A/N: From here on out, all new chapters! Are you excited? I am. Excited and nervous and just a tad queasy. I hope this chapter lives up to all of the waiting that you, my beloved readers, have been doing. Remember, I'll be continuing to add one new chapter per week...sooooommmetimes two. All of the chapters have now been written, and I'm polishing them up nice and shiny for you. The last chapter will be posted by the end of December. Thank you all for your patience, and for the love you keep showing for my stories! It means the world to me! Now...AT LAST, on to Chapter 16!
"Breanne?"
"Hm?" Breanne asked; brows lifted in inquiry as she focused her attention on Brandon, who was seated to the left of her at the breakfast table.
"I asked if you could pass the bread," Brandon stated pointedly, hints of a frown on his face. "Are you alright?"
"Oh–oh, yes, of course," Breanne answered, taking hold of the porcelain plate and handing it to him. "You're certainly one to be reckoned with in the mornings."
"I could have told you as much," Alla inserted before taking a drink from her glass.
"I did ask you four times already," Brandon pointed out.
If everyone else present at the table had been aware of their conversation, Breanne might have been embarrassed. But, as it turned out, that was not the case. Glenda, Reese, Colin and Lachlan were in heavy discussion about what supplies would be needed to fix up the half-burnt house.
After realizing that she was only under Brandon and Alla's attention, she relaxed. "I apologize," she told Brandon, a sheepish smile on her face.
"Mm," Brandon responded, slicing his ham. "And what may I ask, has you so preoccupied that you cannot spare any thoughts on your guests?"
Alla scoffed, smiling. "Oh, stop teasing."
Breanne grinned, answering him. "I was simply thinking of how utterly bored I've been in the room of late. It's been three days, and I must confess, my ankle feels quite healed."
Brandon raised a skeptical brow.
"Maybe not quite healed, but surely better than it has been!" Breanne quickly amended.
"Delighted to hear it..." Brandon trailed off, urging her to come to the point.
Breanne glanced down at the plate before her. Her hands. They were shaking. She'd never lied to her friends before, and it wasn't something she was to be proud of, but she felt as if there were no other option left to her. Desperate to camouflage her jittery hands, she hastily picked up her cutlery and centered in on a loaf of bread.
"I was thinking..." she began, immediately cutting a slice off the bread. "It's past time for me to get out of the room, out of this house, and maybe go out for a bit of fresh air...take a horse and—"
"You can ride?" Alla asked, her eyes lighting up. "I've been learning myself and I must say, I've mastered the–"
"My love."
Alla turned her eyes to Brandon, excitement slowly draining from them.
"I have," she insisted. "You've been telling me nearly every day we practice how well I'm—"
"You've improved," he corrected. "And that is in Liverpool. On steady ground and around those who'd be able to give aid quickly if needed. Horseback riding in Australia would be quite different, I assure you."
Alla stubbornly tilted her chin. "I cannot imagine it being so very different, or more difficult."
"There are wild animals in abundance, horse thieves ready and on the lookout for easy victims, snakes, cliffs...need I continue?"
"I assure you Brandon...I am no easy victim. I could give as good as I received."
"Let us not test that theory."
Breanne cleared her throat – tired of bouncing her eyes between the pair. "As I was saying, I would very much like to explore the grounds on horseback."
"I doubt your husband would allow that," Brandon predicted.
"I'm sorry, your grace, but you're mistaken. Reese and I have reached an agreement. He will have little involvement in my everyday doings," she responded, nodding confidently. "He's said he has little care for what I do anyhow. That includes horseback riding. He's content with everything as long as I treat him respectfully."
"Nice tae know ye' listened," Reese cut in, startling the trio. "But exactly wha' everyday doin' did ye plan on exercisin' today?"
This was not how Breanne had planned things to go. She only wanted a quick excuse to get out and accomplish her goal with little attention. Now, however, she was doing just the opposite: all eyes around the table were centered in on her.
"I-Well...I've grown weary of sitting in the bedroom and staying inside the house. I need fresh air, and I plan on acquiring it."
"Mm," Reese nodded. "Canna' say tha' idea is so bad. Ye're gonna walk about the property then?"
Breanne shrugged unenthusiastically. "A bit."
"Which bit?"
Breanne's eyes narrowed. "One of the many bits I haven't seen. I'm sure there're plenty of them awaiting me."
"So how come ye would need a horse tae see a bit?" Reese asked, eyes sparkling in amusement.
Brandon chuckled while Alla tried unsuccessfully to hide a grin.
Under different circumstances, Breanne too, may have found the humor in the way the conversation was unfolding. But, as it was, she couldn't bring herself to forgive Reese for trying to turn her own friends against her – making them believe she'd deliberately set fire to her own house.
"The property is large," Breanne answered, dabbing the corners of her mouth. "One would need a horse to see most bits of it, wouldn't you agree?"
"Mibbe," Reese conceded. "And ye'll be plannin' tae take an escort?"
Breanne guiltily glanced at Alla, and then back to Reese. "Uh...no. No, I planned on going out alone." Her tone fell with the words, and her eyes followed suit, as the acknowledgement of her intent was spoken into her lap and attempted to slip to the floor and away into some nook or crevice unremarked.
"Then th' answer is no."
Breanne's head shot up. "I wasn't asking for your permission," she firmly stated. "And you'd do well to remember your words to me on our last outing."
Silence fell over all seated around the table until the sound of Reese's chair, scraping against the floor, broke through it.
Without a word, he walked to her side of the table, pulled her chair back, and held out his hand.
Face flushed a light pink, Breanne wordlessly allowed him to lead her from the dining area, up the stairs, and into the bedroom they shared. Casually, her gaze was drawn to the floor, where his pillow still rested.
Once the door was shut, he took her by the shoulders and tilted her chin upwards so that her eyes met his.
"And wha' about yer tone down there was respectful?" he quietly asked.
Breanne's eyes shifted to the side. "I do not believe I was being disrespectful."
"Nay?" he asked, releasing her chin.
Breanne shook her head.
"Think again. Ye shouldnae challenge me in sich a way, least av all, plain for all tae see. I warnt ye I wouldnae put up wi' it."
Folding her arms beneath her bosom, Breanne responded. "You told me I should have my freedom – and now you are trying to forbid me from exploring so much as the grounds of this manse," she explained, pins of guilt stabbing into her. "I suppose you cannot be bothered to keep your word now that I have shackled myself to you."
Reese took a step forward – she retreated. Slowly, he reached for her hand, and pulled her to him. Placing a hand on her cheek, he said, "I meant wha' I said tha' day. I dinna wish to cage ye. But ye're wi' child," he whispered. "And wha' kind av husband would I be if I were tae send me wife to go out wandrin' in th' bush wi' none tae see tae yer safety? Wha' if somethin' 'appened to ye? An' nary a soul who so mich as knew yer whereaboots?"
Breanne took hold of his wrist, bringing his hand down from her cheek. "Nothing is going to happen."
"Nay, it willna, fer ye willna be goin' oot by yerself."
He wasn't going to give – not an inch. Breanne could see that right away. "And if Alla joined me?"
"It surprises me ye wanted to go off withoot her in the first place. But, no. Ye still couldnae go. Ye need a proper escort, lass. I dinna have much time, but if ye would like I could—"
"No!" Breanne hurriedly answered.
"Ah." Reese took a step away from her. "Needin' more space, are ye?"
Breanne nodded, feeling even more guilt now than before. It was a feeling that grew heavy with every passing second. Reese had made it a point to give her the space she desired since the fire – still Breanne couldn't help but wonder if the distance he granted her was in part due to his suspicions of her, and of how the blaze began.
The night following the accident, Reese entered the bedchamber and she watched him like a hawk as he silently grabbed a pillow from his bed, and tossed it on a woven rug, which covered a portion of the floor. When he'd unabashedly begun disrobing, Breanne gasped, and though she saw his eyes twinkle in amusement, he still remained silent. He'd raised a brow, and she'd flushed, immediately turning her back to him. The only sounds following that was of the fire blazing in the hearth and his clothing lightly falling to the floor.
She'd held the blanket tight within her grasp, underneath her chin, her face turning various shades of pink, and then red. Simply knowing his state of undress was enough to make her stomach grow tight and her nerves jangle.
She never asked him to take the floor. Of course she appreciated his forethought....but given his temperament , it came as a surprise. And again, her mind began to taunt her – to tell her that he was on the floor, not because of her sensibilities, but because that was where he chose to be – preferred to be. And she wondered every night following, if it all came back to that accursed fire.
Since then, he said the same thing before they went to sleep every night. "Safe." And she'd know she could turn within the bed at her leisure.
"I'm sorry ye cannae seem tae adjust tae me presence," Reese said, cutting into her thoughts. "Thought I was only helpin'. I'll get Finlay or Allister tae take ye 'round. Ye're more comfortable wi' one av them, aye?"
Breanne nodded, avoiding eye contact. "Yes," she whispered.
Reese brusquely nodded. "Verra well. I'll have word sent tae prepare a noon meal tae sustain ye, fer if ye're oot a wee bit late."
In a flash, the door closed, and Reese was out of the room. Breanne sighed and walked to the bed, sitting down on the side, her posture loosened, shoulders slackened. She'd injured his feelings. Though she was upset about his poor opinion of her, she certainly hadn't tried to hurt him. Still, she had little option. Under no circumstances could Reese accompany her.
Sighing again, Breanne approached one of the shelves Reese had built for her on the wall nearest her side of the bed, and retrieved a hat to shelter her from the sun. Standing in front of mirror, she tied the green, silk ribbon into a small bow underneath her chin – but whipped around when knocking sounded at her door.
"Breanne?"
Gaze downcast, Breanne allowed Alla entry, then returned to the mirror, subconsciously running her hands down the material of her frock.
"You look quite pleasant in that deep olive green gown," Alla quietly stated.
Breanne stared at her reflection with distaste. "It doesn't feel right to wear anything other than my mourning gowns, Alla. This whole situation is very confusing. And in this frock, I resemble a mountain," she returned flatly. "If I am not careful, colonists may try and climb me."
Alla laughed. "Nonsense. You're positively glowing and look exquisite."
"I'm fat."
"You're with child," Alla sternly contradicted.
"A condition which makes me appear fat," Breanne concluded, flatly.
"Come, now. No one even knows of your condition save Brandon and the MacIntosh family."
"Because everyone else thinks me naturally fat," Breanne explained, a small grin forming on her face as she turned toward Alla.
Alla rolled her eyes and shook her head. Then, her eyes traveled up to Breanne's hat. "So you're intent on going out alone?"
Breanne scowled. "No. I must take an escort. It will either be Allister or Finlay, though my hope is for Finlay."
"Why?" Alla asked, curiously.
"He is more jovial, more pleasing – Allister is nothing but Reese with another face and form." Breanne tilted her head to the side in brief contemplation. "I wonder if he possesses all of his teeth. Surely, a deficiency in that area must be the reason he never smiles."
"Breanne," Alla chided, grinning.
Breanne shrugged, returning the smile, and before Alla could say anything, she spoke up. "I am sorry if I injured your feelings down there. I know you wished to come along with me, but I felt as if I needed the time to myself."
"Of course. I imagine the feeling is perfectly natural. No doubt I'd want the same solitude had I been married so quickly. My feelings weren't injured....well...maybe a bit," she conceded. Approaching Breanne, she lightly touched her shoulder. "I only don't understand why you felt the need to lie down there."
"Wha—"
"I know you, Breanne, and am well acquainted with your mannerisms. You're not simply taking in the scenery, and that is all right. You do not have to tell me a thing, just please ...whatever you are doing, be cautious."
Breanne's shoulder's fell. Would it be so very horrible for Alla to be privy to her plans? She really didn't want to involve her if the affair was to be a messy one – but maybe having an ally would not be such a bad idea either. It would certainly lift a bit of weight from her shoulders, and maybe another opinion was what she needed.
"Alla," Breanne began hesitantly. "I have something to tell you, but you must promise to keep what I say in confidence."
"Of course," Alla immediately agreed.
"You're right. I'm not simply viewing the property...I am going to see someone – the family solicitor. You see," she continued, pacing the floor. "Before your arrival, I couldn't understand why Addison willed me property here rather than the property he held in Liverpool – I still don't. I'm hoping that this solicitor can shed light on the matter and I desperately need his assistance in making sense of the contract Reese delivered to me. On my first visit with the solicitor, I left him the contract to review and given he's had the time to make sense of it, I'd like every line explained to me. He's also informed me that he needs the deed Torrington left me, so as to fix my future. If he doesn't have it, I daresay the family may intervene and I haven't a clue where I would end up then."
Alla nodded. "I must admit, I've wondered why Adam made such an allotment as well. But, why would his family intervene in a matter of such import such as the deed left to you, Torrington's dying wish? Have you asked them?"
"Well," Breanne continued, "when last I spoke with the solicitor, he told me not to speak of it - that he is the only person I dare trust."
"Why?" Alla asked, eyes widening.
Breanne shook her head. "I do not know. We were interrupted and were unable to finish our conversation."
"My goodness," Alla whispered.
"I'm afraid I must be careful around them—the entire family," Breanne told her friend with a light shrug. "I cannot say that his words have not been plaguing my mind. I need to know the particulars of the contract, the details of the deed and most importantly – why I must be careful."
"Quite mysterious –this whole situation. I must say, Breanne, I am relieved you've shared this with me. It is definitely something we need to figure out."
"Then you...you don't mind assisting me? I didn't want to get you too involved, as this is a family affair—"
"The last I heard," Alla reminded her, jabbing her shoulder with a finger, "I was family."
"Yes," Breanne smiled.
Alla's own smile suddenly died – her mouth went into a straight line. "Breanne...are you sure you don't want to tell Brandon—"
"I am positive," Breanne hastily responded. Only God knew what Brandon thought of her now that Reese had poisoned his mind. For all she knew, Brandon would believe she was being hysterical and might turn destructive once again. He might feel it was his duty to enlighten Reese to the situation. No. Telling Brandon would be quite unwise.
At Alla's curious expression, Breanne explained, "I do not wish Brandon to form hasty opinions about anyone. I think I should investigate myself first."
"Ah," Alla responded. "That is a good thought, I believe. Brandon can be quite protective, and we wouldn't want to cause dissension amongst our husbands when they seem to be getting on so well."
"Too well," Breanne muttered.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Breanne excused, with a wave of her hand. "If you're coming with me, you should get ready; and make sure to grab a hat. The sun can be quite blistering. Meanwhile, I'll send word that another horse should be saddled and prepared for our outing, as you are to be joining us."
"Speaking of which," Alla said, while at the door. "I thought you were afraid of horses. Have you truly overcome the fear?"
Breanne shook her head. "No, I have not. But walking to the solicitor's office is out of the question. It is a long distance."
"How ever do you expect to make this journey, Brea?" Alla asked, bafflement in her voice.
"Slowly," Breanne responded. "Slowly and carefully."
Alla nodded. With brows raised, she pursed her lips. "Well I suppose it is a good decision, then, to set out this morning."
Breanne smiled, eyes suddenly twinkling. "Quite. And between the two of us, we shall have a jolly time!"
..................
"Yer aywis at the coo's tail!" Allister barked. It was a mysterious phrase Glenda had translated for her early on. It was at once a complaint and a command: Hurry up! You're always lagging behind! The harsh order interrupted the peaceful trek the trio were on, and wasn't the end of Allister's grumbling. "Sooner ye see more dirt and grass, the sooner I can relinquish me duties of nursemaid tae a pair av groen biddies."
Beneath the small brimmed hat atop her head, under only a book binding's width of shade, Breanne scowled at the man directly before her. He'd been utterly impossible since they'd started out. Obviously, he didn't take kindly to Reese's order for him to escort her around the property. Possibly even less so when a second "Englishwoman" had been added to the party.
It was just Breanne's luck that Reese's devilish counterpart would be their companion on their journey, which he thought was mere sightseeing, and she intended to be in some way seeking the counsel of a solicitor without his knowledge. Everything else in her life had fallen to pieces; nothing seemed to come easy, so what was one more impediment?
"Dinna worry with regard tae Allister an' his abilities," Reese stated, reading Breanne's expression after he told her who her escort was to be. "He'll protect ye."
"That is not what I..." she sighed heavily. "Are you certain Finlay is unavailable?"
Reese nodded once. "He's tendin' tae other matters – directin' work on th' hoose."
Breanne nodded. "I see. Oh, and I've been meaning to ask – If no one is aware I stayed at the house – what are their suspicions as to the origins of the fire?"
"I dinna ken."
He was lying.
Breanne could see that right off – the sudden wall that shielded every expression he'd once shown now rendered his features carefully blank. Why would he tell her a falsehood?
"Ah," Breanne answered, briefly looking down to the parasol she clutched, and then back up at Reese, who to her surprise, was grinning.
"Yer not gonna take tha' out are ye?"
"Of course," Breanne replied, straightening her spine. "The sun will burn – why are you laughing?"
"Ye canna be serious..." he told her, trailing off. His smile waned; expression began to adopt the soberness of his tone. "Ye canna stay center on a horse as 'tis, and now ye wanta hold a flittery-fluttery—"
"It's called a parasol!"
"Contraption," he continued. "Nay, it willna do."
Breanne frowned, fiercely. "What do you mean 'it will not do?' It will have to do! It is all I have."
"Ye'll wear me hat. It's—"
"No!"
"No?"
"Absolutely not!"
"Why?"
"Because—" Because she was endeavoring to make a business call. She couldn't very well do such a thing wearing his dusty, wide-brimmed, worn hat – not that she could reveal such a thing to him.
"Because?" he prodded, crossing thickly muscled forearms.
"I'm wearing one already, as you can see."
"Tha' willnae shelter ye, as well ye ken. Tha' is why ye're wantin' to take tha' thing. But nay – ye'll take me hat."
"Your hat does not suit my attire," Breanne superiorly blurted out, lifting her chin.
Reese laughed again, making her want to wallop him right in his mouth. "Yer not takin' the parasol so ye can lose yer balance, tumble off the horse and become even more addled," he returned, sending a direct gaze to her forehead.
Breanne glowered. "My wit remains intact," she growled.
"Says the woman who wants a hat to suit her attire out in the middle of nowhere – who chooses fashion afore common sense. Nay, ye willna take it. Ye'll wear me hat, or burn; yer choice."
"Do you believe I can convince Allister to hold it for me on our ride?"
Reese's sudden look of disbelief was her answer to that question.
"I would much rather have Finlay with us," Breanne pressed again. "Cannot Allister take over his duties for the day?"
"Nay."
"Why ever not?"
"Because."
Breanne conceded, realizing this was the only answer she was to draw from him. At that he'd uttered the most misleading, inconceivable, and almost laughable lie straight to her face. "Dinna worry," he'd told her. "Allister is a good-natured man. Yer journey will be pleasant."
"Good-natured, indeed," Breanne hissed under her breath, swiping away the damp heat just beneath the band of Reese's hat. She was in the most uncomfortable position she'd ever experienced. With breeches underneath the many sweltering layers of her gown, she was able to straddle the horse – but she couldn't bring herself to put full confidence in him.
She felt safer somehow, when she sat directly on the horse's back, just below the base of his neck, in front of the short Scottish saddle. When she relinquished only a bit of her weight upon both horse and saddle, he skittishly teetered about; threatening to throw her at his earliest convenience...or maybe she was teetering. However, the unfortunate circumstance was that though she felt safer, she knew she didn't have as much control as she should; and she had to clamp her legs on either side of the animal to keep from sliding off.
"He's stopped," Alla blurted out, drawing her attention to Allister who had halted some hundred feet ahead. "And is waiting for us! Here I thought he would be a brute the whole way!" She sent a radiant smile to Breanne. "Maybe our sightseeing is about to become a bit more pleasant."
"I wouldn't wager on that theory, Alla. Can you not see he's scowling?"
"What are ye doin?" Allister rudely blustered, eyes boring into Breanne. "Sit ye down!"
"Charles doesn't like when I sit upon the saddle," Breanne explained, suddenly feeling like a small child under Allister's direct, condescending gaze.
"I dinna care. I said si—" Allister snapped his mouth shut and only stared in disbelief at Breanne, causing Breanne and Alla to exchange confused glances before returning their attention to Allister.
"Did ye say..." he finally uttered.
"He doesn't like when I sit upon the saddle," Breanne confirmed, primly nodding.
"Wha' did ye call him?" Allister snapped.
"Charles," Breanne supplied, shrugging her shoulders.
Allister suddenly looked up towards the sky for a few seconds, apparently searching for some vestige of patience. Plainly, there was none to be had because when he met her gaze again, he yelled, "Ye canna name what doesna belong tae ye. Tha' is one av me horses!"
"You said he wasn't named," Breanne meekly answered.
"I dinna wish tae name him!"
"Every one of God's creatures deserves a name!" Breanne insisted.
Allister rolled his eyes, briefly glancing away. "Charles – a daft name. He's nae a man, he's a horse!"
"The name belongs to King Charles I, and I – "
"Nay!" Allister bellowed; his head whipped to Breanne "Ye'll nae name me horse after tha' arse!"
"He was our monarch! He was a great leader who—"
"Was a tyrant!" Allister inserted. "A man who allowed his advisor tae chop th' ears off gentlemen who spoke against th' advisor's views, and who tried to push those same views upon th' Church of Scotland!"
Breanne suddenly grew pale and quickly cupped a hand over her mouth.
Alla frowned at Allister. "Would you please mind your tongue? Can you not see that your language offends?"
"Her language offended!" Allister snapped again. He returned his eyes to Breanne. "And if ye boak on me horse, ye'll be walkin' back!" With that, he urged the horse he rode onward and yelled out for them to keep up, his main reason for stopping forgotten.
"Are you alright, Breanne?"
Inhaling a deep breath, Breanne's hand slid away from her mouth, and she slowly nodded. "I am not feeling so well, Alla, but the fresh air will eventually set me to right. I suppose we should continue. I must go slow; as I said before, Charles doesn't like when I sit on his saddle."
"That's quite odd," Alla returned, casting a fleeting look to Charles before redirecting her gaze to the man leading them. "Breanne?"
"Hm?"
"I doubt we will ever catch up to Allister now. I do believe he is riding further ahead purposely."
Breanne followed Alla's gaze, brows furrowed in perturbation as she arranged her skirts in effort to hide that she wasn't sitting in the saddle. "I never knew men could be so prickly."
"It is a lesson learned oft when it is too late," Alla returned, grinning. "You probably would have done better if you'd named the horse for 'Bonny Prince Charlie.'"
Breanne smiled, nodding a bit. "I suppose you're right. Well, if anyone else asks, I may still use that title. That way, the horse may retain his name," she proudly announced, sending a few timid strokes down the horse's neck.
"Yes...just be sure not to mention that particular name to Brandon."
Breanne chuckled, lowly.
"Breanne, is Allister going to accompany us to the solicitor after all? Is he to show us where the office is located?"
"Heavens no," Breanne responded as they followed him at a leisurely pace. "I believe I can recall the way there. He most certainly is not coming with us. We don't need him reporting to Reese that we did more than simple sightseeing, now do we?"
"Then how are we to lose him?"
Breanne contemplated the question. "I can't imagine it would be too difficult. Look at the distance he's put between us," she told Alla, nodding her head towards Allister.
"Or the distance we've put between us. You and I travel at such an obscenely slow pace. I regret to say this – and if you repeat it I shall deny it to the very end – but Brandon was right! This terrain is not the easiest to ride upon, and I find myself searching for any little snake or wicked animal that might be lurking about."
Breanne nodded, clutching the reins tightly. "Yes," she returned, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I shall not tell Brandon that his self-proclaimed, accomplished horsewoman travels at a pace rivaling a turtle."
Alla grinned, using a hand to shade her view as she looked ahead. "You'd better not." Once satisfied, she brought her hand down, then paused, staring at the back of it. "Darn it all! I'm turning red!"
Breanne glanced over at Alla's hand and frowned, pausing to look down the length of her own arms stretching out to the horse's reins. "Yes, we both are. We could certainly do with my parasol!"
"Yes, I concur. Breanne...I still don't see how we are to escape from Allister. Distance will not be enough with him; I can see that now. Also, we travel slowly, so even if we were to turn posthaste and head for the office, I imagine he'd catch up with us. He's such a brute, just as you said, and I doubt he'd allow us time to ourselves for a bit, even if we did promise to stay put until he fetched us – and I must admit, anymore lying, however minute, does not appeal to me. Why, the only possible way he'd give us any sort of privacy is if we were to actually need the privacy...out here! The situation seems to be quite hopeless."
"Yes..." Breanne answered, thoughtfully, tapping fingertip to chin.
Alla paused, giving Breanne her attention. "You agree it's hopeless? Shall we try another time?"
Breanne carefully shook her head, directly meeting Alla's gaze. "I agree there is only one solution to our problem."
Dawning and dread entered Alla's eyes; and she carefully responded. "I told you I don't want to lie."
"We wouldn't be."
"Breanne!"
"You had two full glasses of lemonade and a bit of water!"
"No," Alla flatly replied.
"And I had my fair share as well, Alla...please?"
Alla sighed, expression drawn sullen. "Wouldn't one of us be enough?"
Breanne drew back, eyes growing wide. "You wish for me to be humiliated on my own? You said you'd assist me with this and—"
"Oh, fine, fine!"
Breanne lightly squealed. "Thank you!"
"But, you're going to say the words, Breanne, not I."
Breanne laughed. "That is perfectly acceptable. And I imagine we'd have quite the head start on him. No doubt he'd be loathed to check on us – especially you...Duchess."
Alla shook her head, a light, self-mocking smile of disbelief on her face. "I still cannot believe I am agreeing to this."
....................
"Are we almost to our destination do you think?" Alla asked, lightly groaning while she changed position.
Breanne's eyes briefly fell on Alla, then straight before her. "It's there – up ahead," she answered, lightly fanning her face.
The sun bore down on the pair of them. Both their cheeks were flushed a rosy red; and stray strands of hair clung to their foreheads. Breanne was in pain – pure and simple.
Quite a few times, she'd been tempted to slide back onto the saddle, but that would have only delayed them further. As it was, they'd held to their leisurely pace – and she was sure, had she been with Reese, they might have already been to the solicitor's office, and ready to leave now. Thinking about it caused her to scowl.
"Praise the Lord," Alla uttered when she'd caught sight of the place Breanne pointed out to her. She perked up a bit in her saddle and tossed an inquiring glance at Breanne. "How are you holding up?"
Breanne winced, shifting her weight a bit on the mare. "Horribly. Every limb aches, and what does not ache is most likely burnt. On the way home, I do believe I'll ride in the saddle, after all. Charles needs to know who is leading whom."
A half smile reached Alla; she nodded. "I think that is a splendid idea."
After a few moments of silence, Breanne spoke. "Do you suppose Allister still waits?" she asked, contritely.
Alla burst out laughing.
"I feel horrible for my deception!" Breanne insisted, though Alla's giggles were lightening her own expression. "I truly do!"
"It wasn't a deception, remember Breanne?"
"Well...what you aren't aware of is that I led him to believe we'd need to be at our leisure – that we felt we might have digested something foul..."
Alla gasped, no longer laughing. "Breanne! That is vile!"
"I know! I know!" Breanne agreed, nodding like a loon. "But Alla, I was desperate!"
"I'll never be able to look that man in the eyes again!" Alla announced.
"Oh, balderdash. It is not as bad as all that. Besides, his expressive reaction plays out in my memory, not yours. I've spared you that much, at least."
"You're too kind...really," Alla dryly responded, causing Breanne to grin.
When they'd finally reached their destination, both women exhaled considerable sighs of relief mingled with discomfort.
Breanne began half-heartedly rearranging her skirts while watching Alla dismount from her mare. Once on ground, Alla groaned, reaching Breanne's mount in only a few strides.
Alla's chuckle drew Breanne's attention.
"What are you doing?"
Breanne's spine straightened fractionally. "I am preparing to dismount; it's nearly impossible with these layers and—"
Alla sent her a knowing look, placing a hand near the horse's saddle. "I'll help you. Lift your leg over to my side," she directed, and then waited...and waited. "Breanne—"
"Believe it or not, I am trying," Breanne retorted, bringing forth a sympathetic laugh from Alla. "The babe has grown, that impedes me, as well as the alarming discovery that I can no longer feel my legs. This is horrible!"
"Would you like me to lift your leg?"
Breanne sent her a horrified expression, glancing around. "Out here?"
"We've certainly done worse out here if you'll recall," Alla pointed out.
"Very well," Breanne mumbled.
Immediately, Alla took hold of her calf. "Good Lord, Breanne," she muttered, flipping through the many folds of her gown. "You're wearing all of these layers, and for what? You might as well have worn only the breeches!"
"I couldn't very well do such a thing on a business call."
"To see one man," Alla complained. "I'm sure Mr. Solicitor—"
"Strider," Breanne giggled.
Alla sent her a glare. "I do know he has a name, but you hadn't given it to me and therefore, I could only refer to him by his occupation, so—"
Breanne laughed. "We need to dismount, Alla, before he notices us out here."
"You need to dismount. You're all but a statue," Alla mumbled under her breath.
"I'll...pretend...ugh...I didn't hear...ow!"
"I am going slow, Breanne, sorry."
When both of Breanne's legs were of one accord, Alla took hold of Breanne's waist.
Startled, Breanne let out a choked laugh. "Alla, no!"
Alla tilted her head, shaking it a bit. "However else do you expect to dismount? I know you need my help."
"I am quite certain your husband will throttle me if harm comes to you."
"What?"
"I can see it in the papers now," Breanne stated wistfully, looking towards the sky. "Duchess of Manchester, crushed by a moving mountain."
Alla's lips twisted in derision. "You'd make a horrible newspaperwoman. Now, come. You were the one complaining only a moment ago that we must hurry."
Breanne nodded. "Yes, yes, only please be careful, Alla. I am quite heavy...even to myself."
Alla shook her head again, not bothering to respond as she struggled to assist her friend. Once Breanne's feet were on ground, Alla stayed close; her hand at the ready, while Breanne's hands were braced upon Charles.
"I...I know you... must... think me... daft... for...for my confession. But, I do believe that all women who are with child tend to feel heavy to themselves."
"I shall have to rely on your word. For now, you should probably focus on stretching your limbs more than talking," Alla responded, carefully drawing Breanne away from the horse.
"How are you? Have you now acquired sensation in your legs? " Alla asked after a while, leading her to the office.
Breanne groaned. "I never should have complained about the lack of feeling in my limbs. For now, all I feel is pain, I assure you."
Alla issued a small hum of sympathy before softly calling out, "Stairs."
"Why are you not in as much discomfort as I?" Breanne complained.
Alla chuckled. "Brandon forces me upon the horse almost daily. At this moment, I am almost happy that he has drummed me out of my little hiding places at the times designated for me to have my lessons. But, make no mistake, Breanne, I am hurting. This is the most riding I've done in one sitting, and I'm sure to have aches and bruises from all of the jostling."
Breanne sighed and nodded, lightly sniffing. "Thank you, Alla. That does help."
Alla laughed, turned toward the door and knocked three times.
Only silence answered her – drawing a frown from both women.
"Well, he must not have heard me," Alla muttered, her brows drawn together in a worried line as she knocked upon the door again, sharply.
Silence.
Breanne sighed heavily. "I suppose we will have to rest upon the steps there and wait for his return."
"Absolutely not. It is horribly hot out here, Breanne. We are sure to faint or convulse or—"
"Heat does not make one convulse," Breanne inserted, shaking her head and smiling.
"But there are some dreadful, atrocious effects that heat can have upon a woman. Trust me, I've seen it."
"Then it is fortuitous that we are under the cover of this...this overhang here, wouldn't you say?" Breanne asked, glancing above their heads.
"It's a board," Alla flatly returned, following her gaze, "and a splintered, cracked one at that. There is no breeze out here, Breanne, and I truly worry about the heat affecting you – especially in your condition."
Breanne wearily threw up her arms. "What would you have us do, Alla? Take a swim in the trough the horses are drinking from?"
Alla quirked a brow, a slight smile upon her lips as she descended the steps and rounded the building, disappearing from sight. "I thought I saw..." she muttered.
"Whatever are you doing?"
"Aha!"
"Aha, what?" Breanne asked, skeptically.
Alla's following laughter reached her ears. "Oh, Breanne. You must learn to have faith in me," she replied, appearing in view again. Taking hold of Breanne's right hand, she tugged her along. "Come, I've found a solution to our problem."
"If it is taking us away from the door and shade, I cannot see how anything you find on the side of this building would be a—no, Alla," Breanne said in one breath.
The window Alla was staring at so triumphantly was wide open. The two panes that ran vertical to the window ledge opened outward.
"Breanne—"
"No."
"The window is open!"
"Simply because it is open does not mean that we should climb through it!"
"And simply because one doesn't have a key, does not mean that they should remain outside and die from the blazing heat."
Breanne crossed her arms, nibbling on her bottom lip as she stared up at the window. She was overheated – and they had traveled quite the distance. There was a possibility, a small one, but a possibility nonetheless, that there could be some source of refreshment in the office. At the moment, nothing sounded more heavenly or refreshing than water. She sighed again, this time in frustration and reluctant concession. "This is absurd," she groaned.
"Living is never absurd," Alla retorted approaching the window. "Come, Breanne, I'll assist you inside first."
Breanne walked near Alla, stared at her hands, which she'd laced together and then met her eyes. "Go on. Step right here in my hands, grab the ledge, and I'll boost you up."
Breanne reluctantly placed her boot in Alla's palms. "This doesn't feel right," she whispered, lifting up and holding the ledge. Once she was standing, she looked back down at Alla, who struggled to bear her weight. "It's so improper."
Alla snorted. "Yes, well, handling my personal business outside in the wilderness did not feel right either. We both left propriety behind us a long time ago, Breanne. Now, please, if you can, go on in."
Breanne turned back to the window, which now equaled the span from her waist to head. Seeing this, she climbed through and after she assisted Alla inside, the two found chairs across the desk opposite Strider's, and immediately plopped into them.
Alla heaved a great sigh, then sent Breanne a bright smile. "Now, isn't this preferable to sitting under the blazing hot sun?"
Breanne rolled her eyes, but Alla didn't miss the slight nod and ghost of a smile tugging at her lips.
"Water," Alla suddenly blurted out, spotting the pitcher – and standing in unison with the declaration, she approached a table situated against the wall near Strider's desk. After pouring two glasses and handing one to Breanne, they both sat in companionable silence, and relief, gulping down the cool liquid.
Alla set her glass down. "Hm."
Instead of responding, Breanne took another sip of her water, one hand resting above her slightly swollen belly.
"When do you suppose he'll return?"
"Alla, whatever you are thinking, the answer is no."
"So you do not want the cherry tarts I see over there on the other table?"
Breanne's head snapped up and she frantically looked around. "What? Where?"
Alla chuckled. "I'm sorry, Breanne. That was bad of me."
Realizing her friend was only teasing, she relaxed against the back of the chair, nodding and glaring sidelong. "Very cruel."
"Well, I thought you should at least hear my suggestion before turning it down."
"Very well. What do you suggest?"
Alla looked around the office, then rested her eyes upon Breanne. "How long did you plan on waiting here for the solicitor?"
Breanne lightly shrugged. "I hadn't given it much thought. I expected him to be here..."
"Yes, but he is not. So, how long?"
Breanne's brows rose, inquiry on her face. "Fifteen minutes?"
Alla's nostrils flared. "Uh-uh. I did not ride for hours under the hot grueling sun, suffering embarrassment by one of your husband's friends, only to sit here for fifteen minutes and then ride all the way back to your home."
Breanne straightened. "But, I do not know what else to do, Alla. We'd have no choice," she stated, silent appeal in her tone.
"Oh, yes we would. We could find the papers ourselves."
"Search his office? Alla! No, I couldn't."
"Breanne—"
"We cannot rifle through his private, personal papers! Who knows how many clients he has, and we'd be invading their privacy as well! Besides that, we've come so that he can explain the...contracts and things to us. That was the whole point of me entrusting them into his hands! If he is not here, there is no purpose in searching them out."
"Together, we can figure it out, Breanne," Alla stated, firmly. "I know we can."
"But he has the head for such matters and—"
"And we do too! Just because we were born women does not mean that we can only retain the latest sewing patterns, gossip, and fashions in our heads! We can do this!"
Breanne wavered, her bright blue eyes steady on Alla's. "I don't know..."
Alla stood before Breanne, steepling her hands together in prayer form. "Please, Breanne? Do you truly wish us to have made this trip for nothing? To catch hell from Reese and Allister and God knows, Brandon, for nothing? When do you suppose you'll get another opportunity to come out here without the one of the MacIntoshes or their friends breathing down your neck? We'd only be looking for your papers. Surely he keeps files! Surely those files have names upon them! We wouldn't be snooping at all!"
At Breanne's silence, Alla pressed on. "For heaven's sake, where is the harm in searching out the papers you've given the man? You can't snoop on yourself."
After a few moments, Breanne's looked up with mischief sparkling in her eyes, and a grin threatening to break out upon her face. "Very well."
Alla quickly nodded and started searching through a cabinet with papers off to the side of the room whilst Breanne reluctantly rounded the solicitor's desk, staring at the set of drawers before her. She wrung her hands together, glanced at Alla, who rifled through papers rather quickly, and then stared back down at the drawers.
"I'm not invading anyone's privacy," she quietly muttered. "I'm not." She slowly sank down into Mr. Strider's cushioned chair. "I'm only looking for what is mine, and if he had only explained this all to me earlier, I wouldn't have to try and figure it out for myself."
"Now that you've declared your assurances and rights, you might want to start searching before we lose too much daylight, Brea."
Breanne glanced up at a grinning Alla and scowled.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she jerked open the first two drawers on the right side and began looking through the hanging files full of documents. Not finding her own paperwork, she moved on to the left side, pulling the bottom drawer open. She paused briefly when she saw how deep it was, then lowered her arm into it, pulling out a dozen or more folders that were stacked, one upon the other, stuffed full. Disappointment weighed upon her as the dozen or more files she'd set upon the desk dwindled to only two...then one...then.... After searching the top left drawer and coming up empty-handed, Breanne's spine hit the chair backing.
"I don't think it's here," Breanne muttered, going through the remaining few papers scattered upon the desk itself. "Where could he have put it?"
"Try the other drawers."
"I already have," Breanne replied flatly, her eyes lingering on a middle drawer – in the center was the frame of a keyhole.
Suddenly, a skeleton key appeared on the desk before her.
"I found it in the bookshelf," Alla explained, seeing the look of surprise on Breanne's face. "See if it fits."
Breanne hesitated, and swallowed, lightly shaking her head. "I don't know. It feels wrong opening a locked drawer, Alla."
"This whole time you've been going through other papers. What is one more drawer?"
"I don't think it is in there – why would he put my papers in there and leave others out? It doesn't make sense. I believe whatever is in this drawer belongs to Mr. Strider, himself."
Alla pushed the iron key across the desk – leaving it directly in Breanne's line of sight. "We've come all this way, Breanne. Let us be able to say that our search was thorough," she gently suggested.
"Very well," Breanne whispered. Taking the key, she slid it into the hole. "It fits."
"You sound so enthusiastic."
Breanne lightly scoffed, then turned the key and opened the drawer.
"You see?" Alla exclaimed, catching sight of her name scrawled upon the brown paper. "I told you."
Breanne pulled a large folder out of the drawer. "I might as well let you have it and see what you can deduce. I've already tried." She handed the folder over to Alla, who took it and walked to her chair, beginning her search for the contract Reese had given her. Breanne stood, leaving the desk, intending to join her friend, but paused when she saw a few papers had slipped from the file.
She picked up the first two, then stopped – the last paper laying on the wood planked boards – the words written on them froze her blood, all but suspended her heart.
"Breanne?"
Blood pounded in her ears – she needed to sit...now. Immediately, she plopped onto the floor.
"Breanne?" Alla's footsteps reached her – she carefully took a seat on the floor next to Breanne, and placing her hand on her back, began to rub it lightly. "Are you sick? Is it the babe?" she asked, concern lacing her voice as Breanne held herself motionless.
Breanne's glassy eyes never left the floor. "Alla," she whispered, the barest of pleas in her tone, unevenly blinking.
Alla followed her gaze, and caught sight of a form on the floor. Frowning, she took hold of it, her pallor draining as the words in the letter – not form – registered in her brain.
"MacIntosh,
Fraud is one thing – Murder is quite another. I'll no longer be party to this scheme. I've taken precautions and filed papers for proof, so that should anything happen to me – you will be arrested.
Thus ends our business arrangement."