“Forget it.Hadsby’s history oozes with romance and we, um, we were caught up in it.And the Ilyds, a dangerously romantic dance.”
“I believe that’s the intention.However, I want to apologize for my unprofessional behavior.It won’t happen again.”
Her half smile was hard to read.“I’m as much to blame as you.Now, how much time do we have before we need to start back down?”
Michael reckoned they had a few more hours, which they spent shoulder to shoulder in Lauchtenland’s past.Reading the records and journals of those who’d gone before humbled him.He felt connected to their lives, to what they’d built, and how he benefited from their sacrifice.And heaven help him, even more connected to Scottie.
Finally, he called time.They must trek down the path or risk life and limb in the dark.Scottie made him laugh when she attached her headtorch, declaring, “Ready, Grizzly,” with a tangy, southern twang.
“How’s your ankle?”
“Tender, but I’m okay.I can use the poles to help me down.”
Finding a couple of decent cloths, they wrapped the two books with the evidence they needed for Her Majesty and carefully slipped them into their rucksacks.Then they walked through the checkered toward the path and down the hill.Suddenly Michael stopped and turned round to the chapel.
“What?”Scottie said.“Did you forget something?”
“No.”He listened for a moment.“I thought I heard the ringing of chapel bells.”
* * *
Scottie
“This may change the course of Lauchtenland history.”Scottie climbed over the rocks that had trapped her before, the oversize rucksack resting heavy on her shoulders.“At the very least, the Fickle family history.”Michael reached back to catch her hand as she jumped from the last rock onto a level path.“Have you decided if we should we keep the matter to ourselves?”
“No, I’m of the mind the queen should know what we’ve found.”
Scottie glanced at their clasped hands and pulled free, not wanting his touch to fan the slow, kindling fire that began the moment he woke from his Emmanuel sleep.
“What if we tell her and nothing changes?”she said.“Then we have this huge secret to carry around for the rest of our lives.So will she.”
“Which would still not overshadow the secret she kept for thirty-five years.You.”
“Not the same, Cross.While discovering my existence surely shocked everyone, I’m not out to overthrow the Crown.”Her foot slipped on a patch of loose dirt and gravel.She landed a hand on Michael’s thick shoulder to keep from tumbling forward.“My most dastardly mission as Lady Royal is being accused of starting riots and speaking to Eloise Ltd.about bespoke women’s wear.”Scottie paused for a drink of water and spotted the additional item in her rucksack.“I have a confession.”Michael squinted up at her through the shadow and light.“I took the portrait.”
He nodded once and continued down.“I know.Your rucksack has a very odd shape.”
“I couldn’t leave her there.In the dark.Alone.We have a lot in common.”Scottie hitched her shoulders, adjusting the straps of her pack.But Michael had the heavier load.The leather record books wrapped in linen.
“You don’t have to explain to me, Scottie.I left a light on in the Operations Room for Purnell.The lads still keep it on.”He paused to wield his machete.“She hated the dark, and I don’t know, the lamp made me feel as if I was still there for her.”
“Protecting her,” Scottie whispered more to herself than Michael.But he glanced back at her.
“I wasn’t there for her.Not when she—” He clipped his sentence and moved on down the hillside.
Oh, Michael Cross, don’t make me fall in love with you.
When they arrived at the start of the trail where a wrought iron bench was squeezed between two trees, Michael sat and patted the spot next to him, shoving his loose, dark hair from his face.
“You hungry?”he said.“I’m famished.”
“Starved.”Scottie perched on a rock next to him—a safe distance away.“I’m starting to get the shakes.”She opened her rucksack and fished around the portrait of Wenthelen for a package of Walkers and a power bar.
The air was cool and clean and gently shaking the trees.A couple of squirrels scurried around their feet, rising up on their hind legs when Michael tossed them a handful of peanuts.
He released the last few to a bird resting on a low-slung limb.Scottie sank into the atmosphere, using the hum of nature to take in all that happened today.Still, they couldn’t rest long.The growing shadows of the dense woods pushed against the thin threads of daylight.
“Purnell was always after me to forgive Mum,” Michael said, his voice so low Scottie wasn’t sure he meant her to hear.“But I couldn’t do it.I had no desire or reason to do so.”A soft red hue spread around his eyes.“We argued about it a few times.Sitting here now, thinking how you’ve forgiven your mum, I’m ashamed I pushed back on the wise advice of such a kind, gentle woman.My anger had become a part of me.It felt good.Justified.What kind of mum walks out on her children?”
