Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Charlotte entered the thicket of trees and leaned against the rough bark of a giant oak.
The moon lighted the sky, casting ominous shadows across the forest floor.
Her feet ached and her stomach growled, yet she had no money or means to quench her thirst or hunger.
She'd used all the coin she had to pay off the guard at the castle, allowing her to escape while everyone prepared for the night.
Taking a few deep breaths, Charlotte sought a soft patch of moss beneath the trees to lay her cloak on the ground and rest. Earthy musk filled her senses in the silence as she made herself comfortable beneath the tree.
Did I make the right decision? Charlotte wondered as she surveyed her quiet surroundings.
The forest was thick and dense with plenty of vegetation and the sound of creatures settling for the night or waking up to start their evening lives.
She shuddered at the thought of tiny legs scuttling across her body as she slept.
She'd never liked insects and detested the 'wild' outdoors, but anything was better than having to meet with William Dodd.
Stifling a scream, she jumped, shaking off a bug crawling up her arm.
Charlotte almost landed in a bush of stinging nettles as she moved.
Now that would have been a terrible mistake.
She inched away from the arrow-shaped leaves with their barbed edges.
Looking around, she realized a sea of nettles surrounded the patch of forest she'd chosen.
She'd have to keep her wits about her while she rested; rolling into a nettle bush with no hope of seeing a healer afterward would spell disaster.
Settling back down, she made herself comfortable against the base of the tree and leaned her head back on the hard surface; what she would have given for a soft pillow and a comfortable bed.
Anything but my freedom… She reasoned that spending an uncomfortable night in the middle of the forest was better than marrying a cruel, vile man.
The discomfort was only temporary until she made her way to Scotland, where she would find a position to support herself.
The peaceful country surrounding Lanercost Monastery seemed like a safe place to rest. After all, what kind of dangers would lurk around the grounds of a holy order?
She shut her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Even sleeping in the wilderness was better than living a life ruled by Dodd or her uncle Alexander. The thought of their names alone brought a sickening pang to the pit of her stomach.
"I thought you weren't coming," a gruff voice suddenly spoke from somewhere nearby. "I'm a busy man, you know."
Her eyes shot open as she began to panic. Have the castle guards caught up to me so quickly? Charlotte frantically searched for a place to hide as the footsteps drew nearer. The location she had chosen hadn't offered much of a quick escape.
"Ye ken me situation. I didnae always have the luxury of me own time," a second man answered in a Scottish accent. "I have tae come when the opportunity presents itself."
Charlotte leaped into the nearest bush and hid as close to the ground as she could, pulling her cloak over her head and leaving just enough room for her to see the men's feet.
They stopped a few steps away from where she'd been resting beneath the tree.
They were enough away so that they couldn't see her but close enough for her to make out what they were saying.
"I suppose it's better if we are surrounded by the cover of night," the first man spoke again. His voice was tired and deep, with a hint of annoyance.
Charlotte reached back and scratched her elbow as it began to itch, pushing back some of the bush leaves.
"I trust ye have the information we were looking for?
" Charlotte noticed how the man with the Scottish accent had a deep timber in his voice as he spoke.
It piqued her interest as she strained her neck to see what he looked like.
Judging by the sandals and the hem of a brown robe, she was certain that one of the men was a monk.
The other wore simple brown leather shoes commonly worn by men who worked in the fields.
"I'm afraid I haven't found out much more than what I told you the last time we met. The man you seek is in the same place he was last time we looked," he answered in exasperation.
Charlotte didn't know what kind of relationship the two men had, but one seemed tired of the other as he spoke.
"He usually stays home."
Her thigh began to itch with growing intensity as she tried her best to focus on their voices.
She held her breath as a tiny bug scuttled across the ground in front of her nose.
Suppressing the urge to scream, Charlotte rolled away as quietly as she could and stared up through the leaves from her position on her back.
The ground was soft and damp, allowing her the comfort of resting on her back.
"Aye, the bastard is predictable at best. He's nae moved as much as a muscle in the past few years."
Charlotte could just make out the features of the Scottish monk as he spoke.
He was tall and muscular, with a thick mop of dark hair and dark green eyes that were almost brown.
He gave off a dangerous air as he spoke, as though he were a man that one should never trifle with.
His features were handsome in a strange and alluring kind of way that made her heart skip a beat.
He's a monk, Charlotte. Are you mad?!
"I'm sorry you are disappointed with the findings.
But I don't think he plans to come to this side of the country at any point.
He travels to Scotland occasionally whenever he has business to attend, but you know well that business between Scotland and England is done on rare occasions…
Like wars." The man with the English accent was shorter than the monk.
He kept his hood pulled over his face while he spoke.
"The only new developments are that the man is betrothed to some young girl. I couldn't ascertain her name."
The monk swore under his breath at the news that clearly piqued his anger. "That bastard…"
Charlotte scratched the palm of her hand as she watched the monk balling his fists at his sides.
She suddenly realized her mistake when her eyes focused on the leaves of the bush in front of her face.
Nettles! She panicked and placed a hand over her mouth to ease her breathing as she sought a way out of the mess.
Her body was beginning to itch with an uncontrollable urgency, making her squirm, rubbing her skin against the damp earth wherever she could.
"Did ye find the girl, at least?" The Scottish monk enquired with hope in his voice.
"No," the hooded figure shook his head. "It's as though she disappeared into thin air.
I've looked all over the country for her, even in Scotland.
Nobody has seen her since shortly after that night.
The only lead I had was that she lives with a relative, but nobody has seen her since then, not even at large events.
Perhaps she died, and the family didn't want to make a big deal out of it? "
Charlotte began to wriggle in the dirt like a worm to ease the itching that spread across her body like fire. The pain only eased for a second or two after every scratch.
"It's doubtful; ye would have been able to ascertain that kind of information from any of the nearby churches." The monk paused and looked up at his companion. "Ye did search in all the churches?" he asked with one eyebrow raised.
"I did. Nobody has buried a young woman matching her description, and none of the healers ever recall treating anyone like her for anything. I do know how to do my job," the man said with a slight note of resentment.
Charlotte almost screamed as the itching spread across her neck and reached her face.
It felt like someone had poured hot coals on her skin and then added a thousand ants just to make their point.
She wanted to rip the clothes off her body and run through the forest until she found a stream.
She thought that perhaps cool water would ease the agony she was experiencing.
She missed part of the conversation because of the itching but quickly stopped moving when the monk squinted into the bushes.
He was devilishly handsome with deep, intense eyes that caught her attention despite the turmoil she was going through. "Must have been a rabbit," he said before looking back at the other man.
"I have done my part, O…"
"Dinnae say me name," the monk stopped him suddenly with a sharp rebuke. "Ye ken the rules. Nae names. Ye never ken who might be listening." His eyes darted across the forest again, landing on the patch where she lay, but moving on again.
Charlotte struggled to control her breathing as her heart pounded in her chest; the Scottish man didn't seem like any monk she'd ever known or heard of. He had a hint of danger about it him that both intrigued and fascinated her. He seemed more akin to a pirate's life than a monk's.
"I highly doubt anyone will be in the forest at this hour, but as you wish," the other man responded in annoyance.
This hooded figure obviously wanted the meeting to be over.
"I did all that you asked of me. I can continue searching, but I don't think there is much to find.
The girl disappeared off the face of the earth. "
"Very well," the monk let out a deep sigh and reached his hand into his robe. "Here is the money that I owe ye for yer services."