Page 44 of The Lord's Compass
Now, they could take their time and do as they pleased. Once they returned to England, however? That was another story altogether. They could continue this relationship or not, but they would never have this time alone together again without the presumption of a serious courtship that could only have one conclusion. A conclusion that caused her an apprehensive excitement that scared her.
This was why she never should have kissed him. It complicated the relationship between them and distracted them from their true mission. They hadn’t even discussed the treasure or finding the next clue since they had taken the ill-advised step forward together.
Faith knew her ankle would heal if she kept it immobile, so as much as she hated remaining affixed to her bed, she hoped doing so would allow her to walk upon it by morning.
Despite how tired she was, she slept fitfully, until sometime in the early hours of the morning she came completely awake. She blinked her eyes, surprised to find it still dark, wondering why she had awoken so suddenly until the sound of scrapes and scuffles had every part of her on edge.
She lifted her head ever so slowly to look about the room, but only blackness and a few shapes were visible. Nothing amiss that she could see. But it wasn’t what she couldsee—it was what she could hear.
Someone was in her room. She was sure of it.
She stayed as still as she could, barely breathing as she didn’t want the intruder to notice that she had awoken. It couldn’t be Eric – he wasn’t the type to tiptoe anywhere. If he had wanted to return to her bedroom, he would have done so by throwing the door open with a loud exclamation before pouncing on her bed.
“Where is it?” she heard a muffled voice say as the doors of the wardrobe squeaked open. A thud resounded before a curse, and just as Faith was deciding whether to confront the man or allow him to finish his search and leave without confrontation, the door to Eric’s bedroom opened with a loud creak.
“Faith, why are you out of bed?” he mumbled, rubbing the slumber from his eyes, and then in a flurry of motion, the figure in her wardrobe leapt across the room to the door. Eric took a second too long to note the additional presence, and before he had the wherewithal to realize that it wasn’t Faith prowling about the room, the door was open and the man escaping.
“You, there! Stop!” Eric called out, pursuing the figure out the door, and Faith sat up, wishing she could chase after them but knowing that she would do nothing but impede Eric’s progress, especially with her injured ankle.
She waited tensely until quick returning footsteps sounded outside her door, the soft padding reassuring her that they belonged to Eric.
“Faith?” he said, pushing the door open before closing it behind him. “Are you unharmed?”
“I am,” she said as Eric lit the candle on the side table before sitting on the edge of her bed. Despite the tense conversation between them earlier, he reached out and covered one of her hands with his, and she appreciated the comfort. “I awoke to the sound of him rustling about my room but stayed still. I was deciding whether or not to confront him when you appeared.”
“I wasn’t able to sleep and heard noises,” he said. “I thought it was you up and about on that ankle.”
“So you came to send me back to bed?” she asked wryly.
“I came to see that all was well,” he said softly. “And it is a good thing I did.”
Faith sobered, allowing her ire to fade away, knowing that Eric spoke the truth. “Did you catch him? Did you see who it was?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “By the time I began my chase, he had disappeared. To where, I have no idea. The other bedrooms are locked, and there is no other way out besides the staircase, but I didn’t hear his tread upon the steps. The only other escape would have been over the banister.”
“Which would be impossible.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “It is as though he vanished into the night.”
“Must be one of those ghosts you kept going on about,” she teased and he wagged a finger at her.
“You joke about that, but one never knows. Could have been.”
“Ghosts do not hit their heads on wardrobe shelves and then mutter curse words,” she retorted, and he shrugged.
“Depends on the ghost.”
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, and he fell back on the bed beside her, closing his eyes as his exhaustion took over.
“We do have one problem,” Faith said, wincing as she knew it was likely the last thing he wanted to hear but it must be said.
“Which is?”
“He heard you enter my chamber speaking English to me. English without a Spanish accent. Whoever was here will now be suspicious that we are not who we say we are.”
“It is not as though anyone can admit that they were spying on us by sneaking into your chamber.”
“No,” she said, “but we are on their home soil, which is a great disadvantage for us.”
