She tried not to let it prick her in the heart that he couldn’t wait to return to battle. That he would rather possibly die than stay here–with her. He said he needed it. She knew all that silent darkness in him needed a way out. She knew now what had put it there–Rage toward his parents’ murderers and the inability to save his mother.
I would have killed others around me, possibly myself. Battle saved me.
“What if he doesn’t call?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” he asked, his tone laced with alarm.
“How badly were you injured?”
He sat at the edge of the bed and loosened the laces at his throat, then pulled down his collar to show her his shoulder. She almost gasped at the sight of it. For it wasn’t simply a scar. It was more like a carved out web of smaller scars left from reattaching what muscles and tendons they could.
“I practice strengthening my arm everyday,” he told her. “It’s taken hard work.”
She ran her fingers down his shoulder. “Can you wield a sword?”
“Yes,” he answered in a low murmur. “I’ll show you how well I wield it if the traveler comes here.”
She decided she loved the sound of him. She also decided something else. “I’m not going to give him the pocket watch. When you go back to war, I’ll find out how to use the watch and go back to the twenty-first century. You don’t have to worry about me.”
He was quiet for a while, until she wondered if she’d said something wrong. She was still so sleepy.
“I just mean I understand you have enough to worry about. I don’t want to add to it.”
“If I want to worry about you, I will,” he told her with a stubborn tilt of his chin.
She never wanted to kiss anyone more. She felt feverish. Was it him who made her so hot? “What did you say? If you want to kiss me, you will?”
“What?” He looked lost, but only for a moment, then he smiled, looking as feverish as she. A full seductive smile and Fable felt her body going weak facing him. “Oh, yes,” he amended silkily. “I did say that.” He leaned in closer. Fable’s heart crashed against her chest. But wait, no! She wasn’t staying here. Was she?She didn’t pull away when he fit her chin in his fingers and tilted her head for her to look at him.
She wanted to tell him so many things, promise him everything–though she had nothing to give. She closed her eyes and parted her lips, hoping he would kiss her. When he didn’t, she opened her eyes again to see him smiling at her in the candlelight.
“Fable,” he said her name in a deep, needful voice, “you don’t have to run anymore. You are safe here.”
She closed her eyes again and smiled at the thought of such protection and safety that she could stop running. She wanted him to kiss her but his arms coming around her sent her head to the clouds, and her heart to the safest refuge she’d ever known.
Later, she fell into a fevered sleep and dreamed of kissing him. She dreamed of smiling when his kisses crossed her mind. She’d seen her mother kiss her boyfriends and it always sickened her. When she grew older the only boys she ever kissed were Ed Drake and Bobby Hudd. They were nothing to dream about. But she was sure Benjamin West’s kiss could make her dream when she was awake. She thought he may have wiped down her forehead and face throughout the day, but she wasn’t sure. All she could do was pray for the night to come when she could hold him in her arms again.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, sitting by her bed.
Had he been waiting for her to wake up? She smiled to show him that she was awake and also because it was nice to see his face when she opened her eyes. “More soup?”
He nodded with the slightest expression of pity on her, then he stood up and called out for Edith. A servant Fable knew as Kevin appeared instead.
Where’s Edith?” the duke barked.
“She…she…” the servant stammered.
Fable could see why he would. The duke was quite an imposing man with his arrow straight spine, and eyes that could penetrate even the most formidable defenses.
“She what?” His quiet words were laced with impatience.
“She was ordered to tend to your sister.”
The duke went still and silent.
Witnessing him turn so seemingly unaffected, so guarded and cold was almost more frightening than his dark scowls and booming shouts.
“Bring Miss Ramsey some soup. Then go tell Edith that if she isn’t back here in–”
