Chasing Shadows (48 page)

“But, honestly,” Seth added, losing his teasing edge. “You must be freezing, as well. And Karen said that you carried her all the way out here. If you don’t sit down and get warm soon, you’ll have Sarah worried when she realizes that she’s the reason your stubborn hide caught its death.”

Will’s first instinct was to glare, but that desire quickly faded when he saw his old friend watching him with concern. He nodded reluctantly, tensing as he walked across the room to the far wall, trying to keep from stumbling. He noticed that Seth shadowed him—presumably to make sure he did not fall.   

With a grimace, Will braced his back against the wall nearest the fire, sliding down until he was on the floor. He stretched his legs out, feeling his quivering muscles slowly settle until his whole body slumped in complete exhaustion. It had sapped the last of his strength to keep up with Seth on their way to the house, and sheer worry and adrenaline had been keeping him upright before. Now all of that faded, leaving his body drained and sagging against the wall for support. Sarah had her back to him as the two women continued to work warmth into her body, but it looked like her shaking had lessened.  

Seth sat down next to him. He hiked one knee up to prop his elbow on and shot him a crooked grin. “You look like death warmed over.”

“Thanks,” Will muttered good-naturedly. The blanket dipped on his shoulder, and he tried to lift one of his hands to right it and found that it took too much effort to manage such a small task. “I can’t make a fist.”

Seth looked surprised, and then he actually chuckled when he saw Will’s twitching fingers. He jerked the blanket back into place with a grin. “You’ve had quite the day.” At that, they both turned their heads to watch the patient with her nurses in silence.

Ruth Jones moved to warm the bowl of water again. Though they were only four feet away, neither man was included in their small, huddled group.

Yet Seth remained at Will’s side.

His heart warmed at the reminder of the friendship he’d once had, and Will closed his eyes against the exhausted burn behind his eyes, allowing his head to fall back.

“I’ve missed this,” Seth said quietly in that thoughtful, straightforward way of his. Will’s head lolled to the side to stare at him.

“What?”

“Our friendship. We fell apart for reasons neither of us can recall. It’s foolishness to keep pretending that we can’t rectify what was broken.”

Will sighed. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“So shall we forget the past and be friends? Or at the very least amiable acquaintances?” Seth was grinning easily, but it was obviously important to him.

“Friends it is.” Seth’s grin spread at his response, and Will settled his head against the wall, closing his eyes. He was surprised at the smile he felt pulling the corner of his mouth as he murmured, “But I remember why we parted ways.”

“Really?” Seth sounded surprised.

“You smell like a goat,” he muttered on a yawn. Seth’s silent chuckle shook the wall at his back.

Will was half asleep by the time the young redhead crouched down before them. Her furrowed brow had left a crease above her nose. “The extra mattress upstairs, can you fetch it?” she asked Seth. “It will be easy to keep by the fire, and I want to get her settled before I head out for the night.”

“There’s no way you’re going back out there.” Will’s lids opened a little wider at the spark in Seth’s voice. He looked unflinching, narrowing his eyes a little at Karen. Will wondered at the exchange, and then he realized that he was peering into a looking glass, glimpsing his own protective response to Sarah.
Ahh,
he thought in comprehension.

Karen’s emerald eyes narrowed to slits, defiant, but Seth’s gaze remained steady. She sighed. “Fine, I’ll stay with Leah tonight. But Sarah gets the mattress,” she said, jabbing a finger into his chest. He looked pleased to have won and gladly hopped to his feet, taking the stairs two at a time. She watched him go, shaking her head.

Karen’s lips were pinched when she turned, but she nodded reassuringly. “She’s fine,” she whispered. “I figured since you both need to keep warm right now, we could leave her with you by the fire. Your body heat’s better than anything right now, and then you can put her on the bed when she falls asleep. Just keep her awake for a little longer to be safe, if you can.” She eyed his drooping lids and bit her lip. “Or maybe I should—”

Shifting positions so he was sitting upright, Will shook his head, blinking the sand from his eyes. “I’m exhausted, but my brain isn’t quite ready to let me sleep. I can keep us both awake, you needn’t worry.” He winced at the slur in his last words.

Karen hesitated, then nodded slowly. “If either of you needs anything, I’ll be in the second door on the right. Seth’s room is the one across the hall.”

He nodded, trying to focus his fuzzy head. But she didn’t move. Biting her lip, she whispered, “On her back, there are a few fresh scars, small ones—was that during the fire?”

Will inhaled sharply, having nearly forgotten the gashes that had covered her back, the same ones he had cleaned and tended to for days as he wondered if she would pull through. When he had seen the full extent of Allan’s work, he had never hated a man so much. Except, of course, for Gabriel Dunlivey.

Nodding, he answered in a strained voice, “When he dragged her through the forest.”

Karen grimaced, clearly troubled by his answer. “Oh.” She started to rise, and he caught her hand quickly in his own.

“I-I wanted to say thank you. For all you did tonight.”

Her smile was genuine. “You’re the one who got her here.” Expression softening, she cocked her head, studying him for a moment before stating, “I guess we were both trying to take care of the girl we love.”

~Chapter 41~

Karen slipped out of his grasp, since he was too startled at his transparency to release it himself. Pleased with her discernment, she skipped lightly across the room to take over for Mrs. Jones. Karen plopped down beside Sarah and wrapped an arm around her waist. The two friends leaned on each other, speaking in hushed tones. Sarah even released a choked laugh at one point, and some of the tension left Will’s body.

He felt a presence nearby and focused his weary gaze on a smiling Ruth Jones. He struggled to rise, and she waved him back with a rapid swat of her hand. “Don’t bother with that, dear. I know you must be exhausted, but I simply wanted to say that it’s a delight to see your face back in our home.”

Will swallowed, remembering that with this family, it had never been a house but always a home—even for him. “Thank you.”

The bouncy, middle-aged woman leaned down to plant a motherly kiss on both his flaming cheeks. Then she flitted off, kissing the tops of each young woman’s head before moving out of the room to join her husband upstairs.

Will caught Karen’s expression of pretend shock, and she angled her body so he could catch Sarah’s grin. The redhead’s gasp was delayed until Mrs. Jones was out of earshot. “You move on fast,” she said in a stage whisper, then huffed. “Holiday’s are going to be a little awkward between the fam now.”

Gaping at her in surprise, he only heard Sarah’s soft snort. But his shock quickly faded, and Will felt a grin of his own twitch his lips. He didn’t envy Seth the handful he would have in this quick-witted woman, but he had a feeling that his friend was up to the challenge.

His grin spread. And Karen had no idea how mule-headed Seth could be when he set his mind to it. But he was also one of the kindest men Will had ever known, and he doubted that her opinion would be any different.

Will turned his gaze to find Karen stroking Sarah’s hair, speaking soothingly to her. Yes, the gentle-giant and this fiery-sweet redhead would make quite the pair.

Karen was helping her charge to her feet. “You know,” she grunted, “it’s hard carrying tall people, and it doesn’t help that you’re built in all the right places, either.” Sarah rolled her eyes, smiling groggily. Will couldn’t help envisioning how her soft curves had filled out her gown at the masque rather nicely, and he ducked his head to hide a grin. He would be the
last
to complain, he could guarantee it.

When he collected himself and glanced up, Karen was shooting him a look that let him know he’d been caught. “Nothing to add, Will?” she asked innocently, though her eyes glinted with devilish amusement. She saved him the trouble of fabricating a reason for his sudden mirth. “Can you scooch closer to the fire?”

Too achy to stand, he scooted along the floor, and she lowered Sarah next to him on the side closest to the flames. Gently snatching the blanket away from her, Karen said lowly to Will, “Keep your blanket wrapped around the both of you—like I said before, your body warmth is better than the extra layers. And then when she falls asleep, wrap her up in this.” She hesitated, then grinned as if something had just occurred to her. “Still not deaf, Sarah?”

“Nope,” she muttered softly, smiling to herself with her eyes closed.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to talk over you.”

Will inched closer, feeling awkward with Karen watching his every move. Then he hesitantly wrapped his arm around Sarah, drawing her against his side. She was hardly shivering now, and he tucked her securely under his arm, wrapping the blanket around the both of them.

Seth appeared at the bottom of the stairs, a thin mattress tucked under one arm. He placed it on the floor near the fireplace and came to join them. One of his ruddy brows lifted when he caught Sarah and Will’s closeness. “How cozy,” he observed, then turned his crooked grin on Karen. “I should have thought about faking a slip through the ice—”

A hard jab in his ribcage was her response. “We’ll let you two get some rest in peace,” Karen said, shooting Seth a warning look as she dropped the extra blanket on the bed. He grinned unrepentantly, rubbing his offended side.

Looking all at once stern, he admonished, “Don’t get any ideas, young man.”

“Good
night,
Seth,” Sarah said firmly, startling them all.

The farm boy chuckled. “I suppose we can trust you, then.” Will felt his neck heat at being left alone, though the others seemed completely at ease—even Sarah, who was snuggling sleepily into his side, totally unaware of how many laws of convention he was breaking. It was one thing to be alone with her in his home—
entirely
another thing, he thought ruefully—but it felt different to know that others might be watching his moves. Not that there were any moves to be made. He quickly amended his train of thought before his embarrassment showed on his face.

With a reassuring smile at Will, Seth followed Karen up the stairs. His whispered question echoed into the main room: “How come we never cuddle?” He grunted in pain, and then Karen’s harsh whisper faded until the only sound in the room was that of the crackling fire and Sarah’s faint breathing.

“Feeling better?” Will asked her softly when his silent chuckles had subsided.

Sarah sighed. “I can feel my toes again, so that’s a plus.” She wiggled around, turning her body so she could snuggle closer to him. He held his breath until she settled into his side, her head resting against his chest. It felt so natural to have her next to him, safely tucked under one arm. He already felt warmer because of it.

“Comfortable? Would you like me to move you to the bed now?” he asked, momentarily forgetting Karen’s instructions to keep her awake. Sarah was sitting on the portion of the large quilt that was bunched on the floor, but perhaps she wanted more padding.

“I’m fine right here.” He resisted a smile at her sigh of contentment. Her breathing evened, while his refused to slow. How could his mind continue to function so quickly when his body begged for sleep?

Resting the side of his head against the wall, he watched the flames dance in the fireplace to distract himself from her nearness and remain alert. He was suddenly reminded of the blaze back in the forest and recalled the way the flames had lapped hungrily at Gabriel’s corpse.

Facial muscles tightening in a grimace, Will whispered, “Are you all right? I mean, about what happened earlier?”        

This time Sarah shifted uneasily, and he immediately regretted upsetting her. “What
did
happen? Do you know how he died?” Her voice faded on the last word.

He wanted to spare her as much detail as possible, but he knew she would only persist. “I didn’t see a wound at first, but the bottom of the chest in which he was . . .
stored
was covered in dried blood. I can only assume it was a head injury for there to be so much.”

“He bled out,” she whispered, a note of horror in her voice.

Will nodded gravely. “Yes, I believe so. That’s why he looked as he did. And as to why those men were ordered to dispense of the body in such a secretive manner—” He sighed. “Well, that I cannot begin to comprehend.”

“I don’t understand any of it.” Her voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear. She was silent for a long minute, and he wondered if she had fallen asleep until she whispered, “I’m sorry he’s gone, but maybe you can move on now.”

There was a hint of hope in her voice, and he took a second before answering carefully, “He received his justice.”

She heard what he wasn’t saying. “But you wish you could have been the one to deal it out.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He thought her previous words over. “Perhaps I
can
move on, but I can’t help but begrudge the fact that the choice was taken from me. Does that make sense?”

She nodded against his chest. He felt her fingers brush his free hand weakly, though he wasn’t sure whom she was trying to comfort. He turned his wrist to wrap her small hand in his, and her thumb rubbed his knuckles gently and then went still. “What happened to your palm?”

“Hmm?” he murmured, eyes closed in utter contentment.

Sarah moved his hand out of the blanket and held it up to the flames for inspection. Her quiet gasp filled the space, and he opened his eyes. The skin of his palm was shredded, blood crusted in the thin gashes crisscrossing over his skin. He was just as surprised as she, but now that he knew how it looked, he was aware of a similar aching sensation in the hand around her shoulder.

“What happened?” she asked again.

“I must have scraped them on the ice.”

She looked up at him, confused. She didn’t seem to realize that she was still cradling his upturned palm in her hand.

Will explained, “After you fell in, the water was so cold that the opening began to freeze over again. I had to chip away some of the ice.” He stifled a yawn and blinked. The adrenaline was fading faster than he’d led Karen to believe, and it was a struggle to keep his eyes open.

He could tell without looking at Sarah that her silence was thoughtful.                        

“I didn’t get to thank you for saving me earlier,” she began softly. “Karen said that you must have gone in after me because you were all wet.” He felt her shift and glanced down to find her staring up at him, the awed expression on her delicate features turning his stomach. “That was really brave.”

He swallowed, unable to remove his gaze even when he felt his neck heat. “I wasn’t going to lose you.”

“You’re always saving me.” She smiled lazily up at him and then rested her head back against his chest. A finger delicately swept over the rapid pulse thumping in his wrist, grazing the thin line of risen flesh on the soft part of his skin. “And what about this scar?” she mumbled.

Will’s body tensed before he could catch himself, and she sensed the subtle shift in his mood. Scooting back, she propped her head against the wall and stared up at him with half-lidded eyes, weary brow drawn in question.

He forced a half-smile. “You are tired. We can speak of it later.” Though he truly hoped she would forget it altogether.

Sarah struggled into a sitting position, and he knew her stubbornly inquisitive side was overweighing her exhaustion. “What happened?”

With a sigh, Will’s body slumped a little as he stared at the ceiling. “It isn’t a happy story.”

She didn’t push him, and he wondered how to begin. 

Dragging in a breath for courage, he whispered, “I went through a very . . . dark time in the months following my parent’s deaths.”

“Dark time?” Her tired voice carried traces of hesitation.

How else to say it? “The life of an orphan taking over his father’s successful business held too many expectations I could not live up to.” Will’s chest swelled with a pained breath at the memories that came unbidden. “I wished to join my parents and attempted to end my life.” He grimaced at how straightforward his answer sounded, but there was no way to polish the story of how low he had fallen. He didn’t believe he would ever cease regretting his decision.

Sarah’s wide, shock-filled eyes made him close his own in painful shame. “How?” Her voice was hardly a breath.

“By rather . . . messy means.” Her fingers stroked the scar on his wrist again, and the soft intake of breath let him know she understood. “Suffice it to say I was unsuccessful, thanks to my uncle.”

Sarah drew out the silence, absorbing this, and then she pressed her head against his chest again. “Good,” she commented firmly. “I’m glad there’s one thing you can’t do perfectly.”  

His smile was faint, and then his heart rate quickened as he contemplated what he might say next. “I have always wondered,” he began slowly, drawing the words out, “if my failure was because I lacked the conviction to follow through, or perhaps I was afraid of death and wasn’t aware of it.” Her eyes flicked up sharply to meet his, filled with a hope he couldn’t account for. He inhaled a breath and caught the faint, crisp scent of the lake clinging to her hair.

The fire and the intimate mood it created loosened his tongue, brewing in him the desire to reveal everything to her. It all came spilling out, then, those secret thoughts he had taken captive over the years. But here with her now, with the firelight and the reminder that death had almost claimed her hours before, it only seemed natural to come clean. And Will desperately needed someone to understand, and he sensed that, out of everyone, she would. 

Swallowing thickly, he whispered, “Since that day, I have prayed that my loneliness may spur me into finding something to live for—someone great enough to die for. The Shadow emerged from that desire, culminated with my thirst for justice. I felt the need to do
something
with my life.”

His lips curved, an action that lately seemed to occur on his behalf without thought or force. “But that rainy day in the stable caused me to think that perhaps there was a greater reason that I had been unable to end my life on my darkest day.” Will’s arm tightened around her. “And now . . . well, perhaps I held on for this moment without even realizing it.”    

Sarah was quiet again. He let her have the silence, feeling an edge of nervousness as her pause stretched into minutes. He had bared his soul as best he could, and whether she accepted that or not was entirely her decision.