly washed before doing so, and let the poultice air-dry a few moments before wrapping the wound with a fresh bandage. It will need to be changed twice a day, in the morning and in the evening, to keep the wound clean. You must also gently wash the wound each time before reapplying the poultice. This will last you until it is no longer needed.” He cinched the top of the pouch and handed it to her, along with a stack of fresh bandages from one of the shelves. She didn’t attempt to tell him that she had bandages back in her room.

Holding another small pouch out to her, he explained, “A salve of my own invention that should prevent scarring. Two days with the poultice to pack the wound and seal it, and then a fortnight with the salve. Do you understand my instructions?”

“I think so,” Sarah answered with a nod, trying to recall everything he’d said.

With a curt nod of approval, Charles reached for a tall candle on the table and lit the wick by the flame of one of the stumpy candles littering the surface. Offering her a smile and a bob of his head, he held the slender stick of wax out to her. “Best wishes, and it was delightful to meet you, Sarah.”                   

She readjusted her armload to accept the proffered item, feeling the ridges of dried wax trails along the sides. “You too,” she answered absently, watching the candle to make sure she didn’t drip any wax on herself. She turned and walked toward the hallway, gripping the stack of bandages that she didn’t really need a little tighter and leaning back when her load tipped precariously.   

“Sarah?”

She turned around in the doorway. Charles hesitated, wringing his hands and looking uncomfortable. “Tell Karen . . . Tell her to take care.”

A small smile tipped her lips. “I will, Professor.”

Then she turned and went back the way she’d come, treading the hall slowly, hoping that with two different sets of instructions running through her head, she would be able to find her way out of this maze. But when that same chilling wind caressed her skin in the outer passageway, her only thought was to find the quickest route out of there. She bolted for the closest staircase, scampering across the stones like the mouse she had frightened earlier, not pausing for a moment to see if she could find the candle she had lost.

~Chapter 18~

Sarah juggled the stack of bandages as she made her way up the stairs, focusing on the top of the pile where the leather pouches were sliding back and forth with each motion. She received a few odd stares from the staff as she shuffled down the passageway leading to her room, panting from her sprint up several flights of stairs.

Shifting her load, she gripped the cold candle in one hand—having endured the hot, dripping wax only until she reached the lighted tunnels—and took a moment to find her balance on one foot so she could kick the door open without toppling over. She hastened into the room to escape the curious and accusatory stares she was receiving, catching the side of the door with her hip and awkwardly thrusting the thick piece of wood closed, satisfied when the lock clicked into place.

“Sarah?”

She screeched and jumped, sending the carefully stacked layers of bandages flying. One pouch fell to the ground with a squishy
thump
, while the other gracefully arced through the air toward the open window beside her bed. It landed near Will’s feet, where he stood half hidden behind the drapes, a startled look on his face.

Sarah had the candle in a death grip and hurled it at his figure reflexively. “Stop
doing
that!” she fairly shrieked, still on edge after her race from the darkened dungeons.

Will leaped from his hiding place in time to dodge the flying object. The candle split in two when it hit the wall, the curtains causing the impact to make a solid
thwump
before it dropped to the floor.

He walked toward her, hands outstretched in surrender, but he halted a safe distance away. “Stop doing what?”

“You always sneak up on me,” she said as her heart rate slowed, though it wasn’t beating normally just yet. “I could have killed you, you know.”

Will glanced pointedly at the candle lying broken on the floor and almost looked like he wanted to grin. Almost. “Yes, I can see that. If I were made of wax, I might be dead.”

Sarah gaped at him, and any traces of mirth drained from his countenance. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I should have informed you of my coming.”  

“How did you even get in?” she asked, not yet recovered from the shock of seeing him in her room. She still wasn’t sure how to act around him after their . . .
disagreement
earlier. She found herself struggling to look at him without picturing Jade’s triumphant face in her mind, and Sarah wondered if he felt uncomfortable around her after her embarrassing breakdown in his shop.

He shrugged. “The unlocked door, the open window, a secret tunnel—you choose.” His dark eyes took in the elegance of the room in one deft glance. “I had a difficult time finding you, though, until I overheard someone mention that the new servant had been ‘promoted.’” One broad shoulder lifted in a shrug.

“So . . .?” she asked slowly, honestly curious about how he had managed to sneak in. Will’s lips stretched into a ghost of a smile at her unspoken question.

“The open window,” he answered.

Sarah’s eyes went wide, and she brushed past him to lean over the windowsill, getting a nice view of the snowy cobblestones below the slick stone wall. Hands spread on the sill, she glanced over her shoulder at Will, who was watching her with a blank expression. She didn’t like it when she couldn’t read him. “You came through
this
window?” she questioned doubtfully.

“It was not the first time I’ve scaled the castle walls.” She couldn’t keep the awe and shock from her face, and Will looked away, stooping to gather the bandages strewn about the room. A flicker of embarrassment had crossed his features before he turned away, though his jaw was set in a tense line that let her know something was eating at him other than her unintentional flattery.

Picking up the discarded pouch nearest her and giving a quick tug on the straps to ensure that it was still closed, Sarah tossed it onto her bed next to the forgotten rose. She watched Will for a moment as he knelt on the floor, cleaning up the mess without being asked. Some of it was nervous energy, she could tell, but she also knew that it was his way of making up for scaring her. And possibly make amends for something else.

Her heart clenched.

She leaned down next to him to help collect the strips of fabric, his body nearly twice as tall as hers in their crouched positions. He glanced down sharply at her when she placed a bandage in his arms. His eyes probed her face, and his brows puckered, stretching that half-moon scar and reminding Sarah that they both bore marks from Allan’s treachery. Before she could ask herself what he was searching for in her features, he stood abruptly and walked over to the bed, dropping the bandages in a haphazard pile on the quilt. He frowned at the mess, looking unsure about what the next step should be.

Bachelors
, Sarah thought wryly.
No idea how to fold laundry.

She walked up next to him and touched his arm lightly. She felt him start and knew he was more frazzled than his composed features let on. When his eyes finally met hers, she gave him a faint smile.

“Sorry about freaking out earlier,” she said, though just thinking about the immediate pain of her discovery turned the smile on her face into a grimace.

Will shook his head, sending that wayward lock of hair onto his forehead. He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned down, his eyes intense and tormented. She hated seeing him like that, but she had no idea how to make it better. “You have nothing to apologize for. I am the one who wishes I had handled the situation differently.”

Sarah wasn’t sure if he meant his cold demeanor in the livery earlier or the “situation” with Jade. Then she realized she didn’t really want to know, so she kept quiet.

He expelled a heavy breath. “Is it all right if we discuss this now? I cannot let it go unresolved.”

She wasn’t sure if things between them
could
be fixed or if there was even anything to be resolved, though she so wished to forget everything that had happened in the last day—she was so confused and torn. But he had been a friend first, and it wasn’t his fault that she had fallen for him.

Both needing and dreading to hear him out, Sarah nodded reluctantly, and then immediately shook her head. He looked hurt at her refusal, and she spoke quickly. “I mean, I do think we need to talk about everything, but I forgot that someone’s coming over any minute now.”

Will’s eyes drifted to the rose lying on the bed amongst the bandages. A lone brow lifted, which was never a good sign.

“It isn’t like that,” she said quickly, knowing where his train of thought was headed. She huffed, frustrated that there wasn’t enough time to resolve their situation. “I just can’t do this right now.”

“Chores?”

She averted her eyes for a second too long. “Not anymore.”

His gaze roamed the room again, and he appeared to glimpse it with new eyes. “Ah, I see.” He turned back to her, a mixture of hurt, fear, and trepidation in his gaze. His jaw tightened. “Why, precisely, were you moved
here
? This wing is reserved for nobles and dignitaries.” But from his tone, he’d already formed his own reasons.

“Look, Will, you don’t have to worry about me. Damien’s a nice guy.”

His lower lip dipped almost imperceptibly in surprise, face flooding with concern. “The new lord? Had you even met him before he
changed
your position?”

Oops.
Sarah grimaced at how much she’d revealed. “Well, I met him earlier today, and he seems really nice. And at any rate, it isn’t like that—what you’re thinking. I’m just here to be his nurse.”

Will eyed the flower, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “I can see that. What is ailing him, I wonder?”

She balked at him. “Come on! You can’t honestly believe—”

“Where are his quarters?”

Sarah hesitated. “Across the hall.” She could have kicked herself for speaking.

That single brow rose slowly on his forehead, and his eyes flashed, making Sarah wince at the barely concealed anger she saw there. 

Someone rapped on her door twice, then Damien’s voice called through the wood, “My lady?”

Sarah’s eyes widened at his horrific timing, looking back and forth between the door and Will, who was glowering in the direction the voice had come. It wouldn’t look good if she were caught with a guy in her room, especially one who had snuck in. “Just a minute,” she called out, her voice nearly squeaking out her reply.

Shoving Will toward the window, she whispered, “You have got to go. We can talk later.”

He fixed his gaze on the door as she pushed him across the room, her hands planted firmly on his chest. His eyes had darkened to the color of the ocean depths that scuba divers didn’t dare navigate. “Actually, I have yet to meet this lord that has set the town abuzz.”

“Don’t do this to me,” she groaned. “Damien doesn’t deserve your distrust; he’s a nice guy.”

Will looked baffled. “Why do you defend him? How can you be sure he is deserving of your faith?”

Sarah had begun to wonder the same thing, but she felt completely at ease around Damien and had already made a fool of herself when she jumped to conclusions. Maybe she was making up for things in her own way, but she was answering honestly when she said, “I can’t say why, but he is.”

His eyes blazed as he took her wrists. “If he lays a hand on you—”

For whatever reason, his words made her previous doubts resurface, and she did her best to push away the niggling uncertainty. “Ever the big brother,” she muttered, taking her hands from his grasp, though she felt her cheeks blazing at what he’d implied.

Will looked surprised at her reaction, but she was too flustered to make amends. He could spend “time” with Jade while she was away, but a kind man took pity on her and saved her from servitude, and suddenly
she
was the one whose virtue was being questioned? She hiked her chin. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know.” Sarah was taken aback at the sincerity in his words and the reluctant acceptance on his face.  

“Sarah?” Damien called from behind the door, sounding uncertain.

“Hold on!” she called out, praying he didn’t barge in on this scene. She gave Will an imploring look. “Please, I need you to go now. We’ll discuss this later.” She didn’t wait for his answer but spun back around and bolted for the door, stumbling over the rug in her haste. Gripping the handle, she took a moment to compose herself and glanced over her shoulder. Will was gone, the window wide open.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and did her best to smile brightly at Damien. “Come on in.”

The handsome Spaniard glanced inside her room but did not enter. “Did I come at a poor time? I thought I heard voices.”

Sarah shook her head quickly. “It’s just me.” She motioned him inside and closed the door behind him. “How is the arm?”

“It still feels as though I’ve been stabbed, so I suppose all is as it should be.”

Sarah smiled sympathetically. “Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

Damien’s gaze perused the room and landed on the wardrobe she had left open in her haste to find the watch. “Did you not like the dresses I had brought in? There is a red one that I believe will look particularly lovely on you.”

Sarah realized she was still wearing her black uniform and hoped he didn’t think her ungrateful for his kindness. “Actually, I haven’t really looked at them yet. But I’m sure they’re all beautiful,” she was quick to add.

“I wanted you to feel as comfortable as possible, though I wasn’t sure of your tastes.” His look was uncertain.

It was genuine when she thanked him. “We should probably check out that wound, though, before it sits for too long.” Glancing around the room for a place that he could sit, she motioned Damien over to the chest at the end of her bed and went about gathering the poultice and bandages in her arms. Sarah dropped the pile on one side of the chest and then snagged the water pitcher from beside her bed, leaning down to place it on the floor where they would be working. She straightened and nearly jumped when she turned around to see Damien just behind her, holding the back of her desk chair with his good hand.

“Uh, thank you,” she said, taken aback at the gesture. He didn’t seat himself until she had taken her place on the chair, and Sarah bit back a smile at his impeccable manners.

She untied the pouch and leaned her head down to stare at the goopy contents. “It looks weird, but at least it doesn’t smell too—” The words died on her lips.

Damien had removed his shirt—in record time, it seemed—though he was no longer wearing the undershirt he’d had on earlier. Sarah tried not to stare at the hard, lean muscles on his arms and stomach.

Oh, good Lord
, she inwardly grumbled. She trained her eyes on the blistered skin like it might worsen if she removed her gaze. Briefly, she considered asking him if she could just cut the sleeves off his shirt, but that could make the situation more awkward than it already was. Risking a glance at his face, Sarah saw that he was completely at ease as he watched her. The man was either hot with fever from his earlier ordeal and wanted as few clothing layers as possible, or he was just very confident about all of . . .
that
.