I don’t know what I believe!
His tenor voice wrapped around her as the vision of him disappeared. “Find the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”
No, Father, don’t leave me! She tried to call after them, but no sound emerged. She wanted to raise her arms and reach for him, but her heavy limbs remained still. Let me come with you!
“Noooo!” She heard someone from a great distance. “Eliza, no!”
The voice was familiar, strong and knowing. So why did it sound so desperate? Powerful fingers wrapped around her shoulders. The voice continued its plea for her to stay.
“Liza, please! You can’t leave me. I need you!” Another voice, more familiar than the first, rang with anguish.
Just when she thought her soul could rest and her war with death would cease, the torture fell upon her once again. But before it consumed her, she drifted into a blissful sleep.
“No! Eliza, no!” Thomas choked on his words, frantically feeling for a pulse.
Nothing.
Her chest no longer rose and fell. He leaned in, hoping to feel a slight movement, or hear the soft beating of her heart.
She can’t die! Lord, please!
Kitty sat on the other side of the bed, begging the Lord to let her sister live.
After two days of tireless care-giving both he and Kitty were exhausted and their emotions unhinged. This was the moment. The moment where Eliza would live or die.
Thomas held her by the shoulders as he sat next to her lifeless frame. He looked into her white and vacant face, powerless to do anything more for her. Except pray.
“Eliza.” He spoke quiet, still gripping her shoulders. “I don’t know why, but I believe God has led you into my life.” His throat swelled and tears trailed down his face and dripped from his chin. “If you live, I promise to make up for all the ways I’ve failed you.”
Clenching his eyes shut, Thomas willed away the tears that continued to form and struggled to slaughter the words that rang in his head. “You killed your mother, Tommy . . .” He couldn’t live knowing Eliza had died under his care.
As he prayed, the arms of the Lord wrapped around him. Nothing has happened that I have not blessed. Have faith.
Thomas shook his head. What about the soldiers chasing them? What about the men who did this to Eliza?
All things work together for the good of those who love me. Vengeance is mine.
A soft moan floated to his ears. His eyes shot open and the hope he’d been suspending draped around him like the arms of an angel. Eliza’s head moved slightly and she let out another small whimper.
“Eliza!” Kitty breathed.
He locked his gaze with Kitty’s red-rimmed eyes.
God had given them a miracle.
Eliza was going to live.
Chapter Ten
Samuel walked by the bustling wharf, studying the map of Boston in his hand as they went door-to-door, still hoping that somehow luck would turn in their favor. Two more soldiers followed behind him and Donaldson, muskets on their shoulders. Rain pelted Samuel’s face and a fierce wind struck his back. Boats of every shape and size bobbed in the choppy waters only three yards away. The mid-autumn storm worked against him, just like everything else did.
“Are you sure you’ve checked this side of town well enough?” he yelled at Donaldson over the roaring gale before looking at the two other men. “This is a large city. They could be anywhere.” The tension barreling through him carried into his tone. “You can’t honestly make me believe that there are no signs of them at all!” Where was the passion that used to surround him—the drive that kept the world afloat? It seemed as if everyone and everything around him lacked the one thing he truly needed. Determination. Was he the only one who cared what happened to Eliza?
“We have done our utmost,” Donaldson replied, holding his hat to his head as the wind tried to snatch it. He looked irritated, but held whatever reservations he had within him. Smart man. “Of course we will continue to look for them, but I do believe all of the men you’ve put to work have checked every building and home in town. We’ve worked morning and night, Captain. We’ll find them, sir. I know we will.”
Samuel grunted as cold drops stung his face, his neck muscles twitching. He crunched the map in his fingers. “I did everything I could to get any usable information out of Watson’s supposed uncle, but the man is as dumb as he is fat. And now I’ve been forced to let him go. What a waste.”
Samuel pointed at the next house and then to the soldiers behind him. They nodded and marched forward to do his bidding. He turned back to Donaldson as the wind yanked at his cloak. “I want you to tell Officer Clark and the other men to go north and search in Salem.”
“Excuse me, sir.”
Irritated, Samuel spun to see Clark standing behind him, his boyish face looking dwarfed under his dripping white wig. “Clark, where did you come from? You’re just the man I wanted to see. I need you to—”
“Pardon me, Captain, but—”
“But what?” Samuel barked.
Clark refused to meet his gaze. “Major Stockton wishes you to meet him at his quarters, sir.”
“Why?”
“Something about the rebels. He says it’s urgent.”
Blast it! It was always about the rebels. Didn’t Stockton know he was dealing with them in his own way? Watson was a rebel of the worst kind. Why did he have to be bothered with these things now? Eliza’s faraway cries kept him up every waking minute. He couldn’t rest, couldn’t think clear until she was found. And now he had to be interrupted with this?
“Tell him I’m on my way.”
Clark turned, but Samuel stopped him. “When I’m done there, meet me in my office. I’ve got an assignment for you.”
With a sharp bow, Clark headed into the wind toward the other side of town.
Turning once again to Donaldson, Samuel continued, pretending he hadn’t had to endure the untimely interruption. “After my meeting with Stockton, you will come with me. I can’t stay in this blasted town any longer or I’ll run mad.”
Donaldson held his mouth rigid as if he were trying to hold back a retort. “If I may, Captain. Where will you and I be going?”
Samuel squinted his eyes into the pelting drops, looking past the endless boats and beyond the rolling hills. “We’re going south.”
Thomas stayed by Eliza’s side day and night, hardly taking any time to care for his own basic needs. Eating was a trial. Sleeping was a burden. Every move she made, every sound that escaped her pale lips made his heart leap, hoping that maybe today would be the day she would open her brown eyes and look at him.
The autumn weather sent cool rains that pounded without end, increasing Thomas’s sense of helplessness. There was no bright sunlight to warm the cold that seeped not only through his clothes, but through his heart. No happy rays to bring cheer to a cheerless place. He wanted nothing more than to take Eliza’s pain for her, to turn back time and do things differently.
Kitty offered to relieve him, at least for an hour or so, but he declined. He was the cause of Eliza’s pain, and insisted that he would be the remedy. She would wake any day now, he was sure of it, and prayed for it without end. When that blessed moment arrived, he wanted to make sure his face was the first thing she saw.
A few times Eliza called out, delirious with pain. She developed a fever not long after her attack, just as Nathaniel feared. One minute she was hot as fire. The next, a pool of sweat. Thomas never experienced anything so terrifying.
He mopped her brow endlessly and moved the few strands of dampened hair from her soft face. His moments alone with her gave him ample time to observe the shape of her eyes, the length of her lashes, the perfect curve of her lips. He found himself mesmerized by the delicate mole adorning her cheekbone and noted how it intensified her beauty.
His face flushed every time her wound needed dressing. Even though she always remained properly covered, her shape and form under the coverings coul
d not be denied. The bleeding had stopped and thanks to proper care and healing herbs, no gangrene or other illnesses assaulted her.
“Kitty?”
Thomas jerked forward at the sound of Eliza’s dry voice and cupped his large hands around her trim fingers. “Eliza, ‘tis I, Thomas.”
She didn’t open her eyes, only moved her head from side-to-side and called for Kitty again.
He leaned in closer, wanting desperately to stroke her face. Instead, he held his hands tighter around hers to keep from caressing her soft skin. Doing such a foolish thing would only increase his already budding feelings. Feelings he shouldn’t have.
“Eliza, it’s Thomas. What do you need?” He spoke low, hoping it would help calm her distress.
Her eyebrows pinched into a deep V, her breathing erratic. Thomas held his breath. She must be in a great deal of pain.
Keeping his grip on her hands, he looked over his shoulder and called toward the open door. “Kitty! Eliza is calling for you!”
Within seconds, Kitty’s light step raced up the stairway.
When she rushed to the bed, Thomas released his grip on Eliza and sat back in his chair, reluctant to give up his perch. Kitty sat on the bed and held Eliza’s hand just the way he had done.
Her frantic gaze washed over her sister. “Liza. Liza, I’m here.” She touched her face. “You’re safe now, don’t worry. What do you need?”
Eliza’s feature’s relaxed and her head slumped into the pillow, her body engulfed again by sleep.
Kitty patted her sister’s fingers and moved away from the bed. She stared, her lips thin, her eyes blinking away glistening tears.
The thrill of hearing Eliza’s voice nourished Thomas’s weary soul with a much-needed boost of hope. But such hope refused to linger when reality shuffled near. He should have let Kitty be at Eliza’s side. She needed her sister, needed to hear her voice and know that Eliza wanted her.
“I’m sorry.” Thomas stepped forward and rested his hand on her arm. “She’ll wake again. I’m sure of it. Would you like to sit by her for a while?”
Kitty looked up. Her mouth formed a small O and she exhaled. “I would indeed. Thank you.”
Thomas motioned for her to take the chair. Once seated, Kitty leaned into the bed like a cold child leans toward a fire.
He backed up, taking slow steps before turning around and heading down the stairs. There were many beneficial things about taking a break. He could eat, clean up, and maybe even sleep.
But he did none of those things.
Thomas slumped into his large upholstered chair in front of the blazing fire and wiped his hands down his face, trying to locate the source of his turmoil. It was a miracle she’d spoken, let alone survived such an attack. So why must his stomach ache and twist?
How selfish he’d been. He’d wanted to be by her side when she awoke, but of course Kitty deserved that right. However, he promised himself, he wouldn’t give up his position at her side permanently. He had a right to be there, of course, seeing as how it was his duty to see she was cared for.
Thomas pressed out of the chair and walked to the fire, resting his hands against the mantel. Why was there still such emptiness within him? Why the gnawing in his gut? He shook his head and exhaled through his nose as he accepted the root of his angst.
It was Kitty’s name Eliza had spoken.
Not his.
Chapter Eleven
Eliza stirred. The pain in her middle burned and the ache vaulted through her entire body. She needed water.
Pulling open her heavy eyelids, Eliza tried to focus on what surrounded her. A dark wood-beamed ceiling, a candle on a table near the far wall, fire crackling in a small fireplace. The smell of warm air mixed with a fresh cool breeze danced in the room around her. Heavy, comforting blankets covered everything but her arms and head.
With great effort she turned her gaze. On one side of the bed, several feet from where she lay, was a wall with a large window. Rain dripped a kindly rhythm from the slightly open pane.
She eased her head in the other direction. A male figure slumped in an uncomfortable-looking position in a chair beside the bed. His chest moved up and down with deep breaths and his eyes were closed.
What happened? Why was she in bed? Suddenly the overpowering need for water accosted her again. When she tried to speak only a frail murmur emerged.
Her lids dropped again, feeling heavy and scratching her eyes. As if from afar, a gentle voice spoke.
“Eliza?”
A large gentle hand swept across her head.
“Did you say something? What do you need?”
She couldn’t respond. It took ages to gather enough strength to raise her eyelids a second time. When her vision finally cleared, she focused on the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. The familiar face hovering over her carried a worried-like smile.
An extra ounce of strength stormed through her at the realization of who stared back at her—his touch so caring and his voice so soothing.
Thomas.
She tried to smile, wanting to show her gratitude for his company, but again the extreme thirst that plagued her begged for relief.
“Water.” Her voice sounded so hoarse she didn’t recognize it.
Thomas jumped to his feet, going to the pitcher on the back table. He returned seconds later, water glass in hand.
“Let me help you,” he said.
The melody of his deep, resonating voice reached into her and stroked away another layer of fear and confusion.
He tucked his hand under her head and lifted her just enough as he held the cup to her lips. She reveled in the feel of his gentle strength.
The sip of liquid coated her dry throat, chasing away the bitter palate in her mouth.
Thomas lay her head back down and placed the cup on a small stool at the side of the bed. The lines around his eyes deepened as he smiled, massaging away the worry etched into his face.
Her eyes followed his every feature. The dark whiskers on his cheeks and chin were long, enhancing the perfect shape of his jaw. Deep shadows under his eyes gave testimony to his constant vigilance. His thick black hair, still dutifully tied behind his head, peeked around his shoulders. If she wasn’t so weak the temptation to reach up and test its softness might have been too much to overcome.
“Mr. Watson?” Again the need for water scratched her throat. “May I have another sip?”
He grinned and nodded, then repeated the assistance just as before and this time she emptied the entire glass. Never before had a glass of water been equivalent to pure heaven.
“Thank you.” Her voice was still strained but it sounded more like her own.
“Of course.”
Thomas breathed heavy as if he was trying to expel some kind of emotion. Eliza knew she’d been the cause of his sleepless nights and an all-consuming blame shook at her conscience.
“Mr. Watson, I’m so sorry.”
Thomas straightened. His handsome face softened and he moved the chair closer to her bed. “First of all, please call me Thomas. I think we’ve been through enough to forego that kind of ceremony.”
If she’d had enough strength, she would have laughed. “All right, Thomas.” Somehow his name lifted off her tongue as if she’d said it all her life. And she liked it. She was liable to like it too much.
“Second,” Thomas continued, “you have nothing for which to be sorry. I should be the one apologizing. Everything that’s happened has been because of me.”
The gentleness in his gaze and the intensity of his words made her stomach weightless. Eliza hardly knew what to say. It wasn’t his fault. No one could have predicted what would happen.
“You look like you haven’t gotten much sleep.”
His eyes twinkled. “No, I haven’t. Thanks to you.”
Eliza lifted the corners of her lips in return. “I’ll try and be more considerate next time.”
She stopped. A surging panic raced over her. Where was Kitty?
&nbs
p; “Kitty? Is she all right?” The words burst from her lips.
“She’s fine.” Thomas motioned with his head toward the open door. “In fact, she’s been at your side most of the day. She’s been busy caring for you as well, and has been almost as worried for you as I have been.” He winked before his tender gaze traveled over her face.
Eliza’s weariness suspended as his stare turned the color of twilight.
“Where is she now?” Eliza tried to stay on subject and ignore the ridiculous thoughts that raged through her weary mind. She was simply too tired to think straight.
“She’s downstairs making breakfast.”
“How long . . . how long have I been sleeping?”
“Ten days.”
Ten days. It felt like ten months.
“My stomach hurts.” She went to touch it, but he stopped her hand.
“Be careful.” He reached forward, his gentle fingers held hers for a moment longer than necessary before he laid her arm back by her side.
“Do you remember anything? Do you remember what happened?” The low timbre of his voice soothed her so. She didn’t want him to stop talking.
Eliza inhaled little breaths and looked up at the ceiling, trying to piece together the broken bits of memory. The heavy fog in her brain gathered again and nothing clear emerged.
“Only bits and pieces.”
Thomas’s head bowed and the muscles under the stubble on his face flexed. “I’m nearly positive they didn’t take advantage of you.” He kept his chin down and cleared his throat. “Am I right?” His eyes popped up with his last question and he swallowed.
The fatigue that toyed with her muscles made it impossible to stay awake, but she could tell from Thomas’s impatient demeanor that he was desperate to know.
“Not to worry. I am safe.” She formed a weak smile on her lips as the exhaustion pulled her deeper into the bed.
Thomas exhaled with an audible huff as a visible load lifted from his shoulders. He leaned back in his chair and smoothed his hands over his head. Did that mean he cared? He must surely or he would not have done all that he had in her behalf.
So Fair a Lady (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 1) Page 11
