Chapter Eight
Agentle, familiar neigh of a horse sounded in Luke’s mind, cutting through the darkness. Something tickled his ear. He lifted his arm to brush at it, but as soon as he did a sharp stabbing pain tore through his side. He groaned and opened his eyes.
It was dark. It took him a moment to recognize the sweet aroma surrounding him as hay. He brushed his ear and found a piece of hay tickling it. He was lying in hay! He also smelled the wretched scent of horse manure. Moonlight was shining in through the planks around the room he was in, giving him enough light to see he was in a barn. He strained his neck, looking around. He was covered with a tattered blanket, tucked into the corner of a stall, the entrance of the stall at his head. The other side of the stall was dark, but he managed to see a portion of a dress.
“Nessa?” he called. His voice was hoarse and he had to try again. “Nessa.”
The dress shifted and a small foot emerged from the folds. A black and white cat strolled out of the darkness where the dress was and stretched. It cast him an uninterested glance and casually walked out of the stall. Luke pushed his arm out carefully and touched Nessa’s foot. “Nessa.”
“Luke!” Nessa lunged forward, emerging from the darkness. Her blonde hair was in a wild disarray of hay and tangles. The side of her face was patterned with the straw she had been laying on. “Are you okay?” Her voice sounded panicked, breathless. Concerned.
A warmth blossomed in his chest. It was more concern than anyone had ever shown him. “Yes. Where are we?”
“The little girl who lost the cat, Jenny. Her father is a farmer. They’ve been taking care of us.”
Luke realized his sword and armor were gone. He was covered by a blanket and wore only breeches. “Where is my sword?”
“With your armor. Here.” Nessa pointed to the darkness. “I’ve hidden them beneath some hay. Are you thirsty? Hungry?” Nessa began to rise. “I can --”
Luke grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “How long have I been out?”
“Two days.”
God’s blood! Grimacing, he pushed himself up.
“No,” Nessa protested. “Please, rest. You lost a lot of blood.” Her voice hitched.
Luke paused at the anguish in her tone.
“I thought... I thought you wouldn’t wake up.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I couldn’t...” She shook her head.
Something stirred in the pit of his stomach, reacting to the tremor in her voice. It must be because he was thirsty that his throat suddenly went dry. “I’m all right.”
“No. You need to rest.” She put a warm hand on his chest to push him back.
He realized he was still holding her arm...and he didn’t want to let go. What the devil was this madness? He released her. But she didn’t pull her hand away from his chest.
“Please, Luke.”
How could he resist her request? He lay back down.
She disappeared into the shadows only to reemerge with a flask. She handed it to him. “Ale.”
He opened the flask and drank deeply. His mind was racing. How had they gotten here? What if the farmer or the little girl told others? For a moment, he allowed the delicious taste of the ale to quench his dry throat. Finally, when he drank his full, he lowered the flask and ran a hand across his mouth. His gaze swept the barn.
Nessa sighed softly. “We’re safe here.”
Luke looked at her. Was that what she needed to believe? “We shouldn’t stay.”
“We couldn’t travel. There was nowhere else to go. I wasn’t going to leave you.”
His gaze swept her face. Sincere. Beautiful. Desperate. He clenched his lips. He couldn’t save Nessa any more than he could his own mother. Weak. Worthless. “I didn’t need to be saved.”
“You were bleeding to death! I had to do something!”
“So, you trusted strangers?”
Tears entered her eyes, shimmering in the moonlight. Yet there was a determination and righteousness in the set of her jaw. “I was going to ask Urien’s men for help, but couldn’t find them.”
