The Scent of Jasmine (Edilean 4) - Page 5

rs and looked at her for a moment. “May God go with you,” she said, and quickly she kissed Cay’s cheek. In the next minute the two of them were running for the stables where the horses awaited them. Hope helped Cay adjust the voluminous cloak over her dress and the lower part of her legs, which were exposed in their silk stockings. The ball gown was narrow, and when she was on the horse, it rode up on her legs.

“No matter what our godfather says, please be very cautious with this man,” Hope said when Cay was at last in the saddle and covered.

Trying to lighten the serious mood of the moment, Cay said, “Can I bring you back anything?”

“Your safety will be enough,” Hope said without a smile, but when she saw Cay’s disappointed look, she said, “A husband. Not too tall, not too short, not rich, not poor. I just want a man who can stand up to my father.” She gave a little smile. “And I want a man who won’t fall asleep on our wedding night.”

“Which father?” Cay quipped and instantly realized she was more nervous than she’d thought. She started to apologize, but Hope laughed.

“The complaining one, of course. The other one, I have no trouble with—except that he won’t obey me. Now go!”

Cay kicked the horse forward and rode west toward the place where she was to meet the murderer.

Now, she sat on the horse and waited. They should have been there by now, but she heard or saw nothing. Had something gone wrong? Had the escape attempt failed? She was aware that she knew remarkably little about what Uncle T.C. had done to make this plan and she should have asked more questions. She should have been more like her brother Nate, who loved to solve puzzles. He liked to figure out who did what and why. In the dark silence, she thought about the first time Nate had solved a dilemma that had put her entire family and all the people who worked for them in a tizzy. The flour in the kitchen was disappearing at an alarming rate, but no one would admit to taking it.

Smiling, Cay’s mind began to wander back to that time, but a sound to her right made her pull back on the reins to her mare. She’d securely tied the other horse to a tree about fifty yards away, and when she glanced that way, she could see nothing.

But her senses told her that something was different. “Who’s there?” she called out.

Out of the darkness slipped a tall, bearded, older-looking man, who stood so close to her that she jerked the reins and started to flee, but he caught her by the calf—and when he did, her silk-clad leg and a bit of her gown were revealed. The crystal beads sparkled even in the blackness of the night.

“Bludy heel,” the man said as he looked up at her. “Th’ glaikit cheil sent a vemen childe tae dae a mon’s job. A wee, dreich hen ay nae use ’at Ah main troost wi’ mah life. Ah main an aw shet myself noo.” He paused, then said in American English, “Are you on your way to a party, Miss?”

Cay kicked his hand away from her leg and looked down at him with all the contempt she could express. “As suin as Ah gie rid ay ye, Ah am. Kin ye keep up wi’ me?” She’d spent several summers in Scotland with her cousins and she understood the insult he’d given her, and all she could think was that he was an ungrateful lout.

She didn’t bother pointing out where the other horse was. If he was so sure that a “vemen childe”—a woman child—was so useless that he “might as well shoot himself now” then he could “bludy” well find the horse by himself.

He was just standing there, staring at her in open-mouthed astonishment, and she thought he was probably shocked that she understood his thick brogue. He said something under his breath that sounded like “You’re a McTern,” but she wasn’t sure what he’d said.

When a shot rang out, she wasn’t surprised. Obviously, T.C.’s plan had gone awry. The men she was to pay hadn’t shown up, and the foul mouthed Scotsman had come alone. He was certainly on his own now, she thought as she kicked her mare to run faster.

As she rode, she could feel her dress riding up higher on her hips. At this rate, she’d look awful when she arrived at the ball. The hood of the cloak had blown off her head and she could feel her carefully dressed hair coming out of its pins. She was glad she’d thought to pin the diamond stars inside her bodice. Her father had given her those for her eighteenth birthday and she’d hate to lose them, especially in so unworthy a cause.

Behind her, she could hear another horse coming up fast. Turning, she saw that it was the Scotsman. Even though he had a lot of hair on his head and face, she could still see that his eyes were blazing with anger.

“Cover yerself, you daft girl,” he shouted at her.

“Now’s not the time for modesty.” She stood up in the saddle and the horse took on more speed. She’d always loved riding and she’d spent a lot of her life on horseback. Racing with her brothers—and beating them—was one of her favorite pastimes.

“So they won’t see you’re a lass,” he yelled as he tried to keep up with her. But his horse was so laden with what he was to take on the expedition it couldn’t. Still, the man kept urging it forward until Cay felt sorry for the animal.

“We must part,” she said as she quickly reined her horse to the left. She didn’t know her way around the outside of Charleston very well, but she had a good sense of direction, and besides, she could see lights in the distance. She was going to go to T.C.’s house where she planned to pack her clothes and go home in the morning. She’d had all the excitement she could stand for one visit.

When the man turned with her and nearly made her run off the road, it took all her years of experience in riding to keep the horse on track.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she shouted at him.

“Saving your wee life,” he yelled back. “If you go back into the city they’ll arrest you.”

“No one knows I’ve ever even met you.” She glanced over her shoulder. She’d heard a shot, but she’d seen no one.

“They saw you.”

“They did not!” she shouted at him.

To her astonishment, he grabbed the bridle of her horse and pulled so hard she almost fell off. If she’d had a whip in her hands, she would have used it on him.

“You must come with me.”

Tags: Jude Deveraux Edilean Romance
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