Author: Ashley Townsend
Category: Nonfiction
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/ashley-townsend/page,24,105060-chasing_shadows.html
Chuckling, Damien led her from the room, though he never answered her question. They meandered through the castle, down to the ground floor, and then he guided her through a series of corridors leading to the west-facing end of the castle that bordered the forest.
A guard was positioned before the door at the end of the hall Damien led her down. He nodded to the guard as they approached. That man dipped his head in response, promptly turning a key in the lock and opening the door for them. With a smile, Damien motioned her out first.
Sarah stepped out into the crisp air, eyes roving her surroundings suspiciously as she wondered what he had planned. The large open space between the castle walls and the edge of the woods was covered in a perfectly undisturbed blanket of snow. There was nothing there but two horses tethered to a wooden post near the wall.
“What’s going on?” she asked, voice quavering slightly as she gaped at the large, well-muscled animals.
She knew the answer to her question before Damien replied, in a self-satisfied voice, “I am going to teach you to ride.”
Sarah straightened her shoulders defensively and steadied her voice. “What makes you think I don’t already know how?”
He slanted her a shrewd smile. “Earlier, you gave the horses a wide enough birth to give me some idea. And if that was not enough evidence of your aversion, your reaction just now leaves no doubt. But riding has always been a favorite winter pastime of mine. So.” He released her arm and walked backwards the rest of the way to the gigantic, four-legged beasts, grinning in challenge. “Are you ready for your lesson?”
She consciously closed her mouth and swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. He was giving her the chance to overcome her fear of riding. It had been almost a decade since the accident, since her left leg had nearly been snapped in two, and she was tired of living with the constant shadow of fear trailing behind her. Sarah made the decision in that moment that it was time to move forward with her life.
But her feet refused to respond. Regardless of the messages her brain sent to her lower half urging her feet to shuffle forward, she remained rooted to the spot. What was wrong with her? An image came to mind of her hand gliding gently over a mare’s nose, the stars a bright canopy overhead as a strong, silent presence encouraged Sarah from behind.
Then she realized that she was ready to overcome and let go of the chain of worry that she had foolishly been clinging to. The only problem with this scenario was the matter of who was standing by her side when she at last moved past her fear of falling.
It felt like a betrayal to move on without Will when he had been the one to help her overcome her original fear, if even for a moment, getting her on a horse for the first time in years. Sarah remembered his comforting strength against her back as they rode. She had been scared at first, but when that melted away, all that remained was the pure joy of riding without fear—just like it used to be.
Damien’s face fell when she didn’t budge. “You look ill,” he observed.
She opened her mouth to reassure him, but her mind had gone blank. It was upsetting that she couldn’t even move toward the animals without feeling guilty or wishing that it were Will who were offering to teach her to ride.
Damien noticed her resistance and said with some surprise, “You truly are afraid. I’m so sorry, I did not realize how serious it was. Forgive me.”
Sarah shook her head and finally convinced her feet to shuffle forward a step. “I’m the one who’s sorry. This was really thoughtful. I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but I just—I can’t right now. I had an accident a while ago and haven’t completely gotten over it.” Her eyes were entreating. “I hope you can understand.”
“Of course, but why should you remain fearful of them?”
Sighing, she revealed the memory that still made her cringe. “I loved riding growing up, and the summer I turned ten, I convinced my parents to buy me a horse. Every day after school, I walked to the stable where we boarded her and would ride for hours. That horse got me through some hard times.” She shuffled her shoe in the snow until she spotted dirt beneath. Damien was silent, waiting for her to go on.
Swallowing, she said softly, voice filled with pained remembrance, “I guess a rabid coyote found its way onto the property and killed a bunch of chickens, and then it got into the stable before one of the workers captured it. They didn’t think the coyote had infected any of the other animals, but just in case, my parents told me to stay away for a few days until the owner could check the horses out, but I had to see if she was okay.”
“Was your horse ill?” Damien asked gently.
Sarah grimaced, nodding. She recalled with startling clarity the frightened, wild look in its eyes. “I wasn’t going to ride her, just make sure she was all right. But when I came into her stall, she panicked and reared back. I was in her way, and she knocked me over to get past and came down hard on my leg.” She could still hear the sound of shattering bone and her own scream as it rent the stale air of the stable.
In a voice lacking inflection, Sarah added, “She broke free and got out into the field. They had to shoot her before she could spread the disease to the other animals.”
Blinking to pull herself from the memory, she looked up at Damien. Though the reference to the rifle should have been lost on him, his brows were drawn together in empathy, sensing by her tone that the horse had been killed. “Were you badly hurt?” he asked.
“It took me six months before I could walk again, and another year before I was able to do it on my own. I know it’s stupid, but it was traumatic, and I’ve been scared to ride ever since.” She looked down, embarrassed. The scars on her left knee had diminished over the years and were invisible beneath the layers of fabric, but she knew they were there; her defects had been fodder for the bullies at school preceding the surgery and the loss of her “friend.” Although the scars had faded, some wounds went more than skin-deep, and she was sure she would have to carry them with her forever.
Damien moved to take her hands in his own. They were strong and smooth as they closed over her fingers. “It is not foolish,” he said firmly, and Sarah was surprised at the fierceness burning in his eyes. “Everyone fears something, and you should not be ashamed of that.”
“What are you afraid of?” she asked, slightly breathless from his sudden nearness.
A shadow passed over Damien’s features, and he released her hands with a pained look. “Becoming my father.”
Sarah shook her head. “You’re nothing like him.”
His smile closer resembled a wince. “I pray not.” He moved nearer to the forest’s edge, turning his back to her, seeming to require a moment to collect his thoughts.
The sadness in his eyes had caused Sarah’s fingertips to tingle with the desire to reach out to him. Watching him now, she was filled with immense sympathy for his internal battle against a dark past, and she swallowed back the urge to envelope him in a comforting hug.
I don’t want you to confuse compassion for sentiment. Karen’s words echoed through her mind, and Sarah was starting to see the wisdom in them. She couldn’t allow her mind to go there. She would not fall for him, for both of their sakes.
But though she told herself to guard her mind, it was difficult to convince her heart to do the same when it only wanted to take away his sorrow.
Sarah’s hands itched to do something. Naturally, she bent down, packed together a hefty ball of snow, and nailed Damien between the shoulders.
He spun around, looking perfectly shocked. Sarah folded her hands in front of her innocently—though incriminating droplets of melted snow ran off her fingertips—and painted on her most angelic smile. “Something wrong?”
Damien was still stunned into silence, and she couldn’t contain her giggles anymore, biting her lip as a few slipped past. Her laughter caused Damien’s face to relax, and his own grin appeared.
“Did you just assault me?”
She beamed in a self-satisfied way. “This is my fav
orite winter pastime.”
“Bludgeoning unsuspecting aristocrats from behind?”
Sarah shot him a look of mock exasperation. “Well, I certainly couldn’t sneak attack them from the front, now could I? That’s no way to win. And I didn’t bludgeon you; killing my opponent in a snowball war isn’t very sportsmanlike.” She leaned over and snatched up a quick handful of snow that she tossed his way, showering him with powder. He laughed and shook his head, but he didn’t retaliate. “Come on, Damien. It’s too cold outside to stand still, and you have to get me back—that’s part of the game.”
He took a few steps toward her, his grin dark with intent. “So it’s a game now, is it?” Eyes trained on her, he bent down with deliberate slowness and scooped his hand beneath a layer of snow. He straightened as he packed it into a ball, watching her the whole time.
“Oh, stop building up the tension and launch that sucker!”
Damien’s laugh echoed through the silent clearing. “But you don’t even have one of your own to strike me back.”
Sarah shuffled from foot to foot, partly to keep warm and also because she was feeling more eager by the minute at the childlike excitement she saw creeping into his eyes. Jumping back several steps to put some distance between them, she called, “I appreciate the chivalry, but you won’t win if you’re a gentleman. All’s fair in love and war.”
Grinning, he called back, “So is this to be in the way of an execution?”
Sarah thought about that. “I’ll give you one for free, and then I’m on the move.”
Damien chuckled as he wound up, and she stood patiently. The snowball splattered lamely a few feet in front of her. She laughed. “What was that?”
“I’m not certain I can hit a lady.”
She hadn’t thought about that obstacle before him. “Just pretend I’m not a girl.” Even from this distance she caught his raised brow as his eyes drifted pointedly over her dress, and she knew she was going to have to help him along.
Setting off at a run, she did circles around him, scooping up snow as she went. She launched a hard-packed ball at his backside, and he jumped, obviously surprised at her brazenness. Sarah only laughed.
He hesitated a moment longer before his face split into a playful grin. He launched a half-hearted attempt at her back as she breezed past him, and she dodged the lazy ball with ease. Apparently, he still had qualms about hitting a girl. Sarah goaded him into not holding back by sending another one flying, where it exploded against his chest.
Damien appeared surprised at her good aim and froze. Then he took off after her, laughing and tossing snowballs at her back as he got into the spirit of the game, slipping and sliding as he went. She dodged most of them, though he was getting the hang of it and caught her in the arm on his last throw, knocking the ball she was forming out of her hands. It crumbled to the ground just as she ducked to avoid another spiraling bomb that puffed into a shower of white powder when it hit her shoulder. He needed to learn to pack them tighter, but then again, maybe he was going easy on her. Judging by the way his aim was improving with each toss, maybe that was a good thing.
He was pretty spry for a wounded guy.
“Is that all you got?” Sarah called over her shoulder. She laughingly avoided his attempt to grab her around the waist, though it was apparent by the way he hung back that he was enjoying the chase too much to end it. She cut to the right and blindly tossed an armful of powder over her head to distract him. Spinning around, she scooped up snow as she moved and quickly packed the mound into a perfect projectile. She stood her ground, ready to face-off Western style.
Damien shook the wayward flakes from his hair as he jogged through the cascade of snow settling to the ground. The brightness in his eyes told her he was not going to slow down.
With a squeal, Sarah skipped to the side just out of reach and instinctively threw the snowball into his bad arm. She gasped, knowing how hard she had packed the thing. Damien brushed off the snow as she ran over to make her apologies.
“I am so sorry.” Her hand hovered in front of the wet spot on his coat. She grimaced as she met his eyes, and her stomach roiled a little in sympathy at the thought of the hard snow slamming into his tender flesh. She rushed on. “I wasn’t thinking at all. I feel so bad—that was horrible. Are you okay?”
Damien blinked a few times as if dazed, and she grabbed his good arm to steady him in case he passed out from the pain. His eyes cleared, focusing on her. Snaking an arm around her waist, his grip surprisingly strong after being stabbed just yesterday, he pulled her closer, dipping his head down so their noses nearly touched.
“Just fine,” he replied. Sarah’s heart sped up. He was so close that she imagined his whiskers grazed her own skin, and she felt rather than saw the grin that spread over his lips. “But I will give you a head start.”
She blinked. “What?”
Damien’s eyes narrowed wickedly, and the gold flecks were visible even in the gray light as he murmured, “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I didn’t allow the chase to go on.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in, and when they did, she grinned in relief, thankful he was only teasing her and trying to divert her attention from the game.
Easing back until he had no choice but to drop his hold from around her waist, she folded her arms across her middle and eyed him. “Just a head start, huh?”
He mimicked her stance, though his came off relaxed rather than challenging. “I can’t let you have all the fun, can I?”
Sarah bit her lower lip to keep from laughing, but he caught the action, his eyes lowering to her mouth. His own tipped, and he leaned forward as he met her gaze. “You had better start running, my lady.”
She opened her mouth in mock protest and then surprised him by dashing to the opposite side of the clearing. He hesitated only a moment before taking off after her.
She smiled, the wind stinging her cheeks as they ran in sync, Damien always just a few paces behind her as his laughter carried over the crisp air. Sarah had never felt so free or alive, and she knew that he felt it, too.
~Chapter 23~
Will dropped the pile of wood carelessly beside the fireplace, and the pieces landed in a haphazard heap. He didn’t bother to stack it into its usual tidy pyramid but stared at it intently, arms folded across his chest. His eyes remained on that spot, focusing until he was staring blindly and all thoughts unrelated to the hunks of wood began to fall away. It calmed him some to repeat the ritual that freed his mind and had allowed him to push aside the pain after his parents’ murders. Without it, he was sure he would not have been able to function under the weight of the emotions that might have destroyed him at the time.
But he could feel his mind rebelling against his restraint, and he allowed a single image to slip through. Sarah smiled up at him, hair fanning out against the pillow to frame her beautiful face. The candlelight reflected off her blue eyes, softening their warmth as they silently conveyed to him that he was good and worth something. Will had been taken aback the first time he saw that expression in her eyes so long ago. He had longed to reach out and touch his hand to her cheek in his uncle’s cabin that morning.
In his mind’s eye, his hand moved out to do just that. But when he blinked, the thumb that he envisioned stroking the curve of her throat belonged to Lisandro. The Spaniard leaned in, and Sarah whispered the man’s name as he neared.
Will slammed his fist into the wall to dispel the image. The tranquility of his mind was shattered, replaced by a yawning emptiness and frustration that he could not overcome. Where was his calm? His control? He was certainly losing his mind if this was how he spent his days, trapped in disquieting imaginings, which were also untrue, if the complete honesty and innocence on Sarah’s face were any indication. She certainly believed nothing was occurring between her and Lisandro.
Will, however, was not so easily convinced of the lord’s good intentions. Sarah might trust the man implicitly, but Will wasn’t fool enoug
h to completely absolve Lisandro before he did a little digging into his character. He had yet to find trust for the man—the fact that they had never met face-to-face aside—and couldn’t be sure that he and Lisandro hadn’t experienced the same unsettling vision of a moment ago, though it was, perhaps, far pleasanter for the Spaniard.
The idea of the stranger having any thoughts concerning Sarah made him ill.
“You okay, Taylor?” The uncertainty in his employee’s voice brought his mind to the present. Will became aware of his scowl and the way his hands were planted against the wall, as though he were trying to push right through to the other side.
Straightening, he squared his shoulders and resumed his usual emotionless mask, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep up: Life was wearing on him.
Robert stood with one foot planted inside the building, more than likely having halted when he witnessed his employer attempting to smash a hole in the wall. “You look a little sick.” He paused before asking hesitantly, “Is something the matter, sir?”
“I’ll live,” was the curt response.
Robert nodded and entered cautiously. He stooped to right Will’s mess, neatly piling the wood against the wall.
“Saw your friend leave earlier,” he remarked as he stacked the pieces. “The lady left with some guy. Wasn’t sure if you got to say hello.” Casting a glance up at his employer, Will caught the inquiry in his gaze.
Exhaling, he shook his head, and some of the pretense chipped away. “Yes, I spoke with her.”
“And the guy?”
Will folded his arms across his chest. “Is none of my concern, nor yours.”
Robert seemed to shrug it off, rising to his feet. They had been working together long enough that he appeared used to his employer’s dark moods and didn’t take offense. “You seem a little agitated, is all, and I wondered if it was connected.” He eyed Will, who returned his stare with a disinterested glare. Robert shuffled his feet and seemed suddenly reluctant to make eye contact. “My Nonie used to say that baggage carried by two people is a lighter load. Do you, uh, want to talk about it?”