Outside, Kit groaned his frustration. “Elise. Come back here.”
She ignored him. She didn’t have time to put up with his naysaying.
The barn was dark, but there was enough moonlight for her to see a giant stack of hay. The dry, sweet scent of it filled the building. Several horses munched quietly in their stalls.
Tamsyn hopped to her feet and approached her, the white parts of her coat silvery. Her tail wagged its greeting. Elise thought to leave rightnow, this minute, except she was tired. She needed to sleep to make any journey.
Kit marched into the barn, his manner imperial. “That’s it, Elise. I willnottake you on some fool’s chase to Moorcock.”
She settled in the hay, ignoring him. She used her arm as a pillow. She was going to Moorcock. She’d leave at first light. She yawned.
Kit stood by the rick. She could feel him studying her. She kept her back to him.
Then, “And how do you think you are going to get there? You just threw any money I made around the taproom. It’s gone, Elise, except for a bit. We’ll use that to reach Liverpool—”
She rolled over to glare up at him. “You go to Ireland if you so wish. However, I have my own plan.” With that, she gave him her back.
“You’re stubborn, Elise.”
She didn’t answer. There was nothing left to say.
And to her surprise, she fell into a deep sleep where her dreams battled with doubts. But there were no spiders.
The next morning, as she’d wished, she woke at first light.
Tamsyn was snuggled in the hay beside her. The dog snored.
Kit was on his side, one arm outstretched toward where she’d lain, his head resting on it. He slept soundly.
Elise eased out of the hay. She was covered with the stuff and shook out her skirts, and thenshe remembered her purpose for this day. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Her braid was a mess. She undid the binding and quickly rebraided it. Was she a bit intimidated by the journey ahead of her? Absolutely.
It was also difficult to leave Kit’s protection behind. He’d called Moorcock a thieves’ den. Would her father be in such a place?
There was only one way to find out. She must go.
Still quietly brushing the hay from her bodice and pulling it out of her hair, she tiptoed past Tamsyn and then past Kit, where she paused, giving them one last look.
The dog was on her back, sleeping as if she had not a care in the world. She would be better off with Kit. He’d take care of her.
Kit shifted, and she had an impulse to kiss his cheek. To thank him in some way for what he had done for her. If Old John was truly her father, then that would be the greatest gift of all.
She pictured how surprised her sisters would be at her return to London with their father. Then they could throw Cousin Richard out and reclaim Wiltham. It was a good thought.
Elise also discovered it was going to be hard to leave Kit. She’d miss the snap of humor in his gray eyes and his bluntness. He talked to her as an equal, as a companion. No one had ever done that... and for the briefest second, she wavered in her determination.
But then she thought of her father, of all hishomecoming would mean, of how her sisters would be impressed—and she knew she must leave.
Except, just as she started to move away, to set out on the task of finding her way to Moorcock, a hand shot out and grabbed her skirt. Kit looked up at her with a grim glare. “Give me a moment. I’m going with you to Moorcock.”
Not only was she relieved, but her heart gave a happy skip.
They were together again.
Chapter Thirteen
A beck is as good as a wink to a blind man.
Irish proverb
