by Aileen Adams
“It was not that, and you did not offend me.” Even so, she would not look at him. He was not her friend. They were not friends. They were nothing to each other, and she resented him for being here. For thinking he was better than her simply because he had been born a man.
It all felt so hollow. She no longer believed any of her old fears, the lies she’d told herself simply because she’d viewed him as a threat.
And she was lying to herself again, only for a different reason. This brought her no pleasure.
“I will not be leaving ye,” he declared in a strong, booming voice.
“As you wish,” she replied, relieved that he would not desert her after all. How silly this was, how useless. But she simply did not know any other way to behave herself.
For to look upon him with the fondness she now knew had grown there without her knowing it would be a terrible mistake, to say nothing of the injustice it would be to Thomas’s memory.
A fine mist began to fall, cloaking everything in a cloud, leaving her wet and miserable in very little time. It also left the ground slick, making her mare skittish as her hooves struck slick stone from what must have been an old road leading up to the castle walls.
“Drat!” Ailsa muttered when they came to a tree which might have fallen decades earlier.
“It might be best if we tied the horses off and went the rest of the way by foot,” Clyde suggested. How she loathed the emptiness in his voice, the flatness of his tone. They had lost something, and they would never get it back.
And it was her fault for ever letting anything grow to begin with.
She cleared her throat, willing away the lump which began to form there. “Perhaps it would be best to wait a bit, to see if the mist clears. I would not mind drying by a fire.”
He snorted, out of sight thanks to her raised hood. “I thought ye wished to make haste.”
“I do, but I also wish to avoid the grippe if possible.”
He muttered obscenities under his breath. She was tempted to tell him to say them aloud if he wished to. She’d likely heard worse.
“So be it, then, but remember I warned ye. There is a chance we could be here all evening with no change in the weather.”
“I will take my chances.” She dismounted, patting the skittish mare and murmuring soothing words before leading her behind Clyde, who grumbled while building a fire. “You needn’t be so cross,” she hissed, tying the mare’s reins to a low-hanging branch. “Truly, you are enough to test anyone’s patience.”
“I? I am?” He roared with bitter laughter. “Of all the things ye have ever said, that must be the most humorous. I am the one who can test a person’s patience. Myself.” He laughed again, throwing an armful of wood on the pile.
They fell into an uneasy silence after that. Even the animals felt it, judging by the way they pawed at the ground and tossed their heads. They knew there was something wrong.
She tried to catch Clyde’s eye more than once, looking across the modest fire he’d built them. He made a point to avoid her gaze. She’d hurt him this time, and she knew it.
She only wished she could find the words to apologize.
But how could she? It would mean telling him what he’d come to mean to her, and that was unacceptable. There was no admitting it, especially as she was unsure what she would say if she tried. Who was he to her? Truly?
“I will be back,” she murmured, removing her cloak from the branch over which she’d draped it to dry.
“Where are ye going?”
She snickered. “You know where. I will not go far.” She pulled the cloak over her shoulders and raised the hood, blocking him from sight before retreating farther into the woods.
Yes. That was better. If she could not see him, she could not blame herself for mistreating him. For hurting him.
When she returned, she would try to make amends. There had to be a way, did there not? Perhaps if she admitted to feeling…confusion. Thomas was still her entire heart, nothing less, and it confused her to become close to another man.
A good man. A loyal man. One she’d come to rely on. She relied on his presence, his wisdom, his fair-mindedness.
She relied on him being with her.
What a terrible wreck she had made of things.
There was barely time to think on it before a hand clamped over her mouth and something hard struck the side of her head, making everything go black.
20
Clyde tossed another handful of twigs into the fire, making it burn anew.
How dare she? He snapped another twig, then another. A thicker one next. It was satisfying, but only for a moment. The satisfaction did not last. Perhaps he ought to find a nice, solid length of wood and beat some sense into the woman. Perhaps then she would begin to act rationally.
No. She would only hate him all the more for it, and he would hate himself. No matter how she frustrated him, no matter how dismayed her behavior left him, he could not lash out.
And he could not let her see how it pained him. Och, did it pain him. He’d forgotten what it meant to be scorned by the woman he’d become fond of. He’d imagined those days were over once Janet had come into his life.
Yet here he was, no longer a young man, no longer to be easily excused for the folly of youth. He should have known better, and that was a fact.
It had happened without his knowing it. He should have been more cautious, but he’d never considered seeing her as anything more than a nuisance, a challenge. The sort of woman who left a man snapping lengths of wood to soothe the anger she stirred.
What was taking her so long?
He realized then that she’d been gone for a length of time. “Ailsa?” he called out, peering into the dark wood. Heavy clouds rolled overhead, darker all the time and promising true rain as opposed to mist. “Ailsa, lass? Where are ye?”
His stomach turned when she did not respond.
The horses. They’d known something was amiss, but he had ignored it because of the state she’d put him in. He knew better than that! His instincts had given way to his wounded pride, and damn his soul to Hades if he had missed the chance to protect her.
He stormed through the wood, following the path he believed she’d taken, and it was not long before a long strip of dark green cloth caught his eye.
Her cloak. It had caught on a bramble, and a piece had torn free.
“Ailsa!” he called out again, knowing in his heart there would be no response.
The entire world spun around him, and he knew he would either fall to his knees and never get up, or he would go on and find her. Images overlapped in his mind. Ailsa, smiling and giggling. Janet, holding Maggie as a newborn bairn. Niall, proudly showing off the first fish he’d ever caught.
All of them. He’d lost all of them.
“Clyde!”
He held his breath, certain he’d heard something but just as certain he’d imagined it. That could not have been…
“Clyde? Where are ye, man?”
“Drew?” he called out, certain he must be dreaming now. Perhaps this was all a terrible dream from which he would awaken, for nothing made sense.
Drew burst through the trees on horseback, followed by Rufus. “We heard ye calling,” he explained, lowering his hood. It was him, really and truly.
“But…how? Ye were not…”
“Did ye honestly believe we would not follow ye?” Rufus asked. “This is a terrible danger, and no doubt. Far be it from either of us to leave ye on your own. Where is Ailsa?”
“She’s gone. She was here, and now…” He held up the torn bit of cloak. “She knew this would happen. Someone would recognize her.”
He’d told them all about her at the inn, naturally, knowing he could trust them above all others. They knew she was a spy, that she had been born in England. They understood the risk.
Which was why they’d followed, trusted friends that they were.
And why her going missing now hardly seemed to be a coincidence.
“Come. They could not have gone far. Where is your horse?”
He led them back to the fire, which Rufus put out while Clyde prepared both horses. He would lead hers, for he refused to believe he would not find and take her.
“Did ye speak to anyone along the road?” Rufus asked as the three of them started out, riding harder than the conditions allowed for. There was simply no time to waste.
“Only one man, and I ought to have known there was something about him.” He described the Englishman to them and what had transpired. “Ailsa could not see him with her hood raised, but he appeared interested in her. Kept staring.”
“With that mark on her neck, he might have recognized her,” Drew mused. “Especially if he knew her when she was a girl.”
“Damn it all, I should have remained by her side all the time!”
“Ye could not know, man. There is no sense in blaming yourself now.” Then Rufus held out an arm as he brought his gelding to a halt. “Wait. I just thought of something.”
“What?”
“He would remember ye, as well, and like as not describe ye to whoever took her. The nearest village is Crookham. Perhaps ye ought to ride behind us a ways, keep yourself hidden from view. We can go along ahead and find out if anyone learned of her.”
“But—”
Drew grimaced, nodding. “Aye, the man makes good sense. Ye are hardly forgettable, my friend. He would tell whomever he reported her to that she rode with a giant of a man. We canna hide that about ye, I am sorry to say.”
“Ye expect me to wait for ye when she might be…” He could not bring himself to say it.
“Dinna worry, lad.” Drew tried to smile but failed. “I doubt they would do anything to her straight away. Like as not they’ll put her in a cell.”
“Perhaps I ought to ride alone,” Rufus suggested. “The two of ye stay behind in case anyone decides to come for ye, Clyde.”
“Let them try,” he growled, already imagining what he might do to any foolish enough to challenge him.
“Aye, another wise decision. Go, then,” Drew bade him. “We shall wait for ye here. I will keep him from doing anything regrettable in the meantime.”
Clyde was certain he would explode before Rufus could return. “This is entirely my doing. I should have stopped her from doing this. I should have tied her up and left her at the convent. This was wrong from the start.”
“Ye canna blame yourself, man. She knew what she was doing, for certain. And she seems a good sort, and it pains me to see this happen. But we will get her back.”
The certainty in Drew’s voice made him laugh in disbelief. “How can ye know it?”
“Because ye would do the same for us, and ye have,” Drew added. “This is the verra least we can do for ye, man. Especially if she means such a great deal to ye.”
“She does,” he confessed. “Och, why did it take so long for me to see it? I thought… I felt… Janet…”
“No need to explain yourself,” Drew murmured. “I know what ye wish to say. But Janet was no fault of yours, either. It was those filthy English bastards who did it, not ye.”
“I ought to have been with them. I ought to have been with her. Janet. Ailsa. Both of them. I failed them both.”
Drew could only look on in silence, his jaw tight, his brow lowered, while the horses sensed their heightened state of excitement and neighed, unsettled.
THE MIST TURNED TO RAIN, yet Clyde never took his eyes from the spot where Rufus had disappeared into the wood. He had to come back, and soon. He simply had to.
And he did, the sounds of hoofbeats reaching Clyde’s ears before his friend trotted out from the deep wood. Judging by his deep scowl, it seemed he had nothing good to report.
“Well?” he prompted. “What did ye find? Where is she?”
Rufus held up his hands. “Patience. Word in the village is of a spy captured in the woods after having crossed the River Tweed. She is to be taken to see the village magistrate before nightfall.”
“We must—”
“We must be patient,” Rufus warned. “We must have cool heads.”
“Patient? Ye expect me to be patient?” Clyde roared. “When she is there, being held by strangers who are likely mistreating her?”
“This is what she knew she might risk,” Drew reminded him, which only served to inflame him further. When Clyde dismounted, prepared to fight if need be, Drew added, “She is a spy, man. She has prepared herself for this.”
“Aye, ’tis true,” Rufus agreed. “We will take her from them, I have no doubt, but we canna help the lass if we lose our heads. Now please. Calm yourself so we might think and plan.”
He might as well have asked Clyde to harness the moon. Calm himself? When she needed him?
But she did need him, which was why he did need to calm himself. A plan would have to be made and executed to perfection if they were to free her.
“I can cross again, round up a few men within several hours’ ride of the border,” Drew suggested. “It will certainly not put us at a disadvantage to have greater numbers on our side.”
“Aye, and we shall stay behind to hear anything from the village,” Rufus agreed.
“Dinna tarry,” Clyde warned, wishing he might go along but knowing he would never leave now that she had been captured. He simply had to find her.
Drew’s smile was bright. “Ye know me, man. I shall have them back to ye before dawn.”
“See to it ye do.” He watched, his heart in his throat, as Drew rode away. The man was confident, sure of himself and of their success.
He might have appeared as though he thought it nothing but an amusement, but Clyde knew better. All of them understood how dreadfully serious this was.
Nothing less than their lives depended on it.
21
Ailsa awoke in the dark.
No. Not quite. It only seemed dark due to the presence of something over her head. A sack, perhaps, rough burlap. It smelled as though it had once held grain.
And now it kept her from seeing what was around her.
She did not need to see the men around her, however. She could smell them, hear them. They took pains to speak quietly, but there was no disguising the bitterness in their voices. They were glad to have found her, and would be glad to be done with her.
It had all happened just as she had known it would. Just as she had feared.
When she raised her head, it was enough to tell one of her captors that she was awake. “Ah, there she is. She has rejoined us. For a moment, I thought you might have hit her a bit too hard.”
To her disgust, a chorus of laughter erupted. As though it were amusing, the notion of accidentally killing a woman they had only meant to subdue.
Her hands were tied behind her back, tight enough that her fingers had already gone numb. She supposed there was no sense in hoping they would free her from these bindings. She was seated on something hard, a wooden bench perhaps. There was a man to either side of her.
Her chances of escape at this moment were none. She would need to bide her time.
“Remove the sack from her head.” The man’s orders were followed without question, and in an instant, she blinked away the glare from several lanterns placed nearby. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the sudden presence of light.
And while she adjusted, they examined her. Her skin crawled at the fact that she had little choice but to withstand their curious eyes.
Worse than curious, at least some of them. They were angry, bent on vengeance though she had done nothing to any of these men. At least, nothing she was aware of.
No, they were angered and offended by the very fact of her.
The man who had given the order to remove the sack stood before her. She knew it the moment he opened his mouth, and she heard his voice. A distinct, deep voice, the voice of a man accustomed to having his way.
“Who are you, and why did you cross the border today?” he asked.
She suspec
ted he would not sound so friendly once he knew she would not make it easy for him.
She remained silent, staring up at him as blankly as she could. No resentment, no hatred. Nothing at all.
His eyes glittered, hard and cold. That was the truth of it, she knew. He was a hard, cold man in spite of the warmth and humor in his voice. He hated her.
Yet she would not allow his hatred to shake her. This was precisely what she had prepared for.
If only Thomas’s instruction had explained how she might manage this without him. She’d never imagined finding herself in such a situation after his death, when she had turned her back upon the work. Without him, nothing had seemed to matter much. Not even a victory over England.
How was she to find a way out of this without him to help?
Clyde. For the first time, she felt no guilt when her thoughts turned to him.
No, she would not have put him in danger for anything. It would be better if he stayed away. She knew this in her very core.
This was her trouble and hers alone.
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Have you nothing to say? Do you not know your own name, woman?” This brought about yet more laughter, especially from the men seated beside her who she assumed had captured her in the woods.
She pretended she could not hear any of it, that nothing going on around her made the slightest bit of difference. It was a struggle, keeping the hatred out of her gaze, but she recalled the instruction she had delivered to the girls at the convent.
Never allow a man to see what truly goes on inside your mind.
The man shrugged, his shoulders moving beneath the fine waistcoat he wore. A rich, deep blue, soft and lustrous. It had been so long since she’d worn anything half as fine. “It matters little,” he allowed, “for we already know well who you are. I am so very grateful to the gentleman who spotted you on the road earlier today. He knew you in your youth. Were you aware of this?”
Again, she gave no answer. She did not even blink.
“He recognized this.” He pointed to her neck. “Said he was one of the young men your father considered a possible match. But he would not have you. No one would. No one worthwhile, at any rate. You had to go to Scotland to find a husband, for they are hardly what one would call discerning when it comes to women.”