A patch of wildflowers grew beside the stone bench. A daisy brushed against her arm. Lucy plucked the flower and rubbed the petals. Why had Father left her in such a situation? Why had she ever agreed to take on the task?
Placing her hand in the bag at her waist, she drew out the fan. Light reflected through the thin, glossy material and she narrowed her eyes. It was no use. The code was undecipherable without the key. Disheartened, she placed it back into the bag. The enormity of her situation hit her, and she wept.
****
The next morning, Bryce waited astride Emissary. The Sinclairs had graciously provided another mount for Lucy as well as spare clothing and food stores for the rest of their journey. Their generosity caused tears to well in her eyes.
A letter of introduction was pressed into Bryce’s possession. They planned to ride to Greenbriar before heading to Carlisle. Sarra and Cedric MacNeil were sure to extend a warm welcome and plenty of hospitality before the continuation of their travels.
Arbella hugged her goodbye while Bryce received a farewell handshake from Duncan. Leaving such a friendly place was bittersweet. For a brief time, Lucy had felt normal, with a roof overhead and a warm, comfortable bed at night. But, as always, the feeling never lasted.
The sense of ease between Bryce and herself had all but disappeared overnight. The awkwardness from their first encounter returned with a flourish. Perhaps this was for the best. The anger would make their parting that much easier in the end.
They left the Sinclair home with little fanfare. The villagers still slept in their beds, and the sun lay behind the hills.
The first day of travel, they didn’t speak. The silence between them was punctuated by the sounds of crickets chirping and small animals scurrying into hiding places. Angry and hurt by Bryce’s demeanor, Lucy swore she would never be the one to break the silence.
As night fell, Bryce found a cave. Barely more than a hole in the rock wall, it still sheltered them from the wind. Bryce started a blazing fire at the entrance and Lucy edged closer to the heat. She sent a glance in Bryce’s direction as he huddled against the back corner.
The childish act begged a response. Not usually one to back down from her word, Lucy could stand the silence no longer and made an exception. “Bryce, I’m cold.”
“Move closer to the fire.”
“If I get any closer, I’ll be in the fire. Aren’t you cold?”
“Nay.”
“Oh, must just be me. I’m sure I’ll be all right. I’ve heard shivering warms a person. No need to worry.”
The Scot fidgeted and Lucy fought the urge to smile.
“Of course, if I become ill, travel will be more difficult. Why, I might have to ride with you lest I become faint and fall from my horse.”
Bryce inched closer.
“The wind has an extra bite tonight, don’t you think? Maybe it’s because last night I was snug and warm in a soft bed and now I’m not. By the way, I don’t believe I thanked you.”
Without warning Lucy moved in and placed a chaste kiss upon his cheek. Even with only the glow of the crackling fire, Lucy noticed a red hue covering his face as he jumped to his feet.
“We need more wood,” he mumbled, stalking off into the darkening night.
Lucy leaned back against the cave wall. Memories of Bryce speaking about Cameron lands, Bryce droning on and on about sheep, and Bryce extolling the virtues of his future wife Crissy, reverberated through her mind and she realized her mistake. Bryce was a sensitive, caring man who didn’t take things lightly. Like her, he wanted to settle down in one place and raise a family, but unlike her he had that choice.
She was a flighty sort. Although as a young child she had rested her head upon the same pillow for more than a day, now that had changed. One place to live, and having a family, were not for her. Other people depended on the role she played. She couldn’t stop now. To end her mission would have extreme repercussions.
The kiss had done nothing more than offer a kind soul a false sense of hope. One she couldn’t expect to reciprocate. What had she done?
Chapter Seventeen
He had to get away. The proximity to Lucy was killing him. Thoughts of Crissy had fled and left in their wake a budding love for another. Lucy was exciting, and here with him now.
Even he knew a future with Crissy was mostly fantasy. Of course he’d told Grant and the others she waited for him upon Cameron lands. But was it true? Perhaps only in his mind. Without the words of commitment, how could he be certain? And what about his newfound faith? These years apart had changed him. Living in the Sinclair keep had changed him. Bryce wasn’t the same man he’d been when he’d left Crissy.
And so what? Even if he did have feelings for Lucy, what about her statement that someone waited for her in London? Lucy had never commented on whether this person was a suitor, but she’d never said he wasn't, either. Avoiding her was his only option. If he didn’t speak to her, if he didn’t watch her, if he focused on everything else around him, then maybe he could ignore her existence. He only had to make it to Carlisle.
He’d been doing so well. They hadn’t spoken to one another all day. Bryce had almost patted his own back and then she’d started talking about being cold. Instinct had kicked in and before he knew it, he had scooted closer. Honestly, he’d tried to stay away but the lass just kept sucking him back in. And what about her last action? How could she lean over and kiss him like that?
He placed his hand against his cheek. It still burned where her lips had pressed ever so slightly. Would he ever forget the feeling that coursed through his body at such a simple touch? Crissy, nor any other lady, had made him feel such a way.
The woods ran on forever. Afraid of losing sight of Lucy, Bryce pounded a circle in front of the cave. Pacing and muttering, muttering and pacing. Things were meant to be this way. He had a plan for his life. Go to Cameron lands, be a sheep farmer, husband to one woman, and a father to many children.
But he also had an obligation. A commitment to deliver Lucy safely to Carlisle had been spoken. If that meant he must suffer through holding her in his arms to ward off the chill, then so be it.
Those thoughts brought a smile to his face. Walking back to their camp, he saw Lucy sitting beside the fire, bundled in heavy furs. Duncan and Arbella had been generous with their giving, which made Bryce pleased to call them friends.
A twig crunched beneath his foot. He hoped the noise would be enough to alert her to his presence. Her head snapped upward. Her eyes widened with fear, reflecting in the dancing flames.
“It’s me, lass.”
A whoosh of breath passed through her clenched teeth, and Lucy visibly relaxed. Without asking, Bryce lifted a corner of the coverings and slid inside. Within minutes they generated enough heat to enact a sweltering effect.
“Is it hot in here?”
“Aye.”
“Perhaps we don’t need so many coverings.”
“Aye.” The sound of his own voice repeating the one-word answers made him cringe.
“We should sleep,” she said.
Bryce nodded. The two of them settled side by side, their arms touching. Lucy rolled toward him and stared at his face. Lights from the dying embers flickered, causing shadows to dance on the rock.
“I’m sorry.”
The unexpected apology had him turning toward her and asking, “Why?”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you. You may find it hard to believe, but sometimes I can be a bit impetuous.”
The eyebrow rose before he could stop himself. Lucy must have seen it in the flickering light, for she continued to offer an explanation.
“Father always complained about my impulsive nature. You must understand, I was born this way. I’ve always chased the cat and pulled its tail or stuck my hand in a hollow tree and been stung. I see your frown. You don’t believe me?”
“Aye, I believe ye.”
“What is it, then?”
“I believe ye are impetuous, lass. W
hat I’m havin’ trouble with is yer explanation.”
“And what, pray tell, is wrong with my explanation?”
“Well, it seems a bit contrived. I believe ye wanted to kiss me, but now yer embarrassed by yer forwardness. But don’t be. I understand.”
“You understand?”
“Aye. I’ll forgive ye. We can move past this incident.”
“We can?”
“Aye, we can. Now close yer eyes and go to sleep. Tomorrow the ride will be long.”
Lucy furrowed her brow yet within minutes, a soft snore escaped her lips. Bryce reached out and smoothed her wrinkled brow. The silken feel of her skin caused heat to radiate up his arm. The boasting from before seemed far away. What had led him to flirt with her so? It surprised and pleased him that the lass had seemed flustered by his words.
Staring at her now, he realized if he moved a tad closer, their lips would touch. Would the feeling be as powerful as the kiss upon his cheek? If he kissed Lucy, would he ever want to let her go? As much as he hated to admit it, the day was coming when he would have to say goodbye. Perhaps his desire to be close to her would decrease with time. If not, then he would leave his heart and his life in Carlisle.
Chapter Eighteen
The arduous journey across the Scottish lowlands began in earnest the following morning. No sooner had the sun peeked over the hills than they mounted their horses and set off. The days flew by. Too many passed. Would her arrival come too late?
Lucy’s bottom swayed on the horse. Saddlesore and weary, she couldn’t wait for the day to end. Each morning it was harder and harder to climb back on the beast. How she longed for a covered carriage with its soft, plush seats. To have a coachman wield the reins and guide the horses in the desired direction, allowing her to ride in royal style.
Closing her eyes, she could almost envision London. Horses’ hooves echoed upon the cobbled streets. Townhouses with doors open welcomed visitors. Father at home to greet her with a smile plastered upon his face, the maids curtseying and attending to her every need. Her home filled with people telling stories and laughing loudly. One room filled with smoke, another reeking with perfume.
Sorrow washed over her as she realized these memories were passing fantasy. At one time this had been her life, but no more. Father’s extra activities had changed everything. Now nothing waited for her. All was lost.
****
“Sir, sir, Gustav has sent word.”
Jean examined the letter before him. The wax seal was secure. With pains, Jean opened the missive and broke the seal. Spectacles rested upon the tip of his nose as he read.
Dearest friend,
There is no word from London as of yet. The container proved a dead end. The process of finding our mutual acquaintance is underway. Send any word you have. G.
Jean removed his spectacles, leaned back in the leather chair, and propped his legs upon the wooden desk. With his hands cupped behind his head, he proceeded to think.
In his mind he summarized the clear message behind the words. Charles was a dead end and their only hope rested in L.L. Now Gustav sought information on the agent’s identity.
What could Jean tell Gustav that he didn’t already know? The answer was simple: nothing. No one knew L.L.’s identity.
Some theorized L.L. was a woman of means, but the idea had been rejected by virtue of its ludicrous nature.
Another rumor held that the agent was a servant in an influential household with access to private information. Yet another idea held that L.L. was an elderly gentleman, perhaps an older man who frequented circles beneficial to their cause.
Rumors regarding L.L.’s identity amounted to naught. The agent had never been seen in person. The agent never met his contact in the same place twice. Nor did the means of leaving his message ever match with the one before.
One message found its way into a bottle and bobbed along until discovered by a passing contact. Another time the agent embedded a small scrap of paper inside a hat destined for his contact. L.L encoded a message in a handbill for men’s footwear. By pure happenstance the agent’s contact saw his name spelled oddly with the lettering and thus took time to decode the message within.
Scratching his brow, Jean realized that not even L.L.’s contact knew the agent’s identity. Indeed, the thought of finding the agent would be like finding a needle in a haystack.
Gustav would have to find another way. Perhaps finding Joshua, the agent’s current contact, would help.
Parchment and quill in his hand, Jean struggled with the words to write. The Admiral wouldn’t cancel his speech without proof his life was in danger. L.L. was the only one they knew of who could acquire such proof. If L.L. didn’t show up, what would they do?
Chapter Nineteen
“I won’t do it again. I won’t.”
Bryce looked up from the bubbling pot. The meat released a pleasing aroma as he stirred the brew with the spoon.
“I won’t, Bryce, and you can’t make me.”
Bryce didn’t respond as he retrieved bowls from their pack and ladled stew into the containers. Steam rose into the air.
“I know you don’t believe I’m serious but I am.”
He whistled a tune, the words of a familiar song echoing in his mind.
“Bryce, are you listening to me?”
“Aye.”
“Then don’t you want to know what I’m talking about?”
“Verra well. Since I don’t think ye will quit talking ‘til I respond. Please tell me what ye are refusin’ to do.”
Pointing her shaky finger at her horse, she said, “I refuse to climb back on that horse! Every muscle in my body aches from bouncing around and I won’t do it again.”
Bryce sighed. Lucy paced with her hands held at her back. A frown was plastered upon her face. Without warning she changed the subject.
“When will we reach Greenbriar?”
“A few days,” he answered.
“Thank heavens.”
“I’m sorry for yer soreness, lass.”
“Why are you so kind to me?” Lucy asked, raising her brow.
Bryce shrugged.
“I’ve been rude, testy, moody, and I’ve complained constantly, yet you are continuously kind and considerate.”
“I’m commanded to be this way.”
As he watched, she placed a finger upon the dry, dusty ground and drew a fish. Bryce stared at the image. It was the Christian symbol used during the time of Christ. With his foot, Bryce rubbed away the design and smiled.
They rested. Bryce could have spent the remainder of his days in this one spot. This was the most riding he’d done in years and truthfully Lucy was not the only one suffering from the experience.
When they started out the next morning, they walked. For the next three days, they alternated between walking and riding. Finally Greenbriar came in sight and Bryce had to stop himself from kissing the ground.
They entered the keep and a large man fitting Cedric’s description approached them. Bryce bowed and said, “Laird Cedric, it is a pleasure to make yer acquaintance again.”
Introductions made, Bryce passed Duncan’s letter over. Cedric and Sarra welcomed the couple with open arms. They received a suite of rooms in the main keep. Bryce was impressed by Sarra’s English hospitality.
“Charism, do you remember Bryce Cameron?” asked Sarra, playing hostess.
“Nay,” answered the elderly woman.
“Of course you do. He was one of Duncan Sinclair’s men. We met him when you helped Arbella birth the twins.”
“Big man, no fightin’ skills, didn’t talk much?”
Sarra cringed but Bryce smiled. The woman had him pegged right from the beginning.
And that was how the visit went. By afternoon everyone was on a first-name basis and sharing stories.
Cedric MacNeil, Laird of Greenbriar, was in rare form with his tales. “Too scared to meet the ancient woman of the keep myself, I hired someone to do it for me. The man returned
with stories of floatin’ heads and ghosties! Imagine my surprise when I fell madly in love with the maid, only to discover she was the true perpetrator of those acts!”
Sarra landed a playful swat upon Cedric’s arm and asked, “And how did you two meet?”
“I saved him from drowning,” answered Lucy.
“Aye, she did,” said Bryce.
Lucy played with her food and explained. “Pulled him out of the water and what does he do but accuse me right then and there of trying to push him under to begin with. Why, I’d never been so angry in my life!”
Hoots of merriment convulsed through the attendees.
“Why are you together now?” questioned Sarra.
“Bryce is assisting me. I must return to London and he has been kind enough to provide escort.”
Cedric sent him a worried glance. His look expressed many concerns. When the night of visiting ended, Cedric pulled him aside. “Bryce, what are ye doin’?”
“I’m helpin’ a lady.”
“Goin’ to London seems important to her.”
“Aye, it is.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“What? What do ye mean, ye don’t know?”
“I haven’t asked her.”
“Whyever not?”
“Because maybe I don’t want to know the answer.”
“But—“
“Cedric, please. As Duncan asked ye in the letter, could ye provide recommendation to me for the royal court? I don’t plan on drawin’ attention to myself but on the off chance—“
“My recommendation won’t help ye much.”
“But surely—“
“My time was spent under young King Edward. He followed his father’s footsteps in regard to religion, but I’m afraid the new monarch, Mary, doesn’t feel the same. The woman’s goal is to revenge the treatment of her mother. She blames the Protestant church for all her ills. Nay, I’m afraid anything I would send might only make matters worse for ye.”
Beyond a Doubt Page 5
