Beyond a Doubt(6)

Scooting as close as she dared, Lucy stretched out beside him. One at a time her eyelids descended until she fell fast asleep.





Chapter Eleven




Rustling leaves woke Bryce and he froze.

“There they are.”

“Don’t look like they got much to me.”

“True. Their possessions look slim, but I want the mare.”

“I don’t need no more women tellin’ me what to do.”

“No, ye big dummy! The horse is what I’m meanin’.”

“Oh, I knew that. The horse might bring a pretty penny in town. But what about the wee lass? I’m sure we could find a use for her.”

“I don’t know. She stinks. I’m not sure I could stand the smell of her ‘til we could dunk her.”

“‘Tis true. Smells like she’s been wallowing in animal dung.”

Bryce tensed at the sounds of hearty laughter. The thieves wanted the horse, nothing more. Perhaps if he and Lucy remained silent, the scoundrels would take the beast and leave.

The rain had stopped. Soft footfalls approached. Bryce prepared to lunge if, and only if, the action was warranted.

The sounds drew closer. Lucy jumped from his side and scrambled to her feet. With a sigh on his lips, Bryce stood and followed.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

One of the thieves brandished a glistening knife. “Why, we’re taking yer beast.”

“Over his dead body,” Lucy said, pointing her finger in Bryce’s direction.

The two individuals sent odd gazes his way. One said, “Ye don’t say? Ye think he can take both of us?”

“Aye, I do and he can.”

“Then let’s see.” Both men spread their legs in wide stances and prepared to attack.

Bryce would have tucked tail and run had the lass not been staring at him so expectantly. He retrieved a dagger from his boot and held it aloft as he mumbled to himself, “Just like defending sheep, just like defending sheep.”

“What’s that yer mutterin’, boy?”

Bryce didn’t answer while he waited for them to make the first move.

“This is nonsense,” Lucy shouted as she raised her bag and threw it into the side of one thief’s head.

The attacked man couldn’t ward off the flying bag while holding his nose and proceeded to receive a pummeling, while his companion bent over in laughter.

“Get this foul woman off of me! I can’t breathe!”

Between guffaws, his friend said, “Nay, I can’t.”

“If’n ye don’t move her away, I’m goin’ to take her clothes and sew ye up in ‘em!”

The words caused the laughing thief to act. He pinched his nostrils together with one hand while grabbing Lucy’s waist with the other. Bryce didn’t appreciate the manhandling of his companion, and rushed into action.

He shot out his fist and connected with the man’s face. Holding his jaw, the man staggered backward and knocked his friend and Lucy to the ground.

Skirts lifted and flew over her head. She kicked her legs wildly and landed a heeled shoe to the groin of one thief.

Moans and shrieks of pain came from the two men as they picked themselves up and scampered off into the woods.

Huffing and puffing, Lucy stood. Thunder boomed and lightning streaked across the sky. An arc hit the ground, lighting the fierce expression on her face. She swung her sack through the air and it landed against Bryce’s shoulder with a pop.

“What took you so long?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“You were going to let those men run off with our horse, weren’t you? Go ahead, admit it. You would have stood idly by and let them run away with our only form of transportation!”

“Me horse.”

“Whatever! The beast may not be mine but I care for her. Emissary deserves a better owner than the likes of you.”

Bryce rubbed the horse’s nose.

“And another thing, look at me when I speak.”

Bryce complied.

“What did those men mean when they talked about my foul odor? I don’t understand. You’ve said nothing.”

His gaze shifted downward, his feet scuffing the ground.

Her delicate hands, with dirt-encrusted nails, settled upon his chest and she gave him a hefty shove. Once he was out from under the tree’s protection, the pouring rain soaked him in minutes. Lucy followed. Her wet hair hung limply upon her head.

Tilting her chin upward, she raised her voice. “Why didn’t you tell me? And if you shrug your shoulders, I swear I will plunge your dagger into your heart!”

Bryce fought the urge. It took all his focus to keep his shoulders steady while he spoke. "I didn’t want to hurt yer feelings.”

“Didn’t want to — do you realize what you’ve done?”

“Nay.”

Her eyes widened as she stalked around the open field. She raised her arms above her head; her hands fluttered with irritation. “Of course you have no idea what you’ve done. It’ll be all over London. ‘Rich heiress lets herself go. Wanders around Scotland with rogue Scot, smelling like a hog lot.’ My friends will be aghast!”

Bryce nodded.

She peered at him, her eyes wild. The rain peppered her hair, washing away the dust. “You couldn’t possibly understand. A sheep farmer from Scotland doesn’t have to worry about what people say. Rumors can destroy a person within my circles. Bryce, do you hear me?” Her shoulders slumped with dejection.

Bryce led her out of the weather and to the security of the tree. “Aye, lass, I do. But ye don’t need to worry. I don’t believe the horse thieves have a connection to high society.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I don’t.”

Lucy turned in his arms. They faced one another. A look of genuine concern crossed her face. She gnawed her pink lip between her white teeth. Worry seeped into her tone as she asked, “Bryce, does my odor offend you?”

There were all kinds of things he could say. He could explain how she smelled no different from other animals, or how she reminded him of his sheep. Fear of offending her further had him staring at her lips and replying, “Nay.”

She surprised him when she answered, “Good. But when can I have a bath?”

A laugh escaped from his lips as he led her beneath the tree to ride out the rest of the storm.





Chapter Twelve




Gustav arrived in London weary and nauseous. The boat ride across the Channel had been uneventful. Not wishing to delay a moment longer, he decided to forego checking into his hotel and instead went straight to the gaol to speak with Charles Dubois.

Gustav was welcomed and taken to a private room. The door clicked closed, leaving him alone with his thoughts. When it reopened a tall, gangly man sauntered in and fell into a chair.

“Bonjour.”

“Bonjour, Monsieur Dubois.”

“I understand I’m being held so you may question me.”

“This is true.”

“Let’s begin. I wish to get out of this foul place.”

Gustav checked his temper. It wouldn’t do to upset the man before he received answers.

“I understand you were found in the possession of a certain trunk which did not belong to you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Charles.

“Very well.” Gustav stood and walked toward the door, pretending to leave.

“Wait a moment. What about me?” asked Charles.

Gustav faced him. “What about you?”

Charles held his tied hands forward. “Why am I still bound?”

“I would think it would be obvious.”

Slumping in the chair, Charles gazed at the wall. “I don’t know what trunk you mean.”

Gustav opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

“All right, all right. I found a trunk. But I don’t know who it belongs to.”

Pulling the door shut, Gustav studied Charles. “You’re lying.”

Charles lifted his hands in surrender. “No, I swear. I attended a party with lots of young women and men. When it was over, a maid drew me aside. She claimed my ‘companion’ had left the trunk. The maid asked if I knew if the owner planned to return. Of course I had no idea of what she spoke, but I did retrieve the chest. I told the house owner but he seemed unconcerned.”

Angered, Gustav contemplated cornering the man with his lies. “So you found the trunk within the house because of the maid’s information and you did nothing to it other than remove it.”

“Absolutely.”

Gustav tapped his head in thought. “You see, Monsieur Dubois, I’m having a bit of difficulty with your story.”