Page 47 of Cloaked in Beauty

Something had shifted between them after the night they’d spent at the Bullock home. At first, she’d attributed the change in Philip’s demeanor to the awkwardness of pretending to be a married couple, but when his aloofness didn’t wear off after the first few hours, she realized something else was at play.

The fringe on the back of Philip’s buckskin coat swayed gently with the rhythm of his horse’s gait. If only the man were equally relaxed. There’d been a tension about him the last two days—one she’d not been able to dispel with either teasing or friendly chatter. Letty was no expert on friendship, having little-to-no experience to draw from, but no one could fail to miss the wall Philip had erected between them. He’d laid bricks of silence and polite distance, yet they carried the same heft as if they’d been made of clay and stone. Her attempts to penetrate the barrier had fallen short thus far. The pebbles she’d been tossing at him bounced off without making a dent. Might be time to hunt up a boulder or two. Along with a catapult. She grinned at the absurd image, then sobered. She wasn’t at war with the man. She just missed him. Missed the closeness they’d shared before the barn debacle.

He must have been pretending sleep that morning. It made sense. She’d never once sneaked up on the man. His hearing nearly rivaled Rusty’s. She wanted to believe that Philip had faked slumber in order to spare her embarrassment. Or even to spare himself. Yet she couldn’t deny the possibility that her wanton snuggling behavior, no matter how inadvertent, might have caused her to lose his respect and trust. A prospect as gray and dismal as the clouds overhead.

There’d been a couple of times, however, that she’d caught him looking at her with the same warmth in his eyes that she recalled from earlier in their travels. He’d blink it away before she could approach him, of course, but those glimpses allowed her to believe that his friendship hadn’t died. It had just been chained up in a dungeon somewhere, waiting for her to find the right key.

Goodness. Catapults and dungeons? Letty shook her head and quirked a smile. Who knew melancholia would turn her thoughts in such a medieval direction? If she wasn’t careful, she’d soon have Philip digging symbolic moats and contracting metaphorical plagues. They might soon be battling ogres and—

“We’re almost to the troll bridge.”

Letty’s head came up. Trolls? Good heavens. Had her medieval melancholy infected Philip, too?

He didn’t look melancholy, though, when he reined his horse around. Just serious. She was coming to dislike that solemn expression. The one that made her feel like a duty. And an unpleasant one, at that. Oh, how she missed his smile.

Letty halted her mare as Philip drew abreast, facing her. The packhorse placidly followed along on the far side.

“The livery owner in Rusk said that traffic on the bridge is lightest in the morning,” he said as he shifted in the saddle, “but I want you and Rusty to stay behind the tree line anyway until I fetch you.”

Ah. Toll bridge. That made more sense. No trolls under this bridge, only the Neches River.

Letty nodded, imitating his serious expression. “I remember your instructions from last night.” He’d been very thorough as he explained his plans for today’s river crossing. “I’m to leash Rusty and keep him at my side at all times. I’m to wear my hood, keep my eyes locked on Shadow’s mane, and not speak to anyone unless absolutely necessary.”

She wasn’t too sure how Rusty would react to a leash, but she’d do her best to see he played his part. Letty intended to earn her way back into Philip’s good graces, and following his instructions to the letter seemed like a good strategy. Especially in light of his nervousness about exposing her to strangers. If there had been a place to cross the river safely on their own, he would have avoided the bridge altogether. But her lack of swimming skill combined with an impending storm had forced his hand.

Hoping to elicit a smile from him, she offered one of her own. “I’ll be as unassuming as a rock,” she vowed with only a hint of teasing in her voice. “You’ll see. No one will pay me the least notice.”

His mouth curved the wrong direction. “The chances of that are nil.”

Letty’s spirits sank, as did her smile. “I promise not to draw attention, Philip. Truly. I’ll keep my head down and won’t look at a soul.”

He let out a beleaguered sigh. “You’re a beautiful woman in a red cloak. People are going to notice.”

He thought her beautiful? Her pulse danced. Until she realized he considered that beauty a flaw.

“What if I smear mud on my face?” She glanced around for a likely source. If the mist turned to rain in the next few minutes, she’d have an ample supply. Excitement built as she considered her plan. “I can smear mud on my cape, too. Hide the color.”

His eyes softened for the briefest instant before he tore his gaze away to stare down the trail behind her. “I don’t think it would make any difference.” He grumbled the words, but she swore a touch of humor echoed behind the gruffness. “Just follow the plan without any embellishments, all right?”

“Yes, sir.”

He dipped his chin, then turned Steele around and moved back into the lead position. Rusty trotted along at Letty’s side, tongue lolling, unconcerned by the undercurrents zinging between the humans around him. The trees eventually thinned enough that Philip signaled her to halt. He dropped the packhorse’s lead and gave the order to stand. Then he turned to Letty.

“The bridge should be about a quarter mile downstream. I’ll scout it out, and when there are no other travelers in sight, I’ll return for you. It could be five minutes; it could be an hour. There’s no way to know.”

Letty nodded her understanding. “I’ll have Rusty ready when you return.” Although, the shorter the wait, the more likely Rusty would cooperate.

“If any trouble arises while I’m gone, fire a shot into the air, and I’ll come running.”

He’d purchased a small pistol for her in Church Hill when he stopped at the general store there to pick up new blankets for their bedrolls. She kept it in her saddlebag, not yet comfortable enough with the weapon to carry it on her person. She much preferred her knife, should a weapon be needed, yet a knife couldn’t compete with a gun when it came to long-distance signaling.

She patted the saddlebag and offered a smile. “I know what to do. This isn’t the first time you’ve left me alone.”

“No, but it’s the first time I’ve left you so close to a main road. Anyone could stumble upon you and recognize your likeness from one of the reward posters your uncle’s men have been plastering all over creation.” His eyes raked her face, his jaw clenching tight.

“I’ll be fine, Philip.” Her heart softened as she took him in. She might be seeing what she wanted to see, but the concern in his stormy gray eyes seemed deeper than what professional duty demanded. “Go,” she urged. “Do what you need to do. We’ll be here when you return.”

His jaw moved, and she thought he might say something, but instead he nodded and rode off.