Beyond a Doubt(7)
“What?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe a person would leave a trunk behind and yet take all the contents out.”
“But—“
“Now, when you are willing to tell the truth about how you acquired the trunk and where its contents are stashed, then we may talk about your release.”
A feeling of remorse almost came over him. A vague possibility existed that the man was telling the truth. Perhaps the jailers had emptied the trunk against his orders.
Either way, Charles needed a few days to contemplate his future and Gustav planned to give them to him.
****
Gustav left the gaol and headed to the hotel. In Charles’ room, he searched the trunk. The container was devoid of even the smallest item. As far as he knew, the wooden box held no secret compartments.
He lifted the silken material around the edges, and found nothing. He knocked on the sides, but heard no hollow sounds.
Would L.L. have hidden the message in the trunk, or perhaps stitched the information within his clothing?
For the most part, L.L. was a mystery. During the last two years, Gustav had received covert messages from this individual. He knew not the agent’s occupation, age, or walk of life. All he knew was that L.L. sent messages through a London contact and the messages were always reliable.
The Huguenots, or members of the Protestant Reformed Church of France, were in constant peril. As supporters of John Calvin and his ideas, they had stepped outside the bounds of the Catholic Church, thereby ensuring their persecution. Henry II of France had had tongues sliced out and believers burned at the stake for accepting this newest of religious ideas. Many of these plots against the Huguenots originated in Scotland, the home of Henry’s ward and daughter-in-law, Mary.
Still primarily Catholic, the Scottish as well as the English queen, Mary I, daughter of Henry VIII, made life all the more difficult for the reformers.
L.L., a known traveler with the ability to change appearance quickly, had entered Scottish society. Vital information, collected on behalf of the Huguenot cause, had saved lives on more than one occasion.
Now the information the agent carried could mean life or death for the Admiral. His plan to announce a Huguenot colony in Brazil at a festival in Caen could be his undoing. Without L.L.’s information, the celebration would go forth.
The question for those involved became, How do you find operatives when you know nothing about them and they don’t want to be found?
Chapter Thirteen
Once the storm abated, Lucy pushed on, harder and harder. When darkness descended, she claimed the moon was adequate lighting. Bryce refused. If the horse became lame because of the dark, then their progress would slow even more.
Just because he was right didn’t make it any easier to take. Sheltered beneath a cover, Lucy shivered. A hot bath and a change of clothes were in order. If her friends could see her now, they’d be shocked. Huddled under a holey square cloth, sitting across from an unruly Scot. Half of her friends would be asking for his name while the other half would be repulsed.
Warmth from his body drew her closer. Fortunately, he didn’t move away as she approached. Their senses of smell had obviously been destroyed by their own filth.
“Bryce?”
“Hmm?”
“Is it possible to have a bath and a fresh change of clothes soon?”
“Aye.”
Lucy waited for further answers but none were forthcoming. Bryce whittled a stick into small shavings, laying them upon logs and starting a fire.
“Well, aren’t you going to say more?”
“I have friends close by.”
“You do?”
“Aye.”
Silence descended. Bryce touched her skin softly as he moved her hair from her forehead. The gentleness of his touch lulled her into a dream-filled slumber and she fell asleep using his chest as a pillow.
Images of daggers stabbing innocents, young children hoisted to a cross, and tongues bleeding upon the ground flooded her dreams. Violently she shook awake.
“Are ye all right, lass? Ye were moanin’ in yer sleep.”
In her sleep she had moved away from him. Pushing up on her elbow, she said, “I’m all right. Would you mind if I scooted closer to you?”
He opened his arms and Lucy fell into them. She closed her eyes and prayed the nightmares would stay at bay.
****
Bryce welcomed Lucy into his arms. The added warmth would be beneficial to both of them on such a chilly night. Unpredictable feelings assailed him. Who would have thought the short, spirited lass could weasel her way into his heart? With each passing day, thoughts of Crissy were shoved further aside and replaced by thoughts of Lucy.
Memories of Crissy’s overbearing nature found themselves replaced by new memories. Ones of Lucy trying to “poison” Emmett and Doreen, memories of her standing up for Emissary at the risk of her own person, memories of her standing in the rain drenched by the water and arguing with him over nearly everything that entered her mind.
Indeed the wee lass was worming her way into his life. Her smooth, pale skin rested beneath his hand. She deserved better than to be trampling through the bush. The once fancy gown she wore lay in tatters. Her hair, which had once been piled high upon her head, hung limply beside her face, with leaves and sticks woven throughout. Her slender hands, which at one time probably boasted well-manicured nails, were now blistered and dirty.
There was no choice. The Sinclair household was within a day’s ride. Arbella and Duncan would welcome them with open arms.
****
The next morning both Bryce and Lucy mounted Emissary. The horse jumped into motion, sending Lucy back against Bryce’s wide chest.
“Are we in a hurry?”
“Aye.”
Lucy didn’t question and for once Bryce was grateful. Half the night had been spent worrying over explaining Lucy’s presence to Duncan. Needless to say, the ribbing over the lass wasn’t something he looked forward to.
A mist covered the ground. After they’d topped a hill, the walls of the keep became visible. Lucy tensed in his arms.
“Is this wise?”
“Aye.”
Bryce took her silence as implied acceptance. Emissary cantered toward the keep. Bryce yelled, “Open the gate.”
The door opened and they rode through. Once inside, Bryce dropped to the ground.
Boyd arrived first, his nose crinkled in distaste. “What is that smell?”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Boyd, but I haven’t had time to clean up.”
“I can see that.” Boyd crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze roved over the couple. “So you had no time to clean but ye had time to find a lass?”
“Aye,” Bryce answered, struggling to control his embarrassment.
Lucy still sat upon the horse. Boyd approached and Lucy arched her dainty foot upward. Bryce feared Boyd was in for a cracked jaw. Moving between the two, he made introductions. “Boyd Sinclair, meet Lucy Bard.”
“Nice to make yer acquaintance.”
She didn’t offer her hand as Bryce lifted her to the ground. Both her feet settled and her gown adjusted, Lucy stood erect like a proper lady.
“I concur.”
Bryce watched Boyd’s confusion. Without further explanation, Bryce asked, “Where are Arbella and Duncan?”
“Inside.”
“I need to speak with Duncan immediately.”
Boyd shrugged and walked toward the big stone structure in the middle of the yard as a groom led the horse away.
Chapter Fourteen
The Scottish keep had been built from large, irregularly shaped rocks, each one covered with green moss, hanging vines, and beautiful wildflowers. Sights and smells overwhelmed her as Bryce urged her forward.
When they entered the massive wooden doors, they were clasped in a fierce embrace.
“What are you doing back so soon? If you’re looking for Grant, he just left. Who is your friend?”
The varied questions from the unknown woman made her head spin, but Bryce rose to the occasion.
“Arbella Sinclair, this is Lucy Bard.”
“It is nice to meet you.” Arbella shook her hand and turned back to Bryce. “Duncan is on his way. Why don’t you let me take Lucy and get her a bath and some clean clothes while you wait for him?”
Lucy didn’t give him time to answer. “Oh, please.”
Arbella laughed at her enthusiasm. Right then, Lucy would have left with a murderer if they offered an opportunity to get clean. With a wave, Lucy left Bryce.
She was taken to a large room with a roaring fire. A bed with clean sheets and a fluffy mattress filled most of the area. Atop the bed lay a gown of wool. She reached out with her dirty fingers, but quickly snatched them back.
“Hot water is on the way,” said Arbella.
“How can I thank you?”