The Scent of Jasmine (5 page)

“And I guess he assumes I’ll follow him,” Cay said as she patted her mare’s neck. She glanced back the way they’d come. It wasn’t quite daylight yet, but she could see enough to know that no one was coming after them. Maybe she should go back to the barn and get that man to help her return to her family.

Cay even turned her horse that way, but something stopped her. Maybe it was the way the Scotsman had let her keep his knife when he could easily have taken it, or maybe it was his mention of Tally. Or it could have been her uncle T.C.’s belief in him, but she didn’t run away from him.

“I think I’m going to regret this,” she said aloud as she turned her horse toward the Scotsman and went after him. It took a while to catch up, and if his horse weren’t so laden with supplies she didn’t think she would have. He could ride as well as her Scottish cousins.

When she rode up beside him, his look showed his relief. “I came because you have the bread,” she said loudly. He reached inside his tattered shirt and withdrew the hunk of coarse, stale bread, and handed it to her.

It was no easy task to reach across the two running horses and take it, but Cay had run relay races with her brothers, so she knew how to grab something while going full speed. She snatched the bread and for a moment she thought, Am I supposed to
eat
this dirty thing? If she hadn’t been so hungry and if he hadn’t been watching her, she would have thrown it down, but she wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. She tore off a hunk of the bread with her teeth and chewed it with gusto.

“Well, Catherine Edilean Harcourt, maybe you aren’t useless after all,” he said in a clear American accent, then kicked his horse forward.

For a moment, Cay was so stunned that he knew her name that her horse slowed down.

“Come on, lass!” he called to her. “We haven’t got all day for you to lay about.”

“Lay about!” she muttered as she ate the last of the bread. “Come on, girl,” she said to her horse, “let’s go get him.”

Five minutes later, she passed him, and ten minutes after that she was so far ahead that when she looked back she couldn’t see him. For a moment she thought she’d lost him, but when she turned a curve in the road, there he stood—and he was angry.

“Do not do that again,” he said softly, but his tone was almost frightening. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are. It’s one thing to tease a man, but to endanger your mare is another. You could have hurt her forelegs on this hard road.”

“Me?” Cay said, her mare going in circles around him while he and his horse stood perfectly still. “You beat me here, so you must have run faster than me. Didn’t you use the road?”

“How
I
went is of no concern to you. If I’m to protect you, you
must
obey me.”

Anger ran through her. “The only man I ‘obey’ is my father—and sometimes Adam,” she said as an afterthought. “As for you, if you can’t keep up, then I suggest you sit down and wait for the sheriff to find you.” With that, she reined her horse around, and took off down the road as fast as the mare would go.

It took over three miles of riding as hard as she could before her anger began to calm down. Of all the overbearing, arrogant things that had ever been said to her, his was the worst.

She slowed her horse and looked behind her. There was no sign of the man. Well, maybe, truthfully, what he’d said hadn’t been the worst of the worst. One by one her brothers had all told her she was to “obey” them. And the truth was that she had. They wouldn’t let her, so much younger and a girl, tag along with them if she hadn’t. But she’d
never
obeyed Tally!

When her horse gave a little limp, Cay got down and walked her to the shade of a tree. The poor animal needed to rest—as did Cay. She listened but heard nothing. There was no one else on the road. As soon as she stopped, she realized how very hungry and thirsty she was. Her mare had only the pretty leather saddle she’d brought from home on it. There was no canteen as the Scotsman had.

She was leaning against the tree when she heard voices. She stood up quickly, ready to greet whoever it was, but in the next second she realized that a group of men was approaching. She glanced down at herself. Her ballgown had once been beautiful but was now dirty, with beads hanging off of it in strings. Still, it could be seen that the dress had been expensive. And there was her mare, a lovely animal, with the handmade saddle on her back. All in all, Cay thought it would be wiser to not allow a group of strange men to see that she was a woman alone. Until she saw them and assessed who and what they were, she thought she should hide.

Leading her horse into the dense trees beside the road, she waited. When the men came into view, she was glad she’d had the sense to conceal herself. There were four of them, all dirty, and from the way they sat their horses, they didn’t look fully sober.

“They’ve been drinking all night,” said a voice in her ear. Cay couldn’t help but gasp when she saw the Scotsman beside her.

“What was that?” one of the half-drunk men said as he jerked on the reins, halted his horse, and got down.

“Nothin’,” one of the other men said. “Let’s go home.”

“I tell you, I heard somethin’.”

The first man moved closer to the trees and stared into the dense shade.

Alex put his arm around Cay’s shoulders, threw the hood of the cloak over her head, and pulled her down to the ground beside him.

“Yates said—”

“That ol’ liar? You believed that he had two murderers in his barn last night?”

“Why not? That killer from Charleston escaped with his lady friend, so why not hide in Yates’s barn?”

“Because a match would burn it down. If they’re murderers, why didn’t they kill Yates? I know I’ve wanted to many a time.”

“He had those coins, so where did he get them?”

“I’ve always thought he has money. He’s just too cheap to buy his own beer. Come on, let’s go home. You probably heard a cat.”

Alex and Cay watched as the first man reluctantly turned away, mounted his horse, and they all left.

When Alex moved away from Cay, she rolled on to her back, and looked up at him.

“You are free to go,” he said, anger in his voice. “I’m no jailer and I won’t be thought of as one. You may leave whenever you want, but if you stay with me, you have to—” He broke off and looked as though he was trying to figure out how to arrange his words. “At least
listen
to what I say and give it some consideration.”

Cay wanted to be defiant and tell him she was going to leave, but the words of the men rang in her ears. That the news of the Scotsman’s escape had spread this far south was frightening. Even worse was that she was still being considered as his accomplice.

“You must not have sisters or you’d know not to tell them to ‘obey’ you.” She was still lying on the ground and looking up at him.

He shook his head. “No sisters nor brothers. I am my father’s only child.”

“And your mother?”

“Died when I was nine.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. He was looking down at her, his blue eyes with no humor in them, and waiting for her answer.

Cay didn’t want to give it. She didn’t want to plight her course with this man. She wanted to go home, to be with her family, to take a hot bath and put on clean clothes. She just wanted all of this to be over with!

Alex’s eyes softened as he sat down beside her, his legs drawn up and his arms around them. “Lass, I know how you feel. I didn’t ask for any of this either. One minute I was racing my horses and winning money from those lazy, rich boys in Charleston, I was to marry the most beautiful woman alive, and the next thing I knew, I was in a filthy prison and about to be hanged.” His voice lowered. “And the woman I loved was dead.”

His face was in profile and she could see the sadness—no, the
grief
—in his eyes. She hadn’t really had time to think of the situation from his point of view.

When she said nothing, Alex went to his horse and tightened the cinch. “I’ll take you back,” he said. “You don’t deserve to be part of this.”

Getting up, she went to stand beside him. “You mean to Virginia?”

“Aye, to Virginia, or to wherever you want to go.”

“But what about the danger to my family?”

“Better that than you have to stay with a murderer.” He untied his horse and was about to get into the saddle, but Cay blocked him.

“We need to talk about this.”

“Nothing to talk about,” he said as he swung up into the saddle. “I think we should leave, but then saying that might make you think you have to
obey
me, so do what you want.”

She didn’t move. “Maybe we should take the time to make a plan.”

He was on his horse while she was standing on the ground—and she looked so very small. Her glorious hair was down about her shoulders and there were sticks and leaves in it, but they didn’t take away from her beauty. Nate had never mentioned his sister’s hair, except to say it was red and her brothers teased her about it. Tally once dyed an old wig red and pranced around the house pretending to be Cay. She stopped him by dropping one of her mother’s prized Chinese vases over the balcony and barely missing his head. Alex had laughed at how both children had been punished by spending a week doing the household laundry.

“That’s a good idea,” Alex said. “You have any thoughts about what we should do?”

She blinked at him a few times, taken off guard by his honesty, but the truth was that she had no idea how to escape when being hunted. As she usually did in her life, she fell back on humor to cover herself. “We’ll put you in a dress and we’ll go back to Virginia together as two old women.” Her eyes were laughing. “Of course that would mean you’d have to shave and even take a bath.” She moved her horse close to a tree stump, climbed on it, and mounted.

“If it means a bath, then I can’t do that,” he said, and his tone was so serious that Cay wasn’t sure if he was teasing or not. “And I willna wear a dress.” He looked at her, his eyes very serious. “Do we go north or south?”

Cay swallowed. Never in her life had she had to make such a decision. It was the thought of what might possibly be done to her family that decided her. If her brothers were in this situation, they’d never hesitate in protecting their loved ones. “South,” she whispered at last.

She started to say more, but he gave a quick nod and reined his horse away, and they started riding at a rapid pace. They stopped twice to water themselves and the horses, then went on.

At one break, Cay asked how far he thought they’d have to go before they were out of the gossip area. She’d not so much as seen T.C.’s map. All she knew was that they were going south, with the sun always in her face.

“People love horror stories, and my guess is that we’ll have to reach Florida before we escape the talk.”

Florida, she thought, and couldn’t repress her shiver. Swamps and alligators and plants that eat people. At least that’s one of the stories Uncle T.C. used to tell her and Tally when they were little. Adam said it wasn’t true, and he’d been the one who held her that night when she screamed in a nightmare.

“Don’t worry,” Alex said. “You won’t go with me into the swamps. I’ll leave you with T.C.’s friends.” He went to his horse, checked the pack, and handed Cay a piece of beef jerky.

“I hate this,” she said as she reluctantly chewed it. “I thought you said you didn’t have a plan.”

“I didn’t if you meant to have me take you to Virginia.”

When he said nothing more, she said, “So? Do you intend to share it or not?”

He held out his hands to help her mount her horse. “Not.”

Annoyed, Cay put her hand on his shoulder and moved her foot to his thigh. It was a move she’d often done to her brothers and it was guaranteed to throw them off balance. But Alex was ready for her, and he stepped back in a way that made Cay nearly fall backward. He caught her hand before she hit the ground.

She started to bawl him out, but what she could see of his face looked so pleased with himself that she couldn’t help smiling. “Are you
sure
you don’t have sisters?”

“None, but I’m learning that I just think of the most devious thing you can do and that’s what you will do.”

Cay opened her mouth and closed it a few times, meaning to defend herself, but then she laughed. “You may be weaker and older than my brothers, but you might be smarter. Except for Adam, of course.”

He held out his cupped hands, she stepped into them, and mounted her horse. “Except for Adam,” he said as he got back into the saddle. As he turned away, he said, “How old is Adam?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“That’s what I remembered,” Alex said thoughtfully as he glanced up at the sun. “I don’t know about you, lass, but I could use a bite to eat.”

“I’ve been looking at the rump of your horse ravenously.”

“Have you now?” Alex said. “Perhaps I should be glad it wasn’t
my
rump you covet.”

“The dirt would poison me,” she said without a hint of a smile. “The horse is cleaner. And smells better.”

Alex couldn’t help smiling as she tossed her beautiful hair back, put her chin up, and moved ahead of him.

Five

“Are you
sure
you’ll be all right?” Alex asked Cay for the third time.

“You’re worse than my father,” she said, but she was faking her bravado. The truth was that she was scared to death to be left alone in the forest. She glanced back at the spooky old ruins where he’d set up a canvas roof. Since the front was open, there wouldn’t be any protection from . . . from whatever was lurking in the trees. “I’m fine,” she said. “I’ll just wait here until you return.”

“You have the pistol and you know how to use it, don’t you?” He’d already wasted a lot of time reassuring her that bears were unlikely to attack the camp.

“I can shoot quite well.” She rubbed her arms against the chill in the air as she glanced at the sky. “It looks like it might rain soon so maybe you should go.” She wanted to beg him not to leave her alone there, but she would die before she told him that.

Alex wasn’t fooled by her act of bravery. He knew she was frightened, and since they were wanted by the law and being hunted by every reward seeker in three states, she was right to be afraid. But he needed to get them food, and he couldn’t go into public with her with him. Too many people were looking for a man and a woman traveling on horseback together.

“I’ll take your mare,” he said, watching to see how upset she’d be by this. When a look of panic crossed her pretty face, he almost relented. There were bags of dried food in his saddlebags but they’d need them later. Right now, they both needed a hot meal, and if possible, Alex was going to get it for them.

“Go!” Cay said as she stepped back toward the canvas covering. “Stop worrying about me. I can take care of myself.”

Alex thought she could barely walk by herself, but he wasn’t about to say that. His real fear was that she’d again decide this was her chance to escape and she’d leave as soon as he did. He hated to think what a bunch of vigilantes would do to a young girl they thought was a criminal.

Reluctantly, he saddled the mare and, with one more backward glance, left her alone in the woods, sheltered by a few falling-down brick walls of a burned-out house.

He rode as quickly as possible along the narrow path through the trees, and for the thousandth time he cursed T.C. Connor. On the one hand, Alex owed his life to the man, but on the other, it was T.C.’s fault that he was stuck with the care—and feeding—of a girl who didn’t know how to do
anything.
She refused to obey orders and went where she wanted when she wanted to. And when Alex so much as made a suggestion of how she should do something, she told him he was the most ungrateful, smelliest man she’d ever met.

As Alex came to the road, he couldn’t suppress a smile. She could ride, he’d give her that, and the memory of her on her horse with her hair flying, the huge cloak billowing behind her, and that white dress sparkling on her trim little body made him chuckle out loud.

Immediately, he stopped and looked about to see if anyone had heard him, but no one was on the road.

The truth was that the girl was good company, which was something he desperately needed after the last months of his life. The trial had been a farce. There wasn’t a person in the courtroom—including his own lawyer—who didn’t think he was guilty. Every day he was half dragged from the jail to the courtroom, and people hissed at him, spat on him, even threw rocks. By the time the guilty verdict came in, Alex had begun to doubt his own innocence. But then, a defense of “I don’t know what happened” wasn’t a very convincing one.

Only T.C. had shown him any kindness, and when the man told of his plan to free Alex, he’d been skeptical. That on the day of the breakout T.C. broke his leg and couldn’t supervise, and that one of the men paid to help Alex escape had been shot and the other captured, seemed to fit the whole situation. When Alex finally made his way on foot to the rendezvous site and there sat a pretty girl wearing a sparkling ball gown, it had seemed like the end of the world. He was sure he’d be dead within minutes—and she with him.

When she’d understood his brogue—which most Americans couldn’t—he’d realized with horror that she was the daughter of Angus McTern Harcourt. She was the beloved, precious sister of Alex’s best friend, and she’d been put under the care of Alex when he couldn’t even protect himself. If he’d had time to think, he was sure he’d have turned himself in rather than risk her life. But the bullets flying past hadn’t allowed them to do anything but run.

But the girl had proven to be made of sterner stuff than she’d first seemed. He’d seen how frightened she was, but she’d gathered her courage and made the best of a very bad situation.

He urged the mare forward. T.C.’s map had shown that there was a tavern nearby, and he meant to do what he could to get them some proper food. It had been weeks since he’d had a hot meal and he could feel his ribs sticking out. Again he chuckled at the way the girl had told him he was weak—and old. Alex ran his hand over his beard. He needed that now to hide his face, which so many people in and around Charleston had seen. But the beard seemed to make the girl think he was an old man, certainly older than her adored brother Adam.

Alex ducked his head as he passed a man and a woman in an open buckboard, then breathed a sigh of relief when they passed without recognizing him as an escaped convict.

As he kept riding, Alex tried to remember what Nate had told him about his sister, but there hadn’t been much. Nate was interested in solving puzzles, and he and Alex had exchanged letters about things they considered mysterious. Nate had only written about his little sister when she did something that got her punished—and that usually meant a fight with her brother Arthur Talbot Harcourt, “Tally.” Many times, Alex had made his father laugh when he retold the antics of Cay and her brother Tally.

“She sounds like her mother,” Alex’s father would say. “Did I ever tell you about the time she shot at Angus?” Alex would say yes but that he wanted to hear it again. It had been Malcolm, Cay’s great-uncle, who’d first told them the story. Three times Alex and his father had visited the McTerns where they lived just north of Glasgow. Alex had met all six of Cay’s first cousins, all of them older, richer, and better educated than Alex was. It was only when it came to horses, to any animal for that matter, that Alex was considered the leader. It was the oldest boy, Derek, eleven years Alex’s senior, who had recognized Alex’s gift. Derek had been adopted by Malcolm, who was now the laird of the McTern clan, and his wife, Harriet, and someday Derek would be the laird, so others listened to him. He said Alex was a “magician” with animals, able to make them do whatever he wanted them to. When Alex wrote Nate this, he started calling Alex “Merlin”—and to explain the name, Nate sent Alex a book about the ancient wizard. The name stuck, and forever after Nate called Alex “Merlin.”

Alex’s mind returned to the present when he saw the tavern in the distance. It was larger and much busier than he’d like for it to be. His hope had been that he could walk in and order food, but with that many people there, they were bound to have heard the news from Charleston. If Alex were clean and in good clothes, with his face hidden behind his beard, he could probably walk in unnoticed. But as he was, he looked like someone who’d just escaped prison.

“Damnation!” he muttered and thought of going back to Cay. They could live on the beef jerky and dried fruit for another few days. The farther south they went, the less likely that they’d be recognized.

But his stomach growled, reminding him of the need for food. Alex dismounted and led his horse into the trees where he could watch the activity at the tavern. He could see that the kitchen was at the back of the house and there was even a big kettle outside. He saw cooks and butchers in bloody aprons moving about.

In the front, the double doors opened frequently as people went in and out. No, there was no way he would be able to get in there without someone knowing who he was.

An idea came to him. If he couldn’t go in, then he’d just have to make
all
of them come out. He checked the supply of gunpowder he’d brought with him. With that and some pinecones, he’d be able to make a great deal of noise.

Cay ran along the path until the Scotsman was no longer in sight, then she went back to the dreary little campsite and sat down on a log. She had the pistol he’d left her in her hand, and she began to wonder if the powder was dry. If it was wet and she shot it, the pistol could blow up in her face. Even if it didn’t explode, it would take her at least three minutes to reload. But what if the powder was on the other side of whatever she was shooting at? If it were, say, a bear coming at her and she missed her first shot, how did she get around the huge thing to get the powder and reload? On the other hand, if she didn’t kill the bear with the first shot, it would kill her, so getting more powder wouldn’t matter because she’d be dead.

When a branch behind her broke, she jumped up and aimed her pistol, but it was only a squirrel.

“You
must
calm down,” she said aloud and looked to see if anything had heard her. It was daylight, but the overhead canopy of trees made it seem like twilight.

Cay wasn’t used to being alone. Whether she was at home in Virginia or with her relatives in Scotland, someone male was
always
nearby. For a moment she closed her eyes and wished to see one of her brothers or her cousins or her father. “Even Tally,” she whispered. If Tally came riding up right now she’d be so glad to see him that she’d endure all his taunting and teasing with a smile.

She opened her eyes and sat back down on the log. None of the many males in her life was going to show up to rescue her, to hug her, and tell her that everything was going to be just fine. Nor was she going to be able to run to her mother and pour out all her troubles to her. The truth was that if Cay went to any of them right now they could be arrested for having helped a murderer escape.

Tears came to her eyes, but she brushed them away and glanced down the old pathway. The man hadn’t been gone long, so there was no hope that he would return soon.

She jumped again when she heard something behind her, but she didn’t see anything, at least not a bear running down the hill intent on eating her and the horse. That the horse was quietly chomping on grass and seemed not to hear anything reassured Cay enough that she sat back down.

She would like to have a fire, but he’d told her no, fearful that someone would see it. It was cool and dank and very lonely in the forest, and the fire would give warmth and light and cheer—and she could use burning branches to keep the wild animals away.

Again she told herself to calm down, but her mind kept wandering. Maybe the Scotsman wouldn’t return. He could move more easily and faster without her. She’d not seen Uncle T.C.’s map, so she had no idea where he was to meet the explorers—not that it mattered to
her.
She was to stay somewhere else and wait, or to send someone to her family to come and get her.

Getting up, she went under the canvas cloth he’d set up for her and wondered if he’d meant it as a campsite just for her.

She wrapped Hope’s big cloak about her, put the hood over her head, and drew her knees up. Feeling the wool about her made her remember the last night at Uncle T.C.’s house. Cay knew she’d been so very brave, but then, she’d been angered by the way Hope had treated her, as though Cay were too young and frivolous to be able to do something as simple as what T.C. was asking of her.

“And she was right,” Cay said aloud as she sniffed away the tears that threatened to come. She needed to think of something good. She could think of . . . of . . . Of Hope’s request for a husband, she thought. That was good for a laugh. Hope was bossy, controlling, not always nice, and she sometimes said hurtful things. No wonder she wasn’t married.

Maybe Hope and the Scotsman should marry, Cay thought, and that idea made her relax, even warmed her inside. Since he seemed to expect women to blindly obey him, she imagined the arguments the two of them would have. Hope would demand that her husband take a bath once a year, and he’d tell her that she had to do whatever he told her to, even if it made no sense.