Beyond a Doubt
by Felicia Rogers
Published by Astraea Press
www.astraeapress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
BEYOND A DOUBT
Copyright © 2013 FELICIA ROGERS
ISBN 978-1-62135-157-3
Cover Art Designed by Book Beautiful
I would like to offer a special thanks to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and my friend Kim Knoll who consistently offers support.
Chapter One
Scotland, June 1557
Water swirled around in a torrent, sucking him under the vast currents. His arms flailed helplessly, attempting to grasp a rock, a limb, or anything available, only to have it ripped away. The noise of the rushing water confused him and severed his mental hold on his location. Tossed about by the raging water, he managed to surface long enough to catch a breath and notice a large boulder looming ahead. But it was too late to react. His ribs slapped the rock’s flat face and the wind was knocked from his weakened form.
So this was the end, to die by drowning so close to his destination. How had everything gone awry?
****
Several days earlier…
Bryce Cameron couldn’t be happier. Behind him, nestled amongst jagged rocks and trees, rested the Sinclair keep and his past. Before him awaited beautiful grasslands, with free-roaming sheep and his future.
Leaving Grant behind had been a kind of necessary torture. His cousin needed to sever ties, whereas Bryce needed freedom to travel. The call to home beckoned. Who knew what would happen if he waited any longer?
For the arduous journey ahead, Duncan, the Sinclair laird, had given him a horse and a sword. Arbella, the laird’s wife, had supplied him with food and blankets. With gladness, he’d accepted the gifts. Without a worry, Bryce set out for home. His woman awaited.
Crissy, a red-haired lass, short and round, full in bosom and hip, had a twinkle in her eye which constantly hinted at mirth. Temper was her middle name as she took pleasure in exhibiting it most of the time. But instead of deterring Bryce, it only endeared her to him. With his mild-mannered, laid-back ways, having a forceful woman seemed necessary. Besides, when her temper flared, her adorable dimples showed, and he couldn’t get enough of them.
Thoughts of Crissy sent his feet knocking the sides of his horse, urging the beast into increased speed. The animal cantered by a field dotted with white sheep lazily plucking at the ground, chewing in a slow rhythmic motion. As he sucked in the fresh air, he also smelled the odor of wet wool and the bleating of ewes. With it came the desire to arrive home more quickly.
Daydreams of a field full of sheep and a house full of children floated through his mind. Crissy would be in the middle of both. Strong, secure, and fierce, his soon-to-be wife would be a force to be reckoned with.
A smile tugged at his lips, a laugh escaped. The trail suddenly grew quiet and daunting in the afternoon sun. Since his journey had begun, there had been no traffic. An unnerving silence pervaded the area. The sooner he arrived on Cameron lands, the better he would feel.
The miles sped by. Nothing was prettier than the Scottish countryside. Forests, fields of flowers, and inhabited and uninhabited keeps dotted the landscape. Bryce avoided stopping in civilized areas, which would lead him off course. Without any delays, the road would have him home in a week’s time.
At night, Bryce slept under the stars. The weather stayed clear and warm, cooperating with his journey. He gave thanks to the Almighty for his uneventful passage.
After several days of travel, the end neared. The smell of sheep excrement increased. Within a day, he would arrive home and into the waiting arms of his betrothed. All the ways he might be greeted by his love entered his mind. Perhaps she would run out of her home and throw her arms around his neck, even going so far as to flatten a chaste kiss upon his cheek. Or maybe Crissy would set up a fuss about the length of his absence, in which case he would smile and agree, enjoying the sight of her anger thus presented.
A faint wind blew. The odor of his unwashed body sent his nose crinkling upward. Perhaps a bath was in order before meeting his beloved.
Bryce knew a river ran near Cameron lands. It would take no time to stop and bathe before going to meet his love. In fact, Crissy might be more affectionate if he removed the stink. The thought of increased affection hurried him along.
A path through the foliage opened to the river. Dismounting, Bryce tied his horse to a thick branch. Tunic removed and laid over his arm and his trews still in place, he waded in. One step into the chill waters almost led to retreat. Only the desire to please Crissy kept him moving.
The water was now waist high. His teeth clacked together as he shivered with cold. Grasped by the moving water, his tunic fell from his shoulder and floated away. Exasperated, Bryce reached to grab the floating fabric. Each time his fingertips brushed the water-logged cloth, the moving waters jerked it away before he could retrieve it.
Without thought, Bryce followed it further and further in. As he approached the middle of the river, his foot slipped. His feet flew out from under him and the water swept him underneath its surface, surprising Bryce with its fierceness.
Life flashed before his eyes. The brevity of time depressed him even as the water sucked him under once again. Thoughts rankled. A life ending without Crissy by his side, without having had his children, or raising his sheep, thoughts of dying over a stupid tunic.
White water rushed around and over him. When his head rose above the caps, he quickly sucked in a breath. Less and less Bryce came up for air as the water tumbled him head over heel, over and over. Death was close at hand. Now there was one more regret to add to his long list. No one would know what had happened to him.
His chest burned as his wet wool clothing dragged his body down one last time.
Chapter Two
Lucille Lombard walked the well-trodden path, her thick tongue stuck to the roof of her dry mouth. She had emptied her water container hours before. Lucille searched for water but to no avail.
Two weeks of long, dark nights spent shivering in the cold, listening to crickets chirp and animals scurry, and feeling her heart race with fear at the thought of highwaymen hiding in the bushes. Now her feet burned and her back ached. Would the torment never be over?
Anger over her situation filled her mind. She muttered loudly under her breath, which took the sound of the river longer to penetrate. When the roar of running water pervaded her mind, Lucille lifted her skirts and took off at a run. It was a struggle to remain upright as she stumbled over raised roots, was flicked by wayward branches, and attempted to avoid pointy rocks.
“Stupid tree,” muttered Lucille as a limb snapped back, popping her in the face.
Once past the trees, Lucille faced a wide river. The water moved quickly, rushing over rocks. With caution, she knelt and filled her container. Once the cloth holder was full, she shaped her hand like a cup and dipped into the water several times until she drank her fill.
She pulled a rag from her bag, wet it, and rubbed her neck vigorously, then lifted her head to look at the land on the opposite shore. A flash of color caught her eye. Squinting against the light, Lucille saw something float by. Further inspection caused her to gasp.
Lucille didn’t think, head
ing out into the rushing water. Foot braced, she grasped what she knew was a body. Her hand filled with hair and when she tugged, a man’s face came into view. She tried to lift him and his eyelids fluttered. He was alive! She grabbed again, searching for a better hold.
But no matter where she reached, she came up empty-handed. The man’s flesh was slick and his clothing was hard to spot. Frustration mounting, Lucille stumbled alongside the floating body, reaching and clasping.
What was she going to do? She couldn’t leave him. With one final attempt, Lucille shot her hand forward. Rewarded with the feel of a heavy fabric, Lucille held tightly and heaved.
With teeth gritted, she pulled. Muscles straining with effort, Lucille tugged the man to the riverbank.
They reached the edge and Lucille collapsed, struggling to regain her breath. Had the man died while she’d fought to bring him ashore? Or had he survived?
With strength returning, she leaned over him. His skin was ashen, his lips blue. She placed her hand upon his bare chest. His chest, covered in chill bumps, rose and fell with unsteady breath.
Lucille fell back, a smile upon her lips. The rescue was a success.
****
The sun warmed Bryce’s chilled skin. His eyelids fluttered open. Where was he? A cool breeze blew, causing him to shiver. Suddenly, memories assailed him. He’d been seeking a bath when his tunic floated away. Retrieving the article had led to his situation.
Certain death had awaited. Then someone had been there. Instead of helping him, they had held him down, keeping him from catching his breath.
“Oh, you are awake.”
The voice took him off guard. Bryce sat up, coughing. Water spewed from his mouth and dribbled down his chin. Once the fit passed, Bryce studied the person who’d spoken.
A young woman lay beside him. Water clung to her thin frame and she trembled. Her oval face was highlighted by brown eyes which angled up at the corners. High cheekbones bracketed her button nose.
“If you are done staring, do you mind me asking why you were drowning yourself?”
“Drowning meself?” he muttered in confusion as he noted her distinct French accent.
“There are easier ways to go.”
“I wasn’t drowning meself! From my perspective, ye were drowning me!”
“What?” Her eyebrow rose.
“That’s right. I woke up and struggled to reach the bank and ye pushed my head under.”
“Huh? I did no such thing. I was drinking and noticed you floating away like yesterday’s garbage. I saved you!”
Bryce parted his lips to argue further but shut them just as quickly. Had the water addled his mind and warped his manners? Looking more closely at the petite lass, he thought there was no way she could have held him under water.
“Aye, ye are right. Thank ye for yer assistance.” He thrust his hand forward. “My name is Bryce Cameron and I’m in yer debt.”
She ignored his hand as a questioning look covered her face. Since she didn’t speak, Bryce stood on his wobbly legs and studied the area. Floating down the river had caused him to lose track of his horse and his belongings.
“This canna be happenin’.” With a direct look at the young lady, he said, “Did ye see a horse?”
The lass stood to her feet and mimicked his stance. Short in stature, next to him she appeared as if a small child. Her hands were placed on her slim hips, her eyebrows rose with irritation. When she spoke, her voice carried an even pitch. “Neigh, I have not seen a horse.”
He drew a ragged breath, raking his hand through wet hair. “I thank ye.” Away he peered, studying again. “I’m sure my horse rested just along the riverbank. But I’ll find her. Good day to ye.”
Bryce had taken a few steps along the rocky embankment when her shrill voice rang out. “You’re leaving me? You managed to soak me clean through and now you are leaving me to freeze?”
Bryce spun around; his feet wet and soggy, he sloshed back to the waiting lass. “Miss, please keep yer voice down.”
Her slippered foot rose and stomped the ground. She arched her eyebrow with pain as a rock, no doubt, pierced her tender skin. “I will not be quiet. I’m cold, I’m wet, and I’m hungry. Now what are you going to do about it?”
Bryce glanced around. The lass appeared without companions. The code of a Scottish gentleman would not allow him to leave the lass in distress.
“Lass, I will help ye. Come along.”
Not waiting for an answer, he turned and retraced his steps in search of his horse.
Chapter Three
The broad back of the man before her drew all her attention. Light brown hair hung in waves down to his neck. His shoulder muscles rippled and his arm muscles flexed. Lucille gulped.
In the beginning, Lucille had had no intention of asking the Scotsman for help. But truth be told, she was a woman alone and in need of help in more ways than one.
She stretched her legs to their full length in an effort to keep up with the large Scot. Huffing and puffing, she struggled. Without warning, the man turned, lifted her into his arms and carried her across a small stream of water that ran into the river. When they reached the other side, he gently placed her down without even speaking.
On and on they walked. Lucille found it highly unlikely the man had drifted so far downriver. Perhaps ownership of the horse was a hallucination. Maybe the man was suicidal. What had she gotten herself into?
But around the next bend, a horse waited. The animal neighed at its returning master.
“Aye, there ye are, bonny one.”
Bryce’s affection for the animal was unusual. He stroked its nose while offering words of encouragement. Bryce directed words toward her. “Miss, may I help ye astride?”
“Excuse me?”
“Yer shoes are hardly fittin’ to travel the Scottish countryside. If ye ride upon Emissary we will travel much faster.”
“Oh, yes.”
He interwove his fingers and placed his cupped hands beside the horse. Lucille fitted a foot snugly inside, thrusting herself upward until she straddled the mare, adjusting the pack poking her in the back. Once she was settled, Bryce grabbed the reins. With Bryce beside her, they walked at a gentle pace going in a northerly direction.
Lucille frowned. “This is the wrong way.”
“Nay, it is not.”
“Yes, it is. I must go south.”
“South?”
“Aye, south.”
“Forgivin’ yer pardon, lass, but my home resides in the nor—“
“But you promised assistance! I’m but a helpless female and I must travel south. It is of the utmost importance.”
Bryce stopped, scratched his head, and pondered. Lucille watched his fleeting emotions in the extraordinary blue of his eyes. Would he help her?
****
Bare-chested and not a day’s walk from home, he was asked by a strange French lass to deviate from his course, away from what he had longed for all this time. The things Bryce had sought most in the last year were being taken away from him in the blink of an eye. What was he to do?
True, Bryce had promised assistance. But that had been before he’d known lending a hand would require him to give up his dream. The lass resting upon his horse was in need. No lady should be traipsing about without escort. Why had the burden fallen upon him? And what was she doing out alone in the first place? Dare he ask?
There were too many questions and not enough answers. With a sigh, Bryce gathered the reins and led the horse in a southerly direction. Night would be upon them soon. He hoped the young lady had a plan.
Chapter Four
France 1557
“Has there been any word?”
“Non.”
“The event has been postponed for too long already. If it doesn’t occur soon, people will wonder. They will lose hope. They will lose faith.”
“Aye, I know. But we need more time.”
“You have a month.”
“Thirty days is hardly
enough time for the agent to travel so far. We need more time.”
“A month; I can give no more.”
With a respectful bow, the official left. Sir Jean Broussard paced the Admiral’s study. Gaspard de Coligny, respected military leader, was in grave danger. Or at least Jean believed this to be true. As a fellow friend and countryman, Jean feared for Gaspard’s life. His secret couldn’t be maintained forever. If the wrong people became aware then who knew what would happen. With King Henry II upon the French throne, their kind were in constant fear. Thus when Gustav entered, Jean’s concerns had not abated.
“Any news?” asked Jean.
“Non, sir,” replied Gustav.
“We have until the next full moon.”
“But if there is dan—“
“I know. They’ve been warned. They are willing to accept the necessary risks.”
“But Gaspard’s death could destroy all our plans.”
“Then we will have to pray for his ultimate safety.”
Chapter Five
Scotland 1557
Bryce walked alongside the horse. The man was huge and attractive to gaze upon. In fact, Lucille had a hard time taking her eyes away from his imposing frame. Hour after hour dragged by. The sun set over the distant mountains, leaving barely enough light with which to travel. How man and horse didn’t stumble and break their legs in the darkness, Lucy would never know.
When it seemed they would travel on until morning, Bryce said, “We will stop here.”
Beast and man stopped. Lucy was grasped upon the waist, lifted from the saddle, and placed on the ground without a backward glance. She watched as Bryce gathered scraps of wood and started a fire. The flames grew and Lucy moved closer and sat down.
Beyond a Doubt Page 1
