“Busy place,” Jason remarked to the clerk.
“A mail-posting station.” The pale man shrugged. “The postmaster makes no wage—he paid forty pounds to obtain the position. Keeps the inn full.” He nodded toward the door, where three more guests were straggling in.
In order to avoid all the activity in the front, they went out the back way and into the courtyard again. Once more Caithren’s gaze was drawn to the engraved archway. LONDON 74.
“How many more days?” she asked.
Jason’s gaze followed hers. “Two, I’m hoping.” Propping one booted foot on a bench, he glanced around distractedly.
“You’re worried the Gothards’ll get there before you?”
“Pardon?” He looked back to her. “No, not really. I sent Scarborough a letter. Even should he not have received it, I think we’ll have ample time to warn him. The brothers might beat us there by half a day, but I doubt they’ll ride straight to his home and shoot him.” He plucked a large leaf off the climbing vine overhead. “They’ll want to plan first.”
“It sounds like you’re more concerned about saving Scarborough than finding the brothers.”
“Scarborough’s life is at immediate risk.” As though he were uncomfortable, he rolled his shoulders, then winced and put a hand to where she knew the wound was hidden beneath his clothes. “The rest can wait. But not too long…the Gothards have gone too far already. Heaven alone knows what they’ll plan next.”
Cait nodded. “I’m thinking we should rise early tomorrow and try harder to outpace them.”
“I won’t complain about leaving this place at first dawn.” His fingers worried the leaf as he scanned the courtyard. “There’s something eerie here.”
She grinned, trying to lighten his mood. “Are you sensing a ghost, Jase?”
With a thud, he brought his foot down from the bench. “How many times must I tell you—”
“—there’s no such thing as ghosts,” she finished for him and laughed. “Is this where you wanted to walk?”
He tossed the shredded leaf to the gravel. “We’ll walk around to the High Street.”
They strolled out of the courtyard and around the corner. As they crossed the street, Cait glanced back at the Bell. It was a long range of stone-built bays and gables, with two massive chimney stacks and an impressive coach entrance. An ornate wrought-iron bracket supported a heavy copper-plate sign, painted with a large red bell.
There was nothing sinister about the place. But her hand went to her amulet, just in case.
Another mail coach pulled away as they started down the bustling road. There were fourteen public houses and inns along the High Street, and sounds of laughter and frivolity drifted out as they walked past. Beyond the candlelit windows, Caithren could see people eating, conversing, conducting business. Living their lives. Unlike her, none of them seemed to be questioning the very foundations of their future happiness.
This night she hardly recognized herself and her feelings.
Jason’s boots slapped the packed dirt road; her own shoes made a softer, shuffling sound. Had he really kissed the back of her neck? She couldn’t be sure. It had all happened so quickly.
Past the Talbot, the street became residential and quiet, two neat rows of stone cottages with carefully tended gardens. Beyond that, nothing but the dusty Great North Road, stretching all the way to Scotland.
Caithren was so far from home. Her hand slipped into her pocket, feeling for Adam’s portrait. She wondered what Cameron was doing right now. Dusk was falling, casting shadows along the street; Cam was probably having supper. He’d want to find his bed soon, to get an early start and take advantage of the long summer day. There would be a lot to do, with her not home to help him.
“What are you thinking?” Jason asked.
“Of home.” The black cat from the inn came strolling up beside her. She reached down and picked it up.
“You sound melancholy.” His tone was apologetic. “We’ll be in London soon. Once I’ve…done away with Gothard”—he shrugged uncomfortably—“I’ll give you the reward. For all your assistance. I don’t need it.” He stopped walking and turned to her. “That’s why you’re doing this, isn’t it? For the money? I assume glory isn’t nearly as important?”
When her fingers tightened in the cat’s fur, it squealed and jumped from her arms. “How much did you say the reward is?”
“It said on the broadsides.” He shot her a sharp glance. “A hundred pounds.”
“And you’re not needing that kind of money?”
He shook his head.
“Very prosperous mill you have there, Jase.”
Mill? Jason thought. What did his mill have to do with this? For the life of him, he couldn’t guess what she meant.
They’d reached the end of the village now, and he led her across the road. In silence, they headed back toward the Bell. Another coach creaked by, this time from the north. The sun was setting, and he saw Emerald shiver at a sudden chill in the air. Their footsteps sounded loud in this sparse end of the village. She crossed her arms, uncrossed them, reached up to twirl a plait.
The faint sound of plodding hoofbeats followed the coach. Two horses. Feeling the hair prickle on his neck, Jason turned and walked backward to have a look. Two men. Too distant to see their faces, but they were hatless, and hang it if one of them didn’t have a square head.
Although somehow he’d known all afternoon, he gaped in astonishment.
A cold knot formed in his stomach. His thoughts only of Emerald, he swiveled and grabbed her arm, dragging her between two houses.
“What are you doing?”
“Hush,” he whispered. “We’re being followed.” His hands went to her shoulders, and he backed her against the side of the nearer house. “Hold still.”
As they waited, he felt her quivering beneath his fingers. One of his hands went to the hilt of his rapier, the other itched
