Her father came running behind her. “If you leave here, don’t return, Faith Kingston! Ever!”
She stepped outside and didn’t look back.
The heat of her anger carried for the first ten minutes and then the weather began to take its toll. With no cape, the stinging rain had her thin skirt and blouse plastered to her body in no time. Sleet stung her face and cheeks, and mixed with her tears to form little crystals of ice on her eyelashes, her nose, and the corners of her lips. Her plan had been to walk to Charity and Ingram’s. They didn’t have room to house her for an extended stay, however, she hoped she could stay until Blythe returned, but as she walked into the howling wind and became colder and wetter, and her steps slowed, and her limbs began to numb and ache, she realized she’d likely succumb to the elements before she reached their home.
Sheer will propelled her forward. As she made her way she prayed she’d see a wagon or someone passing on the road but there was nothing but the elements. A part of her deemed herself a lunatic for making this decision, but no part of her wished to have remained at home to marry Will Case, so she wearily plodded on feet that she could no longer feel.
After what seemed like an eternity of frigid rain and battering winds, she didn’t know how long she’d been walking. The only certainty was a deep longing to simply stop, collapse, and let the fates have their way because she couldn’t go any farther. She was soaked and frozen . . . The ice in her eyes had rendered her blind and she had no idea where she was, who she was, or where she was going. With the last of her senses she saw a house ahead and knew if she didn’t seek help there she would surely die.
Nicholas was inside sorting the items of clothing he’d be donating when he happened to glance out of the window and saw a woman slowly collapse in the road by his front gate. Alarmed, he ran downstairs. Ignoring the stinging rain and wind, he scooped her up and dashed back inside.
Breathing from anxiety and exertion he looked down at the pale, ice-crusted face and his eyes widened with recognition and fear. “Faith!” he called, jostling her gently. She was as unmoving as the dead.
“Faith!” Her limp body felt like a block of ice in his arms. Taking the stairs two at a time, he placed her gently on the bed, then dragged some of pelts he slept on as close to the fire as he dared. Kneeling beside her, he gently removed as much of the ice from her eyes and face as he could.
“Faith!” he called anxiously. He placed his ear on her icy wet blouse and prayed her heart was still beating. It was, albeit faintly. He had a hundred questions or more about what she was doing out in the weather with no cape, but he had to set them aside. He needed to get her dry and warmed as quickly as possible.
First he had to get her out of her wet clothing. Everything she had on was frigid and soaked. He could have debated how to go about it in a way that might have preserved her reputation and modesty, but there wasn’t time. If he didn’t undress her, her body would never warm enough to survive. Tight-lipped with concern, he dragged the sodden garments away from her cold skin and briskly dried her feet and limbs with a heavy blanket from the bed. The firelight danced over her nudity, providing the perfect backdrop for a tryst, but that was the furthest thing from his mind. His only concern was getting her dry and warm. Once done, he fetched a second blanket from the bed, and moving her as if she were made of the King’s crystal, gently wrapped her inside. Placing her down again, he covered her with the bed quilt and then the heaviest bear pelt he owned. It was all he knew to do, then he sat on the floor to watch and wait.
Later, as silence filled the room and the weather continued to rage outside, Nicholas allowed himself a moment to wonder over the whys of her appearance. When he first picked her up out on the road she looked like she’d been washed up on the beach by the sea. Why wasn’t she dressed for the weather? Had she been set upon by ruffians and her cape stolen from her? He supposed it made no sense to waste his thoughts on speculations because he had no answers. Was her father out searching for her? Nicholas thought he should probably ride over and apprise Kingston of the situation, but he was afraid to leave her alone. Because it was improper for an unmarried woman to consort with a man outside her family, there might be ramifications if Kingston called foul and word got out, but it had been either leave her to die or bring her inside and offer his aid. Surely a loving father would see the rightness in that decision.
However, a nagging feeling Nick couldn’t name made him hesitate over the decision to speak with Kingston. Although he had no answers as to how Faith came to be in such dire straits, he thought he’d wait to hear her explanation first.
Three hours later, she began to stir. Nicholas, eating a bowl of rabbit stew, set it aside and walked over to where she lay beside the fire. Eyes still closed, she was moaning and attempting to pull off her blankets but didn’t appear to possess the strength.
“Faith,” he called softly as he knelt beside her and gently stroked her sweat-dampened brow. She was burning up with fever.
“I won’t marry him,” she protested weakly. “I won’t!”
“Faith,” he echoed more urgently. He had to get her fever down. Placing a kiss on her forehead he hurried down to the kitchen.
He spent the rest of the day and night heating water to sponge her down, talking to her softly, and easing her up so he could offer her spoonfuls of bark tea to calm the fever. He repeated the ministrations over and over; urging her to fight and telling her how proud he was of her when she took the tea, even though she didn’t appear to hear a thing.
But he kept it up and when he was ready to drop, he crawled onto the pelt, dragged her back against the heat of his body, and slept.
Faith opened her eyes and peered around. Where am I? She moved to rise but was laid low by a surprising lack of strength. Lying there and breathing harshly, she pondered that for a moment and glanced around the unfamiliar room. Nicholas sound asleep in a chair startled her and widened her eyes. Filled with alarm she frantically surveyed the dark room again. Where am I? She was still so weary, her eyes began closing. Maybe it’s just a dream. How long she drifted off she didn’t know, but when her eyes opened again, he was still in the chair; however, this time he was awake and watching her. Seated in the firelight, he looked like a king at rest and his expression was impossible to decipher. His long-sleeved shirt was partially undone, revealing a small vee of bare throat and chest. His face was unshaven.
“Good afternoon, Miss Kingston.”
Not a dream. “What am I doing here?” she asked. “Where are we?”
“You’ve been ill and we’re in my bedroom.”
Her eyes widened. He didn’t say anything else so she asked, “Did you bring me here?”
“Yes. I found you outside in the storm.”
With those words everything rushed back to her. The fight with her father, her flight from the inn, the storm. Her whole world had suddenly tilted and she forced herself not to acknowledge the ache in her heart. “How long have I been here?”
“This is the evening of the fourth day.”
The span of time was shocking. That she’d become so ill after what she’d endured wasn’t. Had her father looked for her, or simply said good riddance? That thought brought pain, too, along with the renewed memories of her flight. She saw her herself trying to make her way through the icy rain and how horrible an experience it had been. She was lucky and grateful to have survived. She was still so tired though. She felt as if an apple blossom could knock her over. Her eyes slid closed.
“Are you hungry?”
She never answered. She’d fallen asleep.
Nicholas noted that her breathing sounded more even than at any time since her arrival, and it made him believe the crisis had passed. Getting her back on her feet would now become his focus. After that, he didn’t know, because he had no idea why she’d been out in the weather. His mind went back to that first afternoon and her fever-fueled delirium. Whom didn’t she wish to marry? Had Case been bedeviling her again, and was he somehow
tied to her being out in the weather? Once again, Nicholas had no answers, so he retook his seat and resumed eating his stew with the hope that she’d awaken again soon.
It was dark inside the room when Faith reopened her eyes. This time, the sense of disorientation only lasted for a moment; she knew where she was. She was lying by the fire in Nicholas Grey’s bedroom and she’d been ill. The images of the argument with her father flooded through her mind again and she placed her hand against her cheek. It still stung where he’d struck her, but the mental slaps he’d meted out were more hurtful. Elizabeth Sutter. To his credit, during the years he’d raised her, he’d never dallied with anyone, or at least as far as she knew. Their lives had centered around each other and the inn. Now he was feeling like a buck in rut, proposing to have new children and toss away the old. She brushed away the tears filling her eyes. She refused to cry. She turned her head and found Nicholas watching her from that same chair. He didn’t speak and neither did she, but it was yet another situation she’d have to face eventually. She still felt as if she’d been left for dead.
“Thank you for saving me,” she said to him. She had no remembrance of telling him that before, but she owed him thanks and more for his help.
“You’re welcome. Are you hungry?”
“I am.”
“I have stew for you warming downstairs.” He got to his feet, adding, “There’s a chamber pot behind the screen over there. If you’re not strong enough yet, I’ll help you when I return.”
Faith was embarrassed to her toes. “I believe I can manage to get there myself,” she countered, not knowing whether she could or not, but certain she’d faint dead away if he had to assist her with something so personal.
She looked up at him looming above her in the shadows, and for the first time, her vision was clear enough to see the weariness in his eyes. “Have you slept?”
“No.”
“Have you been the only person taking care of me?”
“Yes. I didn’t want to alert your father until you could tell me why you were out in that storm.”
“Then no one knows I’m here?”
“Only my neighbors, Arte and Bekkah Clegg. Bekkah brought over some food.”
She met his eyes again. “Thank you,” she whispered emotionally.
“I’ll get you some stew.”
As soon as he departed she forced herself to a sitting position to try and make it over to the screen before he came back. As she sat up straight, the sheets and quilts wrapped around her body slipped down. For the first time she realized that she didn’t have a stitch on! Beneath all the covers she was naked as a newborn. All manner of questions screamed at her for an explanation, but it didn’t take an advanced education to unravel how this had come about. Nicholas Grey had removed her clothing! She almost did faint then. The implications left her dizzy and appalled. She understood that it had been undoubtedly necessary; she’d probably resembled a shipwreck survivor when he found her, but the ramifications were legion. Realizing time was wasting, she forced herself to stand and on shaking legs rewrapped the blankets around her and made her way to the screen.
Her mission accomplished, she was lying on her back panting from the exertion when he returned. He took one look at her and asked, “I assume you took care of your needs without assistance.”
“I did,” she whispered.
“Stubborn woman.”
“Embarrassed is more applicable.”
He showed a small smile and shook his head. “Here’s the stew.”
“Can I sit in a chair? Maybe that will help me stay awake longer.”
He set the bowl down and carried the chair he’d been sitting in over to the fire and set it close. He scooped her up gently, quilts and all, before she could protest. His strong arms and her knowledge that he knew she had no clothes on were both so distracting that it took her a moment to realize that she was not in the chair, but on his lap in the chair. Startled, she tried to get up, but he stayed her gently.
“I’ll wield the spoon, you eat.”
“I can feed myself,” she protested. Although the trip behind the screen had drained the small amount of energy she’d awakened with, this was far too intimate for her to allow. “You must let me up.”
Instead, a spoon filled with a delicious-smelling stew floated in front of her face and she looked up into his waiting eyes. Her stomach growled in response to the tempting offering, and she knew she was going to surrender; she was too hungry not to. His intense gaze made her aware of intimacies associated with other kinds of personal surrenders as well, but she chose to concentrate on the food instead.
Nicholas fed her slowly. As she chewed and swallowed he saw the small signs of rebellion in her eyes, but the show of temper proved she was on the mend and that pleased him.
“More?” he asked.
“No,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I believe I’ve had enough for now.”
He set the bowl on the floor. She’d eaten far more than he’d expected and that pleased him, too.
As the fire filled the room with flickering light, he gazed down at her and ran his finger gently over the angry bruise on her cheek. It had bloomed to life the first evening and he’d been waiting to ask her about it. “Who struck you?”
She ducked away, eyes downcast.
His touch light, he raised her chin so he could study her face. “Was it Case again?”
For a moment she didn’t respond. He could see her mental struggle so he waited calmly. With her hair matted and the signs of sickness showing itself in her tired eyes, she looked awful, but he still found her absolutely mesmerizing.
“ ’Twas my father.”
He stiffened and searched her eyes with wonder. “Why?”
So she told him the story.
He listened without comment and when she finished Nick was furious. He tenderly gathered her closer, and she let herself be held without a fight.
Faith had never been held this way before. His embrace seemed to offer her both the strength and the solace she’d always sought. For her entire life, she’d taken care of her own emotional needs; eschewing her tears, sadness, and fears because there’d been no one to share them with, not even for a little while. However, his arms were like a balm to all the years alone, and for a moment, in the quietness of the room, she let go of being strong and dutiful, and allowed someone else to help her with her burdens.
Next she knew, she was crying. Where the tears came from she didn’t know, but they were rolling silently down her cheeks. Her father had finally broken her heart, and with her world turned upside down the future loomed dark.
“You are the bravest woman I’ve ever known, Faith Kingston,” he whispered above her head, and she felt his lips press reverently against her brow.
He raised her chin and looked down at her face as she slowly wiped at her tears. He kissed each wet eye with equal reverence before asking, “Do you think you will be all right here alone if I leave you for a short while?”
She dragged her palms over her cheeks. “Where are you going?”
“To your father’s to retrieve your belongings.”
She stiffened with alarm.
“Don’t worry, I’ll leave him alive.”
“He isn’t going to let you take them.”
“It doesn’t matter what he wants. You need your things.”
He was right, of course, but she didn’t see her father letting him take them without a confrontation, providing he hadn’t already disposed of them. She also didn’t see Nicholas taking no for an answer. Added to those worries were the spy inks and stationery hidden in her bedroom desk drawer. Had they been discovered? They had to be retrieved as well. Her widow’s weeds were kept beneath her mattress but she didn’t want to have to explain why they were hidden away. She stopped herself before the worry list grew longer. She was too tired for all this thinking.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Tired.”
“I’ll
lay you back down.”
Faith was surprised at how comfortable she’d become and in reality would have chosen to stay where she was, but he was neither her husband nor her intended so she had no business even thinking along that vein. If word got around about where she’d been for the past few days it wouldn’t matter that he’d saved her life, she’d be shunned at church, and the subject of scandal-fed gossip, maybe for the rest of her life.
“You’re certain I can leave you alone? I’m sure Bekkah wouldn’t mind sitting with you until I return.”
“I will be fine. The less people who know where I am, the better for us, I believe.”
He gave her an agreeing nod. “I’m glad you’re on the mend.”
“So am I. Thank you again for coming to my aid.”
“Again, you’re welcome. I’m simply glad I was at home.”
And she was as well. He laid her back down on the pelts as carefully as he’d picked her up earlier. Tracing his finger down her unbruised cheek, he said, “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
“Would you bring the contents of my writing desk, too, please?”
“Yes.”
Faith watched him depart and then slid back into sleep.
Chapter 12
Nicholas knew he could have easily waited until morning to see Kingston, but his anger was too high. Not only had the man’s selfish ultimatum nearly cost Faith her life, he’d struck her hard enough to leave her bruised. That alone made him a candidate for gutting. The vivid memory of how cold and still she’d been when he found her added to the fury. Had the man no heart at all? He didn’t care about Kingston wanting to marry the little tart he’d been introduced to at the reception, but he took great exception to the plan to sell Faith to Case as if he she held no more value than a milk cow. The most difficult challenge would be keeping himself from strangling the Tory toad with his bare hands.
Midnight Page 13
