Chapter Eleven #3
Quickly seeing to her morning ablutions, she was putting on her shoes when she discovered the tarot card where she had hidden it a day ago. The Knight was looking the worse for wear. The gilt was coming off the edges and she interpreted this as a sign she should not have snooped.
Ian was a Catholic. She wished she didn’t know, and yet now she did. Perhaps in the back of her mind she had suspected but confirmation had taken her back a bit.
She tucked the card in her belt, combed her hair with her fingers the best she could, picked up her plaid, and went out to face Ian.
The hour was very early after a night of partying.
No one stirred at the house. Maggie didn’t come out to wish them well.
Even the village was quiet. Without a word, he filled his tin cup at the pump and offered her some dried beef.
Her guilt had robbed her of appetite, but she took what he offered.
They started down the road that would lead them to Appin and Amleth Hall.
Neither of them spoke for a good hour. She kept her eye on the angry muscle working in his jaw. She knew she’d been wrong to go through his personal things.
Still…had her father known he was hiring a Catholic?
And even though she was silent, she was very aware of him.
Since following in his footsteps was easiest, she couldn’t help but notice the strength in his back or the way the muscles of his legs worked when he walked.
The day before, she’d thought she was getting to know him better than she did any other person of her acquaintance.
Now, she didn’t know if she knew him at all.
Ian’s silence was reserved for her alone. They met several travelers on the road and he always said the first word of greeting. A tinker walked with them a way, and his presence helped to ease the tension.
Around luncheon, they came upon a farmer’s wife attempting to catch a runaway piglet. Ian charmed the pig into trotting right up to him and the woman was so grateful, she offered them meat pies she’d just made that day.
Ian and Lyssa sat by the road to enjoy their bounty…and she finally gathered the courage to say, “Even though we’ve been living by our wits, we’ve managed to eat well.”
He shrugged.
This was going to be harder than she imagined. He gave her no choice but to confront the issue directly. “I didn’t mean to pry.” She took a bit of pie.
He didn’t even look at her. “Yes, you did.”
Her mouth full, she nodded, conceding without words that he was right. She took her time chewing. He was almost done. If she wasn’t more forthcoming, she knew matters would not be settled between them.
And she did not like this distance between them.
“I’m sorry.”
He didn’t speak.
“Are your parents still alive?” she dared to ask.
“No.”
One word. No more.
She studied the crust of the pie in her hand. She broke a piece off. “I suppose I knew that. Otherwise, your sisters would not be with you.”
She knew she should leave the subject there. She couldn’t.
“The beads are lovely.” She didn’t look at him as she said the words. However, she could feel the heat of his silver gaze as, at last, he swung around to look at her. “Do you practice?” she dared to ask.
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. “No.”
“Then why do you have the beads?”
“They were my grandfather’s. He gave them to my father, who passed them down to me.”
Lyssa nodded. She ran her thumb along the top of the pastry in her hand. “I’m not very religious.”
She was afraid to look up and see what he was thinking. She feared he’d be even more angry.
His hand tilted her chin up to look at him. The hardness about him had softened.
Tears of relief stung her eyes and she struggled to hold them back, not wanting to embarrass herself.
Still intent and serious, he ran his thumb along the line of her lower lip.
Her heart pounded in her chest so hard, she knew he must hear it. She waited for him to speak, wanting him to open to her, to trust her.
Instead, he made a soft, self-deprecating sound before saying, “Come, Cailín, we need to move on.”
“Cailín? What does that mean?”
“ ‘Girl.’ It’s the Irish for ‘girl.’ ” There was a melancholy about him. He removed his hand and stood. “Come, we must keep going.” He helped her rise.
The wall had been breached between them, but it was not the same.
For the next few hours, they talked in generalities much as they had the previous days, except that she was painfully aware of the change. Lyssa had opened a Pandora’s box, and now it wasn’t the secrets that kept them apart, but the truth.
By dusk, they were both tired. Ian called a halt. “We’ll arrive at Amleth Hall toward midday,” he predicted. “Let’s get a good night’s rest, since we didn’t have one last night.”
His plan was fine with Lyssa. She was exhausted. He found a place for them to camp in a small clearing protected by a thicket a fair distance from the road. After building a small fire, he made a bed for her of pine needles over which he placed her plaid.
For their dinner they ate the last of the meat pies. Again, Lyssa didn’t have much of an appetite. She discovered that instead of being excited at reaching their destination, she was sorry to let the journey go.
Ian stretched out on the ground three feet from where she lay with the scent of pine around her. Clouds blocked the moon and the fire was welcome, although sleep did not come. No matter how tired she was, she was too aware of him. And she shouldn’t have been.
“So do you think you will marry Grossett?”
His unexpected question caught her off guard. “No, I will not.”
“Good.” She heard a smile in his voice and rolled over onto her stomach so she could see him. She would not tell him she had no intention of returning to London once she reached Amleth Hall. Honesty could only go so far, or so she reminded herself, and matters were still tenuous between them.
“What of you?” she asked.
He rolled over on his own stomach and rested his chin on his hands. “I’ll go on with my plans.”
“To leave England.”
“Yes.”
She didn’t like the idea of him being far away.
“You don’t have to leave. My father is always looking for good men.
” She studied her thumb-nail, worried by her own audacity.
“He owns numerous farms and could put you in charge of one. You could raise your race horses and your sisters and their children would be happy.” Of course, if she didn’t return with Ian, her father would be angry with them both.
But she wanted to believe all could work out.
There had to be a way for her to have everything she wanted.
“I can’t stay, Lyssa.” His voice had gone flat again. “There’s a price on my head.”
For a moment, she thought she hadn’t heard him correctly. She sat up. “A what?”
“A price.” He was watching her closely and she didn’t know how to react.
“For what?” she dared to ask.
“Treason.”