Authors: Cynthia Luhrs
A commotion prevented Jennifer from asking the hundred questions in her head. Especially if this traitor could be the man with the scar or the redheaded kitchen girl. She’d bring it up to Edward when the Scottish woman told him what she knew.
Men carried a man into the kitchen, and it was like someone had prodded an anthill with a stick. People everywhere. They laid the man on the table and Jennifer almost gagged. He had a horrible gash down his thigh and was moaning in pain.
It was one of the men Edward had ridden out with that morning.
“Where’s Edward?”
One of the men looked up. “He is well, lady.”
She let out a sigh of relief.
“Is the healer on the way?”
“Aye, lady.”
Then she’d get out of the way. Jennifer packed up her supplies and easel, and in the commotion forgot about the woman and baby. When she turned around, they were gone.
Alistair had fashioned a strap so she could carry the easel and satchel holding her box and supplies over one shoulder. She lumbered out of the kitchen and heard voices coming from an alcove near the great hall. Later, she would think back and know it was something about the tone of his voice that stopped her in her tracks.
A couple embraced, the woman kissing the man as if she were drowning. There was a bundle on the woman’s back. A baby. When they broke apart, Jennifer thrust her fist in her mouth to keep from crying out. It was the Scottish woman and Edward.
Edward firmly pushed the Johnston woman away as he wiped his mouth. One of the men had told him of her arrival, and when he went to find her, she threw herself at him, kissing him before he knew what was happening. He wanted no other. Only Jennifer. He had spoken with the blacksmith. The man did fine work, and would fashion a wedding band with a rare stone. It cost him dearly, but ’twas worth the gold. The pale blue diamond was the same color as her eyes.
“I thank you for telling me of the traitor.” He looked her in the eyes. “If the Johnston will not find you a husband, I will find you an Englishman who will care for you and the babe. But hear me well: I am promised to another.”
She reached out to touch his face, and he took her hand, stopping her.
“You are not betrothed,” she said. “I would have heard.”
“Nay, not yet, but soon.”
“The beautiful woman with hair like night. Some say she has bewitched you.”
“She holds my heart. I will not dishonor her.” He stepped around the woman. “You owed me no debt, but I am grateful for the information.”
The woman didn’t meet his gaze. “Aye. I will not come again. The Johnston has a cousin I will accept as husband. Farewell, Lord Somerforth.”
“I will send one of my men to see you safely home.”
She pulled her hood up. “Nay, I travel alone. ’Tis safer.”
“There is a traitor at Somerforth. The Johnston woman confirmed it.”
“I have not found out who.” Brom watched a wagon leaving the castle. “What of Maude? Her mother was a Scot.”
“She has been here her whole life. It cannot be.” Edward frowned. “Watch her to be sure.”
One of the guards called out, “Riders approach.”
A handful of men on horseback galloped into the bailey. He would recognize his brother anywhere.
“Christian. You should have stayed at Winterforth.”
His youngest brother dismounted. “Why haven’t you visited? Poor Henry. Charlotte is expecting another babe and is in a terrible temper. We received word of your future girl. All the women are in a foul humor since you forbade them to travel to Somerforth.”
Embracing his brother, Edward wiped dust from his eye. “There are nefarious schemes afoot. A traitor at Somerforth.”
“And your future girl, Mistress Jennifer.” Christian looked around. “Where is she?” He touched Edward’s sleeve. “Bloody hell, what happened?”
"’Tis naught but a scratch. We were attacked out riding. Johnstons.” He clapped Christian on the back. “The lists or a drink?”
Christian paled. “Drink. Then I would meet your woman so I can tell all. Charlotte threatened to chop my head off if I do not tell her everything. Women.” He threw up his hands.
“Have you lost another betrothed?”
His brother did not answer as they went inside the hall.
Jennifer spent the afternoon in the rose garden pouting. The man was so busy with his Scottish girlfriend he hadn’t even noticed she was missing. As the hours passed, she wallowed and thought of home.
In Baltimore, the city had gotten to her. No matter how many times she went to the harbor to look at the water, it wasn’t enough. The crime and ugliness made her want to go to the mountains, paint, and be a hermit.
She’d stayed in school, changing majors, unable to decide what she wanted to be for ages. It was fun learning new things. With so many choices, how could she pick one?
When she tried, she saw all the possibilities stretched out before her and couldn’t make a decision. After eight years, her parents had had enough, so she ended up with a degree in art history and no job offers. Her father was disappointed, but her mom…she claimed a migraine and “took to her bed,” as she called it. As far as her mother was concerned, the fact Jennifer hadn’t graduated with an MRS degree was the worst disappointment of all.
For once she’d evaded Alistair, and now she had no one to send for food or drink. Hungry and thirsty and getting crankier by the minute, Jennifer decided to confront Edward. She’d give him a piece of her mind. The womanizer. The ass was always stomping about, grumbling and bellowing at everyone. Maybe he had a point there. She tried it. “Wow, this feels great. No wonder he stomps about so much.”
She bellowed and tried out a few choice swear words. Yep, it felt bloody great. Stomping into the great hall, she barked at the first servant to cross her path.
“Where is his high and mighty annoying lordship?”
The man blanched. “In the solar with Lord Winterforth.”
Figured. The single brother was here. They were probably planning a night of debauchery visiting the village wenches. Why not go on a road trip and kiss every woman in the entire damn country while he was at it?
Grumbling under her breath, she came to the doors of the solar. The door was ajar; she heard voices.
“Aye, Jennifer is a bothersome wench.”
How had she been so stupid? Feelings hurt, she turned away and made it halfway down the corridor until she stopped. A servant passed, carrying Edward’s sword.
“Where are you going with Edward’s blade?”
The man showed her the crack in the emerald. “My lord was fortunate he did not lose his hand.”
She needed that sword, so she summoned her best mean-girl voice. “Give it to me. I will take it to the blacksmith. You might drop it, and our lord would be most displeased.”
The man took one look at her face and handed over the blade. Pleased with herself, she went to her chamber, wrapped the sword in a cloak, grabbed her easel and satchel, and took one last look around.
She was bothersome? He preferred someone else? Fine. She’d find Connor. It wasn’t too far across the border. If she was careful, she’d be okay. He would feel obligated to help her. So she’d stay with him until there was a storm and she could return to her own time, where she could rebuild the walls around her heart. Somehow
he
had snuck up in the deep of night and smashed them to bits, and she hadn’t lifted a finger to stop him.
When she made it through the portcullis and halfway to the woods, Jennifer should have known something was up. It shouldn’t be that easy, not with the castle on high alert.
“Where are you off to, mistress?” Alistair fell into step beside her, a grin on his face.
She practiced scowling and stomping. “None of your bloody business. Begone.” But of course he followed her. Changing course, she walked until she saw the mill. She needed to paint the scene; it was calming and would make the perfect addition to her collection. Alistair stood beside her. What was the use of having a guard if she couldn’t order him around?
“Leave me so I can be angry.”
The guard backed away from her. Jennifer sat on the bank, listening to the wheel creak as it went round and round. It was so peaceful that she sat and watched it. Once she calmed down a bit, she’d paint the scene, and then she was leaving to find Connor.
A pretty girl came out.
“Mistress?”
“I wanted to sit here by the water for a while.”
The girl disappeared and came back with cups of cider for them both.
“You are the lady from the castle? The one who paints such beautiful paintings?”
“Yes, that’s me. Thank you. I thought I’d paint the mill.” She looked at the girl. Obviously shy, she didn’t meet Jennifer’s eyes when she talked. The girl either looked at her feet or off into the distance.
“Will I be in your picture?”
“You will. Would you like that?”
The girl nodded. They sat in silence for a bit until the girl haltingly spoke. Telling Jennifer about her life and how much she enjoyed baking. As the girl talked, Jennifer let the words wash over her until something caught her attention.
“My father says Lord Somerforth will offer for me. I will be a great lady.”
“How…nice.”
While the girl talked, doubt flooded through Jennifer, and her temper came back with a vengeance. She knew Edward had his lid popped. All the signs were there. He was so ready to be married that he’d wed the next nice girl, no matter who she was. The miller’s daughter or her—what difference did it make?
Forget it. He was not the one for her. It was better to be alone. Edward was trouble. Not just with a capital T, but all caps TROUBLE.
No, no, no. No more mooning over the hot English knight. Remember Charlie? How he destroyed her mom? He was husband number two. Her mother spent a month in bed after catching him in the dining room with the housekeeper. On the table. When her mother got out of bed, the first thing she did was sell the table.
“Are you daft, woman?” Edward thundered.
Jennifer heard a squeak. The miller’s daughter ran for safety. Too bad Jennifer hadn’t sketched the girl or the mill yet. She’d have to rely on memory once she got to Connor’s home. If she painted him a picture or two, maybe that would be payment enough for taking her in and hiding her from Edward.