Beyond a Doubt - By Felicia Rogers Page 0,17
you. You may find it hard to believe, but sometimes I can be a bit impetuous.”
The eyebrow rose before he could stop himself. Lucy must have seen it in the flickering light, for she continued to offer an explanation.
“Father always complained about my impulsive nature. You must understand, I was born this way. I’ve always chased the cat and pulled its tail or stuck my hand in a hollow tree and been stung. I see your frown. You don’t believe me?”
“Aye, I believe ye.”
“What is it, then?”
“I believe ye are impetuous, lass. What I’m havin’ trouble with is yer explanation.”
“And what, pray tell, is wrong with my explanation?”
“Well, it seems a bit contrived. I believe ye wanted to kiss me, but now yer embarrassed by yer forwardness. But don’t be. I understand.”
“You understand?”
“Aye. I’ll forgive ye. We can move past this incident.”
“We can?”
“Aye, we can. Now close yer eyes and go to sleep. Tomorrow the ride will be long.”
Lucy furrowed her brow yet within minutes, a soft snore escaped her lips. Bryce reached out and smoothed her wrinkled brow. The silken feel of her skin caused heat to radiate up his arm. The boasting from before seemed far away. What had led him to flirt with her so? It surprised and pleased him that the lass had seemed flustered by his words.
Staring at her now, he realized if he moved a tad closer, their lips would touch. Would the feeling be as powerful as the kiss upon his cheek? If he kissed Lucy, would he ever want to let her go? As much as he hated to admit it, the day was coming when he would have to say goodbye. Perhaps his desire to be close to her would decrease with time. If not, then he would leave his heart and his life in Carlisle.
Chapter Eighteen
The arduous journey across the Scottish lowlands began in earnest the following morning. No sooner had the sun peeked over the hills than they mounted their horses and set off. The days flew by. Too many passed. Would her arrival come too late?
Lucy’s bottom swayed on the horse. Saddlesore and weary, she couldn’t wait for the day to end. Each morning it was harder and harder to climb back on the beast. How she longed for a covered carriage with its soft, plush seats. To have a coachman wield the reins and guide the horses in the desired direction, allowing her to ride in royal style.
Closing her eyes, she could almost envision London. Horses’ hooves echoed upon the cobbled streets. Townhouses with doors open welcomed visitors. Father at home to greet her with a smile plastered upon his face, the maids curtseying and attending to her every need. Her home filled with people telling stories and laughing loudly. One room filled with smoke, another reeking with perfume.
Sorrow washed over her as she realized these memories were passing fantasy. At one time this had been her life, but no more. Father’s extra activities had changed everything. Now nothing waited for her. All was lost.
****
“Sir, sir, Gustav has sent word.”
Jean examined the letter before him. The wax seal was secure. With pains, Jean opened the missive and broke the seal. Spectacles rested upon the tip of his nose as he read.
Dearest friend,
There is no word from London as of yet. The container proved a dead end. The process of finding our mutual acquaintance is underway. Send any word you have. G.
Jean removed his spectacles, leaned back in the leather chair, and propped his legs upon the wooden desk. With his hands cupped behind his head, he proceeded to think.
In his mind he summarized the clear message behind the words. Charles was a dead end and their only hope rested in L.L. Now Gustav sought information on the agent’s identity.
What could Jean tell Gustav that he didn’t already know? The answer was simple: nothing. No one knew L.L.’s identity.
Some theorized L.L. was a woman of means, but the idea had been rejected by virtue of its ludicrous nature.
Another rumor held that the agent was a servant in an influential household with access to private information. Yet another idea held that L.L. was an elderly gentleman, perhaps an older man who frequented circles beneficial to their cause.
Rumors regarding L.L.’s identity amounted to naught. The agent had never been seen in person. The agent never met his contact in the same place twice. Nor did the means of leaving his message ever match with the one before.
One message found its