She quivered deep inside with fear and an instinct she did not recognize.
“But I am not like you,” he said softly.
“Not yet, maybe,” the younger man said. He, too, was beautiful, with a lean, clever face and a handkerchief knotted around his throat.
“Just a matter of time now,” the older man agreed. “Lucky for you we found you.”
“You came for the girl.”
“We were looking for you both.” The burly fellow swept off his hat to scratch under it. “Lord Amherst’s orders. You’re under his protection now.”
“I do not serve your earthly lord. Or require his protection.”
The boy shot him a look from thick-lashed eyes. “You won’t feel so high-and-mighty after they toss you out of Heaven.”
The large man cleared his throat. “Amherst will take you in. Assuming you make it to England.”
Aimée frowned. But he was taking her to England. He had said so.
“Damon Carleton, Earl of Amherst,” the burly man repeated. He replaced his hat carefully on his head. “Try not to forget.”
“I believe my hearing and my memory extend that far,” her rescuer said dryly.
“You’d better hope so. When you lose your powers, your memory goes, too. You come down to earth as a child. A little older, if you’re lucky.”
“So I will be . . . human.” His voice was flat, strained of emotion.
Aimée blinked. Of course he was human. What else could he be?
An angel come to save us, Maman had said.
Ah, no. Aimée’s mind whirled. Phrases floated up in the dark, muffled and indistinct, like voices in a blizzard.
“. . . gone before morning.”
“. . . find her relatives. Basing, you say?”
“. . . I can feel . . . not much time.”
“It’s all right, lad. We’ll get her where she needs to go.”
They were talking about her, she realized dully. It was her future they were deciding, these strange men with their shabby clothes and English accents.
Her pride stung. Her throat burned. She was young and dazed with grief but not spiritless or stupid.
She erupted from her nest in a flurry of skirts and resolution. Bits of hay scattered on the men below.
“I do not go with anyone until I know who you are,” she announced.
What you are, she thought, and shivered.
They looked up, startled.
She had a brief glimpse of their faces, the young one, lean and sardonic, the older man’s, broad and shrewd, before the light winked out.
But her rescuer . . .
Aimée forced air into her lungs. Her tall, handsome rescuer was already gone.