Page 76 of Rebellion's Fire

Adam MacHeth didn’t look back once.

“Let’s go inside,” the lady said, “out of this wind.”

As she followed her hostess back inside, Christian saw how it would be. In their polite, friendly, implacable way, they would never leave her alone. And even if she was rude enough to escape their grasping hands and run, there were men-at-arms in the yard who presumably had their orders to bring her back.

I hate you, Adam MacHeth…

What had he said to her when they’d first come to Tirebeck?“There will be more to forgive.”Prescience? Or simple planning?

Eventually, in desperation, she retreated to Gormflaith’s room with the excuse of needing to lie down a little. She half expected Gormflaith to come with her, but fortunately, she was spared that torture. So at least she could pace and plan away from the women’s distracting observation.

Closing the door firmly, she threw herself onto the bed and stared around the chamber until her gaze fell on the window shutters. They stood partially opened, a chilly breeze spilling fresh air into the room. Christian rose and walked to the shutters, investigating the hinges and the latches and the narrow view of the yard outside.

Experimenting, she touched the shutter, pushing against the catch that held it in place. Nothing creaked. She released the catch and opened both shutters wide. Gray daylight flooded the room. Outside was a useless piece of yard space between the main hall and the built-on extra chambers. No one was around. With luck, everyone was in the front yard, and she could easily reach the stables unseen.

The gates had stood open when she last saw them. If she covered her face, she could surely ride right up and through the gates unchallenged. Or at least take them by surprise. She could stop this if she got to William. She could return to Tirebeck and begin again. The MacHeths had acknowledged her right to the place. Surely, they wouldn’t take it from her now, just for going against their wishes.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she seized her cloak, drawing both veil and hood over the mask before she climbed somewhat clumsily out of the window and closed the shutters tidily behind her. She couldn’t fasten them, of course, but the wind didn’t seem to be strong enough to blow them apart.

Drawing in her breath, she marched on toward the stables as if she had every right to be there. However, the stables were almost entirely deserted. The men, probably, were all at the front of the yard, waiting for news of the battle, and in any case, there was little work for them, since nearly all the horses were gone.

The black horse she and Adam had ridden here was in one of the stalls, presumably resting after its arduous journey. At least it knew her.

She laid her hand on the stall door, her heart galloping, but before she could go in or even murmur soothingly to the horse, a shiver ran down her spine. She jerked her head around, praying it was only her imagination playing tricks, and saw a girl standing alone, very still, watching her. A maidservant. The girl, surely, who’d passed Adam in the hall doorway and gazed after him as if pleading for some attention, some notice.

As calmly as she could, Christian turned back to the horse, casually lifting her hand from the door to stroke the horse’s nose, as if that was all she’d ever intended. Considering her anxiety, it was only surprising the horse didn’t pull away in distress. Her heartbeat counted the moments. At least the girl didn’t shout. Christian hoped she was just walking away.

A shadow fell across her. “Do you imagine that hides you?” the girl said.

Christian turned her head slowly, raising her eyebrows in the haughtiest way she could manage.

But the girl didn’t seem to have intended insolence. She was unwrapping the shawl from her head and shoulders. “The cloak is yours. You’re clearly neither of the ladies.” She stretched out her hands, offering her the shawl. “Put that over your head and body, push your mask farther aside, and you’re just one of the servants, unworthy of notice.”

Christian stared at her, looking for the trick, and then for the motive. The way she’d looked at Adam in the doorway. She was Adam’s Eithine. Or wanted to be, only he didn’t notice her. For some reason, she seemed to imagine he noticed Christian.

Slowly, she took the shawl. “A servant wouldn’t ride this horse,” she observed. “But I need to ride, to cover the distance.”

“There’s a pony by the house at the foot of the hill,” the servant said, pointing to the east. “Take it. If anyone challenges you, say the lady asked for it.”

Christian took off her cloak and tied it around her middle in a bundle, which would also help to alter her shape for observers, then pulled the shawl around her head and shoulders. The girl watched her, even pushed the mask aside for her. Instinctively, Christian reached up to grab it back into place, and the girl gave a faint, sardonic smile.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “It’s you he sees.”

Christian felt a quizzical frown forming, but the girl was already walking away, and of course, her meaning didn’t matter. She had greater priorities. Drawing in her breath, she hunched her shoulders a little, then followed the servant at a distance, walking away from the stables and around the outside of the hall.

No one looked at her as she hurried across the yard, and she didn’t look around much either. She couldn’t see the girl who’d given her the shawl.

The largest group of men had gathered by the gates. They seemed to be gazing over the hills in the same direction as if they knew that was where their comrades had gone and that was where the battle would be. If Christian couldn’t stop it.

Head down, muttering she barely knew what, she pushed through them and hurried down the hill in the direction the servant had given her.

Chapter Nineteen

Gormflaith gazed aroundher empty bedchamber and focused on the loose, flapping shutters. Her breath caught. “She climbed out of the window. How rude.”

“Send one of the men to find her,” snapped her mother.

“Looking where?” Gormflaith wondered. “She must still be around the hall. She’s not exactly undistinctive. She could never have left unseen.”

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