Page 51 of This Laird of Mine

“Are you worried that we are being followed?” She shifted her body to gaze behind her, into his face.

He tightened his arms around her. “I will not be at ease until we reach our destination.”

Claire fell silent as the horse picked its way through the dense forest. It felt strange to be riding across the same terrain she had crossed less than a fortnight ago. It seemed a lifetime since she had married a total stranger.

“You’re very quiet,” Jules commented. “Are you weary of travel already?”

“No,” she said, swallowing to ease the sudden tightness in her throat. “I was thinking about all that has happened since I left Edinburgh. I am no longer the same person.”

“Much has happened to you.” His hands tightened with violence on the reins.

“To you as well.” She could feel the tension in his body, and gazed at him with aching tenderness.

At the look, he straightened his shoulders and deliberately loosened his grip on the reins. “We were both caught in someone else’s game.” His gaze shifted to her face.

For a moment she forgot to breathe at the tenderness in his eyes, then the look vanished. He glanced away and kicked the horse into a faster pace. David matched his speed. They galloped across the countryside, each step bringing them closer to their goal.

The summer sky had begun to soften, blurring at the edges in dusky shades of red and gold as they arrived on the outskirts of Edinburgh. “We are here.” Claire breathed a sigh of relief.

Jules reined his horse to a stop, waiting for David and Penelope to come alongside them. Penelope had remained quiet during the journey, but at their arrival her features brightened.

“Where do we start looking for the girls?” David asked.

“A wise man once told me the best place to start is at the beginning.” Jules turned to Penelope. “Where were you when you were taken?”

“At Claire’s—I mean, Lady Kildare’s studio,” the young woman corrected herself.

Jules turned to Claire. “Where is your studio located?”

“On Leith Road, close to the coaching inn at Shrubhill.”

Jules nodded and kicked his horse forward. “Then let us proceed there before it grows dark.”

They rode through the busy street in silence. Until they came upon Gallow Lee. Claire could not help the shudder that moved through her.

“What is it?” Jules asked.

Claire’s gaze stayed fixed on the spot of land where several executions had taken place over the years—from witches, to murderers, to, more recently, Covenanters—who were either strangled then burned or decapitated then buried at the base of the gallows. “This place has a gruesome history, and I cannot help but feel the pain and misery of those executed here each time I pass by.”

Jules pulled her closer and reached up to smooth the hair at her temple. “The ghosts of the past cannot hurt you.” His voice was gentle, as it had once been after they had lain in each other’s arms. He must have sensed the direction of her thoughts, because he pulled his hand away and kicked the horse into a faster pace until they passed the gallows.

The sun had started its descent in the evening sky by the time they reached her studio. David took the horses across the street to the coaching inn, while Jules, Penelope, and Claire entered the building. Inside the small space, the scents of turpentine, linseed oil, and paint lingered. The smell of home.

Claire lit the sconces, and golden light illuminated the paint-spattered floor and the half-finished canvases that lined one wall and the completed ones on the other. The walls of the studio were painted with stone pillars covered in ivy and flowers that coiled together, reaching toward the sky. From behind a mass of clouds populated with cherubim and seraphim, the sun struggled to break free.

So many images, so many colors . . . they warmed the small chamber and made it appear much larger than it was. Smiling, Claire turned to Jules. “Welcome to my home,” she said.

Her smile died a moment later at the odd look on Jules’s face. “You live here?”

“Upstairs. There are two bedchambers and a small kitchen. We can stay here for the night. Penelope and I will share one room. You and David can have the other.”

Jules nodded and took the saddlebags up the small stairway at the back of the room while Claire led Penelope to a chair. “Dearest, I know this will be difficult for you,” she said when both David and Jules had rejoined them. “You need to tell us exactly what happened the day you were taken. I was upstairs gathering supplies . . .” Claire started the conversation, hoping it might help Penelope remember the rest.

Penelope nodded. “We were setting up our easels.” Her gaze moved to the back of the room where three easels still remained. “The door opened, and we thought for some reason it was you. Only it wasn’t.” She shivered at the memory. “Instead, three men entered the room. They came at us fast. Anna screamed. I remember that frightened sound even now.” She closed her eyes and continued. “Eloise didn’t make things easy for them. She bit the man who grabbed her on the hand. He yowled and grasped her by the hair. She kicked him and he slapped her across the face, hard, sending her to the floor. I thought he had killed her. Until I heard her crying.” Penelope’s voice shook with anguish.

Claire pressed her hand to her mouth to hold back a gasp of horror. She felt heavy inside, so weighed down with tears that she tried not to shed. Then Jules’s hand tightened on hers. Claire brought her gaze to his. In his eyes she saw sympathy, but not the look of connection they had had back at Kildare Manor. He would give her support, but not himself, she realized. A sob died in her throat as she forced her own hurt aside.

Penelope opened her eyes. “They tied us up and forced us to drink something bitter.” She shuddered again. “That is when the world went dark.”