She grimaced as she looked at the man she had killed. Now that the threat to her life had passed, she was nauseated by what she had been forced to do. She fought that sickness, firmly telling herself that there were far more important things to do—such as survive.
It made bile sting the back of her throat, but she began to strip the dead man of everything she could use. She cut a length of material from his heavy cloak and her blanket, and wrapped them around her feet to protect them from the cold. Grimacing with distaste, she took his hose, cutting them to fit and using the strips to tie them to her legs. She used his sword scabbard to tie the cape around herself, and stole the Fraser brooch he wore to pin the blanket around her shoulders. The man had attacked so brashly and so quickly, he still had his wineskin slung over his shoulders, and she helped herself to that as well. Shaking her head over how odd she must look, she surveyed the land around her.
After several moments of studying the area, Ainslee reluctantly confessed that she had no idea of where she was. Ian Fraser had said she was south of Bellefleur, which put her a little too close to the lawless lands between England and Scotland for her liking. It also put her farther from Kengarvey than from Bellefleur.
Ainslee closed her eyes, clenched her fists so tightly her nails scored her palms, and then took several deep breaths. She needed to decide what to do with her head and her instincts, and not her heart. Returning to Bellefleur might well be the wisest thing to do, but she wanted the decision to be one well-thought-out and not born of emotion. This was the time to think of clan loyalties, and not of her desire for Gabel de Amalville.
Even on a straight unhindered course, Kengarvey was more than twice the distance from her as was Bellefleur. She had no suitable clothing, no horse, no weapons made specifically for her small hands, and no food, only one half-full wineskin. Between her and Kengarvey lay days of rough travel. She looked up at the sky and frowned. It was nearly midday, yet there was little light. The sky was a dull threatening gray. It was certain that the weather would soon hinder any travel. Whether it was rain or snow, she was not adequately dressed to endure it. Ronald was still a captive and, if she could succeed in returning to Kengarvey, her father would never ransom the man.
Opening her eyes, she straightened her shoulders and started walking in the direction of Bellefleur. She prayed that Ian Fraser had spoken truthfully when he had told her that they had ridden south for five hours. If she kept up a steady pace, did not get lost, met no outlaws or wild animals, and the weather did not grow too fierce, she could reach Bellefleur sometime before the midnight hour. She smiled faintly as she thought of the reactions of Lady Margaret and Gabel. Seeing that would almost be worth the arduous journey ahead of her.
“Gabel, Ainslee is nowhere to be found,” Michael announced as he strode into Justice’s room, where Gabel shared a morning meal with his cousin.
“What do you mean?” Gabel demanded, finishing off his tankard of cider and standing up from where he sat on the edge of Justice’s bed.
“I mean what I just said. Ainslee MacNairn is not at Bellefleur. I took up my post outside her door as always, and I did wonder why Paul was not there.”
“I sent him away last night,” Gabel muttered, talking mostly to himself as he began to pace the room. “Where could the girl have gone? She was sleeping when I left, and that was but two hours or so before you would have taken up your post.”
Gabel stopped pacing as he realized what he had just said, and slowly turned to face his cousins. He met their knowing grins with a stern frown, but neither flinched. It was clear that they had guessed where he had spent the night. Justice could easily have watched him take Ainslee into the stable, and Michael would have grown suspicious when he did not find Paul guarding her door. It evidently took a great deal more than tiptoeing around to assure discretion, he thought crossly.
“I was attempting to keep the matter secret,” he said.
“A secret at Bellefleur?” Michael laughed, but, seeing that Gabel did not share his good humor, quickly sobered. “Mayhaps that is why she has disappeared?”
“The girl was willing,” Gabel said.
“I did not suggest otherwise. Howbeit, I would wager that she was also virginal.” Michael shrugged. “What a virgin willingly gives up in the night, she may sorely regret in the morning.”
“Do you think she has fled back to Kengarvey?”
“Where else can she be? Call for another search, if you wish, but I assure you that no corner of Bellefleur has been missed. She is gone. A number of her clothes are gone as well.”
“ ’Tis hard to believe that she would flee without Ronald or that dog of hers,” said Justice.
“Ronald, of course,” Gabel cried and strode to the door. “He may know something.”
It was over an hour before Gabel accepted Ronald’s claims of ignorance and believed in the man’s show of concern for Ainslee. He realized that the only answer to Ainslee’s disappearance, one that he found painful to confront, was that she had escaped, and that she may have done so to flee from him. As he gathered up a small force of men to search for her, he grew angry. Ainslee had used him, had bedded him in order to dull his guard that she could easily slip away. The pain he felt over her desertion began to harden into fury as he slowly began to believe that he had allowed a tiny, red-haired, Scottish lass to make a fool out of him.
As he started to lead his men out of Bellefleur, Justice trotted up beside him and Gabel scowled at his young cousin. “You should not be here.”
“I am healed enough to ride about looking for a tiny female,” Justice replied.
“The weather could turn poorly, and that could go hard on you.”
“If the weather turns against us, then I will turn back.”
“Why are you so determined to go on this search?”
“She is a tiny woman wandering about a dangerous land with no horse and none of her weapons. She did not even take her dog which, to my mind, is very strange. ’Tis but gallantry which prods me.”
Gabel snorted softly in derision as they rode through the gates. “You but find excuses to leave your bedchamber. ’Tis boredom which prods you.”
Justice laughed and nodded. “Aye, there is some truth in that.” He grew serious and studied his cousin closely. “I also have a strange feeling about all of this. True, wellborn virgins can sorely regret the loss of their maidenheads, and some even act most oddly come the morning. Howbeit, Ainslee MacNairn does not act like any lady I have met, so why should she act like one now? Why not at least take the dog? It would have been easy for her to slip the beast free. No one guards the dogs. And, Gabel, what of Ronald? Everything she has done until now has shown that she would ne’er leave the man behind, yet suddenly, she walks away without even telling him? Nay, cousin, I find this all very troubling and confusing.”
After a moment’s thought, Gabel nodded. When he had realized that Ainslee had not even said farethewell to Ronald, he too had begun to be puzzled, but at that time his anger had clouded his thoughts. His suspicions still lingered, for he did not dare trust her too completely, but now he was willing to at least listen to her—if they got her back to Bellefleur.
Ainslee stumbled down the small rise and cursed as she scraped her legs on the rocky ground. She was tired, cold, and her head ached so badly she had trouble seeing clearly at times. It was nearly sunset and, if she had judged her distances and directions correctly, that meant she was barely half the way to Bellefleur. That thought was so debilitating, she wanted to sit down and weep.
There was a dampness in the chilling air that told her the storm which had hung in the sky all day was about to unleash itself, and she feared it would be snow. Since she did not really know where she was, she did not know where she could find shelter, and that frightened her a little. If the snow was a gentle one, she could continue on, but there was always the chance that it could be a fierce storm, the sort that could leave livestock and people buried until the spring thaw.
“Enough,” she snapped at herself. “Ye have quite enough trouble to deal with without scaring yourself to death, fool.”
She paused to study her clothes, then sat down and cut a few strips of cloth from her blanket cape. Her hands were chilled to the bone and she needed to warm them. Ainslee hoped that the strips of blanket wrapped around her cold fingers would be enough to keep them from getting a dangerous chill.
“I am going to kill Lady Margaret Fraser when I get back,” she swore in a low, hard voice as she started walking again. “I am going to kill her verra slowly, too.”
As she carefully crossed over a low, swiftly running brook, she cursed the encroaching darkness. She still was not sure where she was, and finding her way through a strange land in the dark was not going to be easy. Ainslee prayed she had covered more distance than she realized, for she was definitely going to be slowed down.
Gabel had to know that she was not at Bellefleur by now, and she wondered what he was thinking, then grumbled a curse. Gabel de Amalville was probably thinking she had fled his embrace or, worse, used his lusts against him to enable herself the freedom to escape. He had no reason to trust a MacNairn, and she had begun to suspect that he had no great trust in women. He was probably out looking for her, and thinking some very unkind things about her. That would certainly please Lady Margaret, and the thought that that woman might benefit from her crimes gave Ainslee a little burst of strength. When she got back to Bellefleur, she would no longer play any games, no longer wait for Gabel to see the truth for himself, she would expose Lady Margaret Fraser for the devious, deadly adder she was.
A light flurry of snow dampened Gabel’s face, and he cursed. It was almost dark, but they still had enough light to search for a little longer; however, the coming of snow ended all hope of continuing. It was time to head back to Bellefleur and not just for Justice’s health. There was no telling how fierce the storm might become, and they needed what time they might have left to reach the safety and warmth of his keep. He was angry at the weather, angry at the dark, and, most of all, angry that he had failed to recapture Ainslee, if only so that he could have a few answers to all the questions crowding his mind.
“We must turn back,” he announced to his men, and politely ignored the relief they could not hide. He forced a smile of greeting for Justice, who rode up beside him. “You do not look poorly.”
“Nay. An easy ride looking for someone was not enough to weaken me, although I shall be pleased to get in out of the cold and damp,” Justice said.
“I do not understand how she has eluded us. Aye, she is but one small lass on foot and thus could easily hide, but we should have seen some sign of her.”
“That is something that troubles many of the men. There is no trail. There was nothing to reveal that she even left Bellefleur, except that she is not there.”
“Well, Ainslee has many skills one would not believe a woman would have.”
“That she does, but there ought to be at least a footprint, a broken twig, something. There is nothing. ’Tis as if she floated away from Bellefleur and, clever lass that she is, even I do not believe she can fly.”
“If she is not at Bellefleur, then she has to be heading to Kengarvey.”
“One would think so.” Justice shrugged. “Yet, it greatly disturbs me that we have seen no sign of her passage. None of your men-at-arms saw her leave. None of your crofters has seen any sign that someone has passed by them.”
Gabel frowned and rubbed his chin as he thought for a moment. “Do you think she may have gone in the wrong direction?”
“I have already considered that, and whilst you were glaring at the ground and cursing all women, I took the freedom to send two of your men off to look south, east, and west.”
“And they found no sign of her?”
“They have not returned to report any, so I must assume that they found none and now wait for us at Bellefleur.”
“Curse the girl, where is she? She will be caught out in this poor weather, and that can be very dangerous. Even if she is headed straight to Kengarvey, she will not reach there before the storm reaches its full strength.” Gabel realized that, despite his lingering anger, he was now worried about Ainslee. “I think I need to sit and think. You are right, something is very strange about this whole matter. I heard she was gone and immediately assumed she had escaped. Mayhaps that was a swift, harsh judgement brought about by my own mistrusts. I simply do not know, and that leaves us to ride about in circles.”
“Aye, and mayhaps we should look at what else could have driven her from Bellefleur, or if there are other reasons and causes of her disappearance.”
“Do you think some harm has been done to her?”
“Who can say, but I think you might consider the fact that the Frasers have made no secret of their hatred of the MacNairns,” Justice reminded him. “They might have decided that striking at the MacNairns was worth abusing the hospitality of their host.”
“I never considered that,” Gabel whispered, and cursed his own stupidity. “I must tread warily in finding out what, if anything, they had to do with this. They are powerful and well favored at the king’s court. It would do us no good to offend them or accuse them, without the sort of proof that cannot be denied or ignored.”
The possibility that Ainslee had been hurt or even murdered sent a chill down Gabel’s spine. He much preferred being angry, even hurt, that she had left him or even tricked him. If any harm had come to her at the hands of the Frasers, he would have to shoulder some of the blame. He had had his suspicions about his guests, and they had made no secret of how much they loathed Ainslee, yet he had done nothing to protect her from them. Suddenly, instead of cursing her as yet another treacherous female, Gabel found himself hoping that Ainslee had indeed used his desire for her to gain a chance of escape. At least she would be safe.
It was not until late that evening that Gabel got an opportunity to subtlely question the Frasers. He joined his guests in the great hall for a late meal. As he studied Lady Margaret Fraser and her father, Gabel realized that he did not find it hard to believe that they would hurt a small woman who had done them no real harm.
“I hear that ye had little success in finding that MacNairn womon,” Lady Margaret said as she had a page refill her tankard with ale.
“Nay, none at all,” replied Gabel. “ ’Tis as if the girl flew away.”
“What do ye mean?”
“She has left no sign of her passing, not a footprint, not even a scent for the dogs.”
“Ye sent the dogs out?”
“Only to try and find the start of her trail. I am not one to set the dogs on anyone. I thought it would help us, but they found nothing. Even her own hound could not track her.”
Gabel admitted to himself that Ugly’s inability to find his mistress’s scent had been the most alarming of his failures to find her. He watched Margaret closely as he spoke, but he saw no hint of guilt, or of a fear that he might discover what she and her father had done. Neither did he see any sign of concern or, more curiously, surprise. He had just told her that one tiny Scottish lady had fled the crowded, well-guarded Bellefleur leaving no trace of her passage, and that even the dogs could not sniff her out. This was at least worthy of an expression of astonishment, but Margaret did not blink an eye. It was as if she knew there would be no sign. Gabel told himself not to let his old mistrust of women now lead him to rashly suspect Margaret, but his growing suspicion could not be stifled.
“Weel, the MacNairns have always been a stealthy lot with a true skill at sneaking about.”
“Mayhaps. We only found the trail your cousin and his friend left behind. ’Tis odd, but they rode south. I thought they went to join your brother at the king’s court, which is north of here.” Lord Fraser looked up a little sharply, but Gabel saw no response in Margaret’s expression except for a slow closing of her eyes, and then one, brief narrow-eyed glance.
“I suspect they have journeyed to visit their whores e
re they become entangled in my brother’s work, and the whore my cousin Ian favors lives a few miles south of here,” Margaret replied, smiling sweetly at Gabel. “If my cousin arrives at court late, my brother will soon discipline him for his laxity.”
“As he should,” Gabel murmured, but his suspicions hardened. Even if the Frasers did not have a hand in Ainslee’s disappearance, they knew where she was. He was increasingly sure of that. “I but find it all a little puzzling that she would flee without telling her man Ronald anything, and without even trying to take her dog with her.”
“Weel, servants canna be trusted to keep a confidence and why should the woman care about that dog? She can get another one.”
Gable shrugged, not arguing her opinions, but finding the swift explanations and the intensity behind them interesting. Margaret was working hard to keep her eyes averted, thus sheltering her expression. If the woman had something to do with Ainslee’s disappearance, she was probably beginning to think that she may have made a few serious mistakes. Gabel wished she would add some revealing slip of the tongue to that list of errors, but he began to doubt that he would ever be able to get Margaret or her father to say anything that would implicate them in any crime. That left him with nothing more than suspicions, guesses, and possibilities. Gabel cursed inwardly. He needed far more than that. Ainslee’s life could easily depend upon it.
“I worry the matter too much,” he said and took a sip of his wine.
“Aye. Ye will see. When that thief MacNairn replies to your last ransom demand, it will be to tell you that he need pay you naught, for his daughter is safe at home.”
My Valiant Knight Page 11
