Page 9 of His Betrothed
Spencer closed his eyes and remembered hard, wet sand beneath his cheek—and a woman rolling him over, her face as pale and lovely as the moon in the night sky.
“Did you see another boat?” He held his breath, knowing the importance of heranswer.
“No.”
He dropped his head back onto the cushion, feeling a meager amount of relief.
“You said you needed my help,” she added, “that the Spanish might be coming for you.”
He narrowed his eyes, and the rehearsed words suddenly came easily to him. “I was aboard theNewcastle, and she took a lot of shot that last day. I remember her sinking…but that’s all.”
Rose continued to study him,and for a moment having to deceive this woman left a foul taste in his mouth. But he’d been lying for so long that a lie to protect someone seemed like redemption.
“What happened on the channel?” he asked. “Is there still fighting going on?”
“The fleets sailed away the second day you were here,” she said. “They fought, and we heard rumors that they would invade, but they never did.”
She hesitated,watching him with eyes that almost didn’t blink. “Should I send word to your captain?”
“I am useless to him now. I’ll rejoin when I’m able to serve.”
Did she believe him? The last was the truth, after all.
“Rose, I owe you my life. Why did you help me?”
She looked down and shrugged her shoulders. “I couldn’t leave you to die.”
“Others would have.”
“I have seen enough death,” she said, andhe thought he heard a touch of fierceness in her voice.
Spencer’s curiosity was roused, but why should he ask a country maid about her life? He was frustrated by his weakness when he really needed to be in London. He rubbed his shaking hands over his face and felt each bruise begin to ache.
“Rose,” he said, surprised to find his voice faltering, “whose land are we on? Are there others who knowI’m here?”
She repositioned the cushion under his head.In the meager light she looked as tired as he felt. Had taking care of him cost her so much?
Roselyn sat back on her heels, praying that Thornton would fall asleep before she had to answer. He looked paler by the moment, and she lifted the blanket, but saw no fresh blood on his bandages.
“Over half the people have left the island becauseof the Spanish, leaving the villages strangely quiet,” she said. “Besides myself, only the bailiff and his family are on this estate, but I have not told them of you.”
His eyes closed, his mouth relaxed, and then he was asleep.
With a shuddering sigh, she dropped her chin to her chest. How long could she keep this up, holding off his questions, revealing as little as possible? And why didn’the want people to know about him?
She remembered the way his eyes had not quite held hers when he told her about serving on theNewcastle. That look had been burned into her the first time she’d met him two years ago. Her father had introduced her, and it was as if Thornton didn’twantto see her. She’d been overcome with anger and mortification. Even though she disliked having to deal with himagain, she was also curious, because she sensed there were truths he held in reserve.
She pressed her eyes closed—and saw his eyes: dark, fringed with heavy lashes, hiding his thoughts yet penetrating enough to see through to hers.
