Page 20 of Whispers of the Starlit Sea
“Come on, shall we try again?” Holding her with both hands, he started off again.
She took another awkward, lurching step, with the same result. He glanced down, and those brilliant blue eyes were so full of pain and fear he had to fight the urge to hold her close. Such a move would be wildly inappropriate, and the poor thing was only just beginning to trust him.
“We have to keep going,” he said apologetically. “Staying here won’t do either of us any good, and I would really like to check on my friends.” He kept his voice low and soothing, and the wildness slowly faded from her eyes.
His throat was scratchy, but talking seemed to calm her. “I’m sure your friends are looking for you, but the best place to find them would be back in the city. The harbormaster likely has a list already started to help people find each other.”
When she was ready, he took a cautious step forward. She pressed her lips together and slowly lifted one leg without bending her knee, then lowered her foot to the ground a few inches in front of where it had been. Right before it touched the sand, she paused before letting it drop. She whimpered and clung to him.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he reassured her. “You’re hurt. Let me see.”
He helped her sit down again, and with gentle hands, he lifted her foot. Her feet were long and slender. He’d never before touched a woman’s foot, but he told himself this was for medical purposes. His fingers hesitated, and he swallowed hard before starting his examination. He could see no sign of injury — certainly nothing that would cause her to cry out like that. As he ran his thumbs lightly over the sole, he watched her for any indications he was hurting her. She stared back at him with those blue eyes he could get lost in.
“Does that hurt?” he asked to distract himself from the sapphire pools. “Let me know if you feel anything.”
Her skin was smooth, soft, without the usual calluses people gained from years of being on their feet. He frowned. Maybe she had a disability that prevented her from walking. That would explain why the movement seemed so unnatural to her and caused her so much pain.
At last he sat back, gently placing her foot on the ground. He’d taken the liberty of checking her ankle for swelling as well, but it was cool to the touch. Unless it was her knee or something else bothering her, he had no idea why she was so in pain when she walked. But he was not bold enough to look further without her express approval.
She looked at him curiously, with no trace of the pain that seemed to affect her so acutely at times. He let his breath out in a huff.
“Well, this isn’t getting us anywhere, is it? I hope you don’t think this is too forward, but I do believe the only solution is for me to carry you.”
He helped her stand once more, chatting as he did so. “Up like this. There you go.”
Hoping she would forgive him for acting without being able to explain his intentions, he scooped her into his arms.
“Oh!” she said, clutching him around the neck.
Her wide eyes were so close to his, and he found he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She offered him a shy smile, then cocked her head, as if asking what he was doing now.
“Right. I do hope I’m not hurting you, but I dare say it’s best if we get a move on.” His stomach rumbled loudly, and she giggled. “It appears that I’ve missed breakfast.”
This time as he crossed the sand, he moved with ease and none of the shortness of breath from earlier. He found a path that avoided most of the salt grass, and they soon reached the road.
He took a moment to get his bearings. The city lay to the left, but a small town might be closer in the opposite direction. Only moors and hills dotted with distant white sheep called to him, so he turned to the city.
Chapter seven
Afewminutesaftertheystarted walking, a cart rattled up behind them. Arick’s shoulders dropped in relief. The woman wasn’t heavy, but he was fatigued from his night in the ocean, and he wasn’t looking forward to carrying her all the way to the city, especially with no boots. He stepped to the side of the road and waited for the cart to slow.
The pretty little highland pony leading the cart immediately began scrounging for pockets of grass. The driver studied them, a pipe hanging from a corner of his mouth.
“Is it a ride you’re after, then?” he asked around the pipe.
Arick nodded in relief. “Please. We were caught in the storm last night, and Iskarraig is a far way to walk.”
“Aye, it is,” the man agreed, then turned back to face the road.
Arick took that as all the invitation he needed and hurried to the back of the cart. It was half full of bundles, with just enough space for them to sit with their feet dangling off the edge. He set the woman down and helped her swing her legs around. Sitting didn’t seem to bother her, so he hoped the bumpy ride wouldn’t cause her undue pain.
He hoisted himself up beside her. Once he was settled, the driver muttered, “G’wan witcha,” and the little pony trotted off, seemingly unaffected by the additional burden. Arick thought about striking up a conversation with the driver, but the man was content with his pipe, and the rocking of the cart lulled him into a stupor. The rich, earthy scent of the tobacco blended with the wild perfume of heather on the nearby hills.
Beside him, the woman held onto the cart rail and stared at the world around them. She gasped at the first real bump, then giggled at the vibrations caused by the wooden bridge that spanned the little creek.
She pointed at the carpet of purple heather as they passed and exclaimed something. Arick wished he could understand her.
“She does speak, then, does she?” the driver commented with no expectation of a response.
