“Do I remind you of him?” His smile was gently mocking, though who he was making fun of, I wasn’t certain.
“No,” I said, vehemently, though only once the word was out of my mouth did I realize that I didn’t mean it to be an insult, as he probably assumed.
“Well.” He dabbed the cloth over my cheeks before setting it aside. “We can only be who we are, I suppose. Do you think you can sit up? You really should drink some water.”
Without waiting for me to respond, he put an arm underneath me and lifted me until I was sitting upright. Only when he held out a hand and I saw the cup of water put into it did I realize that we were not alone. I furrowed my brow as I peered past him and made out the innkeeper who I’d thought might help me earlier. She looked at me with a face wrought with concern.
“She’s losing weight,” he commented to her, as though I were not in the room.
“Do you think she’s taken ill because of her fall?” she asked, wringing her hands anxiously.
“It’s possible. Don’t worry, madam.” He gave her a brief smile. “I’m certain that she will not infect anyone else with her illness.”
“Let us hope it is as you say.”
I wanted to tell them that I had not taken any fall, that I was ill from riding such long, hard hours in the cold. I wanted to remind my captor that I would be fleeing at my earliest opportunity, but when he put the cup to my lips, I drank deeply, forgetting every concern except for the need to cure my thirst.
* * *
Time passed by in a blur. I could not say how long it had been—I had no true recollection of time, only brief flashes of dreams that seemed real, such as being spoon fed like a babe. My captor changed the sheets on my bed once, I recalled, and never left my side. Even when I was not awake, when my mind lied to me about my whereabouts, I could feel him there.
When next I awoke, I found him sleeping, snoring slightly in the chairhe’d moved to my bedside. I sat up, and though I felt weak, my head did not spin with the movement. A glance at the window showed me that the sun had not yet risen, yet I was powerfully hungry. I couldn’t recall eating more than a spoonful or two of broth for… how long had it been? Hours? Days? Everything ran together in my mind. All I could recall with any clarity was the fact that the man who pretended to be my husband had never left my side.
It was an odd thing for a kidnapper to do, was it not? Yet, he had done it. Not only when the innkeeper was present, but throughout my illness. It made me look at him with appraising eyes, wondering why he should bother. Surely, I was naught more than property to him. A valuable commodity, perhaps, but property nonetheless. I’d been nothing more to Wallace, and I’d come to expect no better from married life.
Suddenly, his words came back to me:Do I remind you of him?
I’d responded quickly to the negative, but not for the reason he might have thought. Wallace never would have looked after my health if I’d taken ill, and if he had, it only would have been for show. No, while I was sure he would send a woman or two to tend me, it probably wouldn’t have even occurred to him to seek after my health. How strange, that a man that had abducted me and had secreted me away in the middle of the night should care for me thusly.
It gave me a lot to ponder, and ponder I did. Once or twice, as the sun slowly began to rise above the clouds I looked toward the closed door and pondered escaping. Each time, I dismissed the thought, for one reason or another. I told myself that I was too weak, or that I would be caught, that I would only be returned to this room anyway. Perhaps the truth was, as I watched him sleep, I began to wonder what kind of man my captor truly was.
When he awoke, he seemed as startled to see me awake as I was by him. “Good morning. It is still morning, isn’t it?”
“Yes. The sun has not been out long.”
“You’re looking well.”
“Ah… thank you.”
I watched as he pushed the chair back and stood, wincing slightly as he did so. “You’ve no need to thank me. I was only stating the truth.”
I dropped my eyes and stared at the quilt that had been draped over me. “I do. I… I know it was you that took care of me while I was ill.”
“Yes, well, you were probably the most cooperative these last days than I’ve ever known you to be.”
I eyed him sharply, only to see that he was teasing me. “Yes, well, please don’t become accustomed.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Do we leave today?” I asked, turning away so that he would not see me smile.
“I’m afraid so. As much as I would like to stay one more evening to allow you to rest, I think we’ve lost enough time already.”
I nodded my acquiescence.
“We’ll leave as soon as we break our fast. While I’m seeing to our food, you should dress and ready yourself for riding.”
I said nothing, which he must have taken for agreement because he left the room without looking back. As soon as I found myself alone, I was on my feet. I wobbled unsteadily for a moment—it was to be expected after all the time I’d spent in bed—before I regained my footing and began to move with purpose. Though I’d only had seconds to think it over, I knew as soon as I saw his retreating back that this was my chance to flee. It might have been the only chance I would ever get, so I needed to seize it. Briefly, I doubted myself—after all, he had taken such good care of me; this was no way to repay him. But I pushed the thought aside and began to dress in haste.
