Beyond a Doubt - By Felicia Rogers Page 0,12
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