Heir of Thunder (Stormbourne Chronicles Book 1) (8 page)

Sympathy twanged my heartstrings. While I had no siblings, I
never lacked for family, even after my father died. “How long until that
happens?”

“Two years. She counts them eagerly.”

Jackie looked too young to be the master of such a grand
estate, but I was not assuming enough to ask his age like I had with Gideon.
But, then, I hadn’t run for my life or shared sleeping arrangements with
Jackie, either.

We passed close enough to his manor house for me to catch a
glimpse of a grand home constructed mostly of white stones and pale brick. The
house was newer than Fallstaff, and lacked its imposing stature, but Fallstaff
was a palace of sorts, after all. Connelly was modern and Fallstaff a relic,
but a home I had loved dearly.

The light faded as Jackie and I returned to Thropshire. If I
didn’t return soon, Gideon might risk breaking his already bruised rib in an
attempt to throttle me.
Only if he catches me first.

At the edge of town, Jackie took my hand in his warm
fingertips. “I don’t know when I’ve ever spend such a pleasant afternoon,” he
said. “I regret it ending so soon. Had I known I would encounter you, I would
have made plans to invite you and your brother to dinner. It would have
certainly been finer than wherever you must be dining tonight.”

His eyes drifted to the rooftops of the village as if trying
to determine under which one I might be sleeping. The Silver Goose was not the
only inn in town, but from what I’d seen during my tour earlier in the day, it
was certainly the nicest.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” I said. “I don’t have
anything appropriate to wear.”

Jackie gazed into my eyes until my heart skittered. “You
could wear sack cloth and ashes and look like a queen.”

My smile fell. Something cold swam in the undercurrents of his
charm. “You’ve got a way with words, Mr. Faercourt. I’m sure the ladies of Inselgrau
are all quite charmed.”

Jackie’s expression sobered, and he let go of my hand. “My
compliments are genuine, and I apologize for ever giving you the idea they
weren’t.”

“N-no,” I stuttered, mortified that I had potentially
misjudged and offended him. “I should apologize. That was rude of me.” I looked
down in my lap and twined my fingers through Nonnie’s reins.

His hand returned and took mine again. “You are forgiven,
if
you’ll forgive
me
for being too forward. I don’t want our memories of
each other tarnished.”

I sucked in a breath and raised my eyes to meet his. “I don’t
want that either.”

“Then let me wish you goodbye and safe travels. I must also
hope for myself that our paths cross again soon. Goodnight, Grace.” Still
holding my hand, Jackie raised my knuckles and skimmed his lips over them.

The day had been something special—a bright flicker in a
time of darkness. I vowed to treasure it. I forced myself to speak, although my
throat had gone dry. “Goodnight, Jackie.”

A drowsy stable boy took Nonnie’s reins when I pushed them
in his hands. A glance at the sky and the position of the sun indicated I had
been away longer than intended. Gespenst still rested in his stall, so at least
Gideon hadn’t gone out searching for me. If I was lucky, Gideon had spent the
day napping and was oblivious to my prolonged absence.

But, as the last few days had proven, I wasn’t that lucky.
While Gideon wasn’t out tearing apart the town, he
was
pacing the length
of our room when I returned. His angry footsteps pounded the floorboards and tension
bunched his shoulders into angry knots of muscle.

“I see Moira found a shirt for you.” It was an inane comment
said in hopes of throwing him off course. I sat down on the sofa and untied my
boots, trying to put off the inevitable by keeping my face and attention turned
from him.

“What? Oh… yes.” Gideon paused and fingered his shirt
buttons. “Don’t try to distract me, Evie.” He stepped close enough that the
toes of his boots nudged into the periphery of my vision. “
Where
in the
shadowlands
have you been all day?”

I made the mistake of looking up at him. Gideon’s face was
hard and sharp like a battle-axe. A fine sweat broke out on my neck.

Never show your fear
. That was my father’s advice for
encountering wild animals—something he’d reminded me every time I went hunting
with him and many of the times I left the castle roaming with Nonnie. Gideon
reminded me of a feral beast at that moment. In my mind’s eye, I imagined slaver
dripping from his canines, but I continued undoing my boots, feigning
nonchalance, and hoped my shaking hands wouldn’t give me away.

He stamped his foot. “Answer me, Evie!”

“I went riding.” My voice sounded much steadier than I felt.

He made several strangled noises as I imagined his face
turning purple. “Riding?”

“Don’t worry. No one recognized me.”

“
Don’t worry
?”

The air shifted as he stepped closer to me. I looked up, but
too late. Gideon jerked me to my feet and held me by my shoulders. His fingers,
ten strong vices, dug into my flesh. He shook me, slowly at first, then harder.
He stopped when I cried out, but didn’t release me. “I killed
two
men
yesterday, Evie, for you. I
was almost killed by a third who fought me
so he could run you down. I was trying to protect
you
.”

Gideon stopped to catch his breath, and gritted his teeth. “You
are not safe. Not here, not at home, not
anywhere
.”

His words hit like a fist in my gut. My knees failed, and I
sagged on my feet. His grip kept me from falling to the floor in a heap.

“Yes,” he said, “you are back here in one piece, and
hopefully no one followed you.” He spoke in low tones, but with no less
vehemence than when he was yelling. “You were lucky—that’s all. Lucky and
extremely stupid. Can you understand?”

“Yes,” I sobbed and waited for Gideon’s retribution.
Instead, he released me so suddenly I staggered and almost lost my balance. I wobbled
and sank onto the sofa, rubbing my shoulder and trying hard not to pout.

“Moira came up a little bit ago to say she has dinner ready
for us.” His voice was ragged with spent rage. “Are you hungry?”

I lacked the nerve to look him in the face, but I nodded in
the affirmative. I was starving. Even after Gideon’s righteous admonishment,
the thought of a hot supper made my stomach gurgle.

“Wash up and come eat, then.”

I looked up, hopelessly wanting to see forgiveness. “I’m
sorry and you’re right. I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”

His eyes seemed to swirl like gray morning mist. No
harshness showed in his gaze, but neither was there pity. “You don’t have to
make it up to me. If it weren’t for you, I don’t know if I would have survived
last night. I only want you to be conscientious of the danger at all times. I
can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are.”

“I understand,” I said.

“If I hurt you,”—he nodded toward the shoulder I was still
rubbing— “I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

He nodded. “I’ll see you downstairs.” He turned on a heel
and strode from the room.

Gideon’s words bounced around my head until it felt swollen
with shame and regret. Still, a tiny part of me hardened around one small seed
of light: Jonathan Faercourt. I would keep our time together in my memory like
a talisman, something I could pull out every-so-often when I needed comfort.

As soon as I stepped out of the room, the smells of dinner greeted
me—sage and fennel, from what I assumed was sausage, and a smoky sweet scent
like cinnamon. I closed my eyes and inhaled. The prospect of a first-rate dinner
improved my spirits. By the time I joined Gideon, he had already devoured most
of the food on his plate.

“And apple sauce pies when you’re done,” Moira said as she
brought me a portion. I took a seat across from Gideon, but wished I could sit
on the other side of the room, alone, with my back to him. He may have crested
the highest wave of his fury, but anger still radiated from him like heat from
a hearthstone after the banking of a fire.

I stuffed a slice of sausage in my mouth and savored it.
Moira had flavored the potatoes with crunchy bits of bacon and flecks of
rosemary. Maybe there was more than one bright spot in my retreat. Moira and The
Silver Goose’s kitchen made the necessity of leaving home more bearable.

“Well, sir, do you care to lick your plate, or can I bring
you a pie, now?” Our hostess appeared at Gideon’s side and wiggled her
eyebrows. He didn’t quite smile, but almost. Her good cheer was impossible to
evade, even for a hard man.

“‘S what I thought.” She took his empty plate away and
returned with something like a turnover oozing sticky hot filling. Yes,
definitely a bright spot.

He cut into the little pie and steam leaked out along with
the scent of apples and cinnamon. He caught me staring and pushed the plate
toward me.

I shook my head. “No, I’ll get my own.”

The corner of his mouth curled up as he drew his plate back
across the table. “We’re heading out in the morning.”

“Aren’t you worried about your injuries?” I asked through a
cheek stuffed with potatoes. My good manners had taken a steep decline in a few
short days. What did it matter? I wasn’t really a princess, anymore.

“I’m more worried about staying in one place too long. We’ll
have time to rest on the ship.”

“How long does it take to get to the Continent?”

“One night if the weather holds.”

Moira appeared at our table again, and she traded my empty
plate for one bearing another little pie like Gideon’s. “You’ll want to take
that up to your room,” she said. “There’s a crowd that likes to gather here for
drinks and a bit of fun. The first one of them has just come in the door.”

We all turned to see a middle-aged man settling onto a seat
at the bar. Moira’s husband filled a tankard and set it at the man’s elbow. “They’re
a decent bunch,” she said, “but I take it you’d rather keep your presence
unnoticed.”

Gideon and I made a hasty departure upstairs to our room. I
sat down on the couch, focused on the cooling applesauce pie and not on being
alone in a room with a man who probably wanted to thrash me. From the corner of
my eye, I watched him sink onto the mattress. He grimaced and put a hand to his
side. I knew better than to comment.

“How did you come to work for my father?” I bit into the pie,
savoring its sweetness, and tried not to gobble it like a glutton.

Gideon twined his fingers together in his lap and frowned. “I
got word from someone who knew the old man who was your father’s horse master
before me.”

“Freemont?”

“Yes, Freemont. When I was told of his death, I came to your
father for the job.”

“Where did you come from?” The question testified to my
careless attitude when I had lived at Fallstaff. I never cared enough before to
question his presence at our estate. If Father had trusted Gideon enough to
hire him, then that was all that had mattered, but now I felt I should probably
know more about my enigmatic companion.

“Why so curious?” he asked.

His reluctance didn’t surprise me. I had wondered how far he
would let me pry.
Not far, apparently
. I tried another question. “What
was it like, working for my father? Was he a tyrant?”

His eyes narrowed. “It was different for me, living on his
lands, eating his food, sleeping under his roof.”

I set aside my empty plate and brushed pie crumbs from my
lap. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t have to explain anything. I’ve saved your life, and
that’s all you need to know.” He unfastened the buttons at his shirt collar and
leaned over as if he meant to take off his boots, but he didn’t make it that
far. Instead, he groaned, clasped his side, and slid toward the floor.

I saw it coming and rushed to his side, bracing my hands
against his shoulders. He slipped off the bed to his knees and panted in my
ear. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead and a greenish gray pallor
tainted his skin. Gideon cursed under his breath and steadied himself, pushing
me away as he did.

“Gideon, let me help you.” I knelt before him, waiting. He
looked as though he wanted to tell me to go away, but in much harsher words. I
waited.

His shoulders sagged and he nodded. “Help me to the couch.”
He leaned against me as he pushed himself onto the low seat.

“I’ll get your boots.” I reached for his laces, but he
stopped me with a gentle hand.

“No, I’ll do it.”

“Stop being a hero for a minute.” I set my hands on my hips
and scowled at him. “I helped Father with his all the time.”

Once I removed Gideon’s boots, I stowed them under the sofa.
“Do you want me to help you to the bed, now?”

He shook his head. “I’ll sleep here tonight.”

“But the bed is bigger. You can’t stretch out so well on the
sofa.”

“Why does everything have to be an argument with you?” His
fingers returned to his buttons, and he opened his shirt farther.

At the hint of his bare skin, I blushed and turned away, then
began toying with the lantern on the bedside table. “I’ll be happy to take the
bed,” I said over my shoulder. “But I’m at least a foot shorter than you and I’ve
got no broken bones.”

He didn’t answer, and when I braved a glance, I found him
already nestled under a pile of blankets, staring at me with heavy lidded eyes.

“You never told me where you were today—not really,” he
said.

I smiled, mostly to myself, as I thought back to the lovely
afternoon. “I probably saved
your
life. I don’t have to explain anything
to you, either. Besides, you know everything about me. I have no secrets.”

He snorted once and turned his eyes toward the ceiling. “No,
you don’t, I guess.”

Gideon being reasonable?
It unnerved me. I
extinguished the lamps, and the moon shone through our window so his hair and
skin took on a mystical, blue cast. I exhaled, sending out all the remnants of
emotions brought forth that day in one voiding breath. The moonlight made
undressing a nerve-wracking prospect. I contemplated sleeping in the heavy
dress and stared at the bed while pondering what to do.

Gideon yawned and stretched, then grunted when he pushed too
far. “What’s the matter, now?”

“Not quite sure what to do with this blasted dress.”

He chuckled softly and the sound made the hairs on my neck
stand. “Take it off. I won’t look.”

“Humph. As if it would give you any pleasure if you did.”

I checked and found he had turned his head politely away. I
kicked off the slippers I had worn to dinner—another hand-me-down from Moira’s daughter—and,
with a bit of hopping about and cursing, I tugged the hateful dress over my
head and managed to get down to the bottom layer shift. I scurried under the
covers as the chill of the evening wrapped round me. “Moira promised to have my
old clothes for me tomorrow.”

“That’s too bad,” Gideon said. “You looked kind of nice in a
dress. Sort of like a girl.”

I chucked a pillow at him. It bounced off his shoulder and
landed on the floor. He chuckled again, picked the pillow up, and stuffed it
under his head. Soon thereafter, his breathing eased into the steady rhythm of
sleep. I listened to him until I, too, sank into my own blessed oblivion.