“Nay,” Henry admitted. “It was a long night indeed.”
“I cannot recall the number of times that I prayed for morning to come quickly. I could not cease from worrying.”
“Nor, could I.” The dark circles under Henry’s eyes were a testament to his words.
Tristan was the only one among them who looked as fresh as the day they had started out. He had shaved, losing the golden whiskery shadow that had befallen his jaw line during their journey north. It had made him look rugged and dangerous. She somewhat missed it now that it was gone. She looked around the table at all of the men gathered around it. So many people cared for Grace. Amelia was grateful to have each and every one of them to aid in the search.
“If I have not said it yet, I wish to express just how grateful I am to each of you for your help.” Her words seemed trite when compared to all of the unexpressed emotions that she kept at bay behind them.
“Always, lass,” Fergus promised sincerely.
“Here, here,” Henry replied. “There is not anything that I would not do for Grace.”
“That may be shortly put to the test, my dear fellow,” Tristan remarked as he stood and pulled out a chair for Amelia next to his.
“I dare say,” Henry murmured leaning back in his chair thoughtfully. “The crofter, Jarod’s, revelations leave us little choice but to act with swift decisiveness. I do not believe her to be dead, as he did, but if she is injured there is no time to wait on the ransom. There is no time left at all.”
“I agree,” Tristan nodded. “But it is highly unlikely that we will be given any say in the matter. We can do our best to track them, but that does not mean that we will find them.”
“Defeatist talk,” Amelia accused.
“No, realistic,” Tristan corrected.
“I cannot entertain any other thought than that we will find her before it is too late. I cannot entertain the thought that the ransom might fail. I cannot…” her words choked in her throat, overwhelmed by fear of the unknown.
Tristan reached out as if to take her hand in his, but she moved away, standing, and left the room. Grabbing the few things that she had brought with her, she left the manor house and walked to the stables. Not waiting for anyone else, she had the groom saddle her horse. Mounting she rode away from Slantonshire as fast as she possibly could.
Chapter 6
“She did what?!” Tristan, Henry, and Fergus all yelled at the same time.
“Lady Amelia is gone, Your Grace, My Lord. She had me saddle her horse and then galloped away. I did not feel it was my place to stop her, but it was clear to me that she was upset. I am not at all certain that she intends to return.”
Tristan and Fergus leapt from their seats. “I thought she had needed but a moment to collect herself in private. I never thought that she would risk herself in such a way,” Henry remarked as he rose to join them.
“There is nae anythin’ that she would nae do tae save her sister, Yer Grace, nothin’ at all,” Fergus answered as he followed Tristan out of the door and ran to the stables.
“All she needed to have done was express her desire to leave and we all would have gone together,” Henry insisted dumbfounded. “That was the plan all along was it not?”
“Aye, it was, but…” Fergus shrugged his shoulders as if to say there was no way to truly know the heart of a woman or what they were capable of doing.
“Where was she headed? Which way?” Henry asked the groom.
“North, Your Grace.”
“She is ridin’ for Scotland,” Fergus concluded. “She will ride those cuddies down on her own but will find herself at the wrong end o’ less principled men than yerselves, My Lairds, long afore she would e’er find the Lady Grace.”
“Foolish girl,” Tristan growled as he launched himself into the saddle and charged out after her. Fergus and Henry followed close behind.
“I am certain that she only meant the best,” Henry attempted to soothe Tristan’s anger.
“The best or not, she will not be able to sit in that saddle once I have finished with her. A good spanking will put her to rights.”
Fergus laughed heartily. “If ye think that wee lass is goin’ tae stand by and let ye lay in tae her, ye have another thing comin’, My Laird.”
Tristan threw a glare at Fergus. They rode hard after Amelia hoping that they were heading the right direction. The groom had pointed the way, but she could have turned off of the road at any time and they would not know. Tristan cursed all of the hoofprints that had passed before obscuring Amelia’s in the dust.
I should never have agreed to indulge in this quest. I should have returned her promptly to her father’s house and went out in search of Grace on my own. If something were to happen to her, I would never forgive myself, nor would Jonathan ever forgive me.
Tristan’s heart pounded with the thought of everything that could befall her. She had not gotten very much of a head start on them, but her horse was fast, while Amelia was lightweight. He searched the horizon for any sign of her but found nothing. Around every bend he expected to come upon her but did not. They came to a crossroads and stopped to inspect it. The men spread out searching for any sign that she had left the main road, anything at all that distinctively spoke of her passing.
“I should have carved a symbol in her horse’s shoes tae distinguish her hoofprints from the rest,” Fergus lamented his lack of forethought. “The daft lass rushes head long in tae peril she does nae ken. The border may have tamed some o’er the years, but ‘tis still a wild and lawless place for a lass alone.”
“I should have done it as well, Fergus. The notion did not occur to me, but it should have long before now,” Tristan joined him in his lament. “We should have returned her home to her father and brother long before now. We indulged her over much, you and I, Fergus.”
“She would have left and then we would have had two lassies runnin’ wild about the moors long afore now, My Laird. We did the only thing we kenned tae do. There is nothin’ tae be gained by doubtin’ it now.”
“Fergus is quite right, you know. Lady Amelia is nothing like my Grace. Where Grace exhibits all the manners of a genteel lady, Amelia is wild of spirit and independent of person,” Henry agreed. “In spite of their differences, I quite admire them for their attributes.”
“As do I,” Tristan grudgingly agreed.
“Ye have long cared for Lady Amelia,” Fergus noted. “If I may be so bold as tae comment upon such a matter.”
“Yes, Fergus, I hold Lady Amelia in the highest of regards when I do not wish to imprison her in the highest of towers.” Tristan hid his concern for the woman he loved behind grim humor.
“Does she ken how ye feel about her, My Laird?”
“Nay, she does not. She has rarely ever given me the time of day.”
“By Jove, my good fellow. Why have you not said anything? Perhaps she would have better understood your earlier comments if she knew that they came from a place of great affection for her,” Henry’s face spoke of the sympathy he felt for Tristan’s plight. “I do not know what I would have done had Grace not returned my affections.”
“You would have gone on with your life and perhaps even married another, but you would never have been able to forget her,” Tristan answered all too familiar with the feeling of unrequited love.
“You could have had any woman in England,” Henry reminded him.
“Yes, I could have had, but none of them were Amelia. Could you replace Grace so easily?”
“Nay, never!” Henry’s outrage at such a suggestion spoke of his great love for his intended.
“Then there you have it. I have accepted my role as surrogate brother and protector; however, it is at times such as these that I wonder at the wisdom of such.”
“As do we all, My Laird,” Fergus intoned. “E’en if she survives this, she still must face her faither. The Viscount will nae be as forgivin’ or understandin’ as we three might be.”
“Nay, he
will not,” Tristan agreed. His heart went out to the struggles that Amelia had faced concerning her father her entire life. He would have done anything when they were children to take her away from such strictures, but he had been told many times by his own parents that it was not his place to intervene in the workings of another nobleman’s household. “We must find her before the Viscount or anyone else realizes that she is missing. The Dowding family will not survive losing both of their ladies. Nor would we for that matter.”
“Nae, we would nae,” Fergus agreed.
Having thoroughly searched the ground in either direction to reassure themselves that she had not left the main road, they kicked their horses back into a full gallop down the road following what they believed to be the freshest of the tracks. All speaking ceased as they concentrated their attentions on the landscape around them searching for the smallest of movements in the distance. When they came to a croft beside the road, they stopped and inquired within about Amelia and the group of men.
A little boy of no more than five or six came over to Tristan and stared up at him with wide brown eyes. Turning his attention from Fergus speaking with the boy’s parents, Tristan squatted down and greeted him. “Hello, there. My name is Tristan. What is yours?”
“Angus, Angus MacMillan.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Angus. My friends and I are looking for two pretty lassies. One is with a large group of men, the other was by herself wearing men’s clothing. Have you seen either of them about?”
“Aye,” the boy nodded his head, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve.
“Which one?” Tristan’s hopes climbed.
“Both.”
“You have seen both of them?” All other conversation in the croft ceased as all eyes turned to Angus.
The boy’s father came to kneel beside his son. “Where, lad? Where did ye see them, son?”
“I saw the bonnie lassie with the Sassenachs many days ago, Faither, when ye were out in the fields. They rode past verra fast.”
“How do ye ken that they were Sassenachs?” Fergus asked the boy.
“They spoke funny, like him,” he pointed his finger at Tristan.
“Was the lady alive?” Henry asked moving to kneel beside Tristan.
“Aye, she was mad and yellin’ at the Sassenach she was ridin’ with,” the boy nodded in confirmation.
“And what of the other lady?” Tristan asked.
“She stopped for water for her horse at the burn, then rode away. She looked angry tae, but she was nae yellin’ like the other one. She asked me about the other lady, and I told her what I told ye about it.”
“What direction did they take?” Tristan asked meeting the boy’s eyes. The little boy poked a dirty finger north following the road. “North?” he asked to be sure.
“Aye,” the boy nodded. “Are they in trouble?” His little brow scrunched up with worry.
“I am afraid so,” Tristan answered. He reached out his hand to cup the little boy’s chin. “But do not fear, Angus, we will find them and keep them safe.”
The boy nodded. “Good. Can I come tae?” He pulled out a wooden play sword from under a pallet on the floor. “I could help ye fight the cuddies who took those bonnie lassies.”
“Angus,” the boy’s mother chastised him for his language.
Tristan chuckled. “I am sure that you would be invaluable in a fight, but then who would remain here to protect your own dear sweet mother?”
The little boy thought about that, then nodded his head slowly. “Faither will need my help.”
“Aye, laddie. I will at that,” the boy’s father stepped forward placing a hand on either side of his son’s shoulders.
“Thank you, Mr. MacMillan, for your aid in this matter,” Henry stood and shook the man’s hand.
Tristan remained kneeling and pulled a little wooden horse he had been carving each night that he had been on the road with Amelia searching for Grace. He had meant it for one of his nephews but had decided in that moment that Angus deserved it more. The boy beamed at the gift and ran off to show his siblings. Tristan arose and followed Henry and Fergus back outside. Mounting, they pointed their horses in the direction that the boy had said.
“An observant young lad,” Henry remarked as they left the croft yard and rejoined the road.
“Aye, a braw wee lad tae be sure,” Fergus agreed. “He will do his family proud.”
Tristan looked back toward the croft and found Angus standing outside of the door watching them ride away, the little wooden horse clutched tightly in his dirty little hand.
* * *
Amelia rode as hard and as fast as she could. The little boy she had spoken to when she had stopped for water had said that Grace had come through with a group of men many days earlier. It lifted her spirits to know that she was on the right path and that her sister was still alive. She could have kissed the little boy’s cheeks for being the bearer of such glad tidings.
I am on the right path. If I continue on in this vein, I am sure to find her. She told herself the lie to bolster her spirits.
In all truthfulness it was highly unlikely that she would ever find Grace or the men who took her. Scotland was a vast country and if Grace had been taken up into the Highlands, or worse yet onto one of the islands, Amelia did not stand a chance of pursuit on her own. She began to regret her hasty decision to leave without her traveling companions. She had been angry, borne of fear and pain, and reacted without thinking.
She knew that her traveling companions were simply trying to help her in every way that they knew how, but they could not fill the hole in her heart no matter how caring they were. She also knew that Tristan had only meant to prepare her heart for the realities of the situation, not to cause her further pain, but that had not changed how his words had made her feel. She had needed nothing more in that moment than to get away from him and to find Grace.
Logically she knew that Tristan was right. Emotionally she could not countenance anything short of Grace’s full recovery. She had not given thought to her own safety but had charged off with a single purpose. Her only thought had been to find her sister or to die in the attempt. I will not go home without her.
Amelia continued to ride until darkness fell. Unable to see the road ahead, she was forced to stop and make camp. The night air was chilly and damp. She knew that to make a fire risked drawing unsavory elements to her position and so she did her best to keep warm huddling down in her brother’s clothes between two rocks and her horse. She surveyed the darkness around her and wished for Fergus’ comforting presence. The silence around her passed as a cold chill down her spine.
I have gone mad with grief, running off like that. It would serve me right if I were to catch my death out here all alone. What was I thinking?
Eventually, Amelia drifted off to sleep where she once again dreamed of her imprisoned sister. She called out her name over and over again. No matter how close she drew, she never seemed to actually be able to save her. When she awoke in the morning it was to the sight of three scraggly men staring down at her.
Chapter 7
“Look at what I found, lads,” one of the grisly-looking men announced with gleeful pride as if he had found a great treasure among the rocks.
“Aye, but is it a bonnie lad or lass?” another asked eyeing her odd attire.
“A lass tae be sure. Look at them paps,” the third one leered down at Amelia’s chest.
Amelia looked down to find her shirt had come undone at the neck in her sleep. She reached up to clasp the shirt closed with one hand, while the other went for her pistol. Her hand came up empty. “Lookin’ for this?” the first man asked leveling her own pistol at her head. “Mine now.”
“You have my pistol, now leave. I have nothing more of worth,” Amelia commanded to no avail.
“Leave a bonnie lass like ye out upon the moors with nae tae defend yerself? What sort o’ man do ye take me for, lass?”
“The kind of man who takes a lady�
��s pistol without permission,” she retorted.
“Aye, for yer own protection, lass. I cannae have ye be shootin’ me while we are gettin’ better acquainted, now can I?”
“It would send a clear message,” Amelia remarked saucily.
“Aye, that it would, but ye would nae be wantin’ tae mar my perfect features now would ye, lass?” The other men guffawed at this finding the man’s words to be overwhelmingly amusing. They laughed so hard they had tears in their eyes before they had managed to regain their composure. The man in question only grinned at their amusement, well aware of his grotesque and unhygienic form.
The Haunted Knight 0f Lady Canterley Page 6