Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Owen turned and lay on his side, unable to sleep after the day's events. The simple blanket he had placed on the floor wasn't exactly comfortable as he shifted around, trying his best to settle down. The room was dark and quiet, allowing space for unwanted thoughts to creep in.
William Dodd still eluded his grasp. And what was worse, he was betrothed to yet another young woman who would more than likely suffer the same fate as the lass from the fire.
The lass, he thought begrudgingly. Where are ye?
She knew far too much; he needed to find her.
If she was still alive, her seeming disappearance presented the scenario that she may very well be dead.
Or that she, like Charlotte, was on the run.
Charlotte. Owen's mind wandered back to the present and the lass who lay asleep in his bed.
He'd seen Charlotte naked. More than that, he'd become aroused by the perfect shape of her ample breasts and the slender curves of her waist and thighs.
He briefly wondered about the map of scars that ran up her leg.
What had happened there? He shifted uncomfortably again when his thoughts made his body respond to the pleasure of her beauty.
"Are you awake?" her sweet voice called from the bed.
"Aye."
"I wish you would let me sleep on the floor so that you could have your bed. I don't feel right sleeping up here while you are down there," Charlotte continued their disagreement from before.
Owen smiled to himself in the dark. "There's a simple solution tae that," he teased.
"Never mind. You deserve to sleep on the floor," Charlotte quickly fired back.
Owen laughed out loud, eliciting a tiny giggle from Charlotte.
He loved the way her melodious voice carried through the room.
The way they bantered back and forth made him feel like he'd found a friend.
An attractive friend at that. Despite the hatred and hurt that she tried so hard to hide, there was something warm and refreshing about her.
Something had happened in the past that closed her off to those around her.
It was as clear to him as the scar on her leg.
"I can't sleep," she spoke again.
"They say talking usually prevents that from happening," he said grumpily, turning toward the bed.
"Tell me about your past. What are you hiding from?" she persisted, ignoring his protests.
Owen sighed heavily and let out a breath. "I will nae tell ye a thing unless ye tell me why and whom ye are running from."
"That's not fair," Charlotte smiled. "I asked you first."
"Is it fair that ye are sleeping in me bed while I'm curled up like a dog beside yer bed?" he countered again.
"Fair point."
Owen was surprised that she'd given in so easily. He waited for her to take a deep breath. "Ye dinnae have tae tell me anything if ye dinnae want tae, lass. We can keep our original agreement," he tried his best to reassure her.
"I was betrothed to a man I didn't wish to marry," she whispered softly.
Lifting himself on his elbow, Owen listened to her speak.
"He's a cruel and vile man. I'd rather die than marry him. So, I took my chances and ran away. That's how I ended up in the forest without food or money. I used all the coin I had to pay a guard for help."
Owen felt saddened and angered by her story. "Could ye nae tell yer parents that ye didnae wish tae marry the man?" It was a great injustice to him that parents made their daughters marry men they didn't want to. He saw it all the time in Scotland and England.
"My parents are dead," she said bluntly.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. The hurt was clear in her voice as she spoke. He felt guilty at having accused her parents in his mind.
"It was a long time ago. It was my uncle who was forcing me to marry the man.
I tried to tell him that I didn't want the match, but he wouldn't hear any of it.
He saw me as a bargaining tool with which he could improve his fortunes.
The man in question is old enough to be my father…
" her voice trailed off. "But he didn't care about any of that," Charlotte finished.
"Yer uncle disnae sound like a very nice man," Owen downplayed his anger, not wanting to scare the lass.
He had wanted to say that men like him shouldn't be allowed to walk the face of the earth but didn't think it was right to lay his sins bare in front of her, not when she was opening up to him like she was.
The last thing he wanted was to scare her off.
"I think so, too," she sighed heavily again.
"I'm glad ye are nae a hardened criminal at least," he said teasingly. "Ye would never frighten anyone with those girly screams of yers."
She giggled lightly again. "Now it's your turn. How did a man like you, who is clearly not a monk, end up living in a monastery?"
"I think I could pass for a monk," he said lightheartedly in an attempt to divert her thoughts away.
"I think I would make a better monk than you, even with my girly screams."
"Fair point."
"Now tell me the truth. I told you mine."
He clenched his jaw. If she sold him out or decided that she no longer wanted anything to do with him, then so be it.
"I have blood on me hands," he said after a pause.
"I have tae atone for me sins and living here is the only way I could think of tae achieve that.
I thought to go on the run for a while, but eventually ended up here, where me uncle took me in and passed me off as a monk.
I would probably be lost right now if it were nae for him.
He's the only person I trust in the world, even though I have a great family. "
The room was silent for a while after he spoke. His mind raced with all the possible thoughts running through Charlotte's mind. He feared she would scream or flee the room, fearing he would do something to her. He knew he was a monster at heart.
"That's not so bad," she said after a while.
"Plenty of men have blood on their hands.
What with wars, criminals, and even uprisings, plenty of people have killed.
I don't think it makes you a bad man, unless the people you killed were innocent.
Take my father, for instance, he killed a few men in war, and he was the greatest man I knew. "
He was greatly surprised and touched by the way she spoke. He'd thought for sure that the conversation would end once he told her the truth.
"I think it speaks well of your character that you want to atone for the deaths," Charlotte added encouragingly.
"Thank ye, lass, but it's more than one man that I killed. And the worst part is that I'd gladly dae it again if it meant those men could nae lay a hand on anyone else. I cannae bring meself tae feel guilty about killing them, that's the part that needs atoning for."
The silence rang through his ears as he waited for a response.
"I don't think you are a bad man, Owen," Charlotte eventually whispered.
"For what it's worth, I don't think many men would have helped me the way you have without taking advantage of me.
You're a hero in my eyes, even if there is blood on your hands.
I'm thankful to you. Tomorrow I can wake up knowing I'm a little further away from the horrid man. "
He felt relieved at her words but couldn't bring himself to think that he wasn't entirely bad. There was little to no remorse for what he had done.
"Good night, Owen," she called from the bed.
"Good night, lass," he turned again and stared into the black abyss.
Something she had said about her father had bothered him, but he couldn't understand what it had been.
He'd never met her before, but she seemed familiar.
And he was fairly certain that he would have remembered her father.
Sighing heavily, Owen shut his eyes and tried to get some sleep.
"Owen."
His eyes shot open as she spoke again. "What?"
"If you were a dog, I would have named you Brock."
"What?" he said again, with a hint of confusion in his voice. "What are ye talking about?"
"You said earlier that you're like a dog sleeping on the floor. I was just thinking that if you were a dog, I would name you Brock. I don't know why. It just seems to suit you somehow."
"Charlotte," he called to her when she eventually stopped talking.
"Yes?"
"Go tae sleep." Owen smiled and fell asleep, thinking about the sound of her sweet voice.
The flames licked at his face as he shielded his eyes against the blaze.
There was nothing he could do to help the young girl who was screaming for dear life.
He tried his best to find a path to her as the heat pushed him back.
The men who had run away had left her in the middle of the flames.
He coughed a few times as the thick black smoke billowed in droves.
The scent of burning flesh filled his nostrils.
He took a step back when another man came running past him, throwing himself into the flames without a care for his own life.
"Charlotte!" he heard the man screaming again as towers of billowing smoke choked his breath.
The flames cleared enough in front of his face to reveal the young woman kneeling beside the man.
He was lying motionless on the floor at her side.
"Papa!" she screamed hopelessly, clutching at his face. Her long blonde hair clung to her face as she screamed.
Seeing that the fire was spreading even further, he quickly leaped through a gap in the flames and made his way over to the girl.
He grabbed the man's neck and checked for signs of life.
It was then that Owen suddenly realized that the man had a large gash across his head.
Blood had seeped down his face and onto his chest.
"One of the carts fell over and hit his head," the girl sobbed uncontrollably. "I don't know what to do. Please help him!" her bright green eyes pleaded with him.