Page 23 of A Rugged Beauty
His tender touch brought on a haze of tears.
"Hey. It's all right," he whispered.
He brushed a kiss to the center of her forehead and then shifted, tucking his coat around her again, pulling her into his side. "You should rest. We don't know what kind of terrain we'll meet tomorrow."
His cautionary words made it hard for her to relax, but eventually she nodded off with her head against his shoulder.
H's heart pounded against his ribcage as Sparrow settled against him. Had she felt his hand shaking as he'd tucked that piece of hair behind her ear?
He was grateful for the chance to turn his face to the fire as her head tucked between his neck and shoulder. He couldn't explain the emotion that had come over him as his lips had found hers. It wasn't only a strong, protective urge that had risen inside him but a tender affection, and something else. There was a strangeness about her lips under his. It felt bone deep, as if thefamiliarity he'd felt all day didn't extend to the kiss, to having her in his arms.
It must be the poison from the berries affecting him. He'd seen the wedding in his memories. Sparrow must be his wife.
But for those moments after the kiss, when she'd looked at him with such trust in her eyes, he'd felt panic rising up inside him. He couldn't explain why. Or how it was more than being stranded in the wilderness, alone, with no tools and limited ammunition. It was her. An uncertainty about the kiss they’d shared.
He shouldn't dwell on it. The feeling was already receding. It would do little good for him to try and suss out its origins, not without his memory.
Sparrow's breaths evened out, and she leaned more heavily against him. He'd fed the fire a big log not long ago, and it would burn consistently for a while yet.
Uncertainty swamped him even as this sign of her trust, that she'd sleep tucked against him, should've been reassuring. It was far from the distrust of yesterday.
What if traveling upriver was a mistake?
He'd hoped vainly that her idea of sending up a tower of smoke would attract help. He'd spent part of the afternoon hiking downstream, not expecting to find people but needing to eliminate the possibility.
Not far from the river, there'd been signs of wagons crossing, ruts in the grass as if it had been merely days since conveyances had traveled in this direction. There'd been numerous old campfires, stamped out. A lone sock left behind in the grass.
Signs of the wagon train should've been comforting, but if they'd crossed this terrain, why hadn't they come looking for H and Sparrow?
Was there something more sinister at play? Was it possible they'd been exiled from a caravan? Or perhaps everyone hadsuccumbed to a sickness and they’d been the only survivors. But then where were their supplies?
Or could his log book mean that he was a scout, that he and his companion had traveled farther afield than they'd intended? What if the caravan had left without them?
A large caravan like the one he'd seen signs of wouldn't travel quickly. Most of the pioneers would walk while oxen carted the heavy wagons loaded with supplies.
How did he know that? He felt it with such certainty. Hemusthave been traveling on one of those wagon trains.
Even so, if H and Sparrow had been left behind for days, it might not be possible for them to catch up on foot.
H should've had a horse. It didn't make sense that he was on foot.
Sparrow's breath caught and she jerked. Her head tipped from where it rested against his shoulder and she came fully awake.
"All right?" he asked.
From the corner of his eye, he saw her blinking rapidly, saw awareness slip back into her expression.
"I dreamed—but I don't think it was a dream. I think that was a memory," she said quickly. "I saw part of it this morning, or rather felt it." She exhaled noisily, rubbed one hand over her face as if to clear away cobwebs that remained.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
"It feels so tenuous," she said. "There's a woman—my mam.” She shook her head slightly, her arm bumping against his. "I think she's... packing." Her voice pitched quieter. "She lost her job. As a... cook, I think? There’s something… I can’t—something bad happened. We had to move." Her voice grew stronger. Maybe the memory had solidified? "Everything I'd known, all my friends, had to be left behind. She must’ve felt the same fears. Where would we go? My brother and I would need provided for.”
A faint sadness tinged her words. “She didn’t show any fear. I couldn’t stop crying.”
He could hear in her voice how the loss of that security had affected her. "That must’ve been difficult."
His arm had gone numb from where it'd been braced behind her. He hadn't noticed it until she'd moved, until the rushing blood sent prickles of pain underneath his skin. When he could feel his fingers again, he let his hand close over hers on her knee. "Can you remember anything past those moments?"
