“Leaving took a great deal of courage, then, even slipping out the way you did.” Something in his voice drew her gaze to meet his once more. His eyes looked troubled now. “I suppose that brings me back to my first question. Will you be in trouble for departing without permission? Is there a person or court responsible for such things?”
She pressed her lips together as she contemplated the question. “I suppose the council would have that authority. But I don’t think there’s a law saying we can’t leave without approval. Audrey and her husband took a wedding trip to visit his family in England.”
His brows rose again. “England, you say? I thought your village was French.”
“He was an outsider. A British spy who followed Brielle’s husband up from the States.”
A glimmer of something like humor brushed his eyes. “Sounds like an interesting story. And he married one of your people?”
She nodded. “Audrey, one of my family’s dearest friends. She’s always been like a sister to me.” Sometimes even more so than Brielle. Audrey had taken the time to teach her to bake all those years ago.
Damien grew silent as his gaze shifted to the leaping flames before them. Was he thinking of the people she just described? Or had his thoughts returned to whether she would be punished for leaving? She should set his mind at ease there. The council had grown a great deal more lenient in allowing trading with outsiders. And since she’d not actually met anyone on this trip except Damien, they should have no concerns that she’d bring trouble back with her.
She glanced his way again. A pensiveness guarded his expression. Then he met her gaze. “Will you tell me more about what you need engraved? You said an image of the Lord’s Supper. On what? And why is it so important?”
Her breath seized. She couldn’t tell him. But he’d asked the question directly. It would be rude to put him off, especially when he’d done so much for her.
She would have to be honest.
She did her best to hold his gaze. “I want to tell you. Iwilltell you. But I need to confess something to my father first. Will you be patient with me until we reach Laurent?”
He studied her. His throat worked. She couldn’t breathe as she waited for his verdict. Then he nodded. “If you need me to, I’ll wait.”
Relief sagged through her, and she finally took in a deep breath.
Awareness slipped through her that she was touching him—or rather, her glove was touching his coat. Yet she felt the contact all the same.
He seemed to realize it at the same time, for his eyes darkened even more, taking on a charcoal hue.
She started to pull back, but he turned his arm in an easy motion, shifting his hand up to clasp hers inside his own. The smile that tugged the corners of his mouth was easy, friendly. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then released it. Only the touch of two friends sharing companionship. Yet the loss when he pulled away made her yearn for so much more.
She wrapped her hands around her knees to occupy them, and if a silence had stretched between them, it might have been awkward. Thankfully, he spoke right away.
“I suppose the only question that remains is what they’ll think about you bringing home a stranger.” A hint of teasing laced his voice, but she could well imagine that tone covered true concern. She felt him stiffen, or maybe that was only the change in the air between them.
“Or ... maybe you’d rather not bring me into the village,” he continued. “I can leave you once we’re within sight.” His voice had grown tight, as though with anger.
She had a feeling that wasn’t his true emotion. From what he’d said of his sister, it seemed he’d not been accepted by many in his life, though she couldn’t imagine why not. Likely, he thought she would shun his presence once she no longer needed him.
That couldn’t be further from the truth.
She reached out and laid her hand on his arm again. “Of course I want you to come inside. You said yourself you’d like to see our village, and I need you there.”
She pulled her hand back and did her best to pretend nothing worried her. Yet even as she tucked into her fur bedding,she couldn’t push away the nagging question of whether she was bringing trouble to Laurent without realizing it.
But in truth, she’d already caused the trouble. She could only pray Damien would be part of the solution.
Damien stared at Charlotte’s sleeping form in the gray light of early morning. Each time he looked at her, her beauty struck him anew, creating an ache in his chest and a longing in his fingers to reach out and touch her. Perhaps this was a time he could actually do that.
After all, she never slept late. This abnormal behavior might mean she was ill—feverish, even. He wouldn’t know unless he brushed his fingers across her porcelain skin. She didn’t seem paler than normal, and the times he’d heard her restless stirring in the night might explain why she still slept now.
He should simply speak her name and see if she awoke. But her hand on his arm last night had ignited a desire within him for more. This time without the bulky thickness of gloves.
Reaching out, he brushed the hair that framed her face. As soft as he’d expected. When his fingers moved to stroke her temple, he hovered over her skin for a moment. If she awoke and felt him touching her ... The last thing he wanted was for her to fear him.
He shifted his hand to rest on her shoulder. “Charlotte? Charlotte, wake up.”
Her eyes flickered open, and they fixed on him, though they still possessed the dreamy haze of sleep.
