Page 36

“He tried to stab you!”

“I told you to hide.”

“I did hide.”

“For all of three minutes!”

“And look how much trouble you got into in those three minutes!” She crossed her arms, still dangling. It somewhat ruined the effect. “You’re welcome.”

He muttered something under his breath. She did not ask him to repeat it, as it did not sound complimentary.

“You seem agitated, Captain Thorn.”

He set her down, jaw ticking. “You’ll bloody well stay right here.” He stormed away after the stranger, who had headed toward the inn.

Naturally, Clara followed.

Chapter Thirteen

The inn had been an inn since before the time of Queen Elizabeth. It was built of dark wood that tilted considerably to the left. The thatched roof, on the other hand, sagged in the middle. Starlings sang from the straw. It was lovely and welcoming in its own way. Or would have been had a stranger not just stolen the last horse from the stable yard and left in its place a coldly furious captain home from a decade at war with the French.

Bram did not posture or berate anyone—he merely asked clipped questions, his eyes deadly. It was a very effective combination.

It did not, however, have the power to produce a horse out of thin air.

“Sorry, sir,” one of the stable hands said, eyes wide. Behind him, the stable master was threatening everyone within earshot. The inn was a stopping point for wealthy guests who did not have rooms at the Hall. Their horses were worth more than the entire inn. It was only chance that had the stables empty, and the mounts already claimed by their owners for the day. “We only have the one mule, and she’ll bite you before every step.”

“Which way did the thief go?” Bram asked.

“Headed east toward the crossroads.”

Bram nodded. He did not glance back at Clara. “I thought I told you to stay there.”

“I did not listen,” she said crisply. “As I am not your dog.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he muttered.

“I am also not one of your officers.”

“What happened to the very reserved spinster who does not like to make waves?”

“She is otherwise occupied.”

He almost smiled. “Come on, then.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, hurrying to match his long strides. She would learn to fly before she asked him to slow down.

“There’s an old ruin in the fields just back there. It has a decent tower, and I should be able to get a better view from there.” His eyes found hers. “Keep up.”

Keep up was perhaps the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her.

She was more accustomed to Oh no, not her again and I suppose we can invite her if we must.

Clara kept up.

While Bram’s strides ate up the countryside, Clara’s stride resembled more of a hop, something reminiscent of a demented bunny. It was not easy work to clamber over hillocks of frozen earth and mounds of tangled grass slick with melted frost. She did not utter a single sound of protest or effort. Not a one.

Bram reached back and caught her hand when she teetered as she clambered over the low stone wall. He did not glance back, did not otherwise appear to have remembered she was there. But his hand was there when she needed, steadying, a quick help and then they were off again.