The Offer (11 page)

The door latch clicked back with a loud grating sound that made her turn quickly and look back into the house. No, it hadn't been loud enough to awaken Phillip. She quickly stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind her.

She paused a moment in the cold moonless night and leaned for just a moment against an elm tree. The bark was rough beneath her cheek. The wood was sweet and cold. She thought of Phillip, of his gentleness and kindness to her. She'd known him for only a short time and yet he'd become a part of her life. Not just a part, he'd been in the center, taking such excellent care of her, always being there when she'd needed him. She shook her head. She couldn't think about him now. She pushed away from the elm tree and found to her astonishment that her vaunted strength wasn't quite as strong as she'd believed. It was absurd. Her strength would come back. She had to stop questioning herself. She had to stop whining. She forced her feet to move to the stable.

She unlatched the stable door and stepped into the dim interior. A beautiful mare craned her neck about and neighed softly.

“Hush, Tasha.” She moved quickly to the bay mare's head, rubbing her ears, whispering nonsense in her ears. “That's right, just be quiet and get to know me. Aren't you ever a beauty. I can see why Phillip adores you, and he surely does.”

When Tasha seemed calm and accepting of her, Sabrina started to reach for a saddle. Her arm was shaking. She cursed, not really toe-curling curses because she didn't know any, but they made her feel better. She simply didn't have the strength to haul a saddle onto Tasha's back. She slipped the bridle off a hook near Tasha's stall and tugged the mare's head down to slip it on.

An empty box was lying in the corner of the stable. It was heavier than it looked. Damnable sickness. She felt sweat on her forehead and under her arms by the time she'd hauled the wretched wooden box close enough to Tasha so she could climb up on it and pull herself onto Tasha's back.

Odd how Tasha's back looked higher than it had just a moment before. The mare's ears were twitching. “No, it's all right, Tasha. Please hold still. I don't
weigh as much as Phillip. You'll see, it will be fun to carry me about. You'll barely know I'm even here.”

It took her three attempts to get herself facedown over Tasha's broad back. She lay there, her feet dangling, rather like a heavy sack of grain, until her breathing slowed and calmed. Finally, she had enough strength to haul herself upright.

She leaned forward and grasped the reins in her hands. She'd made it. She click-clicked. Tasha didn't move. She dug her heels lightly into the mare's sides and flicked the reins again.

Tasha still didn't move.

What was she doing wrong? She'd ridden since she'd managed to stand up and grab a horse's stirrup. What was wrong here? She leaned over Tasha's neck and said directly into her ear, “Please, Tasha, we need to leave now. It's not far we're going, just to Borhamwood, but I do want us to get there. Please.”

“I'm sorry, Sabrina. Tasha only lets me ride her. If you'd only bothered to ask me, I would have told you that and saved you countless wasted minutes.”

She whipped about at the sound of Phillip's amused voice. He was leaning against the stable door, his arms folded across his chest. He didn't look particularly angry, but she knew he was. She wasn't certain how she knew, but she did. Well, if she'd been Phillip, she supposed she'd be pretty mad herself.

“I was so quiet. Couldn't you be a nightmare that I just conjured up to frighten myself? You really shouldn't be here, Phillip. You're not even wearing a coat. You could become ill. Why don't you go back to the house and I'll just be on my way?”

He didn't move, just smiled at her, the coldest smile she'd ever seen. “You of all people should realize what a light sleeper I am. You coughed and I was there beside you. You didn't breathe evenly and I was
there beside you. It saved my life several occasions on the Peninsula. Now, perhaps, it has saved yours also.”

“No, it hasn't. Listen to me, Phillip. I can't remain here. You said yourself that they were looking for us. I can't let them find me.”

“Let who find you, Sabrina?”

She just waved her hand at him. “If Tasha won't let me ride her, then I'll just walk to Borhamwood. I'm a great walker. I've walked all my life. I can do it. You can't help me, Phillip, believe me on this. No one can do anything. I have to leave. It's the only chance I have. I won't tell you who I am. It would gain neither of us anything. I'm protecting you in this and protecting my family. Now, I do thank you for taking care of me but I have to leave. I must.”

She slid off Tasha's back. When her feet touched the ground, she felt the damnable weakness hit her like a stone on the head. She held to Tasha's mane until she was stronger. She prayed that Phillip merely believed her to be saying good-bye to his horse. Finally she felt steady. She looked over at Phillip. He hadn't moved, was just looking at her, saying nothing. Perhaps he was seeing reason now. On the other hand, he was a man, and in her eighteen years' experience, it wasn't often that a male saw the same reason that a female saw. But Phillip was an exceptional man. Just perhaps he was ready to let her go.

Although the thought of trudging through Eppingham Forest in the middle of the night nearly made her hair stand on end, Sabrina was determined. She could do it. She stiffened her back, threw her head back, and marched up to him. “You see, I am just fine. Good-bye, Phillip.”

The problem was that he didn't move from in front of the stable door. Then, suddenly, he straightened. She was staring up at a man who was much taller than
she'd imagined. He was big. Strange how he hadn't seemed this big before. He was larger than Trevor, tougher, stronger. No, she wouldn't be frightened. This was Phillip. He would never hurt her, never.

“Please move,” she said to the middle button of his wrinkled white shirt.

He straightened, taller now than just the moment before. “Come back to bed, Sabrina. I don't want you to make yourself ill again.”

“No,” she said, never looking away from that middle button. “Please move, Phillip.” Then she did look up at him. “Listen to me, you don't know me. I'm nothing to you, not your sister, not your cousin, nothing. Believe me that you don't want to be involved with me. You wouldn't be at all happy were I to tell you all these things you wanted to know. Just let me go. You've done your good deed. But now it's over. Let me go. I'll never tell a soul I met you. You'll never have to see me again.”

“That's the most pitiful logic I've ever heard. On the other hand, I haven't spent all this much time with a woman, so that must be it. Well, I have, but the time passed with other activities, not all this pleading and begging and ridiculous attempts at changing my mind, which I won't change. You think I'd let you go in the middle of the night into the forest? Do you think me a complete blockhead? Come, Sabrina, it's back to bed for you.”

Still, he made no move to touch her. Her face was pale, her beautiful hair tangled now around her face. “Do you care so little for your life as to attempt a midnight walk with no protection? There are probably wolves out there. In fact, I know there are. I've heard them howling.”

“There's a well-marked path. I will keep to it. I'll be warm enough with the three blankets.” Her face
was paler now than just a moment before. He had to bring this to an end.

“You're not going anywhere, Sabrina.” He held out his hand. “Come here to me.”

She was shaking her head. He knew she was very probably as cold as he was. And he was ready to let his teeth chatter. He hadn't even taken the time to throw on his coat. He wished he had it now so he could wrap her up in it.

“I've made up my mind, Phillip.”

“Would you please remove Tasha's bridle?”

She wanted to drop in a heap right where she was and he wanted her to remove the damned mare's bridle? Without a word, she turned away and walked to Tasha. She unfastened the bridle and slipped it from Tasha's head. She tugged on the mare's mane and walked her back into the stall.

“You know,” he said as he slowly approached her, “I should have hidden your clothes. It never occurred to me that you would even consider pulling such a stupid stunt as this.”

She ignored him and pulled her cloak more closely about her face. “I'm leaving. Move aside, I won't tell you again.” She felt his fingers tighten about her arms. Slowly, he pulled her closer until she was leaning against him. Even in the cold stable, he was warm. If she hadn't wanted to kill him she would have burrowed into that warmth, into him.

“You have no say whatsoever about my actions, and I won't be bullied. Let me go.”

“I'm cold and I'm getting irritated, Sabrina. Either of these conditions should alarm you.”

She lowered her head and bit into the back of his right hand.

He stiffened and released her. She got no farther than the stable door, tugging on the handle. His hand
was above her head, pressing palm flat against the door. “You listen to me now, you little witch. Oh, what the devil, no more of this.” He grabbed her about the waist, wrapped the three blankets about her, and tossed her over his shoulder. When she reared up, he slapped her bottom. “Hold still, damn you. I'm cold. I'm vastly annoyed with you. Just lie still.” He slapped her bottom again.

She hit his back, but she knew she wasn't hurting him, just annoying him all the more. Then her strength was gone. She could do nothing more than just lie like a sack of flour, her face bumping up and down on his back. She felt tears sting her eyes.

Once in her bedchamber, Phillip eased her down to her feet and held her tightly against him for a moment.

“Please, Phillip,” she whispered against his white shirt. “You don't understand. You must let me go. I'll hurt you if I remain with you.”

“How the hell would you hurt me?”

She was silent as a stone.

“Hah, no answer for that.”

She felt the warmth of his breath touching her forehead. “I won't allow you to kill yourself. You know your chances of making it safely to Borhamwood are slim at best. I can't take you to London, even if I just happened to know where you belong, even if you trusted me enough to tell me your aunt's name, which you've refused to do. No, such an act would be outrageous folly, and little better than kidnapping.” He shook her slightly so that she looked up at him. “I won't be hurt. I'll stand by you, that is a promise.” He had absolutely no idea what his promise might entail, but he didn't care. He meant his words. “Just tell me the truth. Who are you?”

Her lips were a thin closed line. He became
suddenly brisk, aware that she was trembling. “Can you undress yourself?”

“Yes.” She sounded utterly defeated. He hated it but had no idea what to do about it. He waited for her to straighten, to move away from him, but she didn't. She just leaned against him, her arms hanging limply at her sides.

“This is becoming a very long night. I'll help you. Don't move.” She wanted to move, she really did, but she knew she just couldn't. If she tried, she'd fall on her face. That would be too much humiliation to bear. She felt him working at the buttons on the front of her gown.

Phillip pulled the gown over her head, scooped her up in his arms, and sat her down on the edge of the bed. He reached quickly for the dressing gown that she'd left on the floor in her hurry to escape. As he tossed her gown aside, he saw blood on it. He felt an instant panic.

“My God, what have you done to yourself?” He whipped about to look at her. She was staring down at herself, frozen.

“Lie down and let me look at you. However did you hurt your—”

“No!” Before his astonished eyes, she grabbed a blanket and clutched it to herself.

Appalled, he could only stare at her, holding the gown in his hands, looking from it to her. “But you're bleeding, you've hurt yourself, you've—” He understood then. He shut his mouth. She was still cowering away from him. Irritation washed over him. “For God's sake, don't be a ninny. I thank heaven that this is what's wrong. It's perfectly natural. It's next to nothing.”

She quite simply wanted to die. She looked at him,
saw the relief on his man's face, and screamed, “Get out.”

He stood there feeling helpless now, feeling out of his depth. She was embarrassed. He supposed he understood it. She was staring at him, the pulse pounding in her neck. Her bare neck. She must be freezing. He had to do something. “Put the dressing gown on. I'll go get you some cloths.”

She looked like she wanted to both murder him and sink below the floor. Then she seemed to just give up, to collapse in on herself. He wanted to tell her not to be ridiculous, but she was only eighteen years old. Well, damn.

He returned to the bedchamber some minutes later and silently handed her strips of white cotton, carefully ripped strips he'd torn off a man's shirt. “Do you want some hot water so you can wash?”

She nodded mutely, her head still down. “Sabrina,” he said, but then as she just shook her head, he shut his mouth.

“Thank you. Please go now.”

Her voice sounded as flattened as she looked. After he'd placed a pitcher of warm water on the washstand and a bar of the jasmine soap beside it, he said, “Promise you'll call me if you have need of something more.”

Again she nodded, and not knowing what else he could do to help her, he turned and left her room.

Sabrina didn't fall asleep for a long while. She'd just lain there all night feeling impotent and helpless. If Phillip had told her he felt the same way, she wouldn't have believed him. No, he had all the power. He'd certainly done what he'd pleased with her, even forcing her back here. What was worse was that she knew she wouldn't have managed to get through Eppingham Forest to Borhamwood. She probably would have died
or been attacked by wolves. All she had left was a dreadful sense of the inevitable. She wrapped her arms about her stomach to ease her cramps and finally fell into an exhausted sleep.