Chapter 17
Hidden by the darkness and the trees, a cloaked figure looked down upon the small campsite. She drew a silent breath as she contemplated the situation.
Her plans for Kildare and his wife had been foiled by her own impulsive behavior.
She’d intended to strike at the manor, while they were all on familiar territory and where they might have relaxed their guard.
Yet, her own anger had forced her to react, and in the heat of her emotions, she’d destroyed the young girl’s hand, alerting them to her presence.
Instead of disappointment, anticipation burned through her body.
This current situation was better than what she had planned.
She smiled into the darkness as she watched the orange glow of the campfire.
She would follow them to Edinburgh. She knew they were headed to the other girls.
And when they’d figured out the trap she had set, she would strike them all.
No longer could she be satisfied with punishing only Kildare.
They all deserved to suffer for what he’d done to her. She yearned to finally have her justice. She’d plotted and planned for years. Eagerness churned inside her. Too many years she’d been fantasizing about this moment. With it so close, it was hard to maintain control.
Her stomach clenched. And for a heartbeat she considered just killing them all now.
Until reason returned. She drew a slow, steadying breath.
It would be better to wait. She must not be impatient.
Her thirst for revenge would be whetted more fully if she took the time to anticipate and enjoy the hunt that was about to ensue.
The time for revenge was almost at hand.
“Claire. Wake up.”
It was Jules’s voice, but it no longer held the anger and irritation it had held the night before.
Morning. Claire opened her eyes to the morning light. She sat up. Jules was beside her. His face looked softer than it had as well. “Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”
His gaze ran over her tumbled hair and flushed cheeks, and a flare of desire came into his eyes. He stood and backed away. “You were sleeping so peacefully, David and I decided to let you sleep.”
She frowned, stood, and smoothed the wrinkles from her gown. “That wasn’t the arrangement.”
He turned away. “There are oats in the pot over the fire for breakfast. While David and I break camp, please see that you and Penelope have something to eat. We have another long day of riding ahead of us.”
Claire didn’t argue as she was suddenly eager to be on their way.
By dusk they would be in Edinburgh. Perhaps by nightfall, the girls would be safe.
And life could go on as it had for years.
The thought left her empty inside, but she forced the sensation away.
There would be time enough after this was over to deal with the loneliness.
She gathered the blankets she and Penelope had used and rolled them the way Jules had before they’d left.
Penelope’s cheeks held more color today despite the lines of sorrow Claire saw in the young woman’s face.
Relief lightened Claire’s mood. All would be well, eventually.
Penelope would adjust to the loss of her finger, and she would find a way to go on.
Silently, Claire moved to the fire and dished up oats for herself and her ward.
When they had finished eating, Claire gathered the blankets she and Penelope had used and rolled them the way Jules had before they’d left.
After handing the blankets to Jules, Claire started toward Penelope to help her up on the waiting horse.
David beat her to Penelope’s side, lifting her onto the horse.
A heartbeat later, he cradled the young woman in his arms. Claire bit back a smile as a tiny, sparkling ray of hope tightened her chest.
Perhaps things really would be all right in the end.
“May I help you up?” Jules asked. He reached out his hand to her.
“Yes, please,” she replied brightly as she was lifted, then she settled in front of him on the horse. He took the reins and led them farther into the forest. “We are keeping to the trees?”
She felt him nod behind her. “It is safer that way.”
“Are you worried that we are being followed?” She shifted her body to gaze behind her, into his face.
He tightened his arms around her. “I will not be at ease until we reach our destination.”
Claire fell silent as the horse picked its way through the dense forest. It felt strange to be riding across the same terrain she had crossed less than a fortnight ago. It seemed a lifetime since she had married a total stranger.
“You’re very quiet,” Jules commented. “Are you weary of travel already?”
“No,” she said, swallowing to ease the sudden tightness in her throat. “I was thinking about all that has happened since I left Edinburgh. I am no longer the same person.”
“Much has happened to you.” His hands tightened with violence on the reins.
“To you as well.” She could feel the tension in his body, and gazed at him with aching tenderness.
At the look, he straightened his shoulders and deliberately loosened his grip on the reins. “We were both caught in someone else’s game.” His gaze shifted to her face.
For a moment she forgot to breathe at the tenderness in his eyes, then the look vanished. He glanced away and kicked the horse into a faster pace. David matched his speed. They galloped across the countryside, each step bringing them closer to their goal.
The summer sky had begun to soften, blurring at the edges in dusky shades of red and gold as they arrived on the outskirts of Edinburgh. “We are here.” Claire breathed a sigh of relief.
Jules reined his horse to a stop, waiting for David and Penelope to come alongside them. Penelope had remained quiet during the journey, but at their arrival her features brightened.
“Where do we start looking for the girls?” David asked.
“A wise man once told me the best place to start is at the beginning.” Jules turned to Penelope. “Where were you when you were taken?”
“At Claire’s—I mean, Lady Kildare’s studio,” the young woman corrected herself.
Jules turned to Claire. “Where is your studio located?”
“On Leith Road, close to the coaching inn at Shrubhill.”
Jules nodded and kicked his horse forward. “Then let us proceed there before it grows dark.”
They rode through the busy street in silence. Until they came upon Gallow Lee. Claire could not help the shudder that moved through her.
“What is it?” Jules asked.
Claire’s gaze stayed fixed on the spot of land where several executions had taken place over the years—from witches, to murderers, to, more recently, Covenanters—who were either strangled then burned or decapitated then buried at the base of the gallows.
“This place has a gruesome history, and I cannot help but feel the pain and misery of those executed here each time I pass by.”
Jules pulled her closer and reached up to smooth the hair at her temple.
“The ghosts of the past cannot hurt you.” His voice was gentle, as it had once been after they had lain in each other’s arms. He must have sensed the direction of her thoughts, because he pulled his hand away and kicked the horse into a faster pace until they passed the gallows.
The sun had started its descent in the evening sky by the time they reached her studio.
David took the horses across the street to the coaching inn, while Jules, Penelope, and Claire entered the building.
Inside the small space, the scents of turpentine, linseed oil, and paint lingered. The smell of home.
Claire lit the sconces, and golden light illuminated the paint-spattered floor and the half-finished canvases that lined one wall and the completed ones on the other.
The walls of the studio were painted with stone pillars covered in ivy and flowers that coiled together, reaching toward the sky.
From behind a mass of clouds populated with cherubim and seraphim, the sun struggled to break free.
So many images, so many colors . . . they warmed the small chamber and made it appear much larger than it was. Smiling, Claire turned to Jules. “Welcome to my home,” she said.
Her smile died a moment later at the odd look on Jules’s face. “You live here?”
“Upstairs. There are two bedchambers and a small kitchen. We can stay here for the night. Penelope and I will share one room. You and David can have the other.”
Jules nodded and took the saddlebags up the small stairway at the back of the room while Claire led Penelope to a chair.
“Dearest, I know this will be difficult for you,” she said when both David and Jules had rejoined them.
“You need to tell us exactly what happened the day you were taken. I was upstairs gathering supplies . . .” Claire started the conversation, hoping it might help Penelope remember the rest.
Penelope nodded. “We were setting up our easels.” Her gaze moved to the back of the room where three easels still remained.
“The door opened, and we thought for some reason it was you. Only it wasn’t.
” She shivered at the memory. “Instead, three men entered the room. They came at us fast. Anna screamed. I remember that frightened sound even now.” She closed her eyes and continued.
“Eloise didn’t make things easy for them.
She bit the man who grabbed her on the hand.
He yowled and grasped her by the hair. She kicked him and he slapped her across the face, hard, sending her to the floor.
I thought he had killed her. Until I heard her crying. ” Penelope’s voice shook with anguish.
Claire pressed her hand to her mouth to hold back a gasp of horror.
She felt heavy inside, so weighed down with tears that she tried not to shed.
Then Jules’s hand tightened on hers. Claire brought her gaze to his.
In his eyes she saw sympathy, but not the look of connection they had had back at Kildare Manor.
He would give her support, but not himself, she realized.
A sob died in her throat as she forced her own hurt aside.
Penelope opened her eyes. “They tied us up and forced us to drink something bitter.” She shuddered again. “That is when the world went dark.”
David moved to kneel in front of the chair. He took Penelope’s small hands in his own. “Do you remember anything about where they took you?”
She shook her head. “I woke up in a small room. It was dark and musty.”
“That’s good,” David said. “Tell us about the scent.”
Penelope’s brows drew together in concentration. “During the day it smelled like sulfur and rotting flesh. At night it was cold and I could feel . . . this will sound as though I am mad . . . but I felt surrounded by a tragic sea of souls.”
“What about when your captors took you out of there to transport you to Argyll?” David asked.
Penelope paled. “It was night, but I thought I saw dark stone—headstones perhaps?”
David turned to Jules, his eyes wide. “Could it be they are hidden in a kirkyard somewhere?”
“Perhaps,” Jules replied with a scowl. “But which one? There are many.”
“St. Giles’, Greyfriars, Canongate, St. Cuthbert’s . . . it could take us a week to explore them all.” Claire pulled away from the warmth of Jules’s hands and knelt beside Penelope. “Do you remember anything else? Noises, smells, anything at all that might help us narrow our search?”
She stared off and to the right, as though searching her memory. “A wall. I believe we passed through Flodden Wall.” She released a long sigh. “I would know the place if I saw it.”
“Greyfriars. Flodden Wall is closest to that kirkyard.”
“Let us go,” Claire said, standing.
Jules glanced at her face, and through the muted light met her gaze. “The cemetery at night can be a dangerous place.”
David frowned. “I am not afraid of ghosts.”
“It is not the ghosts that concern me,” he replied, as a tick came to his jaw. “Whomever planned this whole charade is clever. We need to progress slowly, make certain we are not walking into a trap.”
“Usually, I would agree with you.” David’s brow furrowed. “But I think we need to strike now, before they know we are here.”
“You could be right,” Jules agreed.
Claire could see the indecision on his face, felt his tension as though it were a palpable thing. He turned to her. The look on his face chilled her. “Is there any way I could get you and Penelope to remain here while David and I scout the area?”
“No,” she said, despite the fact that she had an ominous feeling about what would happen that night.
He nodded. “Then gather cloaks and as many lanterns as you have. David and I will need a little time to prepare.”
Claire did as he asked. With Penelope’s help she found four cloaks and three lanterns.
They returned to the studio in time to watch Jules secure his scabbard and sword at his side and drop a dagger into each of his boots.
A shiver went down her spine at the blatant reminder of the dangers the night could hold.
“Ready?” Jules asked.
With her heart hammering in her chest, Claire nodded. She lit the lanterns, handing one to David, then one to Jules. On a fortifying breath, she took Penelope’s cool hand in her own, and together they stepped into the night.