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| Before I could offer a timorous smile, he knocked me backward, crushing my body beneath his weight while banging the knife from my hand. Gripping my wrists agonizingly in one hand, he regained his weapon with the other and pressed it into the pliant flesh under my jaw. My pulse throbbed against its sharp edge as his eyes, so black the pupils were indistinguishable, bored into my soul. I had imagined them many ways, but never so chilling. Lacking common language, I frantically wondered how I could explain why he’d found me kneeling over him like this, until a scarlet splotch seeped through his bandage. Following my glance to the spreading color, he must have grasped my intention for he lessened the force of his blade and shifted his weight to his own limbs. Air rushed into my lungs in painful gasps while he peered into my eyes, and apparently finding an answer there, he released my wrists. I lay still beneath him, trying to quell the overwhelming panic I felt; but when at last he sheathed his knife, I couldn’t hold back my tears of relief. I shut my eyes tightly to stop their flow, scared of the scorn they might elicit, but gentle fingers touching my face startled them open again. As I returned his dark gaze, he wiped each trickle away muttering indecipherable sounds unmistakably intended to soothe; but this unexpected tenderness unleashed so many of my over-wrought emotions that I wanted to sob uncontrollably. Sitting back on his heels, he let me up, offering his knife and pointing to his shoulder. He watched me cut away the soiled cloth, searching my eyes for signs of treachery while curiously examining his wound. It cost me dearly to return his weapon, knowing he might use it against me, but when I did, he relaxed his guard, allowing me to press clean muslin against his wound. Flinching as the soap stung, his eyes became wary again, but he stoically endured the pain, gaining my unwilling admiration. Washing the ball’s exit proved more difficult. Each time I attempted to move behind him, he twisted to keep me in front. After several unsuccessful attempts, I rose to reach over his shoulder, but he stood also. Awed by his stature, I stepped backward—he was far more imposing upright than flat—but he moved closer, speaking in a commanding tone while motioning again to his wound. Every inch of me wanted to flee, but I knew it would be fruitless and might worsen my treatment. Asking the Lord to help me control my shaking hands and make up what I lacked of courage, I slipped my arm under his. My cheek was so near his chest, I could feel his heat and wondered how he might misinterpret the intimacy of my actions, but he remained immobile while I gingerly fingered his back. Glancing briefly into his eyes, I saw them widen when I touched the wound, aware of it for the first time. I all but embraced him while winding the bandage under his arms and around his naked chest and back, the dusky sky providing my only hope that he could not detect my acute embarrassment. Running it up over his shoulder and tying it off proved worse. Our heads drew disconcertingly close as I reached around his neck and I thought a hint of amusement briefly crossed his face. Glad of an excuse to withdraw from him, I remembered he had eaten nothing and drunk little for two days. He ate what I offered, though the cake seemed new to him, and drank eagerly from a cup, motioning for more. Afterward, he walked directly to the enclosure to see the horses. I followed at a distance, unsure what to do now that he was awake. Looking pleased, he roamed his hands over each one, checking hooves and inspecting their legs, haunches, necks, spines, and muzzles. His admiration of the dapple- grey mare was unmistakable, for which I felt ridiculously pleased, as if I had delighted him with a present. This evening had been full of inconceivable emotions, but I was too weary to sort them out just now. Obviously fatigued after tending the horses, he returned to the clearing and began pulling the pallet into the grove. I assisted his efforts, afraid the exertion might reopen his wound, and then returned to the bed of grass that I occupied most of our first night. Sitting down, I mulled over the past few bewildering hours. His unpredictable behavior had thrown me entirely off balance—terrifying me one moment, and then comforting me the next, and his affect on me was beyond all comprehension. I desperately desired to escape him; yet, I felt ridiculously forlorn outside the cedars—like a dog put out for the night. |
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