Too Far to Whisper (22 page)

“’Tis barely daybreak.” Rosalind groaned, flinging her arm across her eyes.

“I could not sleep,” he said.

Rosalind uncovered her eyes and lifted her head. “Why? Because I left you so unsatisfied?” She glared at him.

“In
many
ways,” he said evenly. He turned to remove the pan of bread from the coals in the fireplace. “You really should eat something ere you leave for Adam’s.” He set the pan on the table. “It is not wise to travel on an empty stomach.”

“I am not hungry,” she said, rolling onto her side so her back was toward him. She did not wish to weaken her resolve by allowing herself to look at Shadow even one moment longer than necessary. Although her glimpse of him in the dim morning light had been but a brief one, she already had memorized every detail of him, from the leather jerkin he wore over his white shirt, to his ebony hair.

Shadow’s mind reeled as he ate a piece of the bread. He had little appetite and the bread stuck in his throat, but he forced himself to finish it. He had hoped that a few hours of sleep might have served to calm Rosalind and allow her time to realize how childish and unreasonable she was acting. Was she too stubborn, he wondered, to look beyond her anger and realize just how much he had done for her of late? Every move he had made, every risk he had taken, had been solely for her. Yesterday he even had allowed himself to believe she truly loved him, and that the differences in their cultures and their beliefs did not matter to her. He felt renewed anger as he reminded himself that the only reason why she had wanted him, by her own admission, was because she had thought herself deserving of no
decent
man. And now that she knew the truth about her precious virginity, she was eager to cast him aside.

Rosalind sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Shadow turned to look at her. She was still fully clothed in Esther Stoddard’s cumbersome brown dress.

“I must be on my way now,” she said. “I wish to get an early start back home.”

“You are certain about this…about leaving?” he asked.

She nodded. “I think now that running off with you the way I did was done far too hastily. I thought I knew you well enough to trust my life to you.” She paused to look down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. “…Obviously I did not know you at all.”

Shadow did not respond. He knew there was nothing he could say to change her opinion of him, not in her current frame of mind.

Rosalind stood, straightened her dress and smoothed the skirts with her hands. She then ran her fingers through her hair, tucked several curls behind her ears and exhaled.

“I guess I am ready,” she said. She turned to look at Shadow. “Good-bye, Shadow.” Her voice contained no emotion. “Thank you for all you have done for me.”

He gave her a brief nod, then quickly looked away.

As the door closed behind her, Shadow whispered, as he so often had heard her people do, “Godspeed.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“What brings you back here, child?” Adam Stoddard asked, craning his neck to look beyond Rosalind as she stood on his doorstep. “And where is Shadow? Nothing has happened to him, has it?”

“Shadow is fine,” she said softly. “Please, may I come in?”

Nodding, his expression puzzled, Adam stepped aside and held open the door. Rosalind entered the familiar house and took a seat, all the while acutely aware of Adam’s penetrating gaze as he awaited her explanation.

Sighing deeply, Rosalind nervously fiddled with a lock of her hair. “I am here to ask a favor of you. Might you be able to find a suitable guide for me posthaste? I wish to return to Eastwell…to the Corwins’ house.”

Adam’s thick brows creased together. “I do not understand.”

“Shadow and I have parted company,” she said.

“But why?” he made a poor attempt to conceal his surprise.

“’Twas a mistake, us running away so hastily, the way we did. Too soon we realized it could not work.”

“But you have not yet given it time to work!” Adam said. “I know love when I see it, and I am positive that what I witnessed between you and Shadow right inside these very walls was genuine.”

“I fear you saw something that did not exist,” Rosalind said. “ I thought I knew Shadow well enough to put my faith and trust in him. ‘Tis unfortunate that I was wrong.”

“Please, tell me what occurred between the two of you to cause such an abrupt change,” Adam said. “Surely you must know by now that I will do all I can to help you.”

“The only help I require from you is to secure a guide for my journey!” she snapped, not meaning to sound so harsh.

Narrowing his eyes, Adam stared at her until she began to squirm. “I have known Shadow for many years,” he finally said. “And I can assure you that if he has done something to upset you, it was not intentional. Are you going to allow some mere misunderstanding to send you rushing far away from here…away from Shadow…and back to the likes of Nathaniel Corwin?”

“’Twas no mere misunderstanding,” Rosalind said, her tone bitter. “And whether Shadow’s actions were intentional or not is of little significance now. What is done, is done.”

Her cold, lack of emotion greatly disturbed Adam. “When it comes to love and matters of the heart,” he said, “Nothing is ever final.”

Rosalind’s silence caused him to inquire one more time, “Are you certain you would not like to discuss the events that led you back to my door?”

Rosalind had no desire whatsoever to discuss with Adam any of the events that had made her so hastily flee Shadow. She felt that even a solid month of nothing but prayer would not absolve her from the sins she had committed – and nearly had committed – with Shadow at Adam’s brother’s house. “Thank you for your concern, sir. But discussing it will not serve to undo it.”

Adam thought better than to pursue the matter any further. He was left to his own imaginings, none of which he was inclined to believe, knowing Shadow the way he did.

“I have a friend named Roger Beckford who I’m certain will be more than pleased to accompany you back to Eastwell,” he finally surrendered.

Rosalind lifted her head to stare at him. “And who is this Roger Beckford?”

“He is by no means a young man,” Adam said. “But he is so familiar with the trails and forests in these parts, a blindfold could not deter him.” He hesitated before adding, “Of course, if you are in a great hurry to return home, you may opt to have Roger take you by dugout.”

“No, thank you,” she said, shaking her head. “I already have had more than my share of water while traveling with Shadow. I much prefer to keep my feet on dry land during the return trip.”

Adam’s eyes searched her face. “Are you certain about returning to Eastwell, child? If you harbor any doubts, you are more than welcome to remain here and allow yourself sufficient time to think things through. Please, do not make any hasty decisions you may later come to regret.”

“I need no more time,” she answered much too quickly to suit him. “I am certain of my decision.”

* * * * *

Roger Beckford was a frail-looking man with sparse gray hair and tiny blue eyes that peered out from beneath thick, drooping brows. When he smiled, he revealed a row of yellowed, broken teeth. Rosalind also noticed, with some curiosity, that several of his fingertips were missing. The man’s threadbare garments appeared to have been deprived of soap and water for some time, and his well-worn shoes offered little more protection than if he wore none at all. Rosalind wondered just how safe she would be journeying with a man who looked as if a strong gust of wind could blow him away.

Adam immediately sensed her doubts. “Roger is one of the best guides I know,” he said, giving the withered man a robust slap on the back. Roger’s body was propelled forward by the impact of it. “He will see to your safe return in all possible haste.”

Although Rosalind still was uncertain, she was not about to pass up any opportunity to leave Portsmouth…and Shadow. “Fine,” she responded with a nod. “I am most eager to be on my way.” She turned to face Roger. “I shall be unable to compensate you for your time, however, until I reach my destination. I hope you do not mind waiting until then.”

“’Tis fine,” he said. “I have already purchased everything we shall need for the journey.” He indicated a large pack on the floor.

“Fine, then, let us delay our departure no longer.” Rosalind moved toward the door.

With a loud grunt, Roger hoisted the heavy pack onto his back, instantly appearing to lose inches in height beneath the weight of it.

Rosalind looked at Adam. “I know not how to thank you for all the help you have given me,” she softly said. “I shall never forget you.”

Adam studied her face, desperately wishing he could find the right words to make her stay. “You are certain this is what you want?” was all he managed.

Rosalind lowered her eyes so he would not see the tears in them, then stepped forward to give him a brief embrace. “I am certain,” she whispered.

* * * * *

By late afternoon, a steady rain had begun to fall. Although the air was warm, Rosalind’s sodden garments kept her body encased in a cold, damp cocoon.

Roger Beckford was fond of talking, and he rambled on endlessly about his family and his travels as he and Rosalind walked in a single file through the forest. It did not seem to bother Roger that his traveling companion had long since turned a deaf ear to his lengthy tales. He appeared content to talk to himself. Rosalind might have found Roger’s conversation interesting, even amusing, but the events of the past several days had made her long for nothing but silence. Too many conflicting thoughts needed to be sorted out in her mind before she returned to Eastwell…and Nathaniel, yet with Roger’s incessant chattering, she could concentrate on little. Rosalind recalled how different her journey with Shadow had been. Although the two of them had walked in silence, not once had she experienced the deep sense of loneliness and isolation she now felt.

“We should think about settling down for the night,” Roger suddenly announced.

Rosalind was too immersed in thought to hear him. When she did not respond, the old man halted abruptly and turned to face her, an action that caused Rosalind to bump into him. Startled, she looked up to find Roger’s nose within an inch of her own.

“I am sorry,” she apologized, backing up several steps. “I was lost in thought.”

“Obviously,” Roger said tightly, wondering if most of his best-told tales of the day had been wasted on the birds. “I said we should camp here for the night.”

“Fine,” Rosalind said, not really caring.

Roger located a dry spot beneath a cluster of tall maple trees, then busied himself with unpacking the supplies and, after searching for some dry wood, laying a fire. He hummed as he worked, his cheerful disposition serving only to annoy Rosalind. She attempted to improve her gray mood by thinking about her impending reunion with Ben, her sisters and her mother, but even that did little to lift her spirits.

“Something troubling you, Miss?” Roger asked, startling her. When Rosalind jumped at the sound of his voice, he shook his head and frowned. “You sure are a nervous little thing, aren’t you!”

“’I am just tired,” Rosalind explained, forcing a weak smile. “I slept very little last night, then rose ere sunrise this morn. It has been a long day, and I am chilled and weary.”

“Come, warm yourself by the fire,” Roger said. “The rain has let up, so you should be dry in no time. I have a blanket you can wrap yourself in.” He handed a well-worn blanket to her. Rosalind put it around her shoulders and then settled herself by the fire.

Staring into the flames, she recalled the blaze of the night before and the way Shadow’s rugged features had looked in the light of it. She remembered how his mouth and hands had heated her blood to such a degree, the fire had seemed lukewarm in comparison. Blushing, she tore her gaze from the fire and was taken aback when she saw Roger staring intently at her.

“Hungry?” he asked her. When Rosalind nodded, he said, “I have some venison I can cook for us. ‘Twill take but a minute.”

“Fine,” Rosalind pressed her hand to her stomach. “I have not eaten since yesterday.”
Not since the maslin and rabbit with Shadow.

“That is no way to keep up your strength,” Roger scolded. He picked up a slender, fallen branch, then using his knife, began to whittle a point at one end of it.

“I did not purposely deprive myself of food,” Rosalind explained. “I merely forgot to eat, that is all.”

Roger shook his head, but offered no comment. He slid several pieces of venison onto the stick, then held it out over the fire. All the while, he was acutely aware of Rosalind’s curious gaze, which had settled on his fingers.

“A savage got me with a hatchet,” he said, forcing Rosalind to look away in embarrassment. He held up his left hand, which was lacking three fingertips, and chuckled. “Never anger a savage. I was fortunate to lose only my fingertips.”

When Rosalind made no comment, Roger returned his attention to the venison and turned the stick so the meat would cook evenly.

“So, how did you come to be at Adam’s house all the way from Eastwell?” Roger broke the silence. “He told me very little, save for the fact you were most eager to leave Portsmouth.”

Rosalind hesitated to answer for she was uncertain whether or not Roger, despite his close friendship with Adam, could be trusted with the truth. She decided not to take the chance. “I was brought to Portsmouth by an Indian who took me hostage after he was accused of murdering one of Magistrate Corwin’s workers.”

Roger’s eyes widened. “Speak you the truth?
You
are the lass everyone has been searching for?”

“I fear I am.”

He released a low whistle. “No wonder you are so ill at ease. It must have been terrible for you, being dragged off that way…and by a savage.  Did he harm you?”

Yes, he broke my heart!

“I was not harmed in any way,” she said. “The Indian abandoned me near Adam’s and continued on without me. To be honest, I think he was eager to be rid of me and send me back to the Corwins.”

“Are the Corwins close friends of yours?”

“I work as a companion to Mrs. Corwin…and I am betrothed to their son, Nathaniel,” Rosalind said.

Roger’s surprise was evident. “You have managed to win the heart of the young captain? My niece, who lives in Eastwell, will be greatly disappointed to learn of the news. She has fancied him as her future husband ever since she was old enough to notice boys.’

“I have heard that I am considered fortunate by most women,” Rosalind said. “I, however, do not see what is so special about the man.”

Roger chuckled. “You do not sound much like a bride-to-be…nor one who is in love.”

“I once believed in love,” Rosalind said, sighing. “I fear I was living in a world of fantasy.”

“Once you get over this ordeal and are able to put all you have gone through behind you,” Roger assured her, “I am certain you will feel differently.  You must dwell on only how fortunate you are to come out of this unscathed. Savages have been known to have their way with women and then bash their skulls in!  You must have been terrified.”

A fleeting image of the first kiss she and Shadow had shared – the one she had begged him for – crossed her mind. “Aye, I was frightened nearly to death,” she said. “The Indian had black, sinister eyes that seemed to penetrate my very soul.”

Roger shuddered. “Most savages are possessed by the devil, I am certain of it. Mark my words, not one of them can be trusted.”

“I agree,” Rosalind did not hesitate to respond.

* * * * *

Shadow came to Rosalind in her dreams that night as she lay on her blanket beneath the trees. She felt his hands caressing her, his mouth insistent as it sought hers. Vividly, she heard his breathing, deep and passion-incited, filling her ears, louder and louder, until it blotted out all else. Rosalind’s eyes flew open. The sound of heavy breathing continued to surround her, even though she was fully awake.

Sitting up, she scanned the darkness, her eyes nervously darting about. Another gasp, louder this time, caused her to snap her head in Roger’s direction.  Swiftly, she crawled over to his blanket. The fire had dwindled, casting just enough light for Rosalind to see the man’s face.