Page 5 of Finding Faith (Seduced in Scotland #2)

T he early morning light came all too soon into Faith’s room, causing a wicked thumping feeling in her head before she even opened her eyes. The chill that had sunk into her bones the day before had grown into an unbearable heat that consumed her entire body. Her hands drifted up to her chest, but slowly, as if she were moving her arm through mud. Her fingers touched her throat, and she realized she was sweating profusely, so much so that her nightgown was nearly drenched. However, after only a few moments, she began to shake as a chill came over her.

She was sick. Properly sick. Faith’s eyes barely opened as the glaring sunlight from the windows told her that the storm had finished. At least she could return to Lismore today. Struggling beneath the heavy blankets that lay on top of her, she fought to get up, rolling herself off the edge of the bed as the pounding in her head continued.

But Faith was barely across the room when a maid entered the room, carrying her cleaned and freshly pressed riding habit. Upon seeing Faith’s hunched over form, she hurriedly came forward, tossing the dress onto a hope chest at the foot of the bed.

“My lady, what is wrong?” the maid asked.

“Nothing,” she tried, but her scratchy voice betrayed her as the maid’s arm wrapped around Faith’s waist. “I’m just eager to dress.”

The maid brought her hand to Faith’s forehead.

“Oh no, my lady. You’re as hot as a poker. You have to return to bed at once.”

“I really must be going.”

“You canne leave in this condition. You’d likely drop dead before you got out the threshold.”

“I must.”

“Sir Logan will not consent to it. He’ll insist you stay, least your health be put into serious jeopardy and my lady, I would agree.”

Faith was about to argue but didn’t. She was distracted by the maid’s use of that term again. She put her hand over the maid’s to still her.

“Why do you call Mr. Harris, Sir Logan, as though he has been knighted?”

The maid gave her a strange expression as if she had just asked an absurd question, but Faith only stared. Evidently, the maid saw her chance to distract the patient, and she began to lead Faith back toward the bed. Weak and intrigued, Faith let her.

“Because he has been, my lady.”

Faith’s mouth dropped a little.

“He has?”

“Of course, my lady. He was knighted upon his return from Burma, by her majesty, for heroics in battle.” Faith placed her hands on the mattress’s edge and climbed back under the covers. “He saved an entire ship while fighting beneath Lord…” The maid looked around the room as her voice dipped. “Lord Dalhousie.”

“Dalhousie?” Faith repeated, familiar with the name. “The one from the papers?”

She had read about him. Lord Dalhousie had led the campaign against the Burmese during the war but had been challenged in Parliament over his reasons. Apparently, Dalhousie was known as a combustible commodore. Though many saw his stance in Burma as one that demonstrated British excellence, some viewed his connection with the East India Company dubiously and held suspicions about his campaign overseas, to the point where many had come to view Dalhousie as a villain.

The maid’s face scrunched up in worry, looking about the empty room once more as if someone might overhear her.

“Yes, my lady. Although, I pray you do not mention that man’s name too loudly. Especially in Sir Logan’s presence. He has forbidden it.”

“Has he? Why?”

The maid shook her head.

“I did not ask, my lady. Nor should you,” she said, standing up as she gave her a look over. “I’ll inform Miss Arabella of your condition at once and have some beef tea brought straight away.”

With a quick curtsey, the maid hurried from the room, leaving Faith alone with her thoughts. How odd that Logan had been knighted yet refused to go by his title. Faith had only met two knighted gentlemen previously, and both had been exceedingly proud of the honor. She wondered why Logan was so against it and if it had anything to do with his time in Burma. For the first time since knowing him, she wondered what it had been like for Logan during his military career.

Faith had been caught by surprise by her interaction with him last night. His usual arrogant attitude had vanished upon entering the art gallery, and she had sensed his deep appreciation for the pieces he kept. Almost as if by magic, she had noticed his entire person relax as he stared up at the artwork. It had been months since she had been able to discuss art with someone who truly appreciated it, as neither of her sisters had an eye for it. Aunt Belle had accompanied her in Italy to several museums, but while she enjoyed the arts, she was an admirer of sculpture, first and foremost. Faith could value it as a medium, but her true love was oil paintings, and so it seemed was Logan’s.

She hadn’t meant to reveal so much of herself while inspecting The Coronation of Napoleon painting, but then he hadn’t balked or tried to lead her to a different understanding, as so many others had done before. Donovan had corrected her interpretations at least a dozen times during their relationship, which had constantly exasperated Faith. He was sure that his view was the only correct one, and she had agreed at first, but then his perspective always seemed to contrast with her own thoughts. Eventually, she had simply refrained from speaking to avoid being hushed.

But Logan hadn’t done that. He had seemed genuinely intrigued by her opinion, which was certainly a first. Their usual sparring had been replaced by honesty, which had unnerved her. So much so that she had practically run away from him in the gallery.

Which was precisely what she intended to do now.

Faith threw off the covers again and swung her legs over the bed using all her strength. But before her feet could touch the ground, Arabella entered the room, followed by Jaco. Her sweet countenance was replaced with shock as she witnessed Faith’s feeble attempt at escape. She gathered her pale-pink skirts in her hands and hurried to Faith’s side.

“Oh, you mustn’t get up,” she said, approaching the bed’s edge. “I knew this would happen. You were soaked to the bone when you arrived yesterday.”

Faith didn’t wish to reveal that she had also been soaked the day before last as well, during her morning outing, though she privately wondered if that had anything to do with her current state. Had Logan mentioned their meeting? Most likely not. She tried to sit up.

“It’s really not terrible. I only have a chill,” she said as the pounding sensation behind her eyes intensified. The heel of her palm came up to her brow, and she pressed slightly. “And a slight headache.”

“You must stay in bed until you are well again. I shall call for a doctor.”

“No, really, there is no need. If I can return to Lismore Hall, my sister Grace will be able to tend to me.”

“Your sister?” Arabella said, surprised. “But how can she?”

“Grace has been apprenticing with Dr. Barkley in Glencoe since we returned from Italy. She even attended with the doctor who treated Aunt Belle.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Grace is quite knowledgeable when it comes to sickbeds.”

Arabella gently moved Faith’s feet beneath the covers, tucking her in like a frail child. She sat on the bed just as Jaco leaped up onto the mattress.

“Jaco! No. Get down.”

“Oh, it’s all right, I suppose,” Faith said, though she inched away. “I don’t mind.”

“But Logan said you were terrified of dogs.”

Faith looked at Arabella, somewhat surprised. Why would Logan tell her that?

“I’m not terrified of dogs,” she began. “I just find that the larger the dog, the more frightening they are.”

Jaco crossed his arms and laid his head down just below her hip. He nuzzled her slightly, but she didn’t touch him. Nor did she move away.

“Jaco is nothing but a sweetheart,” Arabella said, patting the reclining dog on the back. “But tell me more about your sister. That is fascinating that those doctors would let a woman practice medicine beneath them. Is it not a male profession? Wouldn’t she find more success as a nurse?”

“It certainly would be easier for her, but Grace is determined. And she is quite proficient, I assure you. Which is why I really must return home.”

She tried to hoist herself up but was too weak to do so. Arabella gave her a pleading look.

“Please, Faith. You must stay. I should hate to think that we weren’t able to at least tend to you while you were sick. And I’m sure your sisters would want you to remain in comfort.” She pressed the back of her hand to Faith’s forehead. “You are burning up.”

Faith knew that once her sisters were made aware of her condition, they would likely become amused to learn that she was going to be staying at Harris House, with her comfort under the control of Logan—the very man Faith had often complained about.

But she was ill, and her headache seemed to double whenever she moved. She dreaded even the thought of taking a carriage ride home, but to stay here? Which would be worse?

“I don’t wish to be a bother…”

Arabella smiled.

“No bother at all. You shall remain here until your fever subsides. In the meantime, we will keep you well fed and warm and in good company when you are able to have it.”

Arabella’s kindness seemed to be also prompted by an eagerness. Faith wondered if she had many friends but knew to ask would be rude.

“Thank you,” she said quietly before adding. “Although, I don’t think your brother will be much pleased.”

“Logan would be far more upset to learn that you died on the way home than that you remained here, staying in bed,” she said, but Faith doubted it. “Besides, he has just left and likely won’t even be aware of your staying here.”

Faith’s gaze snapped to Arabella’s face.

“Oh?”

“Yes, he had some sort of business in Glasgow that needed his attention. He will be gone for at least four days. And I’m sure you will be healthy by then.”

“One hopes.”

But as the day carried on, Faith only felt herself grow worse. It was outrageous that such a silly thing as a storm could cause her to be so unwell, and she was frustrated with herself for getting into such a situation. How had she allowed herself to become sick? She usually had such a strong constitution. And why did it have to be at Harris House? Even without Logan there, she felt his presence all around her. It was as if she could just close her eyes and imagine him standing beside her.

With eyes purposely open, Faith examined the painting that hung on the opposite wall, just above the fireplace. She knew Logan must have picked it out specifically for this room, as he likely had for all the artwork in the house. It was a river landscape painting by Theodore Rousseau, and it looked as though it was one of his earlier works. Faith had noted it the moment she had first entered the room yesterday. Rousseau was a realism painter from the Romantic movement, and while his talent could not be denied, Faith had always felt despondent when admiring his work.

Rousseau’s pieces felt inherently sad to Faith and she wondered why Logan would display such a heavy piece in a guest room. Wouldn’t a host want to convey a cheerful, peaceful kind of atmosphere? But perhaps Logan liked the work, even though the bleak skies seemed to hold a sense of dread about them. Or perhaps it merely seemed that way because she was feeling so ill.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep through the fever, only to be awakened hours later, in the dark, to the cold touch of a feminine hand. Startled, she jumped, then groaned at the ache that had settled into her joints. She hurt all over.

“Shhh, easy there. It’s me, Grace,” her sister whispered in her gentlest tone.

“Hmm? Grace?” Faith rasped; her prickly voice was barely audible. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been here for a few hours,” she said as Faith opened her eyes fully. The room was semidark, with only a few oil lamps lit, which gave the room an ominous glow. “But I’m afraid you’ve been in and out of consciousness. You are quite unwell.”

“It’s only a cold.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It is. I’ll be better in the morning. You needn’t have troubled yourself in coming here.”

For a moment, neither spoke. Faith glanced at her sister, whose mouth was pursed. Grace rarely, if ever, let her emotions show, but right now, they were displayed on her face. Faith began to worry. “What is it?”

“It seems your fever has come on rather quickly and your rest not been peaceful. I’m of the mind that you have pneumonia.”

Faith closed her eyes, aware that pneumonia was a severe condition. Her sister had been particularly interested in the sickness several years ago while reading one of her books on illnesses. Grace had talked at length about it to anyone who was close enough to listen and Faith had often been the closest to her.

“Is that the one with the sickness in the lungs?” Faith asked.

“An infection, yes. It’s most dangerous in weak children and the elderly, which I have advised Arabella to keep her father downstairs, lest he catches it. But I’m afraid you have to be on bedrest for at least a week, if not longer.”

Faith closed her eyes tightly, trying to fight the desire to cough. She didn’t want to be here when Logan returned.

“I can’t stay here for that long. I don’t wish to be here when Mr. Harris returns. You must take me home.”

But Grace only shook her head.

“I’m afraid you have no choice. To move you would only distract your body from fighting off the infection. I’m sure Mr. Harris will not mind.” Faith gave a little, unbelieving snort, but her sister continued. “Now Dr. Barkley will be here in the morning to reassess your condition. He will be able to diagnosis you properly, but I’m quite sure I’ve identified it.”

Faith tried to raise her arm, to grip her sister’s hand in a pleading way, but she found that her limbs were unbearably heavy, and the scratch in her throat would not desist. Tired from even their short conversation, Faith nodded and hoped that she might be able to sleep through the worst of it.

“Three days,” she said as sleep overtook her. “I need to leave in three days.”

But Grace merely shushed her and patted her clammy forehead as Faith fell into a dreamless sleep.

Faith was in and out of consciousness for the next three days, with her fever ebbing and flowing in the most uncomfortable ways. When she was hot, she was scorching, her body dripping in sweat. When she was cold, she was freezing, and no amount of blankets, furs, soups, or teas could make her comfortable. And perhaps she might have been able to handle that if not for the persistent cough that had come upon her suddenly.

Thankfully, Grace decided to stay at Harris House after Dr. Barkley confirmed her diagnosis. Grace had been diligent in her requests that no one enter Faith’s room in an effort to sequester the illness. It was a rather radical method that Dr. Barkley believed was unnecessary. Still, Faith was glad that no one aside from her sister and a few of the maids would see her in the state she was in, so she entirely agreed with her sister’s decision to keep everybody away.

Save Jaco, who had become something of a guard dog, occasionally frightening off even the staff with a deep growl whenever he sensed Faith’s unease at being seen. It was remarkable that an animal could be so aware of her feelings. She hoped Logan wouldn’t be annoyed with the dog for being so disloyal.

Not everyone was frightened off by the giant black dog, however. Late during the fifth night of her illness, Faith was awakened when she heard her door open. She was lying on her side, facing away from the door, and barely opened her eyes when Grace’s harsh whisper sounded behind her.

“Sir, no one is permitted in here.”

“I appreciate your professional opinion, Miss Sharpe,” Logan’s deep voice vibrated. Faith’s heart beat erratically as she strained to hear him. “But I won’t be dictated to in my own home.”

“Then you must think of this room as not a part of your home, but as a sick room. Faith needs rest, and any interruption to that rest may interfere with her recovery.”

Though she couldn’t see him, Faith knew Logan was at odds with her sister. He disliked being ordered about, especially in his own home, and she waited to hear him argue. He would no doubt bicker with Grace.

“Very well,” he said suddenly, causing Faith to frown. Why was he never so accommodating with her? She had half a mind to roll over when he spoke again. “How is she faring?”

“She is a little better today, though it was quite a nasty fever in the beginning. I’m sure she will make a full recovery, should she continue to improve.”

“Had I known she was sick, I would have returned immediately.”

A pause hung in the air.

“Whatever for, Mr. Harris?”

Faith strained to hear, curious why he would need to return home because of her.

“Only because she is under the care of my household—which makes seeing to her needs my responsibility,” he said with some hesitation. “She should have all the comforts I can provide to aid in her recovery.” When Grace didn’t answer right away, he added hastily, “So that she might leave as soon as possible.”

Faith’s frown deepened, confused by his tone.

“Of course, Mr. Harris. But might we continue this conversation outside of her room? I should hate for her to wake up.”

“Very well. Jaco?” he called, and to Faith’s surprise, the dog whimpered instead of obeying Logan instantly. “Jaco. Come.”

“I’m afraid your dog hasn’t left her side since the sickness came over her,” Grace said as Jaco remained on the bed.

“She doesn’t like dogs,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Well, she doesn’t mind this one,” Grace said. “Now, please. I don’t want to wake her.”

Without another word, Faith heard them leave as the door latch clicked behind them. Turning over, she stared at the door as her betraying, erratic heartbeat returned to a reasonable pace. He had wanted to check on her? To see that she had everything she needed?

Well, that was undoubtedly kind of him, though she was sure he’d meant the last words he said. He didn’t want her in Harris House any more than she liked being there, but for some reason, that night, she slept as soundly as any of her sickness.

When Faith awoke the following day, she was surprised to find that her limbs were no longer heavy and that the painful, scratchy throat had subsided to a mild irritation. She hungrily ate her breakfast for the first time in days, though it was mostly sickbed fare of bone broth and mint tea, coupled with some plain toast.

“Can’t I have more?” she asked Grace, who took the empty tray from her lap, to place it outside Faith’s room. “I’m still hungry.”

“You haven’t had much to eat in a week. If you overdo it, you’ll make yourself sick.”

“I should think you’d want my appetite to return.”

“I do, but overindulging it will only hinder your recovery.”

“But I am recovered. And hungry.”

“And luncheon will be served in a few hours.”

Faith folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the wooden headboard.

“I’ve come through a sickness only to be starved to death,” she pouted as Grace rolled her eyes.

“I see you’re feeling close to your old, churlish self.”

Faith made a face before looking out the window. The skies were once again a dreary grayish white, and though it wasn’t raining, she was sure it would eventually. It seemed she had been sick during a dry spell, only to recover just as the rains returned.

“This must be the wettest part of the world,” she said as her hands came together over her lap. She glanced at her sister. “May I take a walk around the grounds?”

“Certainly not,” Grace said as she sat at the bird’s-eye maple table beneath the window. She opened a small leather booklet and picked up a writing utensil before marking a page. It had become a custom for Grace to record the family’s health issues in detail, from onset to recovery. “You’ll remain off your feet for at least today. Then tomorrow, you may have something more substantial to eat, and the following day you may try to walk.”

“What a fearful doctor you are,” Faith said teasingly, causing Grace to scowl as she wrote. “And I don’t see why I can’t walk today. I’ve been stuck in the bed for over a week and I’m sure to go mad if I can’t at least dress.”

Grace put her pen down and turned toward her.

“You really must regain your strength before you can leave.”

“I won’t leave the room then. Help me dress and I can walk in circles before the fireplace.”

Grace shook her head in exasperation but stood up to help when she saw that Faith wouldn’t be deterred. She had brought with her one of Faith’s least restrictive gowns, a pale-blue-and-white gingham dress with buttons down the bodice. She pulled it out of the wardrobe, but Faith couldn’t see any undergarments.

“Have you forgotten my corset?”

“Your lungs are weak and need no restriction. You shouldn’t wear a corset for at least a month, so that your lungs might strengthen again.”

Faith gave her an incredulous look.

“Have you lost your senses? I can’t go about without a corset on.”

“You absolutely can and will. You may wear dresses that tie in the back.”

“And what of this one?”

Grace looked at it.

“We’ll wrap you in a shawl.”

Faith shook her head and got out of bed, only to look down at her chemise. Though she had been changed daily, she hadn’t washed herself in some time and urgently desired to do so.

“Perhaps a bath first?”

Grace paused, then nodded.

“Yes, I think so.”

It took over an hour to scrub, clean, and dress herself. The maid who had attended her when Faith first arrived, a girl known as Kassandra, helped to brush out and wrap her curls as Faith sat at the table.

A knock at the door caused her to panic slightly. But when Arabella’s head popped through the crack of the door, Faith smiled.

“I heard you were up and about,” she said, though her eyes went to Grace. “May I come in?”

“Yes,” Grace said. “The maids took all the sheets and clothing and the windows have been open all morning. I don’t see why not.”

Arabella came in, carrying a flat, square wooden box. She beamed at the both of them.

“I brought you a chess board, to see if you were up to playing it?”

Faith smiled. She and Grace had become fans of the game during their time abroad.

“Yes. That would be lovely. Although, I must admit, I’m not very good. But I do enjoy it.”

“Papa will be glad to hear it. He’s been so worried that you might play just as well as your sister,” she said, nodding toward Grace.

“Have you been playing Mr. Harris?” Faith asked.

“Yes. He’s quite good.”

“Not a good as you, though,” Arabella said, causing the barest of pinks to color Grace’s cheeks.

Faith smirked, enjoying her sister’s discomfort. Grace wasn’t often praised by people outside the family for her intellect. It had always been more of a hinderance to her to be so clever, and it was nice to see others take notice.

“Your father is a worthy opponent.”

“I will tell him you said so. He will be very pleased to hear you think so.”

“If he will listen to you, might I suggest trying to get him to see Dr. Barkley?” Grace said. “He’s in need of a physical. I’m not particularly pleased with his gait when he walks, nor the inflammation around his neck. I’ve tried to diagnosis him several times during our evening chess matches, but he refuses to hear it.”

“I hope you do not hold it against him. Papa is stubborn. Logan and I have tried to convince him to visit Dr. Hall for ages, but he refuses.”

“Dr. Hall?” Grace said, her full attention to Arabella. “Aren’t his practices a bit…contemporary for someone like your father? I should think you’d have more luck with Dr. Barkley, considering his age.”

“Age isn’t the issue. It wouldn’t matter if Dr. Hall was older than Dr. Barkley. Papa refuses to see anyone, which is why I hope you were not offended by his dismissal when you tried to help him, although I’m sure he was baffled to learn about your studies. A female doctor is a rarity. He says you’re by far the strictest practitioner he’s ever encountered.”

“I’m not a doctor yet,” Grace said, though her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. “I haven’t finished my apprenticeship, nor have I been accepted to any medical schools. But I hope one day to be.”

“Do you have to go to school?” Arabella asked, causing a tense look to pass between the sisters.

No school in the entire United Kingdom had permitted Grace entry due to her being a woman. Yet, as frustrating as it was, Grace continued to apply to schools, even though she continued to be denied entry. Her only course of action was to apprentice with any doctor that would have her, and it had been difficult convincing even Dr. Barkley to do so.

“One day, perhaps,” Grace said. “But until they permit women to go to school, I’ll have to manage the old-fashioned way.”

“Oh,” Arabella said, somewhat dejected, before adding. “I believe Dr. Hall went to the University of Glasgow. Could you try there?”

“I have,” Grace said, looking down at her notes. “Believe me.”

It bothered Faith to no end that her sister, intelligent and determined as she was, could not pursue her passions. She was tenacious and brilliant, and simply because she was a woman, she was denied her life’s desire. Still, Faith knew it bothered Grace to discuss it, so she decided to change the subject.

“I hope your brother was not too displeased with my still being here,” she said as she set up the chess board. “I hate to think I’ve been a bother to him.”

“Of course not,” Arabella said. “On the contrary, he was quite eager to make sure you were well taken care of. Isn’t that right, Grace?”

“Yes, but…” Grace said, looking at Faith. “How did you know Mr. Harris was returned?”

Faith stared at her sister, keeping her face purposefully blank. She didn’t want to confess to overhearing their conversation the night before.

“I assumed. Arabella said he would be gone for three days. It has been almost a week.”

Grace squinted at her sister but returned to her notes as Arabella made the first move. They played for an hour or so before breaking to take tea—a bland meal that mainly consisted of dry toast and a carrot soup that lacked any flavor, much to Faith’s displeasure. She ate all of it, though, in an effort to get her sister to afford her more food. But after tea, Grace insisted that Faith needed to rest, and left with Arabella. They decided to take a tour of the grounds while Faith slept.

Only Faith couldn’t sleep.

Bored and not tired in the least, she waited a half hour before going to the window. Peering down, she saw Grace and Arabella as they strolled the neatly kept hedgerow that outlined the gardens at the back of the house. Faith was sure she had plenty of time to tour the art gallery some more before they returned. She doubted Logan was in residence since he was often at Lismore Hall visiting with Graham, and as Mr. Harris couldn’t come upstairs, she was sure she would be entirely alone.

Wrapping a shawl around her shoulders, Faith slid on a pair of slippers Grace had brought from home and crossed the room without making a noise. Jaco yawned and stretched his legs out before jumping off the bed. He landed on the floor with a soft thud, earning him a look from Faith.

Carefully, she turned back to the door and opened it. Peering through the crack, she saw no one and opened it further. Poking her entire head out, she looked back and forth just as she caught sight of Logan, reaching the top of the stairs. Desperate to not be caught and chastised, particularly by him, she turned and was trying to scramble back into the room when he called out to her.

“Faith?” he said, his tone worried.

Faith squeezed her eyes shut, cursing herself for leaving her room at that exact moment. Shaking her head, she donned a pleasant enough expression and turned to face him.

Logan was dressed in a brown tweed pair of pants and matching vest, his white shirtsleeves unadorned with a coat. He wore a thin, black-and-tan silk neck scarf pinned in place, and as he approached, Faith couldn’t help but notice how complementary the color was, particularly in contrast with his hazel eyes.

His full mouth was quirked up, as if he was both partially amused and partially concerned. Faith had to ignore how pleasant she found the line of his jaw and to her humiliation, she visibly shook on her weakened legs.

“Are you well?” he asked.

“Yes, of course. Thank you,” she said, trying to think of something to get him to leave. “I was just, um… well…”

“Escaping?” he said with a smirk.

Though she was resistant to explain herself to him, a part of her was hopeful that he might take pity on her plight. She smiled shyly.

“Honestly, yes. I can’t abide staying in this room any longer and my sister has taken to a tyrannical bedside manner.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I know she knows what’s best in these circumstances, but I’m bored and so dreadfully hungry.”

“Hungry?” he said with a frown. “Are you not being fed?”

“I am, but only sickroom foods. I’ve had nothing but broth and toast for days.”

“Well, then come on,” he said, holding his arm to her. “I’ll see you to the kitchens.”

Faith stared at his arm for a moment, unsure. She knew she was weak, but she didn’t like admitting it, and certainly not to a man she had considered an enemy for over a year.

Sensing her apprehension, he gave her a somewhat condescending stare.

“Unless you’re too afraid to disobey your sister’s orders.”

Faith narrowed her eyes at him and took a step toward him.

“I am not afraid of anything,” she said primly, resting her hand gently on his solid forearm.

“I am well aware of that,” he said under his breath as he escorted her down the hall as Jaco followed.