She snapped out her gloves and pulled them on briskly. Besides, there was always the possibility she would discover something she didn’t want to know.
Chapter 5
It was nearly dark when they stopped for the night. Isobel’s entire body throbbed, the lump of dread in her belly finally drowned out by something much more painful. She tried very hard to hide her discomfort, but knew, when Stephen grasped her elbow to help her to a blanket he’d spread out, that she fooled no one.
While the men tended the horses, Isobel tried to relax, surveying their campsite. They’d made good time, despite the muddy roads, but they were still in England. It was clear that Sir Philip hadn’t wanted to stop. He’d argued with Stephen that there was no cover, but when Hadrian’s Wall had come into sight, they’d ridden for it.
Isobel leaned against the crumbling wall that stretched away as far as she could see. She wondered how they were going to get over it. She had no recollection of the wall on the frenzied journey south twelve years ago. If they’d crossed it, surely she’d remember. It was as tall as Philip and thick with fuzzy moss, which served as nice padding, protecting her aching back from the stone. They were at the top of the rise, and in either direction she could see the wall ripple away into the distance like a ribbon.
Fergus built a fire. He smiled and nodded to her, but went about his work silently. She could hear Stephen helping Philip withthe horses, chattering nonstop. Isobel gazed up at the waxing moon. Soon it would be May Day. The thought brought forth a flood of May Days past. Her fondest memories were those in Scotland, before she’d been sent to England. Her mother always planned the local celebrations, and Isobel and her sisters would be put to work picking flowers. They did more playing than picking, but Lillian MacDonell never seemed to mind. Isobel sighed deeply and heartfelt, missing her sisters and regretting the years they’d lost. Her foster sisters had never filled the emptiness inside of her from being torn from her family. She wondered, as she oft did over the years, what her sisters, Gillian and Rose, were doing and where they were. Though she’d begged him for information, her father told her naught and wouldn’t allow her to write them, for fear the letters would be intercepted. Would she see them again when she returned to Lochlaire? Her heart swelled at the thought, giving her a new sense of hopefulness about the journey.
“Tell me, Fergus,” Isobel said, “does my father still celebrate Beltane as he did when I was a child?”
Fergus glanced up at the moon. “Nay, lassie. Things have changed in Scotland—and prithee dinna call it Beltane—ye might make folks suspicious, and that’s the last thing ye want to do. They’ve burned lasses for little more than suspicions.”
Isobel’s bones were as cold as the stones at her back. “We cannot even celebrate May Day?”
Fergus straightened, the fire blazing, and dusted off his huge hands. “Weel, I didna say that. Folks still do celebrate it. It’s the kirk that doesna like it. They’ve stopped it in lots of places.”
“Glen Laire?”
“Och, no—no one tells yer da what ter do. He stopped last year when…” He blew out a long breath, his cheeks above the copper beard reddening. “I better go see what Philip wants.”
“But he didn’t call you…” It was too late, Fergus was gone.
Isobel balled her gloved hands in frustration. There was definitely something odd going on. They were hiding something, and Isobel meant to find out what.
Stephen joined her moments later and eased down before the fire. He passed her some dried meat and fruit, and a skin of ale. Isobel practically ripped her gloves off. She took the skin between her hands and leaned back against the wall, as if she were merely resting, and closed her eyes. Many people had touched the skin, and she received a jumble of confusing pictures—the most surprising being Stephen and a young woman engaged in a passionate embrace. Isobel cracked an eye at the lad, but he was quiet for once, eating and staring into the fire.
Alan MacDonell.She focused on her father, imagining his face, his scent, his voice, but there was nothing. The visions dimmed to nothing.
“Are you going to eat that?” Stephen asked.
Isobel opened her eyes. He’d finished his meal and was eyeing hers. She put a protective hand over her food and nodded.
“Could I have a drink then?”
“Oh—yes.” She passed him the skin, wondering who his lady friend was. She couldn’t just ask—another frustrating aspect of her gift. To ask was to reveal she was privy to information she couldn’t possibly know, and asking leading questions often grew tiresome before she ever learned anything.
The crunch of footsteps drew her attention to Fergus and Sir Philip’s approach. She watched Sir Philip beneath her lashes. His face was shadowed, thoughtful. He’d not spoken to her since she’d asked about his sister. She tried not to be disappointed, but it was hard. For a moment it had seemed as if he trulylikedher. And thathad made her inexplicably happy.
He lowered himself to the ground beside her, and it took her a moment to realize he watched her. She met his eyes questioningly.
“There’s a village not far from here—half a day’s ride—we passed through it on our way to fetch you. We’ll stop there tomorrow so you can rest in a bed. Do ye think ye can hold out till then?”
Isobel shrugged. “I’m fine—don’t stop on my account. I’ll not slow you down.”
Philip poked at the fire. “It’s a little late for that.”
Isobel straightened indignantly. “What mean you? I’ve not complained once. I’ve kept up just like a man!”
Philip snorted, dipping his hand into a sack and coming up with a handful of dried fruit. “Hardly. We’ve covered half the distance we would have without you.”
Isobel looked at Stephen and Fergus, who both averted their eyes politely. She glared at Sir Philip. “Well, forgive me. I didn’t ask you to ride at a snail’s pace. That’s your doing, so don’t blame me.”
“If we’d gone any faster, I’d have to carry you the rest of the way. You can barely walk.”
“I’m perfectly fine. Just a little sore, but I’m sure it will be better tomorrow.”
