Beyond a Doubt

by Felicia Rogers

  Angered, Gustav contemplated cornering the man with his lies. “So you found the trunk within the house because of the maid’s information and you did nothing to it other than remove it.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Gustav tapped his head in thought. “You see, Monsieur Dubois, I’m having a bit of difficulty with your story.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe a person would leave a trunk behind and yet take all the contents out.”

  “But—“

  “Now, when you are willing to tell the truth about how you acquired the trunk and where its contents are stashed, then we may talk about your release.”

  A feeling of remorse almost came over him. A vague possibility existed that the man was telling the truth. Perhaps the jailers had emptied the trunk against his orders.

  Either way, Charles needed a few days to contemplate his future and Gustav planned to give them to him.

  ****

  Gustav left the gaol and headed to the hotel. In Charles’ room, he searched the trunk. The container was devoid of even the smallest item. As far as he knew, the wooden box held no secret compartments.

  He lifted the silken material around the edges, and found nothing. He knocked on the sides, but heard no hollow sounds.

  Would L.L. have hidden the message in the trunk, or perhaps stitched the information within his clothing?

  For the most part, L.L. was a mystery. During the last two years, Gustav had received covert messages from this individual. He knew not the agent’s occupation, age, or walk of life. All he knew was that L.L. sent messages through a London contact and the messages were always reliable.

  The Huguenots, or members of the Protestant Reformed Church of France, were in constant peril. As supporters of John Calvin and his ideas, they had stepped outside the bounds of the Catholic Church, thereby ensuring their persecution. Henry II of France had had tongues sliced out and believers burned at the stake for accepting this newest of religious ideas. Many of these plots against the Huguenots originated in Scotland, the home of Henry’s ward and daughter-in-law, Mary.

  Still primarily Catholic, the Scottish as well as the English queen, Mary I, daughter of Henry VIII, made life all the more difficult for the reformers.

  L.L., a known traveler with the ability to change appearance quickly, had entered Scottish society. Vital information, collected on behalf of the Huguenot cause, had saved lives on more than one occasion.

  Now the information the agent carried could mean life or death for the Admiral. His plan to announce a Huguenot colony in Brazil at a festival in Caen could be his undoing. Without L.L.’s information, the celebration would go forth.

  The question for those involved became, How do you find operatives when you know nothing about them and they don’t want to be found?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Once the storm abated, Lucy pushed on, harder and harder. When darkness descended, she claimed the moon was adequate lighting. Bryce refused. If the horse became lame because of the dark, then their progress would slow even more.

  Just because he was right didn’t make it any easier to take. Sheltered beneath a cover, Lucy shivered. A hot bath and a change of clothes were in order. If her friends could see her now, they’d be shocked. Huddled under a holey square cloth, sitting across from an unruly Scot. Half of her friends would be asking for his name while the other half would be repulsed.

  Warmth from his body drew her closer. Fortunately, he didn’t move away as she approached. Their senses of smell had obviously been destroyed by their own filth.

  “Bryce?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Is it possible to have a bath and a fresh change of clothes soon?”

  “Aye.”

  Lucy waited for further answers but none were forthcoming. Bryce whittled a stick into small shavings, laying them upon logs and starting a fire.

  “Well, aren’t you going to say more?”

  “I have friends close by.”

  “You do?”

  “Aye.”

  Silence descended. Bryce touched her skin softly as he moved her hair from her forehead. The gentleness of his touch lulled her into a dream-filled slumber and she fell asleep using his chest as a pillow.

  Images of daggers stabbing innocents, young children hoisted to a cross, and tongues bleeding upon the ground flooded her dreams. Violently she shook awake.

  “Are ye all right, lass? Ye were moanin’ in yer sleep.”

  In her sleep she had moved away from him. Pushing up on her elbow, she said, “I’m all right. Would you mind if I scooted closer to you?”

  He opened his arms and Lucy fell into them. She closed her eyes and prayed the nightmares would stay at bay.

  ****

  Bryce welcomed Lucy into his arms. The added warmth would be beneficial to both of them on such a chilly night. Unpredictable feelings assailed him. Who would have thought the short, spirited lass could weasel her way into his heart? With each passing day, thoughts of Crissy were shoved further aside and replaced by thoughts of Lucy.

  Memories of Crissy’s overbearing nature found themselves replaced by new memories. Ones of Lucy trying to “poison” Emmett and Doreen, memories of her standing up for Emissary at the risk of her own person, memories of her standing in the rain drenched by the water and arguing with him over nearly everything that entered her mind.

  Indeed the wee lass was worming her way into his life. Her smooth, pale skin rested beneath his hand. She deserved better than to be trampling through the bush. The once fancy gown she wore lay in tatters. Her hair, which had once been piled high upon her head, hung limply beside her face, with leaves and sticks woven throughout. Her slender hands, which at one time probably boasted well-manicured nails, were now blistered and dirty.

  There was no choice. The Sinclair household was within a day’s ride. Arbella and Duncan would welcome them with open arms.

  ****

  The next morning both Bryce and Lucy mounted Emissary. The horse jumped into motion, sending Lucy back against Bryce’s wide chest.

  “Are we in a hurry?”

  “Aye.”

  Lucy didn’t question and for once Bryce was grateful. Half the night had been spent worrying over explaining Lucy’s presence to Duncan. Needless to say, the ribbing over the lass wasn’t something he looked forward to.

  A mist covered the ground. After they’d topped a hill, the walls of the keep became visible. Lucy tensed in his arms.

  “Is this wise?”

  “Aye.”

  Bryce took her silence as implied acceptance. Emissary cantered toward the keep. Bryce yelled, “Open the gate.”

  The door opened and they rode through. Once inside, Bryce dropped to the ground.

  Boyd arrived first, his nose crinkled in distaste. “What is that smell?”

  “Beggin’ yer pardon, Boyd, but I haven’t had time to clean up.”

  “I can see that.” Boyd crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze roved over the couple. “So you had no time to clean but ye had time to find a lass?”

  “Aye,” Bryce answered, struggling to control his embarrassment.

  Lucy still sat upon the horse. Boyd approached and Lucy arched her dainty foot upward. Bryce feared Boyd was in for a cracked jaw. Moving between the two, he made introductions. “Boyd Sinclair, meet Lucy Bard.”

  “Nice to make yer acquaintance.”

  She didn’t offer her hand as Bryce lifted her to the ground. Both her feet settled and her gown adjusted, Lucy stood erect like a proper lady.

  “I concur.”

  Bryce watched Boyd’s confusion. Without further explanation, Bryce asked, “Where are Arbella and Duncan?”

  “Inside.”

  “I need to speak with Duncan immediately.”

  Boyd shrugged and walked toward the big stone structure in the middle of the yard as a groom led the horse away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Scottish keep had been buil
t from large, irregularly shaped rocks, each one covered with green moss, hanging vines, and beautiful wildflowers. Sights and smells overwhelmed her as Bryce urged her forward.

  When they entered the massive wooden doors, they were clasped in a fierce embrace.

  “What are you doing back so soon? If you’re looking for Grant, he just left. Who is your friend?”

  The varied questions from the unknown woman made her head spin, but Bryce rose to the occasion.

  “Arbella Sinclair, this is Lucy Bard.”

  “It is nice to meet you.” Arbella shook her hand and turned back to Bryce. “Duncan is on his way. Why don’t you let me take Lucy and get her a bath and some clean clothes while you wait for him?”

  Lucy didn’t give him time to answer. “Oh, please.”

  Arbella laughed at her enthusiasm. Right then, Lucy would have left with a murderer if they offered an opportunity to get clean. With a wave, Lucy left Bryce.

  She was taken to a large room with a roaring fire. A bed with clean sheets and a fluffy mattress filled most of the area. Atop the bed lay a gown of wool. She reached out with her dirty fingers, but quickly snatched them back.

  “Hot water is on the way,” said Arbella.

  “How can I thank you?”

  “It is not necessary. A friend of Bryce’s is a friend of ours. Besides, the Lord calls us to treat those as we wish to be treated.”

  The idea that she might have entered a house of Catholics caused an inner cringe. Hesitating but a moment, she asked, “Are you Christians?”

  “Aye. We even have our own Protestant minister,” Arbella announced proudly.

  Lucy parted her lips. These people were clearly Bryce’s friends. Should she warn them of the dangers they brought upon themselves with that blatant admission?

  A knock resounded. Arbella clapped her hands together. “The water!”

  Pail after pail was brought into the room and poured into a large metal tub placed before the fireplace. Arbella handed her a bar of soap and left the room.

  For a moment, Lucy stared at the spectacle and hoped it wasn’t a dream in the process of disappearing. In a rush of exuberance, she secured the door and removed her clothes. The days of sweat and grime had stuck the material to her frame, lending to a peeling sound as the fabric loosened from her skin.

  The water had cooled to the right temperature by the time she slid inside. She scrubbed until her flesh glowed pink. She washed her hair, delighting in the rose smell scenting the air.

  When the water turned lukewarm, Lucy stood, dried, and dressed.

  Studying the gown on the bed, Lucy determined it didn’t belong to Arbella because of the shortness in length. Short and made for a person yet undeveloped, perhaps even a child. The material felt soft yet appeared sturdy, indigo in color. The dress had gold trim and a square neckline. Lace dangled from the long sleeves. Buttons located in the front made it easier for Lucy to dress herself.

  The gown fit perfectly.

  A looking glass provided a way to study herself. Twirling about, Lucy noticed how the dark material matched her eyes. Although not her usual attire, the fabric was comfortable, clean, and wonderful.

  At the edge of the bed rested a pair of sturdy leather shoes with thick soles. They would be better suited toward walking than her heeled slippers.

  Tears formed and slid down her cheeks. Kindness in the world didn’t exist, at least not apart from Christ. Anyone who thought otherwise was fooling themselves.

  With renewed vigor, Lucy stood. Refreshed in spirit, and in body, she hungered for food. Perhaps one night in the Sinclair’s company would not put her too far behind schedule.

  Outside the room, Lucy searched for Bryce. She walked down a long corridor that ended in a balcony. Then she walked the upper circle that surrounded the main hall. Below her stood men of all ages slapping someone on the back, laughing and behaving in a general way of mirth.

  The one to whom the mirth was directed gazed up. The visage took her breath away.

  Dressed in a fresh tunic, Bryce’s new plaid was wrapped around his waist, flung upon his shoulder and pinned in place. His hair glistened in the light, water droplets still clinging to the strands. The light caused his skin to glow with a bronze color which served to highlight his strength. But none of this caught her attention as much as his smile.

  His lips spread from ear to ear as he caught her gaze. He lifted his hand in summons and Lucy found herself moving forward not of her own accord.

  Once she reached his side, she lifted her head to look upon him and his arm snaked around her.

  Whispering in her ear, he asked, “How do ye feel?”

  Too overwhelmed to answer, Lucy could only manage a shrug.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Even though he’d left only a few weeks before, they held a feast in his honor. Pride swelled within his breast as the Sinclair family fawned and fussed over Lucy.

  Food liberally covered the Sinclair table. Pints of ale passed between the guests, skipping Bryce. Music flowed and Arbella urged Bryce to sing. A curious stare by Lucy sent a rush of heat to his face.

  Waving away the voices, she said, “Won’t you sing? For me?”

  The pleading tone sent him to his feet. The instruments stopped as his voice filled the room. People closed their eyes as the words reverberated off the rafters and into their hearts. The song ended, and Lucy stared at him. She stretched her lips into a wide smile.

  Thanking the musicians, Bryce returned to the table and sat beside her.

  “That was amazing. I didn’t know you could sing.”

  He shrugged. There were lots of things she didn’t know about him.

  Musicians stood. The men pushed the heavy tables aside and everyone took to the floor. The female guests were grasped and tossed about but Bryce held tight to Lucy, her small frame trembling in his large hands. Fear flitted across her face, her eyes widening as she stared at the crowd.

  “Don’t worry, lass.”

  “What are they doing?”

  “Dancin’.”

  She knitted her brows as the guests twirled around the dance floor. During part of the dance, Lucy moved in closer, laying her head upon his chest. The flutter within his heart increased. He rested his chin on her head and they danced for what felt like hours.

  As if in a dream, they floated together. She squeezed his hand and pulled him to the side of the room. “Could we go for a walk?”

  Bryce led her outside. The crisp night air caused Lucy to shiver and he wrapped his arm about her shoulders. The moonlight shone on her brown hair, highlighting strands of gold.

  A garden surrounded the main building of the keep. A path wound within, allowing a person to walk through. The rock stone path was empty. Flowers lined either side, lending a romantic quality to the air.

  Bryce had never felt more comfortable, more natural. With his arm wrapped around the lass, he felt like he’d come home. Thoughts whirred through his mind. What would happen if he asked Lucy to go back with him to Cameron lands? They could walk through their own garden. They could raise the animals and tend the ground. But would she willingly accept life as a sheep farmer’s wife?

  Perhaps she would prefer he left his home and went to live with her in England? What would it be like to be married to a member of high society? Parties and fancy clothes, mingling with those who thought themselves better than him, struggling to fit into a world that didn’t need him or want him.

  The words rested on the tip of his tongue. He would ask her preference. But she stopped him. “Bryce, we can leave tomorrow, right? I must hasten to London.”

  In jest he said, “Do ye have someone waitin’ for ye?”

  Lucy pulled back, color draining from her face.

  “What’s his name?” he whispered, heart sinking as Lucy looked away.

  When she didn’t answer, he added, “We will leave in the mornin’.”

  He turned to leave. She placed her hand on his arm, causing him to stop. “Bryce, it�
��s not like that.”

  He shrugged, but he didn’t look at her.

  “Bryce, don’t do that. Please don’t shut me out.”

  His heart breaking, he walked away, leaving Lucy alone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Left to gawk in the moonlit garden, Lucy stomped her foot in anger. How could he walk away from her like that? Just leave her standing there alone, not knowing where to go or what to do next? The big oaf!

  And what right did he have to be jealous anyway? Countless hours the man had spoken of Crissy and their future together. How many times had she listened to tales of Cameron lands? Of their greatness, of their bountiful yield, of his sheep, wonderful sheep, and how much he couldn’t wait to get home to not only his animals but his woman as well. Had she ever complained? Well, maybe internally, but never where Bryce could hear her.

  To believe after all this time that now he wanted to act all hurt by the mere idea of someone waiting for her in London. Why, he wouldn’t even let her explain!

  If that’s how he wanted to be, then he could just suffer. Lucy wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an explanation. He didn’t deserve one. Let him stew over the possibilities.

  Lucy sat on a bench carved from a huge rock that resided along the path. She wondered what to do. The situation she found herself in was turbulent. She had no time to lose. Bryce’s feelings didn’t matter.

  Lucy tapped her chin. She crossed her legs, making circles in the air with her foot. She gnawed on her lip. Perhaps he could lend assistance.

  But nay, dragging Bryce into the fray seemed an unfair thing to do. Of course he would go willingly. He’d been her protector from the beginning. From the time she’d pulled him from the river, he’d not let her down. Bryce had clothed her, fed her, and ensured her safety through miles of dangerous travel. In truth, Lucy knew she could trust him with her life as well as her secrets.