Emerald

by Lauren Royal

  Kendra sat beside her, her features lit with intrigue. "Any idea what?"

  Slowly Cait drew her hat off and set it on the bench. Raking the long hair from her face, she watched a dove flutter from the sky and peck around in the grass, foraging for food. A fresh scent in the air hinted at coming rain, reminding her of home, but the thought did nothing to raise her spirits.

  "You're hiding something," Kendra insisted. "I can tell."

  "Are you always so observant?"

  "Always," Kendra said smugly. "So what is it?"

  "This is going to sound daft." Cait licked her lips and smoothed the skirts of the blue day dress she'd borrowed from Kendra. Until the Gothards were caught, she felt safer disguised as an Englishwoman. "I realize we've known each other less than ten days, your brother and I, but I thought…well, I thought maybe he'd be asking me to marry him."

  Kendra clapped her hands. "I knew it!"

  "Nay, you don't understand." Tears sprang to Caithren's eyes—oh, how she hated that. She brushed at them angrily. "He made such a point of saying we'd talk in the morning. Then he disappeared." She turned on the bench to face Kendra. "I was wrong. He only wanted to tell me we cannot be together. But he lost his nerve, or just decided something else was more important."

  Her new friend reached to take her hands. "Maybe you misunderstood about this morning."

  Cait shook her head. "Impossible."

  "Then something unexpected came up." Kendra's fingers squeezed tight. "I'm sure of it. Didn't you say you needed some papers for your brother? I'll wager he wanted to take care of that before he talked to you. And when he does, it won't be to say you cannot be together."

  "It doesn't matter what he went to do or what he's going to say." Caithren pulled her hands from Kendra's and hugged herself. "I hadn't made up my mind, anyway."

  Jason's sister fixed her with a penetrating stare. "Oh, yes, you had." She smoothed her own apple-green skirts. "Whether you know it or not."

  Uncomfortable under that gaze, Caithren rose and resumed walking.

  Kendra jumped up to follow. "How is your arm today?"

  "It's healing." Cait shook her head in disbelief. "After English doctoring. I never would have thought it."

  "They say never trust an English surgeon. Quacks, one and all." Kendra grinned. "How was it cut? You said you would tell me."

  A small smile threatened to burst through her melancholy. "I never said anything of the sort. You said you would ask." She took a deep breath. "Wat Gothard nicked me with his sword. We think he was going after your brother."

  "He was?" Kendra stopped dead on the path, her face a mask of concern. "Maybe Jason went after Gothard. What if he's not here because he's hurt?"

  "Hurt?" Cait echoed numbly. "He was going to warn Scarborough today, but he said nothing about chasing down Gothard. He doesn't know where to find him. We don't know if he's even in London."

  She couldn't bear to think of Jason hurt. He didn't want her, and he didn't want to tell her, either. That was all there was to it. He would have said something were he planning to go after Gothard.

  Kendra was still watching her, as though waiting to be reassured. Suppressing her own unease, Cait touched her friend's arm. "Your brother didn't go chasing after Gothard this morning." When Kendra still looked wary, Cait forced a smile. Surely there was nothing to be worried about. "I'm certain of it. You yourself said he wasn't after revenge."

  Kendra nodded, apparently placated. "Still, I cannot believe you were injured. It sounds so romantic, being saved by the man you love." She leaned against the rail that edged the path, her eyes lit with envy. "My life is so boring. What sort of adventures have you two been up to?"

  So much had happened, Cait didn't know where to begin. And she couldn't bear retelling all the events that had brought her to admire and love Jason in such a short time. It hurt too much. "Your brother brought me from up north to here. A long, tiring journey. Things happened."

  "Things." Kendra's voice sounded speculative, but she let the matter drop. "At least tell me what you meant last night when you said you hadn't cared properly for your cut. What could you have done that the doctor didn't?"

  "There are healing plants, but—"

  "You've knowledge of healing?" When Cait nodded, she looked excited. "Could you teach me, then? I visit the sick at Cainewood, but sometimes I don't know what to do for them, and—"

  "It takes years to learn." Cait reached to pluck a leaf off a low-hanging branch overhead. "I cannot teach you in an afternoon."

  "When you come to live at Cainewood—"

  "I don't think that will be happening." Walking again, she shredded the leaf and avoided her friend's eyes. "Your brother doesn't love me, Kendra. Or at least not enough. I'm naught but an annoyance to him."

  She knew that wasn't precisely true, but she didn't know how to put it. She only knew that if Jason wanted her, he would have been with her this morning as he'd promised.

  A Chase promise is not given lightly. If he'd ever considered marrying her, he must have had serious second thoughts. Now, even should he return and ask her to wed him, she couldn't say aye. Not knowing as she did that he had doubts.

  Maybe this "adventure" had changed her mind about what she wanted from life. But for her, it was all or nothing. She knew he bore guilt for taking her outside of marriage, but that was no reason to wed. A half-commitment would never do. Even should she be pregnant—a possibility after last night—she wouldn't marry him unless she was positive she had his love.

  She adored children, and she'd feel blessed to have one, in or out of wedlock. Cameron could stand in as a father figure. People would whisper, but she'd never been conventional anyway.

  It was a gray day, to match her mood, even darker along the paths where the trees met overhead and cast their shadows. She walked beside Kendra, listening to her own thoughts and snatches of conversation from passersby. When they scooted to the side to let a wizened old vendor pass with his barrow, he nodded to them and recited a little verse.

  Buy marking stones, marking stones buy,

  Much profit in their use doth lie;

  I've marking stones of color red,

  Passing good, or else black lead.

  "Thank you, no." Kendra smiled, and the aged peddler went on. "Marking stones," she mused. "That man will be scrambling for business soon, if Jason has his way."

  "Aye?" Caithren could barely muster interest, but she couldn't be rude.

  "He's set some cottagers at Cainewood to making pencils from the graphite mined on the property."

  "What's a pencil?"

  "A long strip of graphite encased in wood. You write with it, like a quill, but you don't have to dip it. You just sharpen it, instead. Jason heard they were being made in Cumberland and traveled there to see. There is nothing he won't do to make Cainewood profitable. The Roundheads ran it into the ground while it was in their hands—when Charles restored the title and lands, Jason had to start from scratch." Her heels clicked on the hard dirt path. "My brother is an admirable sort, don't you think?"

  "All this new knowledge of Jason is a wee bit much," Cait admitted. "I spent our whole journey trying to puzzle him out, and then when I finally reckoned I understood him…yesterday I discovered he's a completely different man than I thought."

  "No, he's not." As they walked, Kendra ran a hand along the low fence beside her. "You may be surprised to find him titled and a man of means, but inside, he's exactly the man you saw. Or what you've made him to be." She stopped and leaned against the rail. "You've changed him, Cait. In good ways."

  "I don't know…"

  "Come, they sell lemonade on the other side of the square. I'll treat you." Kendra linked her arm through Cait's. "With or without brandy?"

  "Definitely with," Cait said dryly.

  The lemonade was cool and bracing. They walked around the fields for a spell, drinking and chatting, and after a while Cait started to feel better. Children ran circles around them, their harried mot
hers not far behind. Street balladers were there to entertain, as well as violinists and one lone bagpiper that made Caithren's heart swell.

  She touched her amulet, rubbing her fingers over the smooth rectangular emerald. Tonight was the wedding. She'd best head back to the house to ready herself.

  "May I borrow another gown for tonight?"

  "Of course." Kendra eyed her assessingly. "I've a lovely one in yellow that I think will just fit."

  "I'm sure it will do. Whether Jason returns or nay, I must go to Lord Darnley's wedding to meet up with Adam." By force of habit her hand went into her pocket, to feel for his portrait and pull it out.

  "Ford and I can take you. We're invited and were planning to go anyway, in order to find out who Jason killed." She squinted at the miniature. "What is that?"

  "Adam's picture." When Kendra reached, Caithren handed it over. "Do you see a resemblance?"

  "Oh, yes." Kendra grinned, looking from the wee painting back to Cait. "You've the same eyes and chin and hair."

  "That's all we share," Cait said. "We couldn't be more different." She sighed. "I'd best get back and prepare to leave."

  One more night dressed as an Englishwoman to find Adam, then she would head back home where she belonged. Her hair would go back into plaits, and she would be herself again. Hopefully without these devastating pangs of unrequited love.

  Her hand went up to stroke the foreign English curls—and she felt something missing. "My hat! I forgot my hat! I must've left it on that bench." She started running.

  "Wait!"

  At Kendra's shout, Cait turned back.

  "Have you no sense of direction?"

  "Nay." She laughed at herself. "Where was it, then?"

  "There. Behind that big tree, and back along the path a bit."

  "Aye. Bide a wee. I mean, wait here. I shall be right back."

  She hurried along the shady path, relieved when she spotted the bench and saw that no one had taken her hat. Running the last few steps, she grabbed it and jammed it on her head.

  Just then, a horse came thundering through the park. Someone scooped her off her feet. Her heart hammering, she found herself facedown across a man's lap, his hand tangled in the chain around her neck in an effort to wrestle her upright.

  She kicked and twisted, trying to find freedom, but his grasp tightened and the chain bit into her throat. Finally it snapped, and her amulet fell to the grass, her heart plummeting along with it.

  Her protection, gone. Her hope, gone.

  "Let me go!" she wailed, her eyes filling. The emerald looked smaller and smaller as they rode away, her last glimpse of it blurry through her tears.

  Something cold and thin pressed into the back of her neck.

  "It's the dull edge of a knife," Geoffrey Gothard growled, "but one more move, and it'll be the sharp side instead."

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  "What do you mean, she never came back?" Jason paced the drawing room, then came to stand beside Kendra, staring down at her. "Where could she have gone?"

  "I looked all over, then I figured she must have come back here." Her gaze kept straying to the window, as though she expected to see Cait emerge from the park across the street. "Lincoln's Inn Fields is not that big. How could anyone possibly disappear in it?"

  "You don't know Caithren." He tried to steady his erratic pulse, reminding himself how easily she tended to get lost. "She has a terrible sense of direction."

  "So she told me. But I thought she was fooling." At Jason's glare, she flinched. "I looked, Jason. Everywhere. I'm sorry. It's not as though I lost her on purpose. Come, I'll show you where we were. Perhaps she's waiting there now."

  Calm. As he followed Kendra out the door, he struggled for calm. Geoffrey Gothard couldn't have gotten her. He'd spotted him less than an hour ago.

  He hoped.

  Suddenly he wasn't sure. He pulled out his watch, but his hand was shaking, so he shoved it back into his pocket. Dodging the traffic that always surrounded the square, he trailed his sister across the street and into the park. Together they hurried along a path.

  The gray day was his enemy, its shadows tricking him into thinking he saw Cait everywhere. "What color is she wearing?"

  "Blue. The gown with the puffy sleeves that I wore to Lady Stanhope's house party."

  "I haven't memorized your wardrobe, Kendra."

  Wisely saying nothing, she slanted him a glance. "Here." She stopped before a stone bench. "She left her hat here. It's gone. So she must have found it."

  "I've eyes in my head," he snapped.

  "Your face is turning red. You never get upset. Or you never used to, until this whole thing with Gothard started. Even then, you weren't this short-tempered."

  Until he'd fallen in love. "You two had no business walking here alone."

  "Everyone walks here alone." The sweep of her arm encompassed plenty of unescorted women.

  "Not everyone has a deviant after them." When her pale green eyes filled, he drew a deep breath. Patience. "Show me the path you were on when she left you."

  Once again he followed her, scanning the square while he tried to reassure himself it wasn't possible Gothard had Cait. Or could he have his timing skewed? How long had he wandered the streets of London, berating himself for not coming clean with Caithren yesterday or the night before? He pulled out his pocket watch again and flipped it open, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what time it had been when he last saw the man.

  "Wait." When Kendra stopped, he snapped the watch closed and whirled to face her. Her brow knitted, she motioned off the path. "Is that Cait's?"

  A white feather fluttered near the ground. He ran closer and saw it was attached to the hat he'd bought in Wansford. "God. Yes." He plucked it up and clutched it to his chest.

  "Look, there was a horse here." Hampered by her high heels, Kendra came along more slowly. "The grass is torn up. By hooves, I think." She bent down and scooped up a glint of gold. "And what is this?" She handed it to him. "It's Cait's as well, isn't it?"

  As his fist closed around the emerald pendant, his heart plunged to somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. "I've lost her," he whispered, staring at his clenched hand.

  "She's lost, yes. But that doesn't mean you've lost her."

  "You don't understand. This amulet is ancient—it's been in her family for centuries. She believed something bad would befall her if ever she was without it."

  A sudden wind whipped Kendra's skirts. "Don't tell me you believe that nonsense."

  Stricken, he slowly looked up at his sister. "I don't know what to believe anymore."

  "I'll explain this one more time, numbskull. Now, pay attention."

  Listening to the Gothard brothers argue, Caithren nervously wandered the small chamber they were in, the back half of a two-room suite at an inn that had seen better days. Besides the sagging bed, a table and two plain chairs were the only furniture. The brothers must be as short of funds as Jason had guessed.

  "Thanks to Cainewood doing just as I expected of him, things are right on schedule."

  "What things, Geoffrey?"

  Geoffrey's gaze flickered to Cait. A lascivious gaze. Swallowing bile in her throat, she moved around to the other side of the table and feigned unconcern, running a finger across the bare wood.

  "Things." Geoffrey blew out a perturbed puff of air. "I'll be going to the wedding alone."

  As he talked, he donned padding to bulk up his body. He'd also worn it to inquire at Scarborough's house, Cait realized. Jason had been right.

  Still speaking to Wat, he jerked his squarish head in her direction. "You will wait here and guard the chit."

  In reflex she backed up and sat on the bed. The ropes creaked, and a musty smell wafted from the mattress.

  Geoffrey glared at his brother. "Think you can handle that?"

  Wat shrugged.

  A heavy sigh escaped Geoffrey's whitish lips. "I'll lock the two of you in, then. She won't be going anywhere unless Cainewood brea
ks down the door. If that should happen, you know what to do?"

  Wat just looked at him questioningly.

  With a huff, Geoffrey marched over to Cait and pulled her off the bed.

  "Ouch!" She yanked free. "I will thank you to keep your hands off my arm. It hurts where your brother cut me."

  Without answering her, he prodded her in the middle of the back and sent her sailing into the small anteroom, shutting the door behind her.

  She stumbled over to sit on an unpadded wooden settle. This room was even more austere than the first. Fuming, she got back up and pressed her ear to the door, but try as she might, all she heard was unintelligible murmurs.

  What was he saying? What was he planning? Her mind raced with possibilities. Was he telling Wat to detain Jason? Kill him? Kill them both? No, somehow she thought not. The way Geoffrey had been looking at her, she suspected he had plans for her before doing away with her.

  She shuddered.

  At the sound of footsteps approaching, she raced back to the settle. Geoffrey opened the door between the rooms, and she watched through the frame. He returned to the table and pulled a cracked mirror from a bag, along with a fake beard and some adhesive. Then he set to work, turning himself into the man she'd seen yesterday morn.

  Rising again, she positioned herself on the threshold. "Why would Cainewood be breaking down the door?"

  Her words came out a challenge, maybe not the smartest thing to do. But she'd never been good at controlling her emotions.

  A nasty grin appeared in the bushy brown beard. "Cainewood will receive a note explaining your whereabouts. Any minute now, I expect."

  "What makes you think he cares for me?" she asked, almost hoping Jason didn't care, so he wouldn't walk into a trap.

  "Cainewood hasn't let you out of his sight." He settled the wig on his head. "Nor far from his lips, I might add."

  Had he seen them, then, those times they'd kissed to hide their faces?

  As though reading her mind, Geoffrey let loose a sinister chuckle. "He'll be coming after you. Conveniently keeping him from the wedding."

  "I wouldn't be so sure." She wished she could put more conviction into that statement. Jason had said over and over he felt responsible for her, and he'd charged in on his silver horse to save her more than once. Just because that particular horse was stabled miles away didn't mean he wouldn't be arriving this time.