“I’ll come with ye.”
“Nay, stay here and organize a search party.”
“Go then, we’ll follow behind,” Jacob said.
“I’m sorry, My Laird. I did try to dissuade her.” Betsy wrung her hands, hiding behind his cousin.
Kayden could barely look at her.
“Ye should have come to me at once!” he growled and then bit his lip, trying to control himself. His heart was beating so hard, he felt it might burst right out of his chest.
Rua was waiting by the horse as Kayden hurried up to them. He petted the dog, then swung himself up into the saddle. Jacob had begged him to wait while he organized a search party, but he could not.
As he spurred his horse onward, he could only pray that he found his wife before something terrible happened.
“Lilliana, how could ye be so…” He closed his eyes, shaking his head, and then immediately opened them, scanning the ground.
He was grateful for the light rain that had left the ground muddy enough to track the path the horse had taken.
Gemini was an older horse, and his left horseshoe was slightly bent, making his tracks easy to follow.
Kayden thanked God for that. Gemini was a steady, reliable beast who would have kept an even footing even in the dark. Kayden quickly pushed away the thought of Lilliana lying on the roadside with her neck broken.
“She’s a good rider,” he whispered.
Rua gave a quiet woof, as if in agreement.
24
At the glen near the stream, Lilliana dismounted, glad of the moonlight that enabled her to see her way. Everything had a grey sheen to it, and it felt as if the trees were looming over her menacingly.
The air was damp and cold, the sort that carried sound farther than it ought. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, and she resisted the urge to turn back towards the castle lights, which were now far behind her.
Maybe this was not such a good idea.
She patted the horse’s flank. “Good boy,” she whispered. “Stay here while I look around.”
Tying the reins around a tree branch, she strained her ears. Then she began to walk, peering around the trees, hoping to meet at least another of Kayden’s scouts if not find Nigel somewhere. Perhaps alive but hurt.
The stream was louder than usual tonight. Or perhaps it only seemed so because everything else was silent.
Before moving farther in, she crouched near the tree line and touched the soil. It was churned.
Boot prints. Not fresh, but not old either.
She leaned closer, squinting in the moonlight. There were at least three distinct sets: one heavier, one narrow, and one that dragged slightly at the heel.
Her pulse quickened.
Someone had been here. Recently.
She rose slowly and followed the disturbed ground towards the water. She knelt at the stream’s edge and removed a small glass vial from her reticule, which she had started carrying more often. Carefully, she dipped it into the current, filling it halfway.
She held it up towards the moonlight. The water looked clear. Too clear. But she had learned that poison did not always declare itself boldly.
She sniffed it cautiously. Nothing acrid. No scent of rot.
She dipped her fingers into the current and rubbed them together.
