Chapter 3

Her heartbeat was so agitated and intense that she thought she could hear it. “Tun-tun, tun-tun…” The sounds kept repeating in her head as if she was being chased by those palpitations. She didn't know where she had gotten so much energy since her body was weak. Was it the survival instinct? She didn't know! She only wanted to achieve her goal: to escape for her life.

 With her bare feet, ignoring the thorns on the path or the small stones that were embedded in his soles, she ran with all her strength and breath. She had to make it, she had to escape from that hell. The sweat, the bugs, and the strands of hair sticking to her skin were wreaking havoc on her escape. Her wounds stung and blood ran down her legs; she smiled as she saw the exit and then, everything was dark.

(...)

Sam woke up to the smell of coffee. She approached the small kitchen in surprise, where a smiling Arthur welcomed her with a cup of the exquisite beverage, which is why she stared at him strangely.

 “You, making coffee?”

 “So you can see that I am a good apprentice,” he smiled, showing his perfect row of teeth. She watched him like a fool and the memories of that delicious kiss flooded her mind. But thanks to the veil covering her face, he didn't notice her blush.

 “I was investigating an exit that will take you to the main road, from there you can take the destination you want,” he commented as she was examined by his beautiful brown gaze, which at that moment was covered by a hint of sadness; although Arthur wanted to return to his home and his responsibilities, there was a part of him that wanted to stay there with the strange woman in the veil.

 “From the way you talk, this place must be very remote," he said, putting the cup back in its place.

 “It is,” she assured him. "That must be why they haven't found you.”

 “I only hope that's why and not that my faithful men have been killed," he replied with a snort, earning a quizzical look from the woman.

 “I imagine you weren't with all tour men when you were assaulted? —”

 “No," he interrupted her, "I have faithful men at home too, but I wasn't just talking about the ones who were assaulted with me.

 “Why would the faithful men in your house be killed?” she asked between puzzled and intrigued.

 “Let's just say that my life is a bit complicated," he replied with a blank stare.

Sam looked at him a little scared since the image she had of him up to that moment could go down the drain.

 “I'm not a criminal or anything like that," he clarified, guessing her thoughts. Sam took a breath and went to put the cup back in its place, her heart began to pound intensely as Arthur held her hands and moved closer to her.

 “I must…” she spluttered like a frightened puppy. “I must go and wash up.”

Arthur nodded and before releasing her hands he left several kisses on them, causing her to hyperventilate.

 “I'm going to miss you, Sam. I don't know what or who you're hiding from, but I can give you security at my house. I don't want to leave you here alone, I'm afraid something bad will happen to you.”

 “Arthur, thanks for the offer, but you don't know me well, how do you intend to take me to your house? I may be a criminal.”

 “I don't know what your past has been, I only know that you are a good woman who took a risk by saving my life. A bad person doesn't take such a big risk and wouldn't have minded letting me die.”

She remained thoughtful for a while.

 “Arthur," she broke the silence, "I've lived here for over a year, as you can see, I know how to defend myself. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine.” 

“It's okay. You are very special and you have given me a month of mental rest. I think I needed this, thank you for saving my life, Sam.”

He hugged her tightly and sniffed her delicious scent of good grass and spices. From a distance, she looked like a beggar everyone would want to stay away from, but in reality, she was always clean and smelling of her herbs, despite her unkempt appearance.

(...)

Arthur went out to fetch enough firewood to leave a good supply for the woman before leaving. He had decided to travel the next day to the road, and then look for a way to reach his region. It was a long and difficult journey and the melancholy of leaving Sam there alone turned his stomach; nevertheless, it was time to return and put everything in order, for he imagined the disaster that his absence could have caused.

He passed near the pond where they used to bathe to cool off a little, as the heat was unbearable and he had already been carrying the firewood to the shack for several hours. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed that someone was there and hid behind a tree. His eyes shone brightly and his mouth emanated more saliva than usual. Who was she? Her back was perfect and she looked delicate with the long wet hair covering her. The young woman sank into the water and seconds later surfaced. Her hair moved to the sides and he licked his lips as he could see her fully uncovered back and those firm buttocks that were making an effect on him. But something else caught his attention, there were small scars on the delicate skin, as if it had been cruelly abused; he looked over to the shore and recognized those rags.

 "Sam," he thought. He wanted to see more and it wasn't morbid or that his crotch friend was already excited, it was more than that. He wanted to know her, to understand her fear, he wanted to see her face. While it was true that he had many opportunities to do so, he never dared to break his promise. That was one of the conditions the woman set for him. He stood still in the expectation that she would turn around and he would be able to meet the delicious lips he had tasted weeks ago. He wouldn't be breaking his promise, this would be considered an accident and she didn't even have to know about it. The girl was turning away, as it seemed she would be looking for her clothes to go out. His heart was pounding and her breathing was in chaos. Soon he would know what was hidden behind that veil. Sam turned, but a loud call caused her to run to the shore in desperation for her clothes, just as he had turned at the sound of his name:

 “Mr. Connovan! Arthur Connovan!” It was his men. They had found him!