“You’re a morning person.” She hadn’t meant for it to come out sounding quite so much like an accusation, but well, she had a long-standing, deep-rooted suspicion of morning people. It was so unnatural.
“I like the light,” he replied—cryptically, in her opinion.
“I like it too,” she mumbled. “At noon.”
“You sleep until noon?”
“Not unless I want a lecture from Lady Thurston on the pitfalls of sloth. I’m just not fully awake until midday.” She rubbed a hand down her face. “What do you mean, you like the light?”
“It’s softer.”
“Is it?” She glanced to the east and winced. “Seems uncommonly bright to me.”
“Depends on one’s viewpoint.”
“I suppose.” Forgetting to be disgusted, she watched him set aside the first fish and reach for the second. “Something I can do to help?” she asked.
“Build up the fire.”
Evie questioned the wisdom of having her play with fire first thing in the morning, but did as he asked all the same. And in the end, she was able to produce a nice flame from last night’s coals with only a singed bit of sleeve for her trouble. She sighed at the damage to her gown. Her blue travel ensemble had gone from smart and stylish to hopelessly wrinkled, stained, and now burnt. She expected the rest of her looked nearly as frightful, but aside from twisting her hair into a braid she tossed over her shoulder, there was very little she could do about it until they reached someplace where she could make use of some soap and a mirror.
To her disappointment, McAlistair quickly dispelled the idea of stopping at an inn.
“We stay off the road,” he informed her after he’d cooked the fish, handed her half of one, and packed the other away for lunch.
“Couldn’t we stop somewhere?” Evie asked as she ate her miserly portion.
He doused the fire with handfuls of dirt and a few judicious applications of his boots. “Where?”
“A tavern? A farmer’s? A—?”
“No.”
As she had rather suspected that would be his answer, she didn’t bother grousing.
She did, however, indulge in a fair amount of grumbling when she climbed into her saddle to leave. Yesterday’s ride had turned her entire body into an aching mass of muscle and bone, and it had been a mere half-day’s journey. How much worse would a full day in the saddle be?
It wasn’t nearly as awful as Evie had feared. In deference to her comfort, McAlistair made regular stops for her to dismount and stretch. It bruised her pride a little, and her leg continued to ache, but it was far better than the numbness she’d experienced the day before. In turn, she resolved to set aside her discomfort and make the best of the trip. It was an adventure, after all, and not one she’d likely repeat.
Meaningful conversation with McAlistair was out of the question, as he seemed always to be riding ahead, or behind, or off to the side, or…well, just away from her. She preferred to think he was trying to discern if they were being followed, and not just avoiding her, but in either case, she was left to entertain herself.
And that entertainment was not to include lingering over the sight of him galloping along on his horse…even if he did look rather dashing, with his dark locks slipping from their tie to blow across his restless eyes, and the hard muscles of his legs rippling under the fabric of his breeches, and—
She jerked her gaze away from him and pointedly turned her mind to safer subjects, like the study of an unusually large shrub. Mirabelle, she told herself, would want to know all about that shrub. In fact, Whit’s wife, who had a hobbyist’s fascination with plants, would probably enjoy hearing a detailed description of every flower, tree and bush Evie came across.
And considering what she could share or bring her friends from her journey was certainly a happier thought than dwelling on her jumbled emotions. Thinking of them, instead of herself, she began to look around with renewed interest.
It was lovely countryside, she decided. Though she’d been to Cambridgeshire before, she’d never traveled far outside the major towns, and she’d never gone so far off the road. It was a whole different world, and a new experience to watch the familiar soft hills and patches of forest slowly give way to the low-lying fenlands. If she’d been in a carriage, she likely would have occupied her time with reading or conversation, only bothering with the occasional glance out the window. She wouldn’t have appreciated the gradual changes, the soft shading of color, or the airy charm of a distant windmill.
She reached out and pulled a few leaves from a tall plant, noting the light sage fragrance, and tucked them into her pocket for Mirabelle. Perhaps she could find a wildflower to press for Kate. Sophie would like nothing better than a fine story or two, and Evie was certain she’d have plenty before the trip was out.
Preoccupied with her surroundings and thoughts of her friends, Evie barely noticed the morning passing until McAlistair rode up beside her, declared it time for lunch, and brought the horses to a stop. They settled on one of the blankets—at Evie’s insistence, for he would have been content to stand and eat—and quickly consumed the fish McAlistair had saved from breakfast. Generally, Evie preferred her fish warm and with seasoning, but having had so little to eat in the last twenty-four hours, the meal tasted like ambrosia—a sadly inadequate portion of ambrosia.
Evie gave a passing thought to offering a portion of her share to McAlistair. Then she ate her meal in four greedy bites. She wasn’t quite that noble.
To distract herself from the fact that the fish had done so little to assuage her hunger, she once more turned her attention to the scenery. It occurred to her that if someone had been out for her head, she’d be ill at ease riding, not to mention sitting, in such open land. “What convenient targets we make,” she commented absently.
McAlistair finished the last of his fish and looked to her. “Sorry?”
She waved her hand at the open landscape. “There’s no place for us to hide here. Not that we need it,” she was quick to add, “but if we did, we wouldn’t have it.”
“No place for anyone else to hide either.”
“You have a point.” Anyone who might like to take aim at them would need to make himself a target as well. “What would happen then, if a man on a horse came charging toward us all of a sudden? Would we simply begin firing at each other and hope we have the better aim, or would we run and hope our horses could outlast his, or—”
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
His earnest tone had her turning to him. The intensity of his gaze had her turning away again, her breath caught in her lungs. A discomforting combination of heat and guilt settled in her chest.
That had been thoughtless of her.
McAlistair believed the ruse to be real. He shouldn’t, of course—she had told him the truth—but the fact remained that he believed her to be in danger. And that belief made his willingness to see her safely across several counties an act of genuine selflessness. She had no reservations about arguing with him about the necessity of his concern, but she should take more care not to poke fun at him for it.
“I know you won’t,” she said quietly.
“Because you don’t think yourself in danger,” McAlistair guessed.
“Well, yes,” she admitted, still unable to meet his eyes. “But only in part.”
“You think you’re capable of seeing to your own safety.”
“Well, yes,” she said again. “But if I were in danger and incapable of taking care of myself, I would certainly trust you to see to the job.”
“You’re too kind,” he said in a dry tone.
It sparked a laugh from Evie, and laughing helped the tense moment to pass. “It’s true, I am a bottomless well of generosity.” She blew out a long breath and rubbed her hands against her blue skirts. “And now that we’ve agreed upon it, I suppose we should be moving.”
“In a hurry to ride?”
She gave him a wry smile as she stood. “I am
in a tremendous hurry to arrive.”
“It will be another day, yet,” he reminded her as he rose in the smooth, graceful manner that Evie knew she’d never grow accustomed to.
“I know. At least we’ve clear weather,” she replied with determined cheerfulness.
Perhaps, if she hadn’t been quite so determined, she might have noticed the way McAlistair glanced darkly at the horizon or the way his lips moved to frame the words, “For now.”
The sun of afternoon held none of the gentle warmth Evie had enjoyed that morning or the cheery light she’d barely noticed at noon. The afternoon sun was hot, harsh, and just as it had the day before, beat mercilessly down on her head and back.
She grimaced as a line of sweat trickled between her shoulder blades. She felt, and no doubt looked, positively gruesome. If only McAlistair would change direction for a few minutes so that she might roast a different part of—
She cut off her own line of thought.
Why the devil was the sun beating on her back? She twisted in the saddle to peer behind her, ignoring the shriek of protest from her sore muscles.
They were going east, she suddenly realized. They’d been going east nearly all day. Norfolk was not straight east. Stunned, she brought the horse to a stop.
“McAlistair?”
He’d been riding within speaking distance for a change and brought his own horse to a halt beside her. “Something the matter?”
“No. Yes. I have no idea,” she decided.
A line formed in his brow. “Is it your leg?”
“No, I…” She shifted her weight. “Are we lost?”
“No.”
She blew out a short breath of annoyance. Wasn’t that just like a man? He wouldn’t even consider the possibility he might be in the wrong, even when a great shiny orb in the sky indicated otherwise.
“You know where we are, then?” she asked.
“Not far from the village of Randswith.”
Being completely lost herself, she had absolutely no idea if that was true. “The thing is, McAlistair…we’re going east.”
“Yes.”
She opened her mouth, closed it. Oh, hell, what had she been thinking, following a man who likely hadn’t left the Haldon grounds in nearly a decade?
“I…” She took a deep breath and tried for a gentle tone. “McAlistair, Norfolk is to the north, not the east. I mean, it is a hair to the east, certainly, but not a full day’s worth of riding. We must be near Suffolk by now.”
His eyes moved over the land as he spoke. “We’ll be in Suffolk tomorrow.”
“But the cottage is in Norfolk.”
“Change of plans.” He turned to study the subtle trail they had left through the tall grass.
“Change of plans?” She started a little. “What change of plans?”
“We’re going to Suffolk.”
A small bubble of laughter escaped her throat. “But why?”
He was quiet a moment, but rather than take immediate offense, as she might have two days ago, Evie waited patiently—relatively speaking—for him to speak. Silence following a question, she was beginning to realize, didn’t necessarily indicate a refusal to answer. It didn’t necessarily indicate he would answer either, but it seemed only fair to give the man a chance.
“We decided Suffolk would be best,” he finally admitted.
Evie decided so little enlightenment had not been worth the wait. “We?”
“Whit, William, Mr. Hunter—”
“Before we left Haldon? You altered our destination before?”
“Yes. For the best.”
“And no one thought to tell me?” If he answered with any variation of “for the best,” she was going to kill him. Reach right over, grab his reins, and wrap them around his neck.
“We couldn’t risk it.”
She narrowed her eyes. That was dangerously close. “Risk what?
“You telling the staff where we were headed.”
She jolted a little in the saddle, stung by the insult. “I can keep a secret.”
His mouth hooked up at the corner. She wished she didn’t find that quite so attractive.
“Did you?” he asked.
No, she’d told Lizzy, but she’d be damned if she’d admit to it. “No one asked me to.”
He transferred his reins to one hand. “And if we had?”
“I am a Cole.” She straightened her shoulders. “I always keep my word.”
“I’ll remember that.”
She twisted her lips. “And I suppose I should remember you’ve no qualms about lying to me.”
“Probably,” he replied easily, which earned a small smile from her. “But in this case, I just didn’t tell you.”
“Lying by omission is still a lie.”
“It was more a failure to correct a misunderstanding.”
She laughed softly. “You’ve a clever tongue when you’re of a mind to use it.”
“It’s been a great while since…” He trailed off and cocked his head just a little. “You’re not angry.”
“Of course not. Mine is vastly cleverer.”
“For the uncorrected misunderstanding.”
“Not particularly, no,” she admitted. “At least, I’m not any angrier over this bit of misinformation than I am over the towering mountain of misinformation preceding it. I’d say my feelings on this fall somewhere between astonished and irritated.” She sent him a hard look. “In the future, however, I would very much appreciate being informed of any changes in our itinerary.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment, which was as close to an apology as she expected to gain from the likes of McAlistair.
“Well then,” she said, “if we’re not headed to Mr. Hunter’s cottage—”
“We are, just a different one.”
She blinked at that. “How many does the man own?”
“A number.”
“You don’t say,” she drawled. “Shall I take that to mean you don’t know?”
“If you like.”
She laughed again and urged her horse forward. It mattered very little to her where, exactly, they were going, as long as they arrived in a timely fashion. She desperately wanted a hot bath.
They rode for the next hour in much the same manner as they had earlier, with McAlistair prowling about and Evie left to her thoughts.
When a thick wall of gray clouds appeared on the horizon, those thoughts turned to rain. When the wall had moved to cover half the sky and block out the sun a mere twenty minutes later, she wondered if they were in for a storm.
“Ominous clouds,” she murmured to herself before turning and repeating the same words to McAlistair as he rode up next to her.
He nodded. “We may need to stay in Randswith. Do you know anyone there?”
She smiled. “I am the niece of the dowager Lady Thurston. It’s probable I’ve met someone from every city, town, and village in the country.”
He dug through one of the bags attached to the saddle, pulled out a green woolen cape with hood, and handed it to her. “Here.”
She took the unfamiliar garment and stared at it. “Where on earth did you get this?”
“Lady Thurston. Last-minute addition at Haldon.”
“Where on earth did she get it? It isn’t even remotely fashionable. I can’t imagine why she would have it lying about.” Her head snapped up to his. “Unless, of course, she had it made in advance. Because she’d planned on my having to use it. She knew—”
“Just put it on, Evie.”
She almost reminded him of his agreement to listen to her concerns, before remembering she’d traded that right for a kiss. She sighed and pulled on the cloak. She couldn’t regret her decision to lose the wager, even if the cape was a size too small across the chest—apparently, it hadn’t been made for her—so that the material pulled uncomfortably across her shoulder blades as she closed the clasp under her chin. The kiss had been worth it.
She rolled her shoulders and grimaced a
t the way the rough wool scratched the back of her neck. She pulled the hood up and caught the strong odor of old trunk and…
She sniffed the inside of the hood and wrinkled her nose. What was that?
Pulling up a corner of the hem, she found a dark stain, and the odor got stronger. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t possibly…
She saw it then, caught in the inside seam, a small, dark pellet that could only be a mouse dropping. “Bloody hell.” She struggled out of the ill-fitting garment. “I take it back. It wasn’t worth it. I want a rematch.”
McAlistair watched her tear off the garment. “Keep it on. A rematch of what?”
Thinking it best to ignore that last question, she held the cape out at arm’s length and addressed the first. “I’ll not keep it on. It’s full of mouse droppings.”
“I don’t see any.”
“Well, they’re small, aren’t they?” And full may have been something of an exaggeration. Still, one mouse dropping qualified as quite full enough, in her estimation.
“Shake it out, then,” McAlistair advised.
She gave him a doleful look. “Above and beyond the fact that it doesn’t fit and scratches horribly, there’s a suspicious stain and an obvious smell. Somehow, I doubt shaking it out will alter the size and feel, nor disguise the signs that it has been, for goodness only knows how long, a home for rodents.” She gave the cape a disgusted look. “I can’t believe my aunt expected me to wear this. She could have at least had it washed out first.”
“As I said, it was a last-minute addition. Shake it out and put it on.”
She dropped her arm to her side with a sigh. “If I thought for a moment that our safety was dependent on my not being seen, I promise you I would—”
“There’s your reputation as well.”
Blast, he was right. She couldn’t be seen at an inn with McAlistair. She’d be ruined. “Why don’t we skip the inn and spend another night in the woods?” she suggested hopefully, even while her heart sank at the idea of forgoing a hot bath and decent meal. “We could find a quiet spot with a bit of cover and a stream. You can teach me to fish with my bare hands.”
She rather liked the idea, now that she thought on it. She could make do with a cold bath. And without the fear of waking up in pain, another night spent under the stars, surrounded by the moonlight and the sounds of the forest, seemed an enjoyable prospect. Particularly with McAlistair beside her.
Mcalistairs Fortune Page 9
