“He’s not alone in that, but being gifted makes him particularly dangerous,” she agreed. “A scorpion indeed.”
“Rhys was right that our services will be needed to get everyone safely home,” Cade replied. “Luckily, I think that Hansen, the captain of the guard, is more than a little gifted himself. He has good military instincts, so he takes me and my suggestions seriously. He’ll be the other outrider.”
She nodded in approval. “I’ve often thought that soldiers who have survived multiple battles have to be at least somewhat gifted.”
“Hansen might agree, though he said that most soldiers would loathe being called gifted, we being such a despicable lot,” Cade said dryly. “Instead, they talk about having a sixth sense for danger.”
“The description doesn’t matter as long as they know when to duck!” Tamsyn’s expression became serious. “Do you have a sense of what the journey to Calais will be like?”
He closed his eyes and wished he could predict the future accurately. Or maybe not. Knowing what was going to happen might be more knowledge than a man could bear. But he did sometimes have a sense of the shape of the future. “I think we’ll get them there safely,” he said slowly. “But there will be trouble with . . . an unexpected twist at the end. Something impossible to predict.”
“I do not find that comforting, but I’m sure we’ll contrive. We’re clever that way.” Tam swallowed the last of her wine, then covered a ladylike yawn. “I’m ready to go to bed. It’s been a long day, and that small glass of wine is hitting me like a draft of opium.”
Both of their gazes went to the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” Cade said. “That bed is not large enough for two.”
“But you’re older and you should have the bed to spare your weary old bones,” she said mischievously.
“Not that much older.” Cade swallowed the last of the wine. “But as your older brother, I insist that you, my delicate younger sister, must take the bed.”
She laughed. “You know I’m as tough as old boots, but I’ll never win an argument when you’re in protective big brother mode.” She stood and stretched with catlike grace. “In deference to our delicate sensibilities or perhaps our elevated status, the maids arranged a tiny washing area behind the screen in that corner. You’ll have to bend your head, though.” She headed to the corner, still yawning.
The maids had also left a good supply of blankets so Cade folded a couple together to make a pallet, placing it as far from Tamsyn as the room would allow. As he improvised a pillow, he did his best to ignore the sounds of her splashing in the corner.
After she’d washed up, she emerged from the screened corner and slid under the bedclothes, murmuring, “Good night, Cade. May tomorrow not bring more adventures!”
She rolled away to face the wall and pulled the covers over her head. Perhaps she was trying for invisibility, but he was still sharply aware of her.
He stripped down to his shirt and drawers, then moved behind the screen. There was a chamber pot and a very small washstand with a basin, a water pitcher, soap, and a pair of towels. As Tam had said, he had to duck his head.
After washing up, he checked how much oil was in the lamp, then turned it down to the lowest possible level, just enough to provide dim illumination so no one would stumble over baggage if they had to get up. Fortunately, the one narrow window faced east so the room would receive dawn light, which would help for rising early. The next day would be at least as busy as the one ending.
Wearily, Cade lay down on the pallet. Tamsyn’s soft, regular breathing indicated that she was sleeping soundly. He should fall asleep as swiftly, but he didn’t. He was too aware of Tamsyn.
Her mention of the fact that they’d sometimes shared a bed had stirred up memories of when he and Bran had first been taken in by Gwyn and Rhys. The Tremaynes could not have been warmer or more welcoming, but Cade had been cold and afraid for too long to feel safe at first. He’d envied Bran’s ability to embrace their amazing good fortune and relax into their new life.
Later Cade had recognized that Bran’s earliest years in a prosperous household with a loving mother had given him a kind of confidence Cade had never known. Despite their differences, they’d bonded right away when they’d met at that vile baby farm.
They were both so young that it was hard to believe that they’d managed to leave Cornwall and travel all the way to London, but they’d done it. Bran had recognized that they must escape if they were to survive, and he’d come up with a bold plan. Cade was a couple of years older and stronger, and he had a powerful instinct to protect, so he’d successfully executed Bran’s plan with his practicality and fierce determination.
But for the length of that nightmare journey, Cade had been terrified that he wouldn’t be strong and clever enough to bring them to the unknown safety that Bran was sure they’d discover. Bran had been right, and they found their future with the two finest people either of them had ever met.
The Tremaynes knew better than to try to separate the boys, so they’d been given a room that had two beds. They had been fed and scrubbed and given new clothing; all should have been well. That first night, Bran had relaxed and settled in, sleeping as soundly as a contented kitten. But Cade had been unable to relax or sleep well because he was still desperately frightened inside. His father had been brutal, and Cade’s early years had been precarious. Fear had always been part of him.
With her gift for reading emotions, Tamsyn had recognized his inner terror, so on his second night in Tremayne House, she’d quietly entered the boys’ room even though she could barely reach the doorknob. Cade’s gift for awareness of his surroundings had shocked him to full, heart-pounding wakefulness when he heard her soft steps.
“It’s only me, Tamsyn,” she’d whispered as she approached the bed. He’d exhaled with relief and reached down to help her up onto the mattress.
“Why are you here?” he said in an equally soft whisper.
“To persuade you that you’re safe now.” She set one small hand on his chest and pushed him down, then cuddled up against his side. After a moment of shock, he wrapped his arms around her small form and began to shudder with silent tears.
Slowly he realized that she was sending warm, healing energy into him. “All will be well,” she murmured, sounding like a wise old sibyl, though he didn’t have the words to describe her then. He only knew that she was a miracle of warmth and understanding despite her tender years.
Gradually his fear faded, and he fell asleep with his arms around her. When he woke fully rested the next morning, she was gone.
She came again the next night to be sure that he was well and whole. He hugged her again, murmuring his thanks. They lay peacefully together until she sat up and pressed her soft childish lips to his cheek, whispering, “I’m so glad you’re my brother now.”
She’d left then, taking away his fear, and along with it, his heart.
