Page 56 of Mistaken

Because she knew she’d rather save them for dinner, she dutifully collected a few dozen, nestling them in her basket next to the lettuce. It seemed that Abdul was taking his time with the eggplant, because he had kneeled next to the row where they grew and was inspecting each one carefully, examining it for any imperfections, probably judging its size to determine if it would be big enough to feed the two of them for dinner.

Sarah was already done with the salad ingredients, so she headed over to the spot where Abdul was deciding on the eggplant. Exactly what happened next, she would never be sure, but as she approached him, her foot caught on a rock or a root or maybe just a depression in the ground, and she stumbled, instinctively reaching out to him for support…and somehow catching hold of his robe rather than his shoulder, yanking it down…yanking it away from his face, revealing the ruin on the right side, as though the skin there had been clawed by monstrous fingers and left to knit together unevenly, with only terrible scars remaining.

The basket of lettuce and tomatoes fell from her fingers.

Dear God.

She took a step back, even as he let out a hiss of shock — of despair? — and immediately yanked at the hood to pull it once more over his head.

It didn’t matter, though.

The damage was done.

He got to his feet, looking black and ominous against the bright morning sky.

“Well, then,” he said, voice as dark and grim as the robes he wore, “I believe it is time we had a conversation.”

Chapter17

He had thoughtthis moment would never come, had believed he would forever be able to conceal himself from Sarah Wolfe. Never mind that all sorts of accidents lurked out there, just waiting to ruin everything.

Which, he thought with some irony, was exactly what had happened.

Now she sat on the sofa in the living room, huddled into one corner, although he had to admit her expression was not one of fear, or of disgust. Then again, the hood now safely hid his face once more, so she was not being immediately confronted by the hideous ruin of his features.

However, she looked more confused than anything else, as though she was trying to make what she had just seen mesh with everything she knew about the djinn.

And when she spoke, that was her first question.

“I thought — ”she paused there, then seemed to gather the words as best she could. “I thought that djinn always healed no matter what happened to them.”

Well, at least she had not come right out and demanded to know how he could have been made so hideously ugly.

“Djinn do,” he said. “Or at least, they always recover from their wounds if those injuries are not so grievous as to kill them. But you see, I am not precisely a djinn.”

She sat up a little straighter then, brows pulling together. Once again, he had the sense of someone trying to come to grips with a difficult situation, and not of her trying her best to get away from the monster who had held her here at Ghost Ranch for more than a week.

“But….” The word trailed off, and she tilted her head, considering him as he stood a few paces away from her, far too tense to sit or do anything except remain there, hands clenched into fists at his side. “But your powers are like a djinn’s.”

“They are,” he conceded. “Or rather, they are more than a djinn’s, for I can command all the four elements rather than a single one.”

Her eyes widened slightly. Today she had dressed in plain, simple clothes, jeans and a loose shirt, obviously in preparation for their time in the garden. However, her still, solemn expression only made her that much more beautiful when contrasted with the ordinary garb she wore, like a queen in disguise.

“Are you an elder?” she asked, and now her voice was hushed, as though she had suddenly realized she had much more reason to fear him than she’d originally thought.

Perhaps she did.

But no — as angry and shocked as he’d been in that moment when he realized her stumble had led to her unmasking him, he knew it had been an accident and nothing more.

Whatever happened, he knew he could never hurt her, not the woman who had brought so much beauty and joy into his life.

“Not precisely,” he said. Now it was his turn to hesitate, as he wondered how much he should tell her, how much he should reveal.

Then again, she had already seen his ravaged face. What were his other secrets, compared to that?

Even the very worst of all, the one he had never thought he would confess to another living soul.

“Then who are you?”

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