Sage Fowler. He’d known her name, but hearing her say it had been a gift. She trusted him. She wanted to tell him, just like he wanted to tell her.
Then she stood there, blushing her freckles out of existence as he pushed further, demanding what he’d needed to know. Her answers had sparked relief. And disappointment.
He groaned and rubbed his face. He’d been lucky so far, but he was afraid sooner or later those gray eyes would disarm him completely at the worst possible moment.
36
SAGE LAY AWAKE in the bed she shared with Clare, thinking of the relief on Ash’s face when she’d told him her name. He knew she’d lied and she wasn’t a lady. He knew she was nobody.
And he still wanted to be her friend.
“Sage?” murmured Clare in the darkness, startling her. She’d thought her friend was asleep. “Are you awake?”
“Yes.”
“Everyone’s talking about you.”
“Who’s everyone?” Sage asked.
“All the ladies. They watch you and say awful things. I don’t know how to defend you.”
Sage frowned. This could mean trouble. “Are they keeping it to themselves?”
“Yes, they’re afraid of Darnessa. They don’t talk around her, but she knows. She told them you do nothing without her permission.”
Sage shrugged. Father always said gossip was for small minds. “Then you needn’t defend me. If I cared what people thought about me, I’d—” Sage broke off. She’d been about to say she’d be married, but it seemed a little indelicate considering where Clare was headed. She cleared her throat. “Where were you when I came back this evening?”
“Oh.” Clare shifted. “I went for a walk with Lieutenant Gramwell again.”
“Again?”
“We’ve been walking every day after dinner, but tonight the soldiers were busy with something, so we went later than usual.” There was a long pause. “Do you think that’s improper?”
Sage smiled and reached across the bed to squeeze Clare’s hand. “Not at all.”
37
HE ALMOST SIGHED in relief when he saw her eating breakfast at dawn with the servants outside the kitchen, dressed for riding. He sidled up to her on the bench and presented her with a large, ripe strawberry. “Good morning, friend,” he said in a low voice.
Sage took it and peeked up at him shyly.
“I want to apologize for my anger last night,” he said. “I was tired and being rather unfair, but I’m glad to finally understand your place in all this.”
“There’s no need for apologies. We both act under orders.” There were no biscuits left in the serving bowl, and she offered him half of hers. “From now on I’ll make my own choices, though I know you’re less free to do so.”
He accepted the biscuit, brushing his fingers against hers. “I get the feeling you’re used to making your own way.”
“You can thank my father for that.” Sage smiled sheepishly.
He’d give anything to have met the man. “I look forward to hearing more about him today.”
Her eyes shone out of her pale face. “I look forward to telling you.”
Casseck wouldn’t let him ride after yesterday’s patrol. The lieutenant had been sly enough to present his case at last night’s meeting in front of the officers, and the captain was forced to agree all patrols would have at least two riders from now on. At least he had pleasant company. And true to form, they were barely on the road before she started asking questions.
“Can you tell me what happened yesterday?” she said. “I wanted to ask about it last night, but we were interrupted.”
The worry in her eyes was gratifying, but it was misplaced. They hadn’t heard from the forward picket, so he’d gone to find him. It turned out he was only sick from a place he’d passed through a few days ago. The illness wasn’t fatal to anyone, but it was … inconvenient, and it had slowed him down.
“It wasn’t dangerous or even that exciting,” he said. “A town nearby is under quarantine. They had some sort of dead animal in their well and the sickness spread quickly, but as long as we avoid the water in the area, we should be fine. It was worth investigating, though.”
“What kind of malady is it?”
He hesitated. Sage wasn’t squeamish, but he didn’t feel like describing two days of diarrhea and vomiting. “A passing affliction I’d rather not detail to you, proper lady or no.”
She caught his meaning. “A passing affliction?”
He chuckled at his unintentional pun. “Yes.”
“Wouldn’t that be handy to inflict on your enemies?” she mused.
He abruptly reined in his horse to stare at her. Sweet Spirit, it was brilliant.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, pulling back on her gray mare and glancing around.
“No, just … that’s a hell of an idea.” They could cripple Tegann on their way out. Maybe even the army to the south.
“Really? I was only joking.”
“I’m not,” he said. “Wait here. I need to talk to Casseck.” He wheeled his horse around and waved to his friend. After a few minutes’ conference, he returned to Sage’s side and gave her a pointed look. “You must say nothing about this.”
Sage shook her head. “You have my word.” They watched two riders and a dog run ahead. Cass was already putting the plan into motion. “You can take credit for the idea,” she said.
“Nonsense. If it does what I think it might, I’ll get you a commendation.” He bent his head and looked over at her. “It would make your father proud.”
She ignored his deflection. “You avoid calling attention to yourself when you do well, but accept blame even when unnecessary.”
He shrugged. “I give credit where it’s due.”
“I think you’d make a good officer. Have you ever thought about it?”
“You’re not the first to bring it up.” He shook his head. “But my brother’s a lieutenant. I can’t be the same.”
“The prince,” she murmured. “You don’t want to compete for promotion with him.”
“Exactly. He’s got it hard enough. I’d rather support him.”
“I understand the desire,” she said. “I just wish you wouldn’t sell yourself short.”
“And maybe I don’t want a commission. It chains him to nothing but duty for years.” He pointed to Cass and Gramwell, riding a few yards ahead. “See them? How they have to act all the time? Compare that to me, here with you. This is freedom they don’t have.”
Sage eyed him sideways. “You don’t fool me, Ash Carter. You’ve got ambition and a natural command presence. But I admire your sense of duty and honor.”
His face burned as he looked for a way to change the subject. “Speaking of honor, if your parents were married, and your father was a fowler and not a peasant, why did they name you Sage?”
“They liked the name, I guess.”
“Not buying it,” he said, looking ahead with a hand over his eyes to block the late-morning sun.
“It was Mother’s favorite herb. Father said she’d fry leaves and eat them straight, especially while she was … when she was expecting me.” She smiled a little. “Then when I was born…” Her voice faded and she dropped her eyes.