So Rare a Gift (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 3)

by Amber Lynn Perry

  Shameful tears trickled over her hand which covered her mouth. She fought to breathe through her nose which thickened with the cries she refused to release. If she opened her lips to speak, even to breathe, she would prove herself the weak, senseless female her father professed her to be.

  “Miss?” He bent in front of her, the outline of his figure blurred by the constant rise of moisture. His head tilted and he reached for her shoulder, but stopped just before touching. “I wish to help. If you would tell me what you’ve lost.”

  Anna’s spirit crushed with more emotions than she could name—thanks for his kindness, grief at the loss of something so dear, despair that her need for understanding her brother’s death would elude her, despite the efforts she’d given. Foremost, fear that the future of freedom she dreamed for herself would never be realized.

  What little courage pulsed from her spirit, she clung to, looking up. “I…” Her voice squeaked from her throat. She looked down, accepting the wave of truth as it crashed against her. “My ring.”

  She struggled to her feet. He stayed at her side, one hand cupping her elbow, the other resting against her back as he helped her into the chair.

  “I am so sorry.” Not a hint of disgust in his voice. Not a shadow of mockery. He could not possibly be so sincere. But if he was…

  Oh, how she wished she could shrink away, fall back into the shadows and forget this terrible display. But her mind refused to cease its obsession over the thing she’d prayed would never occur. Her mother’s ring was gone forever. How could it be otherwise? It had broken from her neck and fallen in the woods during their escape, covered forever by mud and rain.

  Just as her mother’s grave had been.

  Numb, the tears retreated, leaving Anna’s lonely soul exposed. She stared at the fire. The few drops still in her eyes caught the light from the embers and flayed spikes of orange. No Samuel. No ring to give her hope for the future. Lord, I am lost.

  “You are married then?”

  Anna looked up. What harm was there in sharing this bit of truth? “I am a widow.”

  He pulled back, so slight a nod from his head she hardly noticed it. “Forgive me. If I had known I should have addressed you properly.”

  She shook her head. “You did no wrong, as I did not tell you.” For truly, what did formalities mean, when the hope of her future had vanished? She stroked the skin where the ring had rested for so many years. What she’d come to America to find—freedom, and the knowledge of Samuel’s death—she might never obtain. Mother had wished happiness for her. ‘Twould not be reality, but merely the dust of her dreams. Easily collected, more easily blown away.

  ~~~

  The rain trickled now, tapping instead of striking the house as it had done for hours. William rested in the chair, the woman having taken to the loft sometime past. He glanced upward, his elbows against his knees. Though he couldn’t see her, he could imagine she slept fitfully. With only her cloak and the floor on which to rest, who wouldn’t? He’d offered for her to sleep near the fire, but not surprisingly, she’d opted for solitude in place of comfort. The fresh memory of the well of tears in her eyes, the hard pinch of her lips, made his chest ache anew. Poor woman. After such an ordeal it was remarkable she was calm as she was. Still, there was an emotion, unrecognizable but clearly painful, that lived ever-present in her eyes.

  Fiddling with the handkerchief she’d returned, he sorted the evening’s events, its revelations and secrets. The soft fabric caught on his rough hands. She was a widow. Surprising in some respects, and in others not at all. She presented herself as “Miss”. He understood her need to be cautious in what she shared, but wondered at the deeper secrets that shadowed her pale blue eyes.

  William looked up to the loft once again. Whoever her husband had been, she had clearly loved him. The loss of her ring had been her undoing. Instantly, the sad tone of her voice crawled through him. The way she’d spoken the words my ring, was as if the pains of her spouse’s death were still fresh.

  Cold memories misted through him. He knew that pain. Knew it far too well. That unyeilding loss that opened a bottomless cavern in the heart. Yet the one he had loved, he had never wed. The one he had loved still lived, still breathed and spoke and smiled. But not with him. The cold within died, replaced by the heat of anger that needed only a spark of memory to kindle a blaze of hatred. Never again, Henry. Never again.

  A whimper chirped down from the loft and he looked up. She wept. Helpless, he sat back against the chair, alternately looking up and down, wishing somehow the answer to what he might do to help would materialize and ease both their suffering. He squirmed, straining to hear if she wept again. She did not, or if she did, he could not hear.

  William sighed, rubbing his thumb and forefinger against his temples. What was she doing traveling alone? Moreover, who was the man that wished to take her and for what purpose? She hadn’t said, and naturally, he hadn’t inquired. The fear in her eyes, the way her body had trembled against his as they’d hidden in the bushes, told him all he needed to know. Whoever he was, she didn’t wish to see him ever again.

  A faraway rumble of thunder drummed the skies. The storm would be passed by morning. He glanced out the window, his old friend fatigue pulling against his eyelids. He wiped a hand down his face, took a deep breath and stood. Pacing the room, he kept clear of the warmth of the radiating embers, knowing the cold would keep him uncomfortable enough to stay awake through the night’s watch.

  Hours passed. His head bobbed a time or two, but he kept his eyes on the horizon. The clouds drained their remaining drops and drew back like curtains on a stage, the sun bursting its rays toward heaven.

  Resting his shoulder against the window frame, William marveled at the sparkling drops reflecting the brilliant light of morning. A dutiful bucket waited on the porch, full to the brim and begging William to come and partake of some of its contents. He was all too willing.

  Once outside, William crouched and cupped his hands, washing the evening’s weariness from his eyes. The chilled water splashed over his face and trailed down his neck. He rubbed his eyes with another handful, even sipped some to relieve the bitter taste from the night past.

  He glanced over his shoulder. She would be up soon.

  She.

  He stood and shook his head, trying to purge the image of her pale blue eyes from his memory, but his mind refused to release its grip. He’d seen eyes like that before, hadn’t he? That striking pale blue, so light they reminded him of sparkling crystal. Nay, no one had eyes so clear. He glanced toward the sun, squinting as it rose ever higher in the sky, forcing away the bewitching thoughts to focus instead on what mattered most. He turned and looked north. They’d best begin their journey. ’Twas possible to travel the distance in a single day, but that meant journeying several hours in darkness. And with his companion no more than a slight-framed woman who would be just as fatigued as he…

  He bit his cheek and turned to look behind him again. What a puzzle she was. Her tattered clothing bore witness to the hardships she’d no doubt endured. Hardship was a faithful companion to the colonists. But she was not a colonist, or at least not one of many years. Her accent gave that away. And there were her hands, so delicate, looking soft as rose petals. Those were not the hands of a woman who’d cooked and cleaned, gardened and laundered. His sisters’ hands had been calloused and chapped, as well as Mother’s, from the endless work just to survive.

  Again he glanced to the cabin, sure she would arise any moment. The knowledge they must leave without so much as a crumb to calm their hungry bellies made him wince.

  A rustle in the trees broke the silence. William spun and scanned the woods like a rabbit waiting for the fox to pounce. He reached for the ready pistol at his side, his finger caressing the trigger. A doe jumped from her hiding spot and William released a rush of air. He dropped his hand to his side, his body humming as the sudden anxieties both drained and filled his limbs. If he hadn’t felt the urgency
before, he surely felt it now.

  Paul would return. ’Twas not a matter of if, but when. If William had learned anything from the years serving beside Paul Stockton, ’twas that the man kept his word.

  He pivoted to return inside to wake her, but the brush of something hard against the bottom of his boot pulled his attention to his feet. Jutting his head forward, he blinked to be sure he didn’t imagine the sight of the small ring and chain. He bent and picked it up, brushing away the bits of mud with his thumb. How delicate it was. How small. He studied the ring, touched by the simplicity. No stone. Not more than a simple circle of gold. The tiny inscription inside met his eyes before he could avert his gaze to honor their privacy. The loving words scrolled inside found their way to his heart and etched themselves upon it. Forget not he who loveth thee.

  “Sir?”

  He whirled to see the woman standing just the other side of the threshold.

  “Good morning.” Instantly, he thrust out his hand. “Look what I have found.”

  She gasped and cupped her mouth. Coming forward, eyes rimmed with moisture, she lifted the ring from his hand. Clutching it to her chest, her gaze met his. And there, in those sparkling depths, he saw an expanse of gratitude that coated away a portion of the anger that lived like a monster within the wounds of his heart. Perhaps a woman could feel gratitude and express it.

  Breathlessly, she spoke through a smile. “Where did you find it?”

  He pointed at the ground. “’Twould seem your ring would not wish to be far from you.”

  She sighed and glanced heavenward, the unspoken prayer read easily in her eyes. Then she faced him. “I cannot thank you enough, sir.”

  With a smile of acknowledgement he motioned behind him. “We best hurry if we are to reach Sandwich before tomorrow.”

  “Of course.” Within seconds she’d secured the chain around her neck. She glanced toward the trees. “Shall we leave straightaway?”

  He nodded, praying the few bites she’d eaten last night would sustain her through the day’s journey ahead.

  They began walking side by side, leaving behind the house that had shielded both of them from capture. Surely God had led him there. He turned to glance behind, offering a prayer of thanks, and a prayer of need. For without a doubt, danger was at their heels.

  The trees were thick, their robust foliage just as dense, and ever ready to abet the enemy. Nature didn’t take sides in matters of war. Though the yellow sunlight lit the world around them with exuberant rays, the shadows at their feet whispered ill-will. His senses were at their height, his fingers twitching, ready to grab for the weapon at his side. If only he’d had his sword or even a dagger, any additional weapon. But his fists and one round in the chamber of his gun would have to be enough to protect himself and the woman.

  He glanced over his shoulder at his companion. Her arms were around her middle, her eyes at the ground then at the trees. He raised his head and considered the silence. The sounds of nature were pleasant, but the lack of conversation could not continue for the entire trip, could it?

  He flung another look at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. Should he say something? There were plenty of things he could inquire of her, but—

  “The foliage is such a lovely shade of green.”

  Her voice chimed in the quiet wood like a bell on a hill. William looked across his shoulder to her. “Different from England?”

  Her dainty brows folded down. “How did you—”

  “Your accent. Most colonists have a different sound.”

  A small smile toyed with one side of her mouth. “Do they sound like you?”

  He grinned, shrugging a single shoulder. “I suppose.” Had he lost his accent after only three years?

  The momentary relief from silence was quickly washed again in awkward quiet. He cleared his throat, hoping he could organize a thought—any thought into words, but she rescued him by speaking again.

  “How did you come by that injury?”

  He exhaled the emotions that breached the bounds of their hiding place within his chest. “A hazard of farming.”

  Would she buy it? He darted a gaze toward her, gauging her acceptance of his impetuous answer. He breathed again when she nodded, ready to continue his story but once more she questioned him.

  “Will you be in…in…this place you are going to…”

  “Sandwich?”

  “Aye, will you be in Sandwich long before returning to your farm?”

  The sudden realization hit him square in the gut. “Nay, that was not my farm, only an abandoned place to take refuge. I am…I am returning…” He swallowed, squirming at the sound of his stuttering. Lying had never come easily to him, though ’twould seem that would have to change if he wished to keep his head attached to the rest of him. “I have no farm of my own at present. I was traveling from New York to Sandwich when I happened upon you.”

  “I see.” Myriad questions dashed through her eyes before a veil of sorrow draped her features. “I don’t know what would have become of me if you hadn’t been traveling through.”

  “You haven’t any idea who that man was?”

  “Nay.” She gripped harder around her middle. “But my father sent him. That much I do know.” She stopped, her mouth pinched. “That is all I really need to know.”

  Her answer begged for more questions, but William bit his tongue and nodded.

  “I cannot go with him. I cannot be found. I do not care what happens so long as—”

  With a yelp she tripped and fell to the ground. William lunged for her, but was a moment too late.

  Instantly, he crouched beside her, then helped her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”

  She ducked her head, red staining her cheeks. “I should have watched where I was going.” The slight laugh in her voice assured him she was neither hurt nor so embarrassed she could not be at ease with him.

  He allowed a full smile to rest on his mouth. He stopped and glanced at her neck. “Your ring is still in place, I see.”

  Her head flung toward him, eyes wide, lips parted as if such a pronouncement were both unexpected and reassuring. She touched the ring and looked away. “’Twas kind of you to think of it.”

  A mournful smile passed her lips as he helped her to standing, one hand on her shoulder, his other at her elbow. She turned toward him and William stilled, his pulse rising. He gazed down at her, his gentle grip still anchoring him in place. Something about their nearness arrested his senses. Her pink cheeks and clear eyes, the heady scent of late summer, and the sound of their breath sparked a yearning he hadn’t felt for years.

  Dangerous waters, Henry.

  Yet, he couldn’t move.

  She blinked and he noted the long lashes that framed her eyes like black lace. Move, you fool! His muscles rebelled and he stayed motionless a moment longer. She closed her lips as her eyes darted to his mouth and instantly down to her feet.

  Forcing his hands to release their hold, he broke the trance, keeping his movements slow to prove he hadn’t been affected.

  He offered a light bob of the head and found a way to make his legs start moving again. How many years had passed since he’d been so close to a woman? He pulled his shoulders back, keeping a steady pace that his companion matched step for step.

  There had been Kitty, of course, though she had been more like a sister to him—gentle like Julia and fiery like Jane. Kitty’s closeness hadn’t muddled his thinking, hadn’t doubled his pulse or caught his breath.

  He looked forward, the phantoms rising before him once more. Her shoulders had been just as delicate. Her eyes just as sweetly framed. The tone of her voice like birdsong. But the deceit in her soul had been black as the night she’d carried away his heart. The night his actions had all but killed those he loved most.

  The tainted parts of him resisted the boyish inclinations to steal another glance at the lovely stranger, reminding himself that women were not to be trusted, were full of lies and ready to use a man for
their own pleasures. He would be wise to remember that, lest he suffer the same pains again.

  Somehow, from the windows of heaven a whisper niggled his conscience. Your mother was not as she, nor Julia or Jane or Kitty.

  With another quick look to the lady, he clenched and released his fists, desperate to ignore the clash of emotions that warred within. What was so innocent about this stranger? What made her seem so sincere? He knew nothing of her, and somehow that fact failed to caution as it should. With a rough breath, he put his feelings in their rightful place, far from the reaches of his memory.

  Sandwich was a hard day’s journey, but well worth the pains. ’Twas a chance to get to safety, and a chance to leave this woman—and his phantoms—behind.

  ~~~

  They were nearly there, he’d said, but his statement had been uttered when the sun still graced the sky. Now, darkness had cloaked them for more than several hours. Anna rubbed her hands up and down her arms and looked toward the sky. ’Twas only a half-moon, and therefore half the light, making their passage more treacherous, more tedious.

  Fatigue cut to her core, but she refused to let a single whimper escape her lips. She was strong, and courageous, and capable—no matter what her father believed. And if William’s word proved trustworthy, she would have a place to stay protected. That is, at least until she discovered what to do next.

  Their conversation was polite but clipped. Though he’d seemed ever watchful and kind, William kept careful distance since that startling moment at the beginning of their journey. For that, she was grateful. Though now, with the pains of their tireless journey scraping her very bones, speaking would be a blessed distraction.

  Heaven’s mercy! How much longer?

  “Mr. Fredericks?”

  The pale light cast shadows on his face as he turned to look at her. “You may use my Christian name.”

  She offered a polite smile, before studying the dark path. Though she had begun to think of him as William, speaking it aloud was far too intimate. “Have you any family in Sandwich?”

  He halted mid-step, turning to her with questioning creases around his eyes.