AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Who needs to know what?” Faith asked, coming up behind them.
“What she’s going to put in the salad she’s going to make tonight,” Amy said quickly.
“Yes, of course,” Faith said, but they could tell she knew they’d been talking about her. “I’ll help you choose,” she said, then walked ahead of them.
Amy glared at Zoë. Tell her! she mouthed. Tell her.
Ten
Again, Amy was dreaming.
The man was getting on a horse. It was pouring down rain, she was standing in a mud puddle, and looking up at him. To her left was the tavern.
“Someone is going to kill you,” she said as she tried to keep the water out of her eyes while she looked up at him.
The man smiled down at her, rain dripping off his hat. “I thank you for the warning,” he said, amused. “It is most kind of you.”
“No!” Amy said, moving closer to him. “You have to listen to me. Someone is going to kill you in your bed. They’re going to put a knife through your heart while you sleep.”
The man frowned at that. “I do not like soothsayers,” he said. “They go against God. Beware who you tell your evil predictions to or someone may remove your head.” He reined his horse away, obviously wanting to get away from her.
“Is she botherin’ you, my lord,” said a man from behind Amy. He was short and fat and wore a leather apron. Before the man on the horse could answer, the fat man gave Amy a backhand slap that sent her sprawling in the mud. ?
??Get back to work,” he shouted at her.
The older man looked up at Lord Hawthorne, blinking against the rain. “She be me own daughter but she’s a worthless lot. I’ll see that she don’t bother you no more, sir.”
Lord Hawthorne reached into his pocket, pulled out a coin, and tossed it to the man, who caught it easily. “Don’t beat her. If I return here and see bruises on her I’ll hold you responsible.”
Smiling, the man winked at Lord Hawthorne. “Oh, aye, me lord, I’ll be careful that the marks don’t show.”
Lord Hawthorne looked at Amy standing behind her father. Her nose was swollen from the blows of her sister and now there was a bruise growing on her jaw from where her father had just hit her. “How much for her?”
The man licked his lips. “For the night?”
“Nay, to take her with me.”
“Two guineas,” the man quickly said.
Lord Hawthorne reached into his pocket, found the coins, and tossed them to the man. He looked at Amy. “Climb into the cart if you want to go. I will not wait for you to gather your flea-ridden goods.”
Amy didn’t lose a second before she jumped onto a two-wheeled cart. It was packed so full of trunks and cases that she could hardly find standing room, but that didn’t bother her. She just wanted to get away from the place where people were free to hit her. She managed to squeeze herself in between two trunks and sat down on a third one. The rain was coming down hard in her eyes, but she could still see that the man who was supposed to be her father didn’t so much as look after her long enough to wave goodbye. She looked up at Lord Hawthorne as the man leading the old cart horse began to move, but he didn’t look at her. She was wet and her face hurt, but once she’d made herself a cavelike space between and under the trunks, she realized how tired she was. The sound of the rain and the moving of the cart soon lulled her to sleep.
The next morning, Amy took her time getting dressed and she did what she could to cover the new bruise on her jaw. It hurt to open her mouth and she was sure her eye was going to turn black.
“What truck hit you?” Zoë asked when she saw Amy.
Faith stared for a moment, then pulled out a chair for her. “You don’t look good.”
“Thanks,” Amy said. “My mirror didn’t have enough bad to say about me, so you two told me more.” She sneezed.
“Are you catching a cold?” Faith asked.
“No,” Zoë said, looking up from her sketch pad, “she’s had another dream.”
“Have you?”
“’Fraid so,” Amy said, and sneezed again.
