Indebted strength. How had he used his power to help humanity?
Save dabbling in a war here and there, he’d done nothing with it, other than impressing the ladies with his prowess in the bedchamber.
How about his fortune amassed over the centuries? Had he endowed a university or created a legacy?
No. He’d done naught with any of it.
The railing creaked under his grip, and he forced himself to relax his hands lest he destroy one of the few things in this world he cherished.
A whimper behind him made him whip around.
Had he misheard?
“No, not ... please, no ...”
He skidded to a stop next to the couch, half leaning over as a shield, his senses alert for whatever could hurt her.
In the twilight, sweat glistened on her forehead as she feebly thrashed on the couch.
“Jane?” he ventured.
A moan like an animal being tortured rent his soul in two.
“Sweetling? Are you all right?” Z’wounds, he hadn’t used that endearment since his time with Bess. Not the time to think about that significance.
When Jane didn’t answer, he touched her wrist, just the lightest touch.
The scream that burst from her dry lips terrified him like nothing he’d heard before on this Earth.
When it continued despite his murmured reassurances, his blood iced.
Jane’s eyes were open, but she looked right through him. He could only encourage her to wake up and prevent her from falling onto the floor.
Midscream, she stopped.
And blinked.
“Barnaby?” Her hoarse voice abraded his heart like sandpaper.
“I’m right here.”
He would give his own life to stop her desperate, heaving gasps. Cursing, he pulled her awkwardly onto his lap on the floor and crooned nonsense to her, repeating childhood rhymes from his youth.
When her shaking subsided, he kept rocking her and singing.
She leaned back and stared at him.
He stopped in the middle of “For Want of a Nail” and focused on the shadowed face before him.
“Hi, Jane.”
“Hi. Listen, I’m so—”
“Stop. No apologies here. That’s the rule.”
She rubbed a damp cheek into his shirt, blessing him with the gesture.
As darkness fell in earnest, he kept her in a loose embrace, present but not confining. The last thing he wanted was to re-create any more nightmares in the dim light.
It was one of the witching hours, when day turned to full night. Barnaby sighed. So different, this modern world compared with the one he’d left centuries ago.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked after a time.
Rubbing at her arms, she shook her head. “No, I want—I want this off of me. All of it. No more darkness. No more pollution.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want light. I want to be clean.” She scratched at her arms, and he deflected her gently, not wanting to see her do injury.
He eased her back onto the couch and bowed. “At your service.”
In no time, he had every lantern and candle lit. Bright light bounced off the walls of the cabin. A fire crackled in the grate, and he placed a large pot of water on to boil. He also fired up the propane stove and placed another pot of water on it as well.
As her opened mouth, he held his hand up, stilling her words. “Your wish is my command, milady, and I’m not done yet.”
Returning from the small outbuilding, he carried a large iron tub back into the house and set it in the middle of the living room floor.
“Your bath is coming up.”
“What? No, you didn’t have to—”
“Who says it’s for you? I don’t smell so fabulous, if you hadn’t noticed.”
Despite her red-rimmed eyes, she giggled, the tinkling sound shaming his dark soul.
With quick work at the sink pump, he filled the tub halfway with cold water. Adding in the hot, he tested the temperature. Hopefully, it was about right.
“Oh my God, you just ... did all of this? Because I asked?”
He shrugged. “Of course. Now, if you’ll allow me to lay out some toiletries on this chair here, I’ll leave you to your ablutions.”
He helped her to
Save dabbling in a war here and there, he’d done nothing with it, other than impressing the ladies with his prowess in the bedchamber.
How about his fortune amassed over the centuries? Had he endowed a university or created a legacy?
No. He’d done naught with any of it.
The railing creaked under his grip, and he forced himself to relax his hands lest he destroy one of the few things in this world he cherished.
A whimper behind him made him whip around.
Had he misheard?
“No, not ... please, no ...”
He skidded to a stop next to the couch, half leaning over as a shield, his senses alert for whatever could hurt her.
In the twilight, sweat glistened on her forehead as she feebly thrashed on the couch.
“Jane?” he ventured.
A moan like an animal being tortured rent his soul in two.
“Sweetling? Are you all right?” Z’wounds, he hadn’t used that endearment since his time with Bess. Not the time to think about that significance.
When Jane didn’t answer, he touched her wrist, just the lightest touch.
The scream that burst from her dry lips terrified him like nothing he’d heard before on this Earth.
When it continued despite his murmured reassurances, his blood iced.
Jane’s eyes were open, but she looked right through him. He could only encourage her to wake up and prevent her from falling onto the floor.
Midscream, she stopped.
And blinked.
“Barnaby?” Her hoarse voice abraded his heart like sandpaper.
“I’m right here.”
He would give his own life to stop her desperate, heaving gasps. Cursing, he pulled her awkwardly onto his lap on the floor and crooned nonsense to her, repeating childhood rhymes from his youth.
When her shaking subsided, he kept rocking her and singing.
She leaned back and stared at him.
He stopped in the middle of “For Want of a Nail” and focused on the shadowed face before him.
“Hi, Jane.”
“Hi. Listen, I’m so—”
“Stop. No apologies here. That’s the rule.”
She rubbed a damp cheek into his shirt, blessing him with the gesture.
As darkness fell in earnest, he kept her in a loose embrace, present but not confining. The last thing he wanted was to re-create any more nightmares in the dim light.
It was one of the witching hours, when day turned to full night. Barnaby sighed. So different, this modern world compared with the one he’d left centuries ago.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked after a time.
Rubbing at her arms, she shook her head. “No, I want—I want this off of me. All of it. No more darkness. No more pollution.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want light. I want to be clean.” She scratched at her arms, and he deflected her gently, not wanting to see her do injury.
He eased her back onto the couch and bowed. “At your service.”
In no time, he had every lantern and candle lit. Bright light bounced off the walls of the cabin. A fire crackled in the grate, and he placed a large pot of water on to boil. He also fired up the propane stove and placed another pot of water on it as well.
As her opened mouth, he held his hand up, stilling her words. “Your wish is my command, milady, and I’m not done yet.”
Returning from the small outbuilding, he carried a large iron tub back into the house and set it in the middle of the living room floor.
“Your bath is coming up.”
“What? No, you didn’t have to—”
“Who says it’s for you? I don’t smell so fabulous, if you hadn’t noticed.”
Despite her red-rimmed eyes, she giggled, the tinkling sound shaming his dark soul.
With quick work at the sink pump, he filled the tub halfway with cold water. Adding in the hot, he tested the temperature. Hopefully, it was about right.
“Oh my God, you just ... did all of this? Because I asked?”
He shrugged. “Of course. Now, if you’ll allow me to lay out some toiletries on this chair here, I’ll leave you to your ablutions.”
He helped her to
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