Beyond a Doubt Read online

  Bryce eyed the concoction warily. “What’s in it?”

  “This and that,” she said, shrugging her shoulder.

  Bryce nodded, still not eating.

  Emmett took the first bite. Hot liquid sprayed across the room in a perfect circle as he spit the stew from his mouth. Lucy jumped back.

  “What is heaven’s name is this?”

  “Well, I’m sorry if my cooking is not to your liking. All I could find to cook was the herbs on the wall and–“

  Emmett sprung from the table, one of his hands to his mouth, the other to his behind.

  “What have ye done? Those were me herbs,” wailed Doreen.

  “That’s what I said,” said Lucy.

  “But them herbs weren’t for eatin’!” Before Doreen said more, she held her stomach and followed her husband out the door.

  Bryce’s spoon remained poised in front of his mouth, not yet touching his lips. With a sigh, he dropped the spoon. His large hand engulfed hers as he pulled her to a standing position and dragged her toward the open door and their waiting horse.

  “Why are we leaving? They owe us shelter!” yelled Lucy, trying to move away.

  “Nay, lass. Yer attempt to kill them negates everything they owed.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lucy sat with her arms folded across her chest and her back stiff. The awkward position almost caused them to lose their balance more than once. Bryce tried to explain but Lucy wouldn’t listen. People frown on attempted killing. The only way to ensure her safety and help her reach London alive was to leave.

  With a considerable distance placed between them and Emmett’s home, Bryce stopped the horse and dismounted. Lucy didn’t move a muscle as he stalked away and entered the woods.

  He found a stick around six feet in length and used a dagger to sharpen it. Hidden beside trees and amongst bushes, Bryce waited. Within minutes the sound of an animal scurrying filled the silent forest.

  Bryce jabbed the point of the stick into a squirrel. The animal convulsed and died. Removing the makeshift spear, Bryce hoped to find another but the sound of a feminine voice calling his name sent all the animals into hiding.

  Picking up the meal by the scruff of its neck, Bryce carried it back to his waiting companion.

  “Where have you been? How dare you leave me here alone? What if — if a thief came upon me?”

  Bryce shrugged.

  “Oh, and that has to end.”

  He cocked his brow.

  “That too! I can’t stand your wordless actions a moment longer.”

  “I’ve caught supper. We will settle here for the night.”

  Lucy stumbled and stuttered to make more words, until she clamped her lips into a thin line.

  Camp set for the night, Bryce cleaned and cooked the squirrel. After eating, they laid their bedrolls close to the fire.

  Worry gnawed at Bryce. He could hide his intentions no longer; he needed to tell Lucy about his plans.

  “Miss, I know I offered to help ye but Carlisle is as far as I can go.”

  “Is this because of the incident with the herbs and us almost getting killed by those people? I’m sorry about that. You see, there was very little in the kitchen to work with. Besides, Doreen faked her symptoms. It serves her right if she had a bit of a stomachache. That was probably more movement than the woman has suffered in quite some time.”

  “Nay, that is not the reason,” he interrupted.

  “Then why?”

  “Because I want to go home. I want to return to Cameron lands. To Crissy, to my sheep. London is a mite further than I can go. But I’m sure someone in Carlisle will be more than happy to take ye on to yer destination.”

  “But—“

  “Carlisle is as far as I go.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Gustav?”

  “Jean, I’m afraid the news is not good.”

  “L.L. escaped.”

  “Thank God.”

  “But then disappeared,” said Gustav.

  “What?” asked Jean.

  “Agents found the trunk in a London slum. And before you ask, it was empty.”

  “Unbelievable,” said Jean as he paced the room in an agitated manner. Stopping in mid-stride, he added, “This means we are at the beginning. And you are still telling me we have no idea whether the Admiral is in danger?”

  “Sir, begging your pardon, but the Admiral is in danger by merely living. He is a Huguenot.”

  “Hush! Never speak those words aloud.”

  Gustav bowed.

  “Now I say again, currently we do not know if the Admiral is in danger by attending this meeting.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Am I correct in assuming you ripped the trunk apart inch by inch?” asked Jean.

  “Aye.”

  “Thank you. You are dismissed.”

  “But—“

  Jean interrupted, “Do you have more to share?”

  “Nay. But will we wait for L.L. to arrive or cancel the event now?”

  “We wait. But time is running out. The Admiral refuses to cancel the event even if it puts his life in danger. Our only hope is that L.L. arrives with the details before the event occurs.”

  “I know.”

  “Gustav, you must find L.L.. Otherwise the Admiral could die and our cause will be lost.”

  Gustav nodded as he left the room. His feet slapped the floor as he rushed to his quarters within the large government house. The chest belonging to L.L. had been retrieved and disassembled. If any message had been placed in the trunk, it was now long gone.

  Deep in thought, he paced. L.L. had always been his best agent. Messages received were accurate and reliable without fail. What could have happened this time to delay the information?

  No matter, Gustav needed answers. The trunk had been found in the possession of a con artist named Charles Dubois. The London gaol held Charles and awaited Gustav’s orders.

  He sighed. He would need to travel to London in order to question the man.

  A boat ride across the English Channel. The mere thought made his stomach queasy. He threw a bag upon the bed. Haphazardly, Gustav tossed articles of clothing within its confines. With less than a few weeks left to find L.L. and return with the vital information, time was of the essence.

  A hack waited outside. He climbed in and yelled to the driver. “To the docks.”

  The ship's crew waited in anticipation of his arrival. Once he boarded the bobbing vessel, it cast off. The rocking immediately sent him to the side as he turned green. This was set to be a long trip.

  Chapter Ten

  The copse of trees did little to shelter Bryce and Lucy from the rain and wind. The meal of squirrel and wild greens digested quickly, leaving a raw ache in her stomach. An ungrateful feeling swelled within her breast. Here she sat within the hull of an ancient tree with a good-looking hulk of an individual, and the man was preoccupied with his nails, or something of the sort.

  Bryce had stared at his hands for hours. He twisted them this way and that as if his fascination with them could not be gotten over.

  “Is there a problem?” she asked.

  He raised his blue eyes to her level and she gulped. A lady could quickly become lost in their ocean-blue depths.

  “Nay.”

  She fidgeted, her nerves causing her to talk more than she liked. “I only ask because you’ve been doing nothing but staring upon your hands since the rain began.”

  He shrugged, that infernal up and down movement.

  “Tell me about her,” Lucy asked.

  “Who?”

  “Your girl. The one you’re pining for.”

  “Oh, Crissy.”

  “Aye.”

  He studied the backs of his hands once more.

  The rain beat a steady tattoo against the canopy above, finally broken by his voice.

  “Well, she’s a hearty lass. Full figured, with lots to hold onto. She’s tough but fair. Everyone has supped at her table at le
ast once.”

  “She sounds interesting. I’d like to meet her.”

  “Crissy would like ye. She has a heart of gold.”

  “Where is she?”

  “On Cameron lands.”

  “Is she waiting for you?”

  “Aye, well, I think she is.”

  “What do you mean? You don’t know?”

  “We’ve never spoken words of commitment.”

  “What? You mean you have no promise from this woman? Why not?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “I hope you didn’t shrug when she tried to communicate.”

  Her pleasure abounded at Bryce’s happy reaction to this statement. A hint of a smile lifted the corners of his lips. Lucy settled herself more comfortably upon the bed of grass.

  “Does it always rain in Scotland?”

  “Nay.”

  “Well, pardon me if I don’t believe you. The weather, in my opinion, is unpredictable at best and abominable at worst. It is always cold and wet.”

  “Cold?”

  “Aye, cold.”

  “May I ask where ye are from? I detect an accent.”

  “Humph. Accent indeed. If you must know, I’m a mix. British by birth but raised in France.”

  “Is France warm?”

  “Well, not exactly. It’s just—“

  “That ye like to complain,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

  If not for the grin, Lucy might have taken offense. “Bryce Cameron, kind sir, you are lucky to have met me rather than others within my station. I complain much less than some I know.”

  He cocked a brow.

  Lucy played with the folds in her dress. “Of course, if I’m honest, I am lucky to find one such as yourself, willing to escort my person such a great distance.”

  Appearing pleased by the added words, Bryce lay down. He crossed his feet at the ankles, his hands buried beneath his head; the man appeared ready for a nice long nap. Perhaps she should join him.

  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.”