Defying Destiny (28 page)

there in letting someone care about you?”

There had been a time when Maralee

had wanted only that. Her lonely

childhood and years of traveling the

continent with nothing but her sword had

weaved a basket of bitterness around her

heart. Only Nash had been able to free her

of its stifling burden, and now that her

trust had been so utterly betrayed, she

doubted she’d ever let anyone close to her

again. The loneliness she had endured was

far easier to deal with than the pain of

loss. She knew she had to bury her pain, at

least from the plain sight of others.

Otherwise, she feared they would always

look at her with maddening concern.

“I guess there is no harm in it,”

Maralee murmured. She finished her soup

diligently, trying to remain alert and keep

her wits about her. Whenever her thoughts

would start to stray, she would blink hard

and sit up straighter in her chair. “I

believe your delicious soup has worked

wonders,” she said when she had finished

it all. “I am feeling more like myself

now.”

Phyllis smiled, and collected her

empty bowl. “You were just hungry, doll,”

she said. “Would you like seconds?”

Maralee’s stomach protested, but she

nodded. “Perhaps half a bowl.”

Phyllis and Jared exchanged looks of

relief. Jared patted Maralee’s hand and

she forced herself not to jerk away from

him and bury her hand beneath the table.

“You’re getting your appetite back,”

he said. “That is a good sign.”

She smiled weakly. “I truly am feeling

better.”

“Do you play chess?”

“I haven’t for many years.”

He chuckled. “You’ll make a fine

victim then,” he said. “Would you join me

in a game after dinner?”

Maralee’s solitary room beckoned.

“I’m not sure I’m up for it.”

“All right,” Jared said, sounding

disappointed. “It probably would be best

for you to rest.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll come into your room and read to

you for a while.”

“No,” she blurted. He glanced at her,

startled. “I—I mean, perhaps it would be

nice to play a game of chess,” she said

calmly, groaning internally. How was she

supposed to keep her concentration from

straying while playing chess? Was there

anything more boring than that game?

Maralee couldn’t think of anything.

“Don’t think I’ll take it easy on you,

just because you’re a girl,” he said, eyes

sparking with challenge.

“I thought you were a chivalrous man,”

she said, looking up at him demurely from

under her lowered lashes.

“I…uh…” He flushed and tugged at

the collar of his shirt with one finger.

Maralee

laughed,

dropping

her

ridiculous, simpering female routine. “I’m

only teasing you,” she said. “If I can’t win

by my own merit then what’s the point of

winning?”

He seemed to relax, if only marginally.

“I suppose.”

After the two of them finished their

second bowl of soup—Phyllis had

surprisingly seen fit to leave them to their

own devices after giving Jared a nod of

approval—they retired to the parlor for

their game of chess.

Maralee was admittedly dreadful at

the game. She used her queen mercilessly

until Jared captured the piece and she

found herself at a complete loss as to how

to proceed. Jared gave her hints as she

fingered each piece hopefully. He’d give a

b a r e l y discernable shake of his head

whenever she was about to do something

particularly disastrous. If her reasoning

was sound, he’d give her an encouraging

smile. She lost anyway, not at any fault of

Jared’s. He had tried to help her. She was

simply too reckless to be good at chess.

She wondered if Nash knew how to play.

It seemed like something he would take to

naturally. Assuming he didn’t analyze each

move for hours and put his opponent to

sleep. She smiled at the thought, and then

scowled for thinking about him amicably.

“That was a good game,” Jared said

and didn’t seem to notice Maralee’s smile

was too quick, too broad, and false.

“I was dreadful.”

“You should be more discrete with the

use of your queen.”

“She’s the best piece. She can move in

any direction and as far as she likes. The

king is weak with his one square moves.”

“Slow and steady,” Jared said.

He watched her, analyzing her as he

was prone to do. She supposed it was the

doctor in him, or perhaps his analytical

tendency made him a doctor.

“Slow and steady, watching and

waiting for just the right moment to make

his move,” he said.

Maralee decided he wasn’t talking

about chess at all. “And if the right

moment never comes?” she asked, meeting

his gentle blue eyes with her direct gaze.

“It always comes. Patience and

steadfastness are the king’s virtues.”

“Where haste and conquer are the

queen’s.”

“Only in your hands,” he said with a

grin. “Your queen is so busy trying to be

strong and dominant that she finds herself

without support and she falls.”

“She was doing pretty good there for a

while,” Maralee reminded him, touching

the chess piece of their discussion with

her fingers. She had captured half a dozen

of his pieces with her queen before he had

taken it.

He reached across the chessboard and

took her hand, the black queen trapped in

her loose fist. Maralee looked up,

surprised by his forwardness.

“If you need to cry, Maralee,” he said,

“you go right ahead and cry. I could hold

you again, like back at the clinic.”

At last, she understood. He wanted her

to lean on him for support, but she didn’t

need him. She didn’t need anyone,

except… Nash. No, she didn’t need him

either.

“I appreciate your concern, Dr.

Sabin,” she said, meeting his eyes steadily

so he would not mistake her words, “but

not every wound can be healed by the

touch of your hand or the compassion in

your heart.” He looked as if he wanted to

interrupt her. “I don’t need saving, not by

you or anyone. The moon will be full

soon. I’ll finish what I started here and

then I’ll move on. That’s what I do. I

move on. I go forward. I don’t look back.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he

said, his hand squeezing hers tightly so she

didn’t pull away. “You can stay here and

start a different kind of life.”

Maralee scoffed. “My destiny was

written before I was even born,” she said.

“I cannot do anything but continue down

its path, continue to fight until Wolves no

longer take innocent human lives. It’s in

my blood.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jared said. “Your

destiny is what you make it.”

“Are you telling me you were not

destined to be a physician?”

He hesitated. “I choose to be a

physician because I was well suited to the

vocation, but I could have just as easily

been a diplomat like my father or an

attorney like my brother.”

“But

you

wouldn’t

have

been

satisfied.”

“I suppose not.”

“The only way to be satisfied with life

is to follow the path destiny has chosen

for you.”

“You don’t really believe that, do

you?”

“Yes, I believe it. It’s true. I strayed

from my destined path for merely two

weeks and see what kind of heartache it

has brought me.” She clutched her shirt in

front of her chest, feeling the ache in her

chest must be visible to a medical

professional.

“And you found no joy when you

strayed from your so-called destiny?”

“Joy? Yes,” she admitted. “And love.

And passion. And life. More than I’d ever

known before.”

She drifted away, lost in memories.

“Don’t you want that back?” he asked.

Her gaze focused on his once again.

“It’s impossible.”

“Maybe…maybe you could find it

again,” he said. He turned her hand over

and took the black queen she was

gripping, replacing it with his white king.

“Give a chance to some other paths that

stray from the road of your destiny.”

She stared at the chess piece in her

hand for a long moment before setting it in

the middle of the chessboard. “Good

night, Jared. I hope you find the wounded,

little bird you’re searching for. I’m sure

she’ll be more than happy to lean on you.”

A pained expression crossed his

handsome face. She was sorry she’d hurt

him, but it would be easier for both of

them if he realized she would never stray

from her destiny for him or anyone. She

stood up and walked slowly towards the

parlor door on her way to her room.

“Good night,” he murmured as she

passed him.

She left him in the parlor staring at the

black queen in his hand.

There was no reason for Dr. Jared Sabin

to continue to visit the young woman

staying at the inn, but he came every day—

sometimes more than once—to check on

her. He brought his medical bag, but

hadn’t opened it for several days now. He

was taking things slowly, but he hadn’t

given up on her, because whether she

knew it or not, she did need someone to

lean on. He wanted to make sure he was

visible when she finally crumbled.

Jared climbed the treacherous steps to

the inn’s front door and let himself inside.

The snow had stopped the day before, but

a storm of ice pellets had struck in the

middle of the night. The entire town was

one slippery mess. The soft jingle of the

bell above the front door alerted the inn’s

proprietor. Mr. Gordon Smithy stuck his

head out of the small supply closet

beneath the stairs. The little hair on the

man’s head was gray and sticking out at

odd angles.

“Ah, Dr. Sabin, come to check on

Maralee again?” There was a knowing

grin plastered across the old fellow’s

face.

“How is she today?” Jared asked. He

removed his glasses and wiped them with

his handkerchief before putting them back

on.

“I don’t know. She’s been up in her

room all morning. She hasn’t come down

for breakfast.”

Jared knew it probably wasn’t

anything to worry about, but he couldn’t

stop his heart from thudding with dread.

“I’ll just go and check on her then,” he

said nonchalantly and started up the stairs

to her room. He knocked rapidly on

Maralee’s door.

“Maralee, it’s Jared. Are you all

right?”

She didn’t answer his summons. In

fact, he heard no indication she was even

in the room. He placed his ear to the door

and he heard a faint sniffling sound. He

tried knocking again.

“Maralee? Can I come in?”

“Please g-go away,” she called.

“I’m coming in.” He opened her door

and stepped into the dimly lit room.

It took him a moment to locate her. She

was sitting in the corner of the room on the

floor, her knees drawn up to her chest, her

face wet with tears. Her long black tresses

stood in stark contrast to her white

nightgown and pale face. Jared dropped

his medical bag and rushed to her side.

His heart panging with concern, he

touched her hair. She flinched away from

him.

“What is it? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, placed her hands

on his chest, and tried to push him away.

He refused to budge. Instead, he wrapped

his arms around her and held her

awkwardly while she struggled to regain

her freedom.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He couldn’t

stand to see her cry. It was worse than

watching her stare off into space with that

lonely, regretful look on her lovely face.

“It’s nothing.” She covered her face

with her hands and gave into his gentle

embrace at last.