Page 22 of Ensnaring the Dove

The crone motioned to the floor in front of the hearth, and then to a sheepskin that hung from one wall, making it clear that she’d be wrapping herself up in that before the fire.

Colombia nodded, even as guilt constricted her chest. She didn’t like the idea of turfing an elderly woman from her bed. Nonetheless, she was too tired to argue about it.

She reminded herself then that she’d handed over her jeweled belt and clothing in exchange for a night’s accommodation and a meal. Enid was simply giving them what they’d paid for.

Colombia retreated behind the hanging. Usually in the evening, she had quite a ritual—one that involved bathing, before her maid brushed out her hair, applying a little scented oil. Colombia would then don a sleeping tunic and slip between clean, scented sheets.

Those luxuries seemed a distant memory now though. Poor Flavia was dead, andshewas wearing Briton clothing. She would have to tease out the knots in her hair with her fingers—and bathing would have to wait until she reached Onnum.

Her breathing grew shallow then as she imagined arriving at the fort—and seeing Linus, and her father, again. Yet, a lingering dread shadowed her anticipation.

When Aedan had queried whether she’d get a warm reception from her betrothed, she’d been sure she would.

Now, she wasn’t so confident.What if neither of them is happy to see me?

Dismissing her worries, Colombia moved over to the musty-smelling furs. She was clearly overtired if she was letting doubt creep in. Of course, Linus would welcome her, as would her father. It was ridiculous to think otherwise.

She looked forward to retreating to the sanctuary of her father’s residence, to soaking up to her chin in a hot bath.

Sinking down onto the bed, Colombia wriggled over, trying to get as close as possible to the stacked stone wall. And when Aedan joined her shortly after, she was relieved that, although he pulled off his boots, he lay down, like her, fully clothed. She wasn’t used to being in such proximity to a man.

“Sorry,” he muttered, as he accidentally jostled her with his elbow when he pulled a fur over them. “It’s a bit cramped.”

“It is,” Colombia murmured.

This journey was starting to feel increasingly surreal. And she was no closer to understanding her traveling companion either. Bitterness, at the hand life had dealt him, cast a long shadow over Aedan. He was a hard man to pin down: arrogant and dismissive one moment and considerate the next. He could treat her like an unwelcome traveling companion, and then take pains to ensure she was taken care of. She still wasn’t sure he had any respect or liking for her, but she had warmed to him—and the realization unnerved her.

“Goodnight, Colombia,” Aedan said, intruding on her thoughts. He then rolled onto his side so that his back faced her. “Sleep well.”

X. IN THE MOONLIGHT

COLOMBIA AWOKE TO the sound of shouting.

Groggy and disoriented, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and tried to make sense of the rough voices filtering through the dwelling.

“What’s happening?” she croaked, blinking as she peered into the gloom.

“Trouble has found us.” Aedan’s voice was sharp, wide-awake. “Get up, Colombia … quickly, and put on your foot coverings and shawl. We’re leaving.”

Heart pounding, Colombia did as bid. She scrambled to the edge of the furs, grabbed the crude leather foot coverings Enid had given her, and jammed them onto her feet, securing them with twine. She then fumbled for her shawl and stood up.

Aedan had already left the alcove, and she found him moving toward the door. The interior of Enid’s roundhouse was dimly lit, as the glowing embers were slowly dying, but there was enough light for Colombia to make out the glint of his unsheathed dagger.

Colombia’s mouth went dry, and her legs wobbled beneath her.

Minerva, had the outlaws caught up with them so soon?

But when she followed Aedan to the door of the dwelling and peeked out, she spied the hostile faces of the villagers who’dturned them away the evening before. An angry mob bearing flaming torches had gathered in Enid’s garden.

Colombia couldn’t understand what they were saying, although the rough voices of the burly men at the front of the group, all of them carrying farming tools—hoes, rakes, and vicious-looking scythes—needed no translation.

And to Colombia’s shock, Enid was facing off against them.

Hands on hips, her spine straight, the old woman seemed to be giving the men a tongue-lashing.

However, when Aedan appeared, the villagers turned their attention from Enid to him.

One of them shouted out something, and a chorus of jeers followed.