She held up her half-eaten loaf of bread. “I can wait if you can.”
With a glance at the menacing clouds, he nodded. They continued on toward Stevenage, with Cait trying her best to keep the conversation flowing over the hours, so as not to think too much.
Because, truly, she didn’t know what to think anymore.
When the temperature dropped, they donned their working-class hats even though they didn’t match their upper-class disguises. Jason dug in the portmanteau and jostled his horse closer to settle his cloak over her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she said, snuggling into the woolen warmth. She fastened the clasp beneath her chin. “Maid-of-the-Wave.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m naming my horse Maid-of-the-Wave. Her coat is glittery like a mermaid, don’t you think? And sort of reddish, like a salmon?”
He shrugged. “If you say so.”
“What will you be naming yours?”
“Nothing.” He shot a glance over his shoulder. “I’ll be riding him only through tomorrow. He won’t have time to learn a name.”
She shook her head mournfully, twisting the alien gold band on her finger. “All creatures need names. If you won’t name him, then I shall have to. Hmm…” Chilled, she gathered the edges of the cloak more closely around her. “Hamish,” she decided.
“Hamish?” Jason slanted her a puzzled glance. “After who?”
“The young farmer who married the Maid-of-the-Wave.”
His lips quirked. “You never said his name was Hamish.”
“Well, I don’t actually know the farmer’s name. But it seems to me that about one out of four men in Scotland is named Hamish, so I figure it’s a bonnie good bet.”
She was blethering again.
Since Jason appeared to be choking back laughter, she looked away and caught sight of a flutter in the sky. An excuse to change the subject. “Magpies,” she said, watching one of the black-and-white birds land in a tree. “Do you see their dome-shaped nest? I hope there are at least two in it.”
Frowning, he glanced over his shoulder again. “Why?”
“Less than two are supposed to be unlucky, aye? And doubly so if you see one alone before breakfast.” He was still looking behind them. “Are you counting the magpies?
“Pardon? No. No, I’m not.”
“I don’t believe the superstition, but I do know a verse.” She began quoting. “One for sorrow, two for luck, three for a wedding—”
“Egad!”
She gasped when he reached across and grabbed her reins. Kicking his horse into a gallop, he drove them both off the side of the road. His hat flew off.
“What are you doing?” she yelled, holding on for dear life, one hand on her head to keep her own hat from flying away.
“Just hold on!” His jaw set, he pressed on, and Cait wondered wildly what they could be running from. Six strange little round hills sat off the road a wee distance. Drawing close, he reined in and dragged both horses to a halt.
He dismounted in a flash and reached to help her down, tugging her toward one of the mounds.
“Will they stay?” she asked. “Maid-of-the-Wave and Hamish?”
He shrugged, hurrying her along. “The horses are the least of our worries.”
“Don’t tell me you think those brothers are after us again.”
He shot a glance around the hill, back toward the road. “All right, I won’t tell you.”
She followed his gaze. Her heart seized when she spotted Walter and Geoffrey Gothard astride two horses.
“Get down!” With two hands on her shoulders, Jason pushed her to her knees.
She shrieked, her hand going to her hurt arm.
“Sorry,” he hissed. Her hat tumbled off as they scrambled behind the mound and out of sight. But there was no way to hide the beasts they’d been riding on. And Jason’s instincts had been right. The brothers were following them. She’d seen them with her own eyes.
Quite suddenly she recalled a vivid memory of standing outside Scarborough’s house and overhearing their wicked plans. As then, she shivered. But her heart was pounding a good deal harder than that day, knowing the Gothards were now bent on killing not just Scarborough, but her and Jason, too.
“Cooperate this time, will you?” Jason’s eyes burned with an intense green fire. “There’s nothing for it. I hope they’ll stay on the road, but if they ride round this hill and get a good look at our faces…”
He grimaced, and his mouth covered hers.
Her blood raced in both passion and fear. She felt boneless and aflame all at once, the conflicting emotions all-consuming.
Was it grass-muted hoofbeats she heard drawing near, or her own heartbeat in her ears? Whichever, stark panic overcame the softer feelings, and her pulse jumped even faster as she imagined Jason stabbed in the back, or shot, or—
“Pardon my impertinence,” he murmured, “but I've got to make this look good.” The next thing she knew, his body covered hers, warm and heavy, pinning her to the cushiony grass—
And the hoofbeats came yet closer—
“I say, Caroline,” a man’s voice drawled. “Someone’s found our favorite spot.”
FORTY-NINE
JASON OPENED one eye to get a look at the intruders, then sat up, muttering under his breath. Caithren lay limp in the grass, a hand pressed to her heart while she adjusted the tangled cloak.
He glanced up at the young man and woman, both on horseback. Country folk, likely stealing away to court on the sly.
Horror widened the girl’s round gray eyes. “Let’s go! Can’t you see they’re quality? Let’s go!” Her cheeks stained bright red, she dug in her heels and took off.
The young man wheeled and rode after her, shouting, “Caroline!”
Releasing a slow breath, Jason crawled around the mound to have a look, then returned to Caithren. “The Gothards…I guess they rode past.” He raked a rather shaky hand through his hair, only to realize it was the periwig, which he’d nearly dislodged. “We scared off that couple but good,” he said with a smile, offering a hand to help Caithren sit.
She smiled back. “We did, didn’t we?” She burst into giggles, hugging
