Part 37 (1/2)
He kneaded the scar. ”Your work... I'd never thought of it that way.”
”Aye, I've been busy inflicting pain. At least the wounds I gave you healed.”
”Whose wounds have not healed?”
Fayth shrugged. She'd said too much, more than she'd meant to. She'd been doing better, trying to rein in her impulsive nature-thinking before acting and stopping thoughtless words before they fell from her tongue. But somehow, when she was with him, she found herself saying things she never meant to give voice to.
”We've all done things we regret, Fayth. You must forgive yourself.”
She looked up at him hopefully. ”Have you? Done things you regret?”
”Aye. I have.”
She leaned her elbows on the wall, at ease with him as she'd been with no one else, ever. Even Jack. She frowned at the thought, remembering Wesley's words. You have no idea what Jack wanted. Jack was never any more to you than a way out. Had she used Jack, as Ridley used her? A tool? She'd never exchanged as many words with Jack in all the years she'd known him as she'd already done with Alex. Jack never kissed me until I could not breathe. She trembled at the thought and quickly pushed it away. What did she know about Jack? She searched her mind, couldn't even recall if he had siblings, if he could read or write... who his friends were, besides Wesley.
She sensed Alex watched her. She asked, ”Have you heard from Carlisle?”
”Not yet.”
”Is that what you're waiting for?”
”Ah... aye.”
”May I give you some advice?”
He raised a brow curiously and nodded.
”I know how Ridley's mind works. And though I can't antic.i.p.ate exactly what he might do, I can give you some possibilities.” She leaned against the parapet in the same manner he did, facing him. ”He might tell Carlisle to agree but it will be a trap.”
Alex folded his hands behind his back. ”Why are you offering me advice?”
She straightened and strode away, toward the ladder leading into the castle. ”Why do you think? To save my own skin. I'm the only leverage you have. No reason to give me up for nothing.”
The air inside the keep stifled after the fresh breeze on the roof. The idea of returning to her room to sew or wander about left her deflated.
”If you feel strong enough, I could show you the cellars.”
Fayth couldn't imagine what there was to see in the cellars, but anything was better than her room, so she took the arm he offered.
As he led her down several flights of stairs, he said, ”I know you're not as thoughtless and self-serving as you'd have me believe.”
”Do you?” Fayth was glad for the gloom, it hid her furious blush.
On the ground floor, he led her through the hall to the kitchens, where Wynda and her daughters watched them with raised brows, but made no comment, then on to the larder. He removed a candelabra from its wall sconce and handed it to her. He pushed aside crates and casks, revealing a square of wood cut into the floorboards. Slipping his fingers in the cracks, he pulled upward. The door creaked on leather hinges, releasing a damp, molding smell.
Fayth wrinkled her nose, but handed him the candelabra when he reached for it.
”I'll go first,” he said, and disappeared into the hole.
Fayth stepped gingerly to the opening. She'd never been afraid of heights, but in her current state, she found the distance to the s.h.i.+ning candelabra daunting. Alex held the candelabra higher, illuminating his face.