She glanced toward where he’d staked Gulliver, though the morning light wasn’t strong enough to see the mule from here.
For a long moment, she rolled her lips into a tight line. Probably thinking through her options. His gaze snagged on those lips, his body longing to soften them with his own. Pulling his focus away from that line of thought proved more work than it should have, but he finally succeeded just as she turned back to him.
“I need to go on this morning.” Her eyes searched his, maybe seeking out whether he would argue the point.
Yet hecouldn’targue. He understood too well. He did have concerns, but maybe they could work through some of them together.
He reached out for her, more an instinct than something planned. Her hand slipped into his, fitting there perfectly. The contact helped hone his focus. “You do need to keep going. I’ve been trying to think of a way I could go with you, but I can’t leave Gulliver. Not injured like this and without feed.”
She shook her head as he spoke, confirming that abandoning the mule was not an option for her, either.
He tightened his grip on her hand. “I’m having troubleswallowing the thought of sending you off alone. It should only be one day to the lake, and the landmarks aren’t hard to find. But you never know ...”
She was rolling her lips again, uncertainty clouding her eyes. He’d assumed she wouldn’t even blink at the thought of traveling on by herself. After all, she’d done it twice before. Maybe she finally realized how dangerous it was for a person alone in the snowy mountains. If she wasn’t keen on the idea, maybe they should rethink the plan.
Then her expression turned resolved. Or maybe notresolvedso much as earnest. “Damien.” Uncertainty tinged her tone. “I can travel the rest of the way on my own. But ... there’s another reason I want you to come to Laurent.”
His heart leapt, even as he commanded it to keep from jumping to conclusions. Her reason likely had nothing to do with wanting to introduce him to her family. Wanting to continue any sort of friendship—or more—after this journey ended. Would she finally tell him about the engraving project?
She nibbled the edge of her bottom lip. “Well, several reasons, actually, but there’s one I need to tell you about now.”
His belly clenched. It didn’t look like this was a good reason. Or maybe she thoughthewouldn’t like it.
He leaned in, rubbing his thumb across the backs of her fingers. Offering what encouragement he could.
“I ... need your drawing skills.”
He raised his brows, doing his best to show only curiosity, not suspicion.
“We have a special keepsake that was handed down from the man who first helped start our village. It’s something all of Laurent treasures, and it’s kept in a special holder in ourhome. I was cleaning it and accidentally dropped it into the fire the night before I left. It’s made of brass, and by the time I pulled it from the flames, the image on one side had melted.”
So many questions ran through his mind, not the least of which was why such a village treasure would be kept in Charlotte’s family’s home. Did they hold a special position among the families? He focused on a question that might be easier for her to answer now. “What image is on this keepsake?”
Sadness tugged at her features. “The Lord’s Supper. It was a beautiful rendition, so detailed. I loved to take it down and study the kindness in Jesus’s eyes.”
His gut roiled. Surely she didn’t think he could re-create such a masterpiece. The Lord’s Supper? So many human faces. He could do animals without too much trouble, but people...
She must have seen his reaction, for she gripped his hand with both of hers now. “My father is a master with metals. He can do all kinds of elegant scrollwork and engravings. But he’s not an artist. He can’t capture detail and personality the way you can. I thought maybe with the two of you working together...”
She looked at him with so much hope, he did his best not to show the terror her suggestion planted inside him. He’d never drawn for others. Never drawn anything that mattered. And now to attempt a repair to something the entire village treasured...
But . . . the Lord’s Supper? His pulse quickened. Was there any chance this could be the match to his . . . Definitely not.
He closed his eyes in a desperate effort to gather his thoughts. With Charlotte staring at him with such faith, he couldn’t find the clarity he needed for this decision. Toomuch was at stake here. Possibly her life, if he sent her on alone. Possibly anything that might continue between them if he agreed to help and his efforts ruined the project.
With a deep breath in, then out, he cleared his mind. As for the trip there, he didn’t like the notion, but sending Charlotte ahead seemed the only real solution. Her family needed to know she was safe, and she would likely manage the journey as well as any female.
As for the project she asked him to help with, it seemed reasonable to agree to look at it. To speak with her father and make a decision together on what might best be done. If the man had the amount of talent she gave him credit for, he likely possessed a level head and intuition about what could be done in a situation like this. And once he saw Damien’s limited ability, the man might not allow him near such a special treasure. He would have to trust the man’s opinion just like Charlotte did.
Of course, she also thought Damien’s skill equal to the task. She might be very mistaken on both counts.
20
Preparing to leave Damien and Gulliver was one of the hardest things Charlotte had done in a long time. Even harder than slipping out of Laurent to begin this journey, for the outcome this time seemed so much less certain.
What if he changed his mind and decided not to come after her when the mule recovered? It might be far easier for him to simply carry on with his trapping than seek out her hidden village.
That thought formed a tight knot in her chest, and she could no longer deceive herself that she only hoped he’d come to repair the chalice.
