She hated to involve her sister-in-law, but there was no other choice. Thom would certainly not answer a plea from her, but he would from Joanna.
When she asked for her help, however, Jo surprised her. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I think I know where he will be. I should have realized it right away. He said he would have James’s sword ready for me later tonight.”
Elizabeth followed the direction of her thoughts. “Which means at some point he will have to go to the forge to finish it.”
Joanna nodded excitedly.
Elizabeth smiled. “I will just wait there until he shows up.”
“A good Bruce tactic,” Izzie said wryly.
Elizabeth grinned. “That it is. So far this war has been won on lying-in-wait ambushes.”
It took Elizabeth a moment to realize Joanna wasn’t smiling anymore. Indeed, from the way she was biting her lip, she appeared to be having second thoughts.
“What is it, Jo?”
“Thom can be stubborn. What if he won’t listen?”
“I will have to make sure he does.”
“That’s what I’m worried about. You won’t do anything...rash, will you? I don’t want you to get hurt.”
They both knew what she meant by rash. “I’ll be careful, Jo. Besides, you know Thommy.”
He was honorable to the core.
Elizabeth, however, wasn’t. Douglases did what it took to win. Jo, however, did not need to be reminded of that.
Her sister-in-law immediately brightened. “I do.”
Izzie, however, wasn’t so easily placated. But surprisingly, her no-nonsense, play-it-straight cousin seemed to be impressed—maybe even admiring of her sinful tactics. She pulled Elizabeth aside so that Jo couldn’t hear. “Don’t worry about Randolph. Do what you need to do. Leave him to me.”
Elizabeth took note of the determined look on Izzie’s face and did not doubt it. She’d been right in her suspicions. She went to the table that still had the quill on it and wrote a quick note of apology. “Give this to him. And thank you.”
Something resembling relief flashed in Izzie’s eyes. “No, thank you.”
Not wanting to take a chance at missing Thom, Elizabeth left for the forge immediately—this time without an escort. She didn’t want someone standing outside to alert Thom to her presence, and she certainly didn’t want anyone inside with her.
It was late afternoon by the time she arrived. Fortunately, the smithy was already gone for the day, and the young apprentice who let her in was too awed by the lady from the abbey, who knew so much about smithing, to ask too many questions about her waiting for her old “friend.”
He was eleven, he informed her, and the smith was his father. She entertained him with stories from her past watching Thom work while he finished up his chores for the day. By the time he left, she was sad to see him go.
With the boy gone and left without distraction, she began to grow nervous. She had not eaten since the midday meal, and her stomach started to grumble as darkness fell outside. She should have grabbed a hunk of bread and cheese. And wine—plenty of fortifying wine. But she hadn’t really thought that far ahead.
What was she going to do if Thom wouldn’t forgive her? She didn’t know anything about seduction—she was a virgin for goodness’ sake! She should have asked someone. Not Joanna, obviously, but maybe Lady Helen? She had the feeling she would have understood. Perhaps she might have offered some tips? Suggestions? Tactics?
Elizabeth took off her heavy fur-lined wool cloak—despite the fire going out some time ago, she was warm—and tossed it on a bench. As it fell, it gave her an idea.
No. She couldn’t. She looked down at her remaining clothes—a fairly simple and easy-to-remove surcotte and cotte. Could she?
Elizabeth was pacing anxiously around the room when she finally heard the door open. She froze, glancing over as a man entered. Only when she saw the tall, familiar frame did she heave an inward sigh of relief. He had a sack slung over his shoulder, which from the size and shape she assumed was Jamie’s sword.
She was standing to the side, so he shouldn’t have noticed her right away. But almost like prey sensing danger, his eyes immediately locked on hers.
His utter lack of reaction sent a pang of foreboding to her heart. He didn’t look surprised, he didn’t look furious (what she’d expected), and he certainly didn’t look happy (had she secretly hoped so?). He didn’t lookanything. There wasn’t a flicker of emotion in the cold, blue-eyed gaze that met hers.
Oh God, was it too late? Had she completely destroyed all the feelings he once had for her?
