“The carriage is over there. I… I think I’d like to talk to ye about something, Emma. On the way home. Nothing bad, just… just a talk.”
Her heart started to pound again. Swallowing hard, she nodded. “Aye, that would be fine.”
“Good, good. Now, let’s…”
A head popped out of the doorway behind them.
Dominic.
“There ye are,” he said shortly. “Thomas, we have been looking all over for ye. Wait, are ye leaving?”
Thomas forced a smile. “Aye, Emma’s a wee bit tired. Sorry, lad.”
Dominic sighed in exasperation. “Well, we need to discuss something about the business before ye leave.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“Nay. We’ll only be ten minutes or so.”
Thomas pursed his lips and glanced down at Emma. “I’ll be as quick as I can. Wait for me in the carriage, aye?”
Emma nodded, a smile spreading over her face. She felt warm and excited inside and couldn’t exactly say why. It was the strangest feeling, but one she never wanted to go away.
“Of course. Don’t worry about it.”
Thomas and Dominic disappeared back inside the pub, melting into the crowds and noise. Emma hurried across the dark courtyard, climbing into the carriage. It was a little eerie out here, and she wished Thomas would come back quickly. Her head was starting to clear, and her legs were less jelly-like than before. She swung open the window shutter so as to see when Thomas came out of the pub again.
A head popped up in the window, and she muffled a scream.
“It’s just me, it’s just me!” gasped the head.
It took a moment for Emma to recognize the woman.
“Flora?” she said, frowning.
Flora was pale and wide-eyed, even in the unreliable moonlight.
“I have to show you something,” she gasped. “Quick, Emma.”
“How did you get out here? What’s going on?”
“Oh, just hurry. Please,please!”
Emma stumbled out of the carriage, panic curling in her chest. Flora was hurrying away towards the dark treeline, and Emma followed her.
Something must be wrong. Surely, something terrible had happened. Could it be Delphine?
Then, a dark figure lumbered out from behind a boulder, and Emma stopped dead in her tracks.
“Hello, lassie,” he said, grinning to reveal yellowed, crooked teeth. “Do ye remember me? Aye, I’m sure ye must.”
“Lachlan McCade,” Emma gasped, feeling as though the air had been knocked out of her lungs.
Images and flashes shot through her mind. His fists flying through the air, fingers tangling in her hair and pulling out chunks, drunken obscenities hurled her way. She felt sick.
She tried to back away but found her feet rooted to the floor. She saw another dark shape hidden behind the boulder where Lachlan had been.
It was Gregor, crouched in the shadow, grinning wickedly at her. She swallowed hard. There was no sign of Flora, but the betrayal was clear.
