Perkins bowed. “I will see to it personally, my lord.”
It was all Gillian could do to not stomp her foot and demand her uncle’s butler remember his loyalty to her. Only Moreham’s knowing eyes lit up with mischief kept her from doing so. The irritating man might kiss her like one would kiss a child but she refused to act like one.
What had she gotten herself into with this man?
The woman could ride, and she knew her way through the fields of the estate. Her seat was perfection. Even when a squirrel ran in front of her mount, she didn’t panic. Gillian drew her horse back firmly and soothed the animal to a slow walk. Moreham knew men who would not have done as well as she.
She stopped moving forward and waited for him to draw even with her horse before speaking. “Over the next hill is the old abbey ruins. We are a quarter-hour from the front steps. I propose we take the long way around, about a half-hour in total to the rear of the abbey. If we use the front, we may leave tracks.”
“My dear, well done. Yes, it would be best if our presence here remained a secret.”
Gillian led the way off the path and struck out across an empty pasture. He looked around them and saw no one. He knew someone could be observing them from the trees at the edge of the field but decided not to dwell on the possibility.
Moreham urged Paladin and eased back up beside Gillian. Given a choice he preferred to remain by her side. He relished the sight of her emotions flitting across her face as she talked and pointed out landmarks. She loved this place. If that he had no doubt.
“The abbey is built into a hill. The door at the back of the building is really the third level down from the courtyard.”
“Where the monks’ cells are located?”
Gillian smiled at him. “Yes, you have an interest in old Papist abbeys?”
“I have a variety of interests.” He returned her smile.
He regretted his words at the leaching of the humorous gleam from her eyes.
“Yes, for a moment I forgot…everything. Thank you for reminding me.”
Gillian clicked her tongue. Her horse increased his gait and once more left Moreham to follow.
Moreham frowned at the sight of the thick grove of trees in their way. Not a single sign of a path. To his amazement, Gillian kept riding forward and only at the last moment did he see the narrow path cut into the grove. One moment he was out in the sunlight and the next riding through a darkness so deep he could barely make out Gillian in front of him.
“We dismount here. We dare not bring the horses any closer. The path is rocky and far too easy for one of them to be injured.”
They both dismounted and hobbled their horses. At least, he assumed Gillian had done so. He couldn’t make out where either she or her horse was situated in the dark.
“Why hasn’t the path been cleared?”
“As far as I know I am the only one who ever comes this way. Everyone else knows of the path but prefers the quicker route through the village and the main road. You will understand once we gain entrance to the abbey. Not a pleasant journey. You don’t believe in ghosts, do you?”
“No, but I would rather not have that belief proven false either.”
Gillian laughed and appeared in front of him. “Take my hand.”
She led him through the trees into a clearing about three feet wide. Her light grasp of his hand warmed his heart. It had been a long time since anyone besides his mother had touched him, skin to skin. Finally, he could see her again. Only once he’d laid his eyes on her did he realize how tense he had been when he couldn’t see her. Gillian released his hand and reached out to run her hands over the side of the wall.
“Here!” she whispered. “From now on we must not speak unless absolutely necessary. Sound carries. Anyone in the courtyard can hear noises from below. Hence the reason the locals think there are ghosts.”
She motioned for him to come nearer. The door had a whimsical look to it. Short, about five feet high with a rounded top. He would not have been surprised if fairies appeared on the other side.
Gillian held up her hand to stop him from opening the door.
“I brought this.” Gillian pulled a small jar from inside her cloak.
“What is it? A witch’s concoction?”
“I told Maisy I needed some chicken fat for my hands. We can slather this on the hinges and work the fat into the metal.”
“Chicken fat?”
“Do you have any better idea, Moreham?” she asked. When he didn’t reply, she continued. “Just as I thought.”
Gillian opened the jar then proceeded to smear the yellow substance on the noisy hinges. Once she’d finished, she nodded to him. To his amazement, after moving the door back and forth a handful of times, there was no more groaning when he closed the door.
Gillian went up on her tiptoes and whispered. “We’re going to be in one of the cells. Stand still and listen. If anyone is in the courtyard, we will hear. Of course, should we make a noise, we will be found out as well.”
Moreham followed her into the abbey. She had forgotten to say they would be in complete darkness. Gillian grabbed his hand and tugged him forward. “We are in the corridor. There are doors to the courtyard at either end.”
Both of them stood still and listened. A faint
