The Offer (Baron 2)

He clasped her shoulders in his hands and shook her. She whimpered softly, and tried to bring her hands up to strike him away. But she didn’t have the strength to move the five thick blankets.

“Open your eyes and look at me or it will go very badly for you.” He continued to shake her.

Sabrina heard his voice as if from a great distance and forced her eyes to open. She couldn’t see clearly. She heard his voice again. He sounded angry with her. She blinked and her eyes cleared. A man was leaning over her. His hands were on her shoulders. She screamed, then whispered, “No, please no, Trevor, let me go. Let me go.”

Phillip stared down into large violet eyes, slanted slightly and fringed with thick lashes, a darker red than her hair. He saw the fear—no, it was closer to sheer terror—and said very slowly, lowering his face close to hers, “I’m not Trevor and I won’t hurt you. This fellow is nowhere around. It’s just me and you. I won’t hurt you. Do you understand me?”

She blinked rapidly several times. The man’s voice was unknown to her. She strained to clear her mind and her vision. “You’re not Trevor,” she said slowly.

“No, I’m just me and not this Trevor. Don’t be afraid of me. I’m here to help you.”

“Did God send you?”

He had to think about that. “Well, perhaps He did. I was lost and just happened to see you lying in the forest.”

“You don’t look like a gift from God.”

“My father told me that God’s gifts came in many shapes, that they can even appear in the strangest disguises. Don’t spurn me just because I don’t look like a pious Methodist.”

“Your hair is as black as a storm in the Irish Sea. I don’t think Methodists have black hair. Come to think of it, I’ve never met any Methodists.”

“Maybe so, but I wouldn’t scoff at sin, if I were you. I’m a sinner and I’m the one who saved you.”

He smiled down at her, knowing her wits were still scattered, but she was speaking and making some sense. He lightly touched his palm to her cheek. She was warm, but not too warm. She didn’t flinch.

“If I were a man I’d want to look like you. Are you tall?”

“Nearly a giant.”

“Most any man is a giant compared to me. I stopped growing. I was very down in the mouth about it, but Grandfather said it didn’t matter one little bit. He said I was perfect.”

“Perfection is usually tough to gain, but it’s true, grandfathers are usually right.”

“Maybe, but he loves me. That covers a whole lot of things. Could you help me, please? The covers, they’re so heavy. I feel like they’re pushing me into the floor.” When he didn’t move immediately, she began to push and struggle.

“No, hold still. I’ll make it better.”

“It’s just that I can’t breathe.”

“I know, I’m hurrying.” But he knew that even if he pulled the blankets from over her chest, she still probably wouldn’t be able to breathe easily. He compromised.

“Is that better?”

She shook her head and continued to struggle, finally shoving down the other two blankets. Phillip caught up her hands in his own and held her tightly. “No, I’ve got to keep you warm. I’m sorry, but even without the blankets you won’t be able to breathe all that easily. The trick is not to fight me or the pain. Take shallow breaths. Yes, that’s right.” He remembered his long-ago words to Lucius and spoke them aloud, over and over. “Slow, shallow breaths. I’m going to make it better, I promise.”

“Yes, help me.” Her eyes were closed, her fists heavy at her sides.

He took himself once again to the linen closet, grabbed several towels, and set them near the grate. Some minutes later, he lifted the top towel gingerly, for it was nearly too hot to touch, and carried it to the bed.

As he pulled back the covers and opened the two dressing gowns to bare her chest, he said, “This will hurt you for just a moment, but it will let you breathe more easily.”

“Oh, God.” She gasped as he laid the hot towel over her breasts and tried to strike it away.

He held her hands and drew the dressing gowns and blankets back over her. She made no sound, but tears were trickling down her cheeks.

He wiped the tears away with his finger. Then he caught up her hands in his again. “I’m sorry, but it must be done. Things will be better soon, you’ll see. Now, why don’t you tell me your name?”

“Name,” she said, her voice faint and dulled with pain, “my name. You’re trying to distract me. That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?”