Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Jackson gripped Leona’s arm and escorted her a bit farther from Trace.

“Aren’t you afraid he can recognize you, lass?”

“He can’t see.” Leona looked in Trace’s direction, his scowl in place as he waited away from them both.

“Are you sure about that? Why is he calling you Elle?”

Leona pulled out of his arms and came clean to Jackson. “I told him that was my name. I can’t tell him my real name in case he recognizes me from it. I went out after the fighting was over and he was the only one left alive. Once I turned him over and saw who it was, I couldn’t do anything but what I did.”

She rubbed her bare arms, feeling cold. “I fed him broth for about a month. When the bandages came off he couldn’t see and so he has been learning to use his other senses. I couldn’t leave him there, Jackson. I just couldn’t. But, there is nothing going on between us.”

Jackson cupped her face in his large hands. “Listen to me, lass. This man is married. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Jackson’s thumb skimmed over the healing scar on Leona’s face. “Where did this come from?”

“I know he is married. I have known since he got married. I can feel him inside me, Jackson. I still love him. The scar was an accident. He didn’t mean to do it. Please believe me.”

“Are you sure he doesn’t know who you are?”

She shook her head, determined to ignore how much the realization hurt. One of them had held onto the childhood fantasy while the other had forged his own way and taken up where his father had left off. “No, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a clue.”

Jackson looked down at her face and glanced again at the new scar. “Just a minute, lass. I’m going to have a chat with him. This isn’t over between us. You still have some questions to answer.” He strode off before she could respond.

Trace stood tall and defiantly in front of the man approaching him. He still felt at a disadvantage for not being able to see anything other than shadows, but that was better than nothing.

Jackson stopped in front of him. “You. You hurt her again and I will kill you.” There was no doubt that he meant those very words.

“I haven’t hurt her. I’m—”

“Don’t speak. I saw the marks on her face. You put them there, for no one else would hurt her. Do it again and I will rip you apart.”

He had hurt her? Marked her? When? For the love of God, he didn’t remember. She’d never said anything to him about it. This man must be lying. “I didn’t hurt her.”

“Don’t lie to me. She wouldn’t mark her own face up. You’re lucky she told me it was all right. This is your one warning. Touch her again like that and I will kill you.”

“Who are you to her? What does she do so you’ll sell her paintings?” Rage and pain he could hear, laced his voice as he asked Jackson the question he couldn’t ask Elle.

“That’s none of your business. Just know that I love her and will protect her at all costs.” Jackson’s non-answer provoked him.

He loves her and she loves him. Why did that statement hurt so much to hear? What right did he have to think that he deserved to be with someone who made him so happy? After all, the one person that Trace was supposed to love and protect had suffered. He had failed at his job to defend her. Maybe this was God evening the score.

An immense sadness filled Trace. Happiness was slipping away for the second time in his life. “I don’t want to hurt her. I would never hurt her.” His voice was honest and emotional.

“Good. Now, who are you and what are you doing here?”

Elle came over to where they were and stood by Jackson, a slight that dug deep to Trace. She answered that question. “His name is Colonel Morgan, Colonel Trace Morgan. Colonel, this is Jackson O’Neill.”

“Are you going to turn me in to the authorities?” he asked. “Now that the war is over and we’ve lost?”

“You were on the other side?” Jackson was incredulous. “How can this be? You’re still for slavery?”

“Obviously, if I came here and there is an imposter with my name behind bars, I was fighting for the other side. Look, I came for a different reason. One I can’t really explain. Yes, like I told Elle, I have slaves. Don’t want them, but I have them. No, I am not for slavery. I just wanted…I wanted…” Trace trailed off, unable to answer what he wanted. There wasn’t any way he could make it sound any way other than what it was. He owned people.

“I understand.” Jackson sounded sincere, as if he meant it.

Jackson turned to Leona and spoke to her next. “L… Elle, a word with you.” Grasping her by the elbow, he led her off a little distance away.

She watched him, waiting for him to speak.

“What are you going to do about him? I don’t think he’s blind. At least not completely. Let me take him into town and to the doc. I won’t turn him in. I just think that it is time for you to let it go. He’s married. You can’t forget that.”

“Jackson, his wife conspired with the man that’s posing as him in the jail to kill him. What kind of wife would do that?” Her voice strained with emotion.

“Also not your concern, lass. Let him handle it. You did everything you could. Now, listen to me. It is time for you to go to England.”

Leona’s mouth opened and shut just like a fish’s. “What are you talking about? I can’t go to England.”

“Lass, you’re wealthy. You can and you will. I’ve already contacted some people over there. There is a home by the water for you to rent, or perhaps to buy if you so desire. There is a marquess and his wife who want to commission your work for a family portrait.”

“Will you come with me, Jackson?” She couldn’t bear it if she were to lose him as well.

“Of course I will. You didn’t think that I would let you go alone, did you?”

“Thank you, Jackson. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Don’t worry, lass, that won’t ever be an issue. I will never leave you.” That last statement was spoken aloud, and she knew it went straight to Trace’s ears.

Even as the pain lanced through his heart, Trace fought back the tears. He had no reason to cry. She was better off with a man who could see. Not to mention one who didn’t already have a wife.

“Show me the paintings you were going to bring to town, lass. I need to get back. There are also some supplies outside for you. I figured you might be hungry, since you don’t seem to be making it into town as often anymore.”

Elle and Jackson got the paintings ready, and Trace watched their shadowy figures as he put on his shirt and shoes. Things were becoming clearer to him. He could see the shape of the table and both beds. There were no colors in his world, but at least there were shapes again.

“Are you all right, Trace?” Her voice, cool and soft, reached across the room to him.

“Fine. Just waiting for you two to be done. We still have to have breakfast and our lessons for the day.”

“How would you like to go with Jackson back to town and pay a visit to the doctor? I think that I’ve helped you as much as I could. He won’t tell anyone who you are, so you can take care of the business you need to with your wife and brother.”

He didn’t want to leave her. Ever. But she was right, it was time. He had some unfinished business with Steven and Bethany.

So, keeping his tone as even and unemotional as possible, he responded. “I think that would be wise. I do have some things to attend to. And I need to get home, to my wife.”

“Very well.” Her own voice was unemotional.

“I was wondering if we could take a walk first. There are some things I would like to say to you before I go.” With a pointed look at Jackson’s general direction, he added, “Alone.”

Elle flicked a glance at Jackson, who was keeping his mouth shut.

“Yes, I would like that. Let’s go.” Elle walked over to Trace and took his arm before leading them out through the door.

Together they wandered up the mountain. Neither speaking, just enjoying each other’s company for the last time. They came to the copse that they had sat at the other night. He knew because the way they came was the opposite of how they’d gotten home.

Trace stared at her blurry shape. In the sunlight it seemed that she glowed golden. He blinked as the sun burned his sensitive eyes. She was exquisite, he knew that, even if he couldn’t see it.

“Thank you. For taking me in and healing me. I would be dead now if it wasn’t for you. I know that I wasn’t the easiest patient in the world, but from the bottom of my heart I thank you.” Trace turned so he faced Leona. He blinked as he unknowingly put his intense brown eyes onto her tawny ones.

With one lean finger he reached out and tenderly outlined the curve of her cheekbone and jaw. He skimmed his thumb across her cheek, enabling him to feel the scars there. The ones Jackson had said he put there.

“I am sorry about these. I never meant to hurt you. Can you ever forgive me?” His voice was husky yet thick and unsteady, as if he really cared that she forgave him. His brows were drawn together, creating an agonizing expression across his handsome face.

Leona closed her eyes against the pleasure of his touch. Without conscious thought, she reached up and touched his hand with her own.

“I know you would never hurt me intentionally. Don’t worry about it.” Her forgiveness was for more than just his current transgression of scarring her face. She was forgiving him for not protecting her like he had promised to do. She forgave him for the lashing that she had endured for the words he’d spoken. “We should get back. I have lots of things to do today and you need to get to town with Jackson.”

After he helped her to stand, he held her hand a little longer than necessary before dropping it and taking her arm.

They spoke little on the way back down the mountain. A small distance from her home, he stopped. Leona stopped and looked back at him. “What’s wrong, Trace?”

“I can’t do it.” His voice sounded rough and matter of fact.

Thoroughly confused, Leona asked, “Can’t do what? What can’t you do?”

“Go. I can’t go. Not without…without…”

“Without what, Trace? What’s the problem?”