Then he was gone.
She stood unmoving for a moment, staring at the door and then down to the dagger in her hand. She’d never seen such fine craftsmanship. It was a costly piece. She pulled it free of the sheath, assessing the blade. It looked sharp enough, glinting in the light. He was correct. It would serve as a much better weapon.
With a grunt of satisfaction, she secured the dagger and dressed for the day.
Chapter 10
Above all, wolves are survivors.
They are even known to gnaw off their own limbs when caught in a trap.
He regretted their late start. They should have gotten on the road much earlier. Marcus knew that within an hour. It was colder than yesterday. The snow was coming down harder and the mule did not favor the conditions, braying loudly as though that might result in a change of circumstances. Their progress was agonizingly slow.
Alyse Bell, however, didn’t complain.
He couldn’t see much of her face. She’d burrowed inside her cloak and only her eyes peered out in thin slits at the world.
He checked on her several times, circling around in an attempt to prod her mount forward. He liked to think it helped propel them onward, but even so, it became increasingly evident that they would not be reaching the next town before nightfall. A definite dilemma. Stuck out in these conditions after dark was certain cause for alarm.
He scanned the road and surrounding countryside through the flurry of snowflakes. The quiet landscape stared back at him, snow-blanketed and sleepy, indifferent to the wet cold seeping into its bones. Mother Nature was unfeeling in that way.
As evening approached, his desperate need to find them shelter only increased. They couldn’t bed down out in the open, unprotected from the elements. He was on the verge of circling back around again and lighting a fire to that mule’s stubborn arse when he spotted the smoke above the treetops, a gray plume against the darkening sky. The sight of it lifted his spirits.
He called to her over the howling wind and gestured ahead. She gave a nod of understanding. He led them off the road and through the trees, hoping it was a dwelling ahead that they might prevail upon for shelter. He broke through the foliage and paused on a rise that overlooked a small crofter’s cottage.
He released a grateful breath, not fully realizing until that moment how worried he had been.
“There.” He nodded to the small house sitting at the base of the hill. Smoke chugged from its chimney. A slapdash structure beside the cottage hardly qualified as a stable, but it could be nothing else.
The mule rolled up beside him and stopped. “Do you know the people who live here?” she asked doubtfully.
“No, but they will board us for the night.” He said the words matter-of-factly, without looking at her.
“How can you be so certain?”
“They’re crofters. I’ll offer the proper incentive.”
She made a sound that was part snort part grunt.
He slid her a look. “Something amuses you?”
“You are so confident your money can buy anything, are you?”
“Take a look about, Miss Bell.” He gestured to the house. “They appear to be in need. Why would they not leap upon the opportunity to earn a few coins?”
Her eyes sparked with something that resembled resentment. “Money can’t get you everything,” she grumbled.
The words were scornful, but there was a stubborn refusal to them, too. As though she wanted them to be true, and yet she had her doubts.
“It got me you,” he snapped.
Her hissed breath was the only reaction she gave but it was enough. Enough to tell him that he had hit a nerve.
Feeling rather foolish, he looked away from her, his chest tight with discomfort at this sudden flash of introspection. The girl made him think about things he would rather not.
Money had given him a life of leisure, power and position others could only dream to live. He knew that, but he had never really contemplated it at length. His life was simply one of privilege. It’s all he had ever known.
And yet he was running from it. Leaving that life behind.
The place was even smaller up close. He couldn’t imagine a great many people lived under its roof. A dog barked somewhere inside the house.
The front door opened as he dismounted. A young man stepped out, clearly alerted of their arrival by the beast that charged out with him.
The mule let out a long bray of disapproval at the sight of the sheepdog.
The canine must have taken the sound as an invitation to rush forward because he lunged at the mule with several wild yips.
“Fergus! Come.”
With a whimper of longing, the dog obediently trotted back to its master, tail tucked.
With a quick pat on the dog’s head, the man reached behind him to close the door to his house. He hadn’t bothered to don a coat. Even so, he didn’t shiver as he stood in his wool shirt and suspenders, snow falling down on him. His boots scuffed over the ground as he advanced a few steps, eyeing them cautiously. The dog inched forward as well, surveying them in mutual yet restrained suspicion.
“Good eve’,” the crofter greeted, squinting through flurries.
“Good evening,” Marcus returned. “Frightful weather.”
“Aye.” The man nodded slowly and looked to the sky. “Storm coming.”
“Indeed.”
The girl muttered behind him, “You mean it’s only going to get colder?”
Ignoring her, he fixed his attention on the crofter. The man was younger than Marcus but his face was weathered and lined, testament to a hard living.
“Might we impose on your hospitality and take shelter here for the night?” Marcus reached inside his coat for his pocketbook. “I will compensate you, of course.”
“We’re a mite crowded.” The crofter paused, his gaze skipping over them, considering, taking in everything. “’Ow much?” he asked, clearly tempted despite his reserve.
Marcus glanced at the small house again. It was badly in need of repair. A new roof. Even the door needed replacing. Drafts doubtlessly slipped in through the cracks in the wood. “Enough for you to make all the repairs necessary on your home.”
The man said nothing, but his nostrils flared slightly as he continued assessing them.
Alyse muttered something more under her breath, but this time Marcus could not make out the words. He was beginning to suspect the lass had a great many things to say on all manner of subjects whether anyone wanted to hear from her or not. Even when her mouth wasn’t speaking, her eyes were. Not an ideal characteristic for a housekeeper. The role usually required deference. Nothing of this girl smacked of that particular character trait.
“Verra well,” the Scotsman replied at last. “Settle your mounts for the night.”
Marcus nodded. “Thank you.”
Before moving to the barn, he caught a flash of movement in one of the windows. A young woman peered out, a babe in her arms and two more barely out of nappies crowded beside her. Now Marcus understood what the man meant. Crowded indeed. Where did they all sleep? Where would he and Alyse sleep?
With a mental shrug, he told himself as long as they had a roof over their head it would suffice. It surpassed freezing to death on some desolate road.
“Did you have to say that?”
He faced Alyse. She glared at him, looking most aggrieved. “Say what?”
“That remark about his house needing repairs?”
He motioned to the cottage. “It’s no secret. Anyone with eyes can see that.”
“Aye, he is undoubtedly aware and didn’t require the reminder. You needn’t have humiliated him. Some people have no control over their situations.” High color crept into her cheeks and he suspected she was not merely talking about the Scotsman.
“Indeed. Situations can be out of one’s control. Which is why he needs my money.” He snatched the reins and started guiding Bucephalus to the stables. “And for the record, I don’t think I embarrassed him. He didn’t so much as blink an eye.”
“Of course he wouldn’t want to appear embarrassed. He has his pride.”