A DANGEROUS DISCOVERY
The next morning dawned pale beyond the screen across the window. Rubina, in her bed, felt the light touch her eyelids. She stretched and smiled.
She was deliciously warm. Her body was revitalized with a long rest and her mind was full of dreams of Camden. She stretched again and sat up.
“Breakfast.”
As she combed her hair, sitting at the oak dressing table by the bed, she heard someone stir behind the screen.
Marguerite appeared, pale hair tousled, rubbing her eyes.
“Good morning.”
Rubina smiled. “Good morning.”
Marguerite flopped down onto the bed, a tired grin on her face.
“How was the ball?” Rubina asked, though she could see from her friend's contented air that the evening had been a pleasant adventure.
“Good,” Marguerite said, giving a big stretch. “Beautiful. And yours?”
Rubina felt color flood her cheeks. “Wonderful.”
“Mm.” Marguerite smiled and leaned back, supported on a slender arm. “Any plans today?”
Rubina shook her head, threading a russet curl behind one ear. “Not really. Yourself? I thought maybe a long ride might be quite nice.”
“Oh, yes,” Marguerite yawned comfortably. “A ride would be nice.”
Rubina nodded. “Well, then. How about breakfast?”
“Yes!” Marguerite looked decidedly enthused. “Breakfast. The best moment of the day.”
They both laughed. Rubina stood and moved the screen back from the window, letting in the light. She felt such contentment, such excitement to begin the day. Every morning while she was here at court was another chance to see Camden.
The breakfast was a quiet time – most of the gentlefolk were, it seemed, still asleep after the party. Rubina and her companion were alone at the top end of the table, a few small groups chattering among themselves over at the further side.
Rubina ate her oat bannock slowly. The delicious, crumbling warmth filled her mouth and she closed her eyes, savoring the peace, the taste, the moment.
“Ready to go?” Marguerite asked after a while.
“Yes,” Rubina said briskly. “Let's go riding.”
Marguerite stretched and then yawned. “I feel a bit tired,” she said. “Would you mind terribly, my dear, if I stayed on here awhile?”
Rubina shrugged lightly. “Of course not,” she said easily. “I'm quite happy to go alone.”
She would take an escort, of course – even the woods around the castle could be the lair of vagabonds or fugitives. With one or two guardsmen with her, she was sure she'd be safe enough.
Twenty minutes later, dressed in a long dark brown dress, she walked lightly down to the stables.
Two guards followed her. She accepted a hand up into the saddle, waited for her guardsmen to be ready and set off.
The morning was warm and sunny, though a cool breeze blew that might just bring rain later. She breathed in the wild, exciting scents of leaf mold and woodland and damp and let the wind tangle her hair.
“Come on, Merryweather,” she whispered to her horse. She felt her nudge into a canter.
It was a beautiful morning, the leaves dancing in the breeze, and Rubina felt a little impatient with having to keep pace always with the guards. She glanced about.
“Come on,” she whispered.
Her horse seemed to feel her excitement and she snorted and then stretched her legs, speeding up into a gallop. It was quite risky to be going at this speed in the forest, but Rubina felt as if she wanted a good ride. Her heart was full of excitement, her mind of memories that made her glow with happiness. She breathed fresh air into her chest and sped off.
“Merryweather?” she said.
They had been going for about ten minutes when Rubina felt a sudden thread of discomfort. They were in a region of the forest she did not recognize. As a regular guest at the court, Rubina had ridden in these woods since her childhood. The fact that she was in unknown woodlands was strange. She shivered.
A glance over her shoulder showed her that the guardsmen were out of earshot. She felt a momentary stab of danger. She regretted her reckless decision.
“Not much we can do, eh, dear?” she asked her horse gently. “We can just wait here.”
Her horse snorted. The woods were quiet, a breeze just shaking the broad-leafed tree branches above. The air smelled of loam. A bird called.
Rubina closed her eyes, seeking out calm. The day was going slowly darker, the breeze drawing clouds in from the coastline. She shivered.
“No reason to worry,” she said mildly. “I can just go back the way I came. I wonder where those guards are.”
Frowning, wondering what use it was to take an escort when they lost themselves the moment she got lost, she headed off.
Something slithered past a tree trunk. She was riding slowly now, heading back down the path at a walk, hoping she would spot the turnoff she had taken. The noise was loud in the silence, though in truth it must have been a gentle whisper; the sound of mail, perhaps, rasping against bark.
“Whist,” she said under her breath. “Who goes there?”
Nothing. No reply. She laughed, nervous.
“Of course no one replied,” she said ironically. If it was no one, just twigs rattling, no one would of course. If it was an outlaw, why would they?
Rubina realized she had halted Merryweather. They went on ahead.
Crack. Rustle.
She drew in a long, shaky breath. Strove for calm.
“Who is there?” she called, seeking an authoritative note and finding it. She was the daughter of the duke of Buccleigh. Whoever was trespassing had best explain it.
Nothing. No sound.
She breathed out. I must be going mad.
Maybe there was no one in the woods. Maybe it was just some innocent woodland creature. Only her imagination.
They set off again, more slowly. Where was the turning? It was somewhere close...
Crack.
This time, Rubina jumped, spinning round. That was a twig cracking. Not imagination.
She found herself staring into a pair of dark eyes.
She wanted to scream. She found she couldn't make a noise. Her eyes locked with the man's. He was tall, with chin-length hair and a long face. He was dressed in mail. Armed with a long-sword. He held a helm cradled at his elbow. He also had a red cross sewn onto his tunic.
Rubina's heart stopped. The emblem of England. The man was not Scots, that much was clear just from his appearance. The armaments too were wrong – she had seen enough Scotsmen dressed for warfare to know they would not have a long, square shield with them.
She drew in a breath to scream.
The man's eyes darkened. Cold, slate-dark and implacable, at the distance between them – perhaps six paces – Rubina could read the expression in them. They were flat with indifference but, as they focused on her face, they gleamed with an interest she understood altogether too well.
“No!” she screamed.
She moved her knees, squeezing her horse's flanks. Her horse shot forward. She turned her head abruptly and regretted how hard she had to turn her mount to move them out of the clearing which was suddenly full of men.
“No,” she whispered. “No.”
Merryweather seemed to feel the urgency for she snorted and tore off down the path. Rubina clung to the reins, heart thumping as they streamed back down the path. She still didn't know for sure if they were heading back toward the castle. There was only one thought in her mind and that was to flee.
As they rode, the forest path widened. Rubina gently moved back, encouraging her horse to slow her pace. She breathed deeply, striving for calm.
“The castle is in the west. Look for the angle of the shade and sunlight. Go that way.”
Rubina let herself think back to the training in woodcraft she'd received as a small girl. Her cousins at Dunkeld – sons of Brodgar, her uncle – had been taught and she'd learned with them on her many visits there.
Look for landmarks. Find a clearing. Find high ground.
“The castle is on a hillside. If we find a flat space, mayhap we can see it. Think, Rubina.”
She breathed out slowly. Her hands shook where she held the reins. Her heart thumped.
She had to get back to the castle soon. To warn them.
The woodlands thinned out and she found a clearing. Looked to the west. Saw, faint and indistinct through the high branches, the outline of what could be a hill.
“There!” her heart soared. “Let's go left. And straight.”
She directed her horse with her knees, heading into the shadowed woods.
As they rode, her mind grappled with what she had seen. They were English soldiers. She couldn't deny that essential fact. No matter how fondly she wished to. They were here.
They saw me.
She shivered. That man, with those dark, cold eyes. The way he had looked at her made her skin crawl. Indifference would have been one thing. However, that was not indifferent. It wasn't quite, what she would call desire. It was far more sinister. She felt her throat tighten and tasted sour bile.
“Come on,” she whispered to her horse. “Let's go home.”
They headed left and up.
When the ground started to slope up, Rubina felt her spirits soar. They were headed in the right direction. She still had no clue where she was, and there had been, as yet, no sight of her escorts. All the same, they were headed in the right direction. Headed home.
The sun came out as they climbed the hill. Rubina clamped her lip between her teeth and tried not to feel sick. She headed on and up.
“Who goes there?”
When the guard at the gate challenged her, she felt her heart jolt. Her first response was to run and then she smiled.
“Me!” she called. “It's Rubina Invermore.”
The man's eyes went huge. He hastily drew up the rope that would lift the gate away from the entrance corridor.
“My lady!” he shouted, confounded. “Where are Rodney and Shaun?”
Rubina shook her head, feeling her patience fray. “I don't know!” she yelled up. “But I have urgent news.”
“Of course, my lady. Come inside.”
She rode along the stone passageway into the castle, breathing in the scent of limestone and wishing she could feel safe.
When she reached the courtyard, she stopped and slid out of the saddle. Her legs gave way from under her and the guard, exclaiming in sudden alarm, caught her.
“Get the physician!” he yelled insistently. “The lady is unwell.”
Rubina blinked, trying to clear the darkness that was descending over her vision. She had to focus. She had a message to bring them.
“The English,” she managed to say. Her voice was a thread. “They are here.”
Then silence.