“I figured so,” she said in that same dreamy tone from earlier. “Is he brave, too?”
Having started with the truth, I saw no reason to veer from it now. “I’ve never known anyone braver. Not long after we met, someone accused me of witchcraft. Henry faced an entire meeting house full of people to protect me.” Armed with only a pistol and a dagger no less.
A soft sigh escaped her. “Tell me what else he’s done.”
My pulse quickened just thinking about him. “Well, two weeks ago he challenged a score of noblemen on my behalf. And not long after that I saw him fight four savage hounds.” I purposefully omitted how the hounds had been sent by Cailleach to kill me as she believed I threatened the balance between our kind in the human world.
Another sigh floated through the darkness, full of longing. “He gives you the grandest kisses, I suppose.”
“Ailish!” I said, shocked by so candid a remark.
“Don’t deny it, Selah. No man can be all that without knowing how to kiss a lady, too.”
My cheeks grew flushed. “I’ve not much to judge by,” I admitted, “but he does seem to excel in that area.” And undoubtedly many others I had yet to discover.
“When I get to London, I’ll find someone like Henry.” The hay shifted as she dropped from her arm and resettled for the night. “He’ll be brave and handsome, and cover me in kisses. And he’ll kill Calhoun if’n he tries to get me again.”
She sounded so determined, I couldn’t tell her that Henry Fitzalan had no equal. “Goodnight, Ailish,” I said instead.
“Sleep tight, Selah, and don’t worry about Calhoun. We won’t be caught unaware tonight.”
This seemed an overconfident statement, as our awareness was currently limited to the inside of the barn. For all we knew, the man was already circling, ready to swoop in at just the right moment...”How can you be so sure?”
She yawned. “A friend be watching out for us. We’ll get plenty o’ warning if’n Calhoun comes near.”
“Do you mean Seamus?”
“He’d be helpful too, I suppose.” The last of her words trailed to a sleepy slur.
My heart skipped a beat. “Who else?”
Silence answered.
“Ailish,” I called, a bit annoyed.
Her breathing turned to the faintest snores.
I darted a nervous glance around the barn. There was nothing to see through the darkness, and with a frustrated grunt, I tugged the blanket to my chin. A friend indeed! Nestling back into the hay, I forced my eyelids shut but kept an ear toward the door for the first sound of trouble.
Chapter Twelve
Signs of Evil
Something batted my nose. Swatting it away, I received a series of sharp pokes on the back of my hand.
“Ouch!”
My eyes flew open and I sat up, dazed. Heavily shadowed light filtered from above, giving partial shape to the immediate surroundings. Blinking the sleep away, I gazed at rough wood walls, farming tools and hay...
Last night came rushing back. “The MacCabes’ barn,” I breathed in relief.
Warm fur brushed against my sore hand, the tabby cat from last night nudging for attention. Tilting a look upward, it meowed at me.
“Well, good morning to you, too.” I scratched behind its ears.
Encouraged, it stepped into my lap and padded the woolen blanket. I ran a hand along its length, feeling the lithe back arch contentedly beneath my touch.
“You’ve some cheek demanding a rub after scratching me like that.” I brought my hand closer for a better look. Four red marks stood out on the skin.
The cat jumped out of my lap.
I sighed. “Seems we both have other things to do today.” Like walk the remaining twenty miles to Wexford.
Meowing again, the cat scratched at the door. “Be patient or find another way out,” I told it. A barn like this would offer more than one place for the tabby to come and go as it pleased. Pushing the blanket aside, I reached for my boots. “Wake up, Ailish. We need to leave.”
The boots felt even tighter today, and I winced from the starts of blisters. Perhaps another Good Samaritan would offer a ride, or I’d be hobbling before long. Four hours by cart...seven by foot, not accounting for rest... We definitely needed a ride.
I stood and brushed the hay from my skirts. More hay fell from my hair as I combed my fingers through the unruly curls, replacing several loose pins.
“Ailish,” I called again, turning toward her. “We need to—”
The hay was empty, showing only a slight indentation from where she’d slept. The burlap sack rested beside the pile, but her boots were gone.
A meow came from the door as though in answer. “Of course she went out,” I huffed. “But why didn’t she wake me?” Good thing the sack remained, or I would have suspected that she’d run off alone.