He nodded, gave Ursula another long look, and then hurried back to the yard, being careful to avoid Snowy, as did all the other ostlers and grooms.
Ursula wondered if they
all
referred to Taynton as ‘master’? Ursula put a hand on Vera’s arm. “What’s going on here, Vera?”
“Nothing that need concern you, Miss Ursula.”
“It concerns me if it takes place within my father’s lands. Oh, I know this place is freehold, but everything else around it is Elcester property.”
“I-I must not—” Vera broke off as hooves sounded in the yard. She gave a sharp intake of breath as she saw Conan dismounting outside. “Why has
he
come back?”
“Who?” Ursula turned, and dismay struck through her as she recognized him. Flustered, she rose sharply to her feet. “If you speak to this gentleman at all, please don’t mention me, Vera, I beg of you!” she whispered, forgetting Miss Muffet tethered outside for all to see as she fled out of the taproom and across into the dining room, where to the bemusement of the traveling carriage party she pressed back out of sight behind the door. It was only then that she realized she had once again lost her hair ribbon. She knew it had been in place when she entered the taproom, so it must still be in there somewhere. Please don’t let it be too easy to see! She heard his footsteps in the hall, and closed her eyes tightly.
The key-bugle of the
Meteor
stagecoach sounded from the village green as Conan paused by the dining room and glanced in just as Ursula had done minutes earlier. He had seen Miss Muffet tethered outside and thought maybe his Lady of the Ribbons was here, for he was sure the white mare was hers. It had caused him much secret mirth to see the dismay with which a second white horse had been greeted in the yard. Had he brought a savage beast from the heart of Africa, the presence of two white horses could not have caused more blenching of otherwise weathered country faces.
He wondered if Taynton was around anywhere, or Vera perhaps. As he looked into the dining room, he was a little disconcerted to see the few diners who were there gazing at him as if they found him of intense interest. At least, that was what he believed, but actually they were staring at Ursula, who was only inches away from him behind the door. He doffed his top hat politely, and the carriage party inclined their heads in patently puzzled response.
Turning, he went into the taproom, which seemed so invitingly quiet that he thought his rescue mission was about to be accomplished without even the tiniest of hitches. Still no sign of Taynton, he thought, or of Vera, who had now hurried through to the kitchens in readiness for the imminent stagecoach. But the moment he crossed the threshold he saw a telltale bow of lilac ribbon on the floor. As he bent to retrieve it, he heard the rustle of a woman’s skirt behind him, and straightened in time to see Ursula dashing for the door to the yard.
“Hey!” he cried, and left the ribbon on the floor in order to pursue her.
Wishing she had stayed where she’d been, she slammed the yard door behind her to gain a few seconds, but knew she could not hope to untether Miss Muffet, mount, and ride away before he reached her. So instead she ran across the yard, where his mount was now tethered alongside hers, and into the deserted stables, where she crouched behind a pile of straw in an empty stall. As she made herself as small as possible, she found herself staring into Bran’s startled eyes, for the wolfhound had chosen the very same hiding place! She put a finger to her lips. “Shh, Bran,” she whispered.
The wolfhound cocked his head on one side and looked askance at her. His expression was eloquent. What a very odd woman, he seemed to be thinking. First she hid in badger sets, and now behind piles of straw. Wherever next?
By now Conan had wrenched open the inn door and caught a glimpse of lilac riding habit as she dashed into the stables. He ran after her just as the
Meteor
stagecoach swept beneath the archway and grooms and ostlers hastened from all directions to go about their duties. No one even noticed him making for the stables, and he didn’t think anyone knew Ursula had preceded him.
In spite of the racket in the yard, on entering the stables Conan distinctly heard a rustling sound from behind the pile of straw in the stall. He strode over to it and was startled to find Bran with Ursula. “What in God’s own name ... ?” he began, then folded his arms to survey them both. First he addressed the wolfhound. “It was you following me, eh, sir? You’re supposed to be at Carmartin Park, not here.”
Bran hung his head, always knowing when he was in trouble.
Then Conan addressed Ursula. “As for you, Miss Elcester—it
is
Miss Elcester, is it not?”
She sat up slowly, feeling very foolish, and very apprehensive. She hadn’t anticipated meeting him until this evening, and having the moment thrust upon her now denied her the opportunity to prepare herself. Her wits seemed to have scattered to the four corners of the stables, and all she could think of saying was, “How did you find out who I was?”
“Oh, I worked it out for myself, so please do not accuse me of breaking my word about making inquiries.”
Finding herself alone with him again, and in questionable circumstances, she looked uneasily toward the door. “Perhaps we should go outside, Sir Conan. I don’t wish to be discovered alone with you in here.”
“No one knows we are here.”
“Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be. We are private enough, and if anyone should come, you have only to dive down behind the straw again.”
She had to remove her hat because it had been knocked sideways and was tugging at its pins. “Are you going to tell Mr. Greatorex about me?”
“Tell—?” A frown darkened his brow. “What do you take me for, madam?”
“I don’t know. I hardly know you, so how can I possibly guess what manner of man you are?” she retorted.
I
only know that when I look into your eyes, I feel more alive than ever before ... .
Hot color warmed her cheeks, and she made much of brushing bits of straw from her hat.
“Well, I still know as little about you, Miss Elcester,” he declared, although it wasn’t strictly true. He knew about the marriage that was being foisted upon her, about her interests, her desire to stay in Elcester, her contentment with her father. He knew there was far more to her than Theo believed; and he knew that he desired her to the point of lunacy. She looked so lovely, her riding habit crumpled, her hair barely contained by the net at the nape of her neck, a fragment of straw clinging to her cheek. Just to be with her was to want her with a passion so fierce that it almost overrode restraint. It was an ancient passion, shared before, a long, long time ago ...
“Sir Conan, I rather think you know much more about me than I do about you. You have had time to speak to Mr. Greatorex concerning me, whereas I’ve only just learned you exist.”
They gazed at each other, both trying to conceal their feelings, then for the second time since meeting her, he stretched down a hand to help her to her feet. And for the second time the physical contact engulfed them in a tidal wave of erotic sensations that warmed and quickened their hearts, then dragged at their guilt with an undertow of unconsummated desire. They both knew they shouldn’t feel the way they did; and both knew they would strive with all their might to deny the craving that ached through their bodies and very souls.
The moment was broken when Bran whined suddenly and sniffed the air as if an intriguing scent of some sort had just reached him. Conan took no notice, but glanced back toward the yard, where the passengers from the
Meteor
had now disappeared into the inn. “Look, I don’t know why you’re here now, but I came here to pry a little, and to try to release the squirrel.”
“So did I.”
“I fancy this might be a case of too many cooks. Leave it to me. If I’m caught meddling it isn’t so bad, but it wouldn’t do for Taynton to catch you.” Conan couldn’t resist brushing away the wisp of straw that clung to her cheek.
“Taynton isn’t here. I saw him leaving earlier. I believe he’s gone to Dursley.”
Conan looked down as Bran suddenly tugged at his cuff. “What is it, boy?”
The wolfhound whined, left the stall, then turned and whined again before padding toward the other end of the stables, where the antlers hung on the wall above the maypole. Freshly heaped straw aroused Conan’s curiosity, and he brushed some of it aside and found the wooden guardians lying there.
Bran began to scratch at some more straw nearby. “What have you found now?” Conan murmured, and bent to push the maypole aside and clear the straw away. “There are some loose boards here,” he said to Ursula, getting his fingers around the nearest one.
Ursula bent to help him, and in a moment they had lifted the boards away to reveal a sizeable hiding place underneath. In it lay the folded robes that had been worn in the woods, Taynton’s staff and torque, the circlet of mistletoe and oak leaves to which the antlers could be attached, and a jar of strong-smelling herbal balm. It was the latter that Bran had detected. There were also three small squares of yew bark, some long iron nails like those into the hollow oak, a very old tinderbox, some short, squat candles, and the chalice that had been stolen from the church.
Ursula gasped. “The chalice! The theft must have something to do with Taynton!” She told Conan briefly about the missing goblet and the mystery of the yew tree. “He’s probably responsible for breaking into Hatty Pedlar’s Tump as well, although why I can’t imagine. Nothing here could have come from there.”
“Hatty Who’s What?”
She told him about the long barrow and that it was named after one of Vera’s forebears. “What with that, the chalice, the disfigured yew, the squirrel, last night in the wood, and so on, some very odd things have been happening in Elcester of late,” she finished.
He smiled. “I rather think I already know that.”
She smiled too, and again they gazed at each other, struggling to stifle the forbidden need that consumed them both. She tore her eyes away first and tried to sound level as she again looked down into the hiding place, “Well, I think from the mistletoe and oak leaves that we can now make an informed guess that something druidic is being resurrected.”
“Yes, but what are they trying to achieve?”
Ursula breathed out slowly. “I’ve tried to ask Vera, but she became very wary. She kept saying ‘it must be,’ and similar phrases. One thing, though, she isn’t Taynton’s lover yet, but she’d like to be. He doesn’t love her, but she loves him.”
“Love is often thwarted, is it not?” he murmured.
She nodded, and unspoken words escaped around them again.
Conan cleared his throat. “Look, let’s leave everything as we’ve found it, for I’d rather like to keep a sly eye on Taynton and his happy band.” He bent to replace the boards. “Miss Elcester, there are things I haven’t told you, and things I suspect you haven’t told me either. It’s time to lay our cards on the table and discuss all this in detail, but we ought not to do that here, in the lion’s den, so to speak. Can we meet somewhere?” he asked as he pressed the boards down with his boot and scattered the straw over them again.
“Meet? Oh, I-I ... ”
“If nothing else, we have to clear the air properly before tonight, I fancy,” he pointed out.
She knew he was right. “Yes, we do. Alright. I’ll leave now and let you do what you can here. I’ll wait for you outside the village. Do you know the crossroad on the green?”
“Of course.”
“Turn right for Stroud as you leave the inn. In about a quarter of a mile, where the road bears around the line of the escarpment, you’ll come to an area of level land on the left, with Scots pines. There’s an ancient long mound, Hatty Pedlar’s Tump. I’ll wait there, but behind the far end, where I won’t be seen from the road.”
He nodded. “I will try not to be long.” He went to the door and looked out at the yard. The bustle around the
Meteor
was at an end for the time being, and the traveling carriage was just leaving. The grooms and ostlers had retreated into a coach house, where he guessed they had a corner to themselves, and there wasn’t anyone by the inn entrance. He beckoned quickly to Ursula. “Leave now, when there’s no one around. I’ll get the mare for you. Stay, Bran.”
She nodded, then paused a moment to look up at him. “I wish—”
He put a finger to her lips. “It doesn’t do to wish,” he murmured, and then hurried across the yard to untether Miss Muffet. He led the mare back to the stables, and quickly helped Ursula into the saddle, then handed her the reins.
“À bientôt,
Miss Elcester,” he said softly, and slapped the mare’s rump to make her move off.
As soon as Ursula had gone, Conan again bade Bran to stay where he was, and then entered the inn. The passengers from the
Meteor
were talking and eating noisily in the dining room, but only two elderly clergymen sat in taproom, sipping tankards of mead by the inglenook. There was no one behind the trestle, and only the squirrel saw as he slipped around to the row of barrels and opened the cage door by using the knife he always carried with him in his pocket. “Don’t be afraid, Eleanor, for I’m here to help you, not harm you,” he breathed as he reached inside to take the trembling little creature and push it safely inside his coat. It nestled there as still as a mouse as he casually walked from the taproom again.
He walked right into Vera, who nearly dropped the tray of food she was carrying to the two clergymen. “Steady!” Conan said with an easy smile as he took the tray from her.
She summoned a grateful smile. “Why, thank you, sir.”
“I came back to see if you’d found a fob seal that I seem to have mislaid. I hoped it was here somewhere.”
“A seal, sir? Nothing has been found that I know of.”
“Oh, dear. Well, if you find it anywhere, perhaps you could send it to Carmartin Park?”
“Certainly, sir.”
He smiled again, and returned the tray to her. “By the way, unless the squirrel has been removed elsewhere, I fear it has escaped again,” he said.