She didn’t remember how she got home or how long it took. She stumbled into the clearing behind her cottage and dropped to her knees, leaning over until her forehead touched the ground. She sobbed, her arms clenched over her stomach.
Eventually, the sobs lessened and she stood on legs that were shaking so hard that if anyone saw her, they would think she had been drinking. Her cottage was just as she had left it, the back door wide open. The front door wide open. It was eerily silent, and she thought of the refugees hiding beneath the floor. Had they heard anything? Were they too frightened to move? She should check on them but couldn’t face them at the moment. She slowly made her way up the steps to her bedroom, where the sheets were still rumpled from her and Iain’s lovemaking the night before.
Everything was the same, and yet everything had changed in just a short time.
Hours ago she and Iain had been talking about marriage, and now she had killed a man. An English soldier.
She may have escaped death this afternoon, but she had surely put the noose around her neck now. The English would not take Donaldson’s death lightly, and she had no doubt that Palmer would not be able to help her.
She took a cloth and dipped it in the ewer of water to bathe her face. The cloth came away streaked with blood. Her face burned from the scratches and cuts, and she could feel several bruises forming. Her gown was torn in so many different places that it appeared a shredded rag. She peeled it off and washed herself completely as tears streamed down her face. She didn’t think past washing away the dirt and the feel of Donaldson’s hands.
“Cait?”
She stilled, her heart leaping. Why was Rory here? She pulled an old gown out of the bureau. “I’ll be down in a moment,” she called, her voice slurred from a swollen lip.
She looked in the basin of water, the only looking glass she had. Her reflection wavered, but she could easily see the swollen lip, the cut on her cheek, and the large bruise on her jaw.There was no hiding the damage that Donaldson had done. She took a deep breath and went downstairs.
Rory was rummaging through her cupboard and came away with half a loaf of bread. He turned to her, smiling, but the smile instantly disappeared. “What in the hell happened to ye?”
She put a hand to her cut cheek, and to her surprise, tears leaked from her eyes. “Donaldson returned,” she said.
“Good God.” Rory took a step toward her and then stopped as if afraid to come closer. His expression turned dark. “Where is he?”
“I think I killed him, Rory.” She looked up at him, her terror nearly overwhelming.
“What?” he whispered, his face going slack with shock.
“I killed an English officer.”
Chapter 30
“Where is he?” Rory asked with deadly calm.
“I ran,” she whispered, not wanting the men in her cellar to hear her. “Out the back door. I took him out to the woods.”
“Why the hell would ye do that?” he nearly yelled.
“Shhh.” She looked toward the corner. Rory didn’t know about the refugees, and she couldn’t tell him now.
He lowered his voice anyway. “Why did ye lead him into the woods?”
“I wasn’t thinking. I just ran.” Her heart was racing as she thought about what had just happened. A different sort of fear settled into her. She was going to die. She hadn’t cheated death today; she’d merely postponed it.
“So he’s in the woods? Where in the woods?”
She waved her hand vaguely in the direction where she’d left his body. “Over that way. About a ten-minute walk. They’re going to come for me, Rory. The English will arrest me.”
Rory had a sick expression and she knew he was thinking the same thing. The English would put the entire might of their country behind them for the death of a soldier who was a man of nobility as well. No one could help her now.
“Maybe not,” Rory said.
She looked at him through blurry eyes. Her head pounded and her bruises ached. Her lip was swelling more, and she was suddenly so exhausted that she didn’t even know if she could keep standing.
“The others think he was sent to the north, right? I doubt he told anyone that he’d doubled back. I’m sure his plan was to…” Rory flushed and looked away, and Cait shuddered, well aware of what his plan had been. “Most likely no one knows he was here. I’ll go looking for him. Do ye have a shovel?”
A tremor ran through her body as she remembered Donaldson rambling about wishing he’d brought a shovel. “In the barn.”
Rory nodded and headed toward the back door before pausing. “The horse is still out front. Bring him into the barn and I’ll figure out what to do with him later.”
