Echoes From the Mist (17 page)

"Be quiet, woman," Will admonished.

Katie blithely ignored him. "Faylinn, how are you feeling?"

"Fine." A pause. "I think."

"You’re still tired." It wasn’t a question.

Faylinn’s eyes slid shut and she shivered. "A little, I guess." She’d had a comfortable bed with a feather-filled mattress all to herself the night before but still hadn’t slept a wink. She missed the warm body she curled up against each night. "Though I did fall asleep back here."

"Only the good Lord above will ever know how with the way my Will drives."

Will turned to his wife and frowned. "Next time I’m leavin’ you at home, nag!"

"You are not," Katie informed him bluntly.

"If you sass me like that again, I most certainly will!" He puffed up his chest, daring her to say differently. Which, of course, she immediately did.

"Ha! You will…"

Faylinn shook her head as the couple bickered. She’d never seen two people who loved each other so, argue so bitterly. And strangely, that made her feel a little bit better about her and Bridget.
You’re every bit as stubborn as Will, Bridget. And I love you every bit as much as Katie does him.
They hadn’t so much as shared a kiss since that single, desperate time, the night Bridget was to be executed. Still, she knew she held Bridget’s heart, she only hoped that after they spoke this night Bridget would still want hers. The mere thought of another confrontation caused Faylinn’s stomach to churn mercilessly. And she wrapped her arms around herself in mute comfort.

Then the arguing and the wagon came to an abrupt halt.

"Here we are."

Faylinn looked up in surprise. They were parked right outside the stable.

Will jumped down from his seat and stretched with a loud groan. He quickly unhooked the mule and led her inside, telling her how, come next spring, she was going to be turned into several new pair of boots and a set of tack.

The blood drained from Faylinn’s face when she looked at the door. She should see a trail of smoke coming from the chimney above but not a single sliver of light shone through the shutters.

"Thank you for the beautiful cloth and keg of beer for Will." Katie’s exhale sent a cloud of fog spiraling upward. "We didn’t expect any Christmas gifts."

Faylinn pushed away thoughts of Bridget for just a moment and smiled weakly at Katie. "Then why I am wearing a new dress?" It was as simple and shapeless as a dress could be. But it was made by Katie’s own hand and Faylinn had come to realize just how precious a commodity cloth was. The gift was yet another kindness from a couple whose generosity already astounded her.

Katie’s blush was evident even in the starlight. "Well, it would hardly be proper for you to go walking about town dressed as a man."

Unlike Bridget, who frequently wore trousers, they had taken some getting used to for Faylinn. Though she had to admit they seemed far more practical now that she’d actually tried them out.

"Did you enjoy town? A far cry from London I suspect."

Faylinn smiled gently. "It wasn’t London, Katie. And it didn’t need to be. I had a grand time. Thank you for the invitation."

Unlike Bridget, Faylinn had spent her entire time in the Colonies on Cobb Island. On the mainland, she was just another young woman, completely anonymous unless she happened to run into one of the Naval Officers with whom Cyril had done business. But Will had assured her that if she steered clear of the local docks, taverns, and brothel, she would have nothing to fear. But just in case, the young woman never lowered her cloak’s hood.

In town, Will had helped her pawn a necklace Cyril had given Faylinn as a wedding gift. The amount she received for it was a paltry sum for a piece of jewelry of passable quality. But it allowed her to buy gifts for the Beynons and still have plenty left over to purchase a few food items and sneak them into Katie’s crate. Her favorite gift, however, she had yet to give.

Faylinn grinned. "I felt much more comfortable in town with this on than I would have wearing trousers. Thank you again." The grin slipped as Faylinn eased herself out the back of the small cart.

"Don’t fret so much." Katie pulled the smaller woman into a tight hug and pressed her lips to Faylinn’s cold ear. "She will understand."

Faylinn nodded. "Merry… Merry Christmas, Kat—" Her throat closed tightly and she bolted past Will, who was exiting the stable.

"Whoa." He turned worried eyes on his wife as he hefted the small keg of beer onto one shoulder and Katie helped him lay a fifty-pound sack of flour on the other. "Is she all right?"

Katie filled her arms with the bolt of cloth and a wooden crate full of cooking supplies–she’d have to make another trip for the rest. "If she’s not, you’ll be diggin’ that grave for Bridget Redding you were so worried about before."

Will’s wide eyes followed his wife’s portly form as it plowed through the snow towards their house. "Uh oh."

Virginia (Mainland)
December, 1690
Christmas Eve

T
HE DOG RAN up to Faylinn as soon as she entered the stable. He howled his greeting, his shaggy body shaking wildly as he rubbed himself against her skirt. "Hello, boy. Yeah," she cooed fondly, "I missed you too." She sighed. "And someone else who lives here." She gave him a gentle pat on the head and straightened, exhaling with exaggerated slowness. Her eyes were riveted to the door to the back room. From inside of the stables, she now could see the tiniest slice of golden light coming from beneath the doorway and spilling out onto the fragrant hay that lined the floor.
Thank God. No matter what, at least she’s here. Asleep, I’ll hazard.

"I’m going to go in there now," Faylinn told herself firmly, setting her resolve. But her feet didn’t move. She looked down in disgust. "All right,
this
time I mean it." And with gritted teeth, she forced herself across the room. She felt as if she was wading through a thick molasses swamp. Every step was a colossal effort as her disobedient legs did their best to ignore her brain’s command to hurry up and get this over with.

When she finally reached the door she groaned and let her forehead rest against the cool wood as she closed her eyes.
Go on, Faylinn. You cannot avoid her forever.
Pushing away from the door, she pulled the edges of her cloak together and dropped her hood, her golden hair spilling out over her shoulders. She swallowed and reached out for the door handle, but before she could open it, it flew open. "Whoa!" She stumbled backwards to avoid being struck.

When she found her legs, she glanced up. Breathless, she drank in the sight before her.

Bridget stood tall and proud in the bedroom doorway, backlit by a small flickering candle that cast long shadows across the walls. Her long hair was slightly disheveled as if she’d been sleeping or out in the wind.

Even through the near darkness Faylinn could see the keen awareness in her features.

The familiar thought that Bridget looked larger than life raced through Faylinn’s mind and, despite her concern, she was hard-pressed not to swoon. "Umm…" Bridget was staring at her and she found herself slightly tongue-tied. A little self-consciously, she squared her own shoulders.
She can see right through me. I know she can.
"Hello."

She’s all right.
"Faylinn," Bridget acknowledged quietly. She stared down at her own boots for a moment before her eyes lifted. "You’re… Umm… You’re late."
Dammit,
that is not what I wanted to say.

Faylinn nodded slowly.
At least she’s still talking to me.
She starting moving forward, and Bridget backed into the room and allowed her to pass.

Faylinn immediately noticed the cold fireplace but decided not to comment. She tucked her hands inside her cloak. "We got more snow last night and the road was slow traveling."

"It’s all right." Bridget shrugged one shoulder with forced casualness. "I wasn’t really worried."

A tiny smile twitched at Faylinn’s lips. "You weren’t, huh?" she challenged quietly.

Bridget’s eyes softened in response to Faylinn’s smile and a tentative grin eased over worried features. "No. Not at all. Though I did miss you." After a second’s debate, she held one arm out in invitation.

Faylinn couldn’t close the distance between them fast enough. Her shoes scraped loudly on the rough wooden floors and before she knew it she was wrapped tightly in Bridget’s embrace. Her pulse was pounding so loudly she could barely hear anything else, and she felt Bridget’s thumping wildly against her chest in return. She wrapped her arms as tightly around the other woman as she dared, her relief so staggering she thought her knees would give way. "I’m sor—"

"I apologi—"

They both stopped and laughed in simple relief, though there was still a very faint, underlying tension between them.

"God, Bridget," Faylinn drew in a greedy breath of the darker woman’s scent, allowing it to flood her senses and calm her, "I wasn’t…" She stopped and swallowed past the lump in her throat, startled at how much just saying the words hurt. "I wasn’t sure if you’d be here when I got back. I know you’ve been going mad under my constant care. It’s just… just—" The words came out in a jumbled rush. "But…I… you were hurt. And I couldn’t make you… I just needed to help you."

Bridget pressed her nose in Faylinn’s hair and mumbled against the silken strands. "I know. It really is all right, Faylinn." She soaked in the sensation of Faylinn in her arms and faced up to a very basic truth about herself. "I’ll
never
leave you. I know I’m quite impossible sometimes." She licked her lips nervously but was determined to press on. "I love you far too much to even consider living without you, whether it is best for you in the long run or not." She placed a tender kiss on Faylinn’s head. "To my great shame, I am doubtlessly the most selfish bitch alive."

"You are not!" Faylinn shouted. "How can you question this? I know you feel it too. You
are
best for me in the long and short run. Don’t you dare say any different, Bridget," she warned her seriously. "I mean it. I have the Devil’s own temper when pushed." She stamped her foot for emphasis. "Hearing you talk like that taxes me beyond all reason. And if you do it again, I’ll… Well, I’ll…. I don’t know! But it will be fearsome. I guarantee that!"

A small, unexpected laugh bubbled up from within Bridget. "Fearsome?"

"Don’t you dare laugh at me!" But Faylinn couldn’t help but crack a smile herself. "You are quite stuck with me, whether you want to be or not." The curve of sensual lips, flash of white teeth, and eyes suddenly brimming with glittering tears let Faylinn know just how Bridget felt about that. Faylinn let out another more relaxed laugh.

Bridget drew in a deep breath and for a second Faylinn worried she would have another fight on her hands. But instead, to her delight, Bridget only nodded. "
We
are stuck with each other," she corrected warmly. Low and sweet, her voiced wrapped itself around Faylinn’s heart.

In the decades that still stretched before them, each would talk of many things, argue over countless subjects, and evoke tears of pain and laughter from the other. This question, however, was settled firmly on that cold Christmas Eve night… for all time.

Faylinn reluctantly loosened her death grip on Bridget, already missing the comforting warmth she’d been deprived of the past two days. Feeling drained, but knowing they still had several important things to discuss, she curled her fingers around Bridget’s and led her to the bed where they both sat down.

Bridget gently pushed Faylinn’s cloak from her shoulders. "Just a moment." The cloth was cold and damp and she got up to hang it near the fireplace.

She could feel something in the inside pocket and caught sight of the very tip of a bright red ribbon. She opened the cloak a little more for a better view and smiled to herself, knowing she had a gift for Faylinn hidden away as well. She wondered idly if the younger woman would make her wait until Christmas morning for her booty.

"No peeking," Faylinn called to her sternly.

Bridget jumped a little and her cheeks colored as though she were a child caught stealing sweets from her mother’s pantry. "That was not nice, Faylinn."

"It was so. Not nice would be making you wait till New Years just for peeking."

Bridget arched an eyebrow at her companion’s wicked streak and padded back to the bed. She sat down and kicked her feet up onto the soft surface. The silence between them lingered and, after the high emotions surrounding Faylinn’s homecoming, for once it was Bridget who found herself wanting to break it. Relentlessly, she picked at a loose thread in the quilt.
Since this appears to be a night for confessions and brutal honesty….
"Faylinn?"

"Hmm?" Faylinn answered absently. She was twirling a lock of glossy dark hair between her fingers, enjoying its coarse but silky texture and the way the candlelight seemed to make it shimmer.

"It is…." Bridget stopped and kicked herself for not knowing where to start. But this was so hard.

"Yes?" Faylinn smoothed back Bridget’s unruly tresses and did her best to sit and wait patiently. The confused, stressed look on Bridget’s face, however, was enough to make her anxiety mount.