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Gone as she gripped the inner edges of his coat and turned. Turned and literally ran. Fled from him as though she expected to be chased and caught. Captured forevermore. And damned if that wasn’t tempting. Because bidding her farewell was wrong. An unjust mistake he had no way to rectify.
“Mary!” he shouted. Yet still she ran.
He glanced from her retreating form to his lame leg. “And damn you too.”
His eyes were drawn back to the space between the trees where she’d vanished and he just stood there. Dismayed. Defeated.
Completely disconcerted by all that had occurred in the last few seconds, by all that had passed between them in the last few hours.
For somehow, it seemed—no matter how doltishly—that he had just watched his heart flee.
Not quite an hour later, with the sun noticeably higher, the last of the cheese filling his belly and poor Lord Grayson, by now completely stiff and cold himself, securely tucked along Ed’s side thanks to his one good arm, he approached the site where so much had occurred the night before. Arriving at the small clearing, he stumbled to a stop.
For the hole was dug. Completely. Mounds of slushy earth, muddy and half frozen, piled up in a semicircle on the opposite side.
He walked slowly forward and inspected the surrounding grounds.
The shovel remained where they had left it, propped against a tree, where Mary said Mr. Timmons would retrieve it later. A thick coat of white dusted every exposed part.
Yet, only a very light covering of snow blanketed the emptied portion of earth.
Ed knelt, gingerly wedged his bent knees in the sludge and cautiously, carefully eased his burden past his thighs and down into the hollow, lowering the frail body where it would remain undisturbed from predators.
As he sat back on his heels, thankful for once that the cold had numbed the ache from his knee, Ed used his teeth to grasp the tip of his one glove, pulling and tugging until it slipped free and he could run his fingers over the indentations that edged the top of the cavity. The ones that looked like large… Paws?
Impossible. Lynx had been extinct on British soil for hundreds of years. Weren’t they? Besides, the sheer size of this print precluded that possibility.
Then what in blazes had made these?
Shaking off the odd conundrum, he leaned forward until he could place fingers upon the blanket-wrapped cat. “Journey on, dear Lord Grayson. I know you brought your people much happiness, probably your share of mice, grasshoppers and welcome purrs as well, and shit on me if I know what else to say. Farewell, sweet cat.”
With only a slight grunt, he pushed to standing, stretched out his sore leg and walked over to the shovel. Shaking off the snow, he applied himself to scooping the displaced dirt back inside, and damned if he didn’t hear a single, distinct roar the moment the first damp clumps landed upon the deceased feline.
With the oddest chill racing along his spine, and the bright sun beaming down and warming the back of his neck, Ed finished his task, his thoughts never far from the woman who had vanished from his life as quickly as she appeared.
Tucked within the snow-drenched copse of trees, a bit further back than he’d ventured the night before, Phin watched the man finish the job of burying the cat. So plaguey, how his senses—whether he existed with two legs or four—remained so acute. For he could smell the stench of death even now, the early stages of decay. The scent invaded his nostrils, worked its way up into his brain and taunted his memory.
Memories. Something he struggled with, ever since that fateful night—
Nay. He would not think of that. For he had treasures to inspect.
Phineas had considered returning the second valise to the weary traveler.
He could have left the worn leather bag next to the hole he’d made short work of, his powerful paws and cutting claws easily piercing through the icy earth until he deemed it deep enough.
Aye, he could have returned the valise, and in some small manner, perhaps made up for scaring the man straight off his horse and onto his none-too-steady feet last night, but nay.
There were so few unexpected occurrences in his life these monotonous days, that Phineas decided he would indulge himself: keep and savor whatever treats might be inside.
