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Motionless, his gaze pricked deeper. Panic stabbed, and the walls of the tent seemed to press closer. Perhaps ’twas not him. Perhaps her mind played tricks upon her.
Slow and calm, he stepped closer, and her heart pulsed impossibly faster. His gait, his strong hands, the small scar on his cheekbone… Lord in heaven!
He paused several feet in front of where she rested, a steaming mug of something in his grasp. Still gripping the cot like one clinging to the edge of a fathomless pit, Hannah craned her neck to peer up at him, then followed as he stooped down to rest on his haunches, his head now almost level with hers.
Extending the tin mug toward her, a fleeting grin graced his mouth before it disappeared. “Hannah.”
The sound of her name from his lips took her heart and tipped it, streaming out a host of imprisoned memories that both wept and cheered their sudden freedom. Careful to not meet his gaze and to keep her fingers far from his, she took the warm mug.
Her shivering began once more, but she ignored it, sure the sensation would pass and promising herself it had nothing to do with the fact that this man knelt before her.
“Are you all right? Can you drink unassisted?”
The silky depth of his timbre played along her skin and deep into her chest.
She could not speak her answer, only nod. A frown bit hard into her brow as she stared at the tawny liquid, when a burst of realization cut down her spine like a knife through butter. ’Twas he she had leaned against moments ago, his arm that had rested around her shoulder, his warmth she’d relished and kindness she’d praised. Somehow deep within, her soul had known him, had remembered his touch and welcomed it. Traitorous heart.
She popped her chin up, an ounce of her strength returning, and with it the clarity of mind she’d nearly lost. Was this not also the man who’d left her? Was this not the man who’d toyed with her heart only to discard it like an unwanted scrap?
Swallowing, she rubbed her thumb against the warm tin. But that was the past. There was a much greater need now than to linger over a hurt that should have healed long since.
“Have you…” Be strong. She straightened on the cot as best she could. “Where is Nathaniel? I thought—”
“Why are you here, Hannah?”
His firm, somber tone forced her eyes to his. Flashes of memory stole her thoughts, and she lowered her gaze once again to the drink that warmed her freezing hands. Ensign’s cry of pain as he fell, the vow in the soldier’s stare that he would not let her escape… Yet, by the all-powerful hand of God, she had.
Throat a knot of emotion, she spoke without meeting his gaze. “Where is Nathaniel?”
That was the man she’d sought from the moment she fled the barn. Why Joseph was here, she knew not and wished by heaven he would find his way back to wherever it was he came from.
Without looking up, she could sense him turn away before he faced her again. “I know you wish Nathaniel here, and he will return, but he instructed me to discover why you would travel forty miles to a place not befitting a lady.”
The weight of his heavy question rested on her gaze and pressed it farther down until she stared at the muddy grass beneath where he crouched.
“Hannah?”
She glanced up, sorrow and fear churning so hard the truth surged from her mouth to splatter in the frigid air. “Ensign is dead.”
Joseph’s eyebrows plunged. “Dead?”
“Aye.” She took a sip of drink, praying the steaming warmth would clear away the clog of grief in her throat. But it did not. “A handful of soldiers came to the house…” She gripped the mug so hard she could have left her handprints on the tin. “They insisted that the king needed the foundry and that it now belonged to them.”
Clutching the little vessel offered a strand of courage, and she clung to it. “He tried to dissuade them—”
“They took it by force.” Joseph’s stare went hard, the lines at the corners of his eyes lengthening as his scowl deepened.
“’Twas their plan.” Hannah swallowed, pra
ying God would grant her grace enough to speak the rest. “Ensign told me to hide in the kitchen. When they insisted on taking our food, Ensign refused them entrance to try and protect me but…” Her pitch threatened to rise, but she held it even. “He was shot as I ran to the barn. Then when they came for me—”
“Did they hurt you?” Joseph reached for her wrist, the sudden surge of rage in his eyes tampered only by the concern that softened them at the corners. “Did they touch you?”
His words floated past her ears, but she couldn’t quite hear them. She could only see the stain of Ensign’s blood and hear the thrust of the blade into his flesh. She pinched her lips against the cry that stormed behind her teeth. Unable to hold his gaze, her eyes burned. Dear Ensign…
“Did they touch you?”
Joseph’s quiet rumble rustled the stray hairs at her ears, and she looked up.
