She opened her eyes and sat back down on the log. None of the many males in her life was going to show up to rescue her, to hug her, and tell her that everything was going to be just fine. Nor was she going to be able to run to her mother and pour out all her troubles to her. The truth was that if Cay went to any of them right now they could be arrested for having helped a murderer escape.
Tears came to her eyes, but she brushed them away and glanced down the old pathway. The man hadn’t been gone long, so there was no hope that he would return soon.
She jumped again when she heard something behind her, but she didn’t see anything, at least not a bear running down the hill intent on eating her and the horse. That the horse was quietly chomping on grass and seemed not to hear anything reassured Cay enough that she sat back down.
She would like to have a fire, but he’d told her no, fearful that someone would see it. It was cool and dank and very lonely in the forest, and the fire would give warmth and light and cheer—and she could use burning branches to keep the wild animals away.
Again she told herself to calm down, but her mind kept wandering. Maybe the Scotsman wouldn’t return. He could move more easily and faster without her. She’d not seen Uncle T.C.’s map, so she had no idea where he was to meet the explorers—not that it mattered to her. She was to stay somewhere else and wait, or to send someone to her family to come and get her.
Getting up, she went under the canvas cloth he’d set up for her and wondered if he’d meant it as a campsite just for her.
She wrapped Hope’s big cloak about her, put the hood over her head, and drew her knees up. Feeling the wool about her made her remember the last night at Uncle T.C.’s house. Cay knew she’d been so very brave, but then, she’d been angered by the way Hope had treated her, as though Cay were too young and frivolous to be able to do something as simple as what T.C. was asking of her.
“And she was right,” Cay said aloud as she sniffed away the tears that threatened to come. She needed to think of something good. She could think of . . . of . . . Of Hope’s request for a husband, she thought. That was good for a laugh. Hope was bossy, controlling, not always nice, and she sometimes said hurtful things. No wonder she wasn’t married.
Maybe Hope and the Scotsman should marry, Cay thought, and that idea made her relax, even warmed her inside. Since he seemed to expect women to blindly obey him, she imagined the arguments the two of them would have. Hope would demand that her husband take a bath once a year, and he’d tell her that she had to do whatever he told her to, even if it made no sense.
The images made Cay chuckle aloud. Stretching out on the leaf-covered ground, she worked to keep the amusing thoughts in her mind. The Scotsman was older than Hope—she guessed him to be in his early forties—but that was all right. At almost thirty, Hope couldn’t be too choosey about whom she found to marry her.
Gradually Cay began to relax enough that she drifted into much-needed sleep.
Six
When Alex returned with a big bag of hot food, he didn’t go directly to the campsite but went around it. He wanted to see what was there without blundering into something. When he saw the ruins, but no horse and no girl, he nearly panicked. It took time to calm his heart, which seemed to have leaped into his throat. She had taken the horse and left. Or no! Maybe she’d been found and abducted. Would he have to break her out of jail?
When the horse, tethered on a long rope, wandered back into sight, Alex was so relieved that he was embarrassed. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was going to be glad to see her for herself, not just because she was his responsibility. She was a link to his father, to Scotland, and to Nate, who was his best friend even though they’d never met in person.
Alex slowly walked his horse down the hill, holding the big bag out, and anticipating her joy when she saw the food he’d brought.
He dismounted, removed the horse’s saddle, and set the mare out to graze before he went into the little makeshift shelter he’d built for her. Lying on the leaves was the girl, and she didn’t wake when he stepped closer to her. From her tear-stained cheeks, he could tell that she’d been crying.
It looked as though, while he was away, her bravery had given out. He opened the bag and silently began to pull out the contents. First there was a loaf of bread still warm from the oven, then a thick gooseberry pie in a ceramic dish. Under it was a huge wooden bowl filled nearly to the top with beef stew with big chunks of meat, potatoes, and carrots, all swimming in a fragrant gravy. On the bottom was a single wooden spoon.
Alex dipped the spoon into the stew, and held it by Cay’s nose. It took a moment before she moved, but she seemed to come out from under the hood nose first, her eyes still closed.
He drew the spoon back and she followed it.
“Ooooh,” she said as she opened her eyes and reached for the spoon—but Alex pulled it back. Cay just sat there, looking at him in astonishment.
“Give me that!” She made a lunge, grabbed the spoon from him, and ate the stew. As she chewed, she closed her eyes in ecstasy. “Heaven. Pure Heaven.”
Alex reached to take the spoon from her, but she drew it away.
“Get your own.”
“I did get my own and that’s it. We have to share it.”
“Share a spoon?” She was aghast.
His long arm reached behind her and took the spoon while tossing her the loaf of bread. “Use that, and now who’s the ungrateful one? I guess you think I should have risked getting caught just to steal two spoons.”
Cay tore off a chunk of bread and dipped it in the bowl. It soaked up gravy, but it was difficult to get the meat; it kept falling off.
Alex watched her make several unsuccessful attempts at getting meat, then held out the spoon he’d used.
When she realized it was share or go hungry, she snatched it from him. “You have the manners of a barbarian.”
“And you have the appetite of a lumberjack. Give that back to me or I won’t tell you how I got this. I was nearly killed.”