In the tiny bedchamber, he stepped over dried blood and lifted an old Bible from the neatly made bed. He flipped to the page Eliza had told him of and read the names. Not that they mattered now. The knowledge that Ellis had been involved in the shipwreck—indeed, hadcausedit—brought Felton no closer to having answers. If anything, it confused him more.
A note fell from the Bible.
He retrieved it and was ready to unfold it when he spotted the wordEliza.Had Captain written her a letter? Mayhap his last words would reveal something.
Or comfort Eliza.
He stuffed it into his pocket, glanced around once more for anything else he should bring, then closed the cottage door when he left. Would she want to stay, despite the grave, despite everything? Or would she never wish to see the place again?
Leading her horse with him, he hurried back to where he’d made camp and found Eliza awake. Leaning against the base of the tree, she stared into her lap without words or tears, the blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
Felton kicked out the remains of the fire. Ashes lifted in the cool morning breeze. “We had better be on our way.” He hesitated. “Unless you wish to stay.”
Her eyes lifted to his and the helpless emptiness of her stare made him weak. “I cannot stay.”
He nodded. He should have said something soothing, something that would have been a balm to her wounds. But nothing came to him. Nothing that would help. In silence strange and uncomfortable, he fed both dog and horses, saddled his own, then helped Eliza to her feet. “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Neither am I.” He swung her atop her mount, but her fingers stayed wrapped around his arm, tight and cold. “Felton?”
“Yes?”
“I cannot go back to Monbury either. I cannot ever go back.”
His pulse sped, whether from pity or merely the intensity of her touch, he could not tell. He pulled his arm free and mounted. “Do not think of it now.”
If nothing else, he would bring her home. He would keep her safe, where Mamma could fuss over her, and Papa could make her laugh, and Felton would be close enough to fight away any danger.
No one would hurt her again.
That was one thing he would see to.
“Tell me a story, Captain.”She didn’t want to go back. She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to endure all the things that now were dead to her.
But they came just the same, as her horse followed Felton’s and the forest faded away around them. She saw her younger self, in memory’s haze, scrambling up on Captain’s knee.“Tell me the one about the big castle.”
“But ye always want that one.”
“Because I like the part when the trouba…trouba …”
“Troubadour.”
“Yes, when he gives up his lute for the sad lady.”Leaning her head onto his shoulder, she’d played with the buttons on his coat.“Why did he do that, Captain?”
“Ye ask silly questions, love.”
“But why?”
“Well, because he loved the lady, I guess.”
“He loved the lute too.”
“But he loved the lady more. And giving away his lute would make the lady not sad anymore, see?”
“Yes.”
“If I had a lute, little one, I’d give it to ye.”
