by C. J. Archer
"Hold on," Cat told the boy. "We're going to be fast."
He grinned and clutched the cart's side with both hands. "Good," he said.
Peter steered Cat's horse in a different direction from the one she'd come. "I know another way out. Follow me."
Cat urged the horse forward, but the animal didn't seem to need much encouragement to follow the other horses. Peter took them along a rough, barely visible track through meadows. Grass reached past the horses' fetlocks and bees danced between wildflowers. The sun beat down on her back and the sky stretched endlessly blue into the distance. The serene scene was at odds with the fear burrowing into her.
Cat became aware of her hand throbbing again. It felt swollen to twice its size, but she dared not let go of the reins to remove the bandage and check.
"Thank you, m'lady," said Widow Renny beside her, sniffing. The woman's cheeks were damp.
Cat's heart softened a little, but not enough to conquer the beat of jealousy that had started afresh now that the immediate danger had passed. "Don't thank me yet," she said. "You're not safe until we reach Hughe."
"Who is Hughe?"
Cat swung round to face her. "Lord Oxley, of course."
"Oh, aye. Your husband. I didn't know his first name." She smiled through her tears. "Hughe's a nice name."
"He never told you?"
"No, m'lady."
Cat bit her lip until she tasted blood. She hated to think what this woman did call him in their intimate moments.
"Is he waiting at the first secure farm?" Mistress Renny asked.
"What farm?"
"Where we're to change horses and clothing. I assume Mr. Monk is there already."
Monk? Cat shook her head. The conversation was getting away from her. "Hughe is ill," she said. "I'm taking you to him at Sutton Hall. He asked to see you."
"Me!" Her fingers touched her throat. "But…why would he want to see me at the big house? Why not just send Mr. Monk for us so we could continue with the arrangements as planned?"
"What arrangements?"
"The escape." She nodded back in the direction of Larkham. "M'lady, do you mean to say you know nothing about it?"
"No."
"Then why were you in Larkham at all?"
"I told you! To fetch you and take you to my husband's sickbed. He wants to see you." Cat drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was all becoming too much. The woman wasn't talking any sense. "We're going around in circles, Mistress Renny."
"My lady, I am very sorry that Lord Oxley is ill. I hope he recovers. But I don't think it's wise that you take us to him at Sutton Hall. Now that they've seen you, it's the first place that mob will come looking for us."
"Lord Lynden will sort them out."
Widow Renny snorted. "That fool?"
Cat had had enough. She was too tired to speak to this woman and her heart too sore. "Hughe is dying," she snapped. "He needs to see you. I have come all the way to fetch you and ended up saving your life. I've set aside my heart's desire and…" She swallowed a sob. "And I'm pleading with you to be by his side in case he breathes his last. He needs his loved ones around him now."
Thick silence greeted her speech. Cat turned to see Widow Renny staring at her.
"You think we're lovers?" she whispered, with a glance back at her son sitting behind them. "Me and Lord Oxley?"
"I… Yes. He told me so."
"No! No, my lady. Why would he say such a thing? It's not true."
Cat blinked at her. Was she lying? Did she think Cat would refuse to drive anymore if she admitted they were lovers? "If it's not true then what is your association with Hughe?"
"He's rescuing us. He and Mr. Monk."
"Why would he do that if he doesn't love you?"
"Because he thinks it's his fault that we're in this situation."
Cat studied the road ahead, even though the horse seemed content in following behind the others and wasn't in need of direction. "I think you'd better tell me everything, Mistress Renny. Starting with why Hughe feels responsible for your current predicament."
Widow Renny told Cat how Hughe was a leader of a group of assassins, which she already knew, and how his man Cole had assassinated Mr. Renny for terrible crimes. The victims had been too scared to accuse him directly, since he was too important in the village, so they'd gone to Hughe, albeit in a roundabout way since they didn't know who the leader of the infamous Assassins Guild was, not even after Renny's death.
It seemed Widow Renny was one of the few people who knew that Hughe was the leader, and indeed had only learned the truth in the last two days.
"Lately, the villagers had been looking to lay the blame for my husband's crimes on my sons," she went on. "Once Lord Oxley heard about the danger from Mr. Coleclough, he took it upon himself to get us out of Larkham and set us on a path to a new life. He had papers made for us, new names, money, even a small house in Kent prepared for us." She spoke wistfully, as if she couldn't wait to start afresh. "He's a good man, your husband. I owe him much yet he refuses any kind of payment and he seems embarrassed when I thank him."
"Because he thinks he's to blame," Cat whispered. "He took your husband's life and left you in a dangerous situation." The similarity to her own story was stark. "Mistress Renny, are you quite sure of your late husband's guilt?"
"Aye," she said quietly. "There's no doubt. I have the scars to prove it."
"I'm sorry," Cat murmured. "I thought…" She shook her head. She couldn't say it now.
"I know what you thought," the other woman said gently. "And it's a natural reaction when given only half the tale. I'm surprised Lord Oxley didn't tell you everything."
Cat wasn't at all surprised. Hughe had tried to keep the truth about his work from her for a long time. It was only when she'd accused him of killing Stephen that he had outright admitted it.
And now he was dying, not knowing that she forgave him and loved him regardless.
Tears pooled in her eyes and clogged her throat. Widow Renny wrapped her fingers gently around Cat's arm. "Is there anything else you wish to ask me? Anything? I'll gladly answer it."
Cat sniffed and wiped the corners of her eyes with the back of her good hand. "So…you and he…aren't…?"
"No, my lady. According to Mr. Monk, Lord Oxley is in love with his wife."
"Oh," Cat whispered. "He is?"
"Aye. Only he's not very good at showing it yet," she said gently. "But he'll learn, in time."
Time. It was the one thing they didn't have enough of. Cat's tears dripped down her cheeks but she no longer cared. "I wish he'd told me."
"He should have, true. Here's the thing, my lady. Only yesterday as I was talking to one of my boys and Lord Oxley overheard, he told me I ought to be careful telling them about their father."
"About the crimes he committed you mean?"
"Aye. Lord Oxley thought I should keep the truth from them, but I said loved ones should always tell the truth to one another. They should trust and speak honestly all the time. Secrets only cause problems."
"And what did his lordship say to that?"
"He said he believed that secrets protect loved ones from unnecessary hurt."
Cat humphed.
"He might be the kindest, most important person I've ever met, but your husband is a fool."
Cat laughed through her tears. And then she sobered. If he believed what he'd said, he must love Cat very much indeed because he'd lied endlessly.
They rejoined the main Sutton Grange road again. All was quiet behind them. Ahead, however, the pounding of hooves had them slowing down. Widow Renny's hand clasped Cat's arm tighter.
"It can't be them," Cat said, as much to reassure herself as the frightened woman. "Not from that direction."
They rounded the bend and were met by three riders. Orlando and Cole flanked Hughe in the middle. Cat gasped and almost leapt off the cart. He was as white as the moon, his face slick with sweat. He slumped in the saddle, but straightened upon se
eing them.
"Cat!" His eyes fluttered closed. "Cat," he said, softer.
She did not go to him like she craved. The glare from Cole kept her pinned to the driver's seat. "You're safe," the big man said.
"Are you all right?" Orlando asked, coming up alongside the cart. He glanced from Widow Renny to Cat then back up the road past them. "How bad was it?"
"Bad," said the boy behind them. "We almost died! But Lady Oxley saved us."
Hughe opened his eyes again and stared straight at Cat. He'd looked relieved upon first seeing her, but not anymore. Now he seemed sad and…wary?
"You're better?" she asked him.
He inclined his head in a nod without once taking his pale, penetrating gaze off her. It was as if he were assessing her, trying to see beyond her words and expressions into her soul. He could do it too, with those ice-cold eyes of his. Despite his unhealthy pallor and the way he leaned heavily on the pommel, he still had a powerful presence and a commanding air. She gulped. Why didn't he come to her? If he loved her as Widow Renny said, why did he not show it? Was this part of his ruse, his disguise?
Her fingers tightened around the reins, only to remind her of her sore hand. She sucked air between her teeth and cradled her bandaged hand in her lap.
Hughe's gaze flared to life. "It hurts," he said simply.
"Sometimes."
"You shouldn't have gone anywhere with your hand like that," Cole barked at her. "Why did you go to Larkham anyway?"
"Shut it, Cole," Orlando snapped. "You're not helping."
"I'm not here to help, I'm here for answers when no one else seems to be asking the questions."
Cat had liked Cole at first. Now, she wasn't so sure. He was so big, his eyes fathomless in their darkness. He could snap Cat in two if he chose. She sidled closer to Widow Renny and swallowed hard.
"You can berate me all you want later, Cole," Cat said. "For now, the Rennys must be taken to safety. Or have you forgotten that is why Hughe is here at all?" She didn't feel bold, yet her voice gave away none of her anxiety, thank goodness. Even Cole looked surprised, if not impressed. "The mob may be on their way." Even as she said it, she heard the distant rumble of wheels and a cry.
They all heard it.
"Orlando, take the reins from Cat," Hughe ordered, squaring his shoulders. It was as if he'd shrugged off the illness and decided he needed to take command of the situation. "You and Cole are to lead the Rennys to the farm where Monk will meet you. Cat, are you all right to ride?"
"Yes, but—"
"Good. Take Orlando's horse and go with Warren to the Hall. Warren, gather as many of the male servants and laborers as you can and bring them back here. Now!"
Orlando dismounted and passed the reins to Cat. She did not mount, but watched as the Rennys, Cole and Orlando left. Warren waited to assist Cat into the saddle. She shook her head.
"I'm not going anywhere," she said. "Warren, do as his lordship commands and get help."
Warren bit his lip. The poor lad. She'd put him in an impossible situation again.
"I came through fine last time," she reminded him.
"Last time?" Hughe echoed. "Blast it, Cat! Go! Now! It's too dangerous for you here."
"If it's too dangerous for me then it’s too dangerous for you. You're my husband. I'm staying."
"God damn you, wife!" he bellowed in a voice that held no evidence of his recent illness. "Why didn't you tell me when we wed that you were a stubborn wench?" There was no malice in it and ordinarily she would have smiled, but the wheels and hooves thundered closer.
Hughe cocked his head, listening, Cat apparently forgotten.
"Go," she told Warren. "Get assistance."
She mounted on her own after he left and arranged her skirts and underskirts so that she sat as modestly as she could in a saddle not designed for riding aside. Hughe watched her from beneath half lowered lids, but offered no assistance. Nor did he speak to her. He was not acting like a man in love. Widow Renny was obviously wrong.
Yet why did he look at her like that? Like she had betrayed him?
She hated this silence. Even now, with an unknown number of angry men descending on them, she just wanted her husband to look at her like he used to. Like he cared for her, desired her. "Did Widow Dawson know what caused the illness?" she asked.
His gaze searched her face and a deep line formed between his brows. "Poison."
"Poison!" The horse shifted at her shriek. She tried to control it while Hughe reached for the reins. "Dear God. Do you know how it was administered? Was it deliberate?"
His nostrils flared. He did not take that stark, assessing gaze off her. "In a cup of wine. It was deliberate."
Her stomach rolled. "Who would do such a thing?" But even as she said it, she guessed. Slade must have, out of revenge for Stephen's death.
Hughe pulled her horse closer to his. Their knees brushed against one another. "Do you fear me, Cat?"
Fear him? What an odd question at an odd time. "No. Never. Not even when I thought you killed Stephen for no reason." It wasn't until she said it that she realized it was true. He must be right about Stephen's guilt. Hughe was thorough and a good man. There was no way he'd kill an innocent man. "I only ever loved you, Hughe," she murmured. "Always. Right from the start."
Hughe's fingers sprang apart. He let go of her reins and their horses parted. He seemed to no longer be in control of his. It wandered off to the side of the road to nibble at the grass. He leaned forward over the pommel, drawing in great gasps of air as if he couldn't breathe.
"Hughe?" she cried, directing her horse over to him. "Hughe, you must return to Sutton Hall. You're ill."
He lifted his face and pinned her with those pale blue eyes that could be hard as diamonds one moment and soft as snow the next. His mouth twisted as he fought with his emotions. "Did you…?" he whispered. "Did you poison me?"
The world reeled. She felt herself sway in the saddle. She gripped the reins, the mane, anything to keep herself upright. She shook her head over and over. "No. Hughe, no." She wasn't sure if he heard her. Her voice was so weak and the approaching mob so loud.
And then the Larkham men were upon them, pulling their horses to a stop. Some spilled out of the backs of carts, clubs and knives in hand. There was about twenty, and at their helm was a man who made Cat's blood run cold.
Hislop.
CHAPTER 15
"You," Hughe growled at Hislop. "What has any of this got to do with you?"
Hughe positioned his horse between Cat and the mob, but one man could do little to protect her if they decided to strike. One very sick man. Hughe still looked pale and feverish, but at least he sat straighter in the saddle. Poison, he'd said. And he'd thought she administered it. All Cat wanted to do was plead with him and assure him she was innocent.
But first she had to disperse the crowd and make Hislop pay for what he and Slade had done to Hughe.
Hislop gave them a benign smile. "I'm assisting these good people to see the truth," he said. "They're deeply upset that their kinsman was murdered. They want to bring the people who did it to justice."
"Aye," said a man at his side, holding a club. "The Renny family is evil, the children born of sorcery and witchcraft. They do the devil's work."
"Nonsense," Cat said.
"Cat," Hughe hissed at her. "Quiet."
She ignored him. "Widow Renny and her sons want to live in peace, just like you do."
"They're not like us," said the thick-set man she recognized from the house. "They don't come to the village fair, or join in with dances, and they don't speak to their neighbors."
Perhaps because their neighbors wanted to kill them. But Cat didn't say that. The men believed the Rennys were evil and reason couldn't sway them.
"Go home," Hughe told the mob. "The Rennys will not be returning to Larkham. You got what you wanted. You've run them out of the village."
Murmurs and mumbles rippled through the group. They'd come all this way, only to be t
hwarted from achieving vengeance. Yet the wiser ones saw the truth in what Hughe said. They'd won. The Rennys were gone. Cat's heart lifted as she watched the anger disappear from their faces and their fists uncurl. She moved her horse alongside Hughe's, presenting a united barrier with her husband. Yet they were anything but united. She dared a glance at him, but he only had eyes for Hislop.
"And who assisted them?" Hislop cried. "You, Lord and Lady Oxley." He turned to the mob now beginning to disperse. "They do the devil's work!"
"Be careful, Hislop." Hughe's fingers danced along his sword hilt. Some of the color had returned to his face, either from anger or from the sun. His eyes, however, remained as cold as ever.
Hislop's top lip curled. "The Larkham folk only want to see justice served. They want to see the heads of evil removed from their bodies. It's only fair and right. Isn't it, men?"
"Aye," muttered some.
"The Rennys should answer to God!" cried one.
"Aye," echoed others, louder.
"They ought to pay for their sins and the sins of their father!" Hislop shouted.
The sickening "Ayes," and calls for blood, turned Cat cold.
"Why are you listening to him?" she asked them. But she realized it was the wrong question. She fixed her glare on Hislop. "What could you possibly gain from this?"
His only answer was a vicious smile that the mob didn't see. "I want to see these folk achieve justice. They work hard and yet have nothing to show for it. While you, my lord and lady, you get away with murder."
Gasps from the mob were followed by an unnatural silence. They shuffled forward, their gazes intent on Hughe as they waited for him to deny or confirm the accusation. A man could not accuse an earl of murder without proof and expect to live.
But Hughe didn't respond. Cat worried that he was gravely ill again, but he sat high in the saddle, his back straight.
If Hughe wouldn't defend himself, then she must do it for him. "How dare you," she said to Hislop. "How dare you speak to Lord Oxley as if he were a common criminal!"
"He is." Hislop's smile sent a shiver rippling down Cat's spine. "I saw his man bury Upfield."
