Page 5 of Unspoken
Impossible!
She watched dumbly, her blood roaring in her ears,as he stooped to retrieve her tray. He straightened and held it out to her.Irises the color of Irish moss glimmered at her.
Had she imagined the change? Evelyn always pridedherself on being of a practical nature, not prone to fanciful imaginings eventhrough the acceptance of her own anomaly.
He took her limp hand in his enormous one and withgentle care, wrapped her fingers around the tray. Once she had steady hold ofit, he released her and cut a pathway back to his seat, leaving Evelyn feelingoddly bereft.
“Thank you,” she whispered, unable to speak untilhe was out of earshot.
A pause in his step caused her to wonder if he had,in fact, heard her.
Hastily she mumbled “Pardon me,” to the assemblyat large before cutting a retreat to the kitchens.
“Well if that don’t tickle me stones.” Moorlandroared with laughter, “Ye’ve a Berserker champion, and ye doona even know whatthat means!”
She refused to ask and give Moorland thesatisfaction of berating her ignorance. Instead, she lifted her chin, grabbeda fresh rag to clean the tables, and headed about her duties, her heart lighterthan it had been in months.
* * *
Lud, the day had been long. Evelyn tried tosqueeze the tautness from her lower back for a stolen moment and warm the icyfingers of stiff pain that spread through fatigued muscles. The witching hour hastilydrew to a close when she bent to pick up the final basket of clean bed and palletlinens for the morrow. She grunted. This particular load must weigh ten stoneand the distance to the back door was a mile if it was one more step.
Evelyn felt the tiniest bit rejuvenated by thequick and cold scrubbing she’d just given herself from frigid water she’dpulled from the washhouse. She thanked the heavens to be clean and also forher small mattress of straw that awaited her on the attic floor. A shiver ofyearning ran through her as she pulled her grey cloak tighter against the suddenchill.
The extremes of the Scottish climes never ceasedto amaze her. Just this afternoon, excessive warmth had streamed through themeandering summer clouds. Tonight, however, a moist chill blew in from anapproaching ocean storm.
Small price to pay, she supposed, for the safetyof anonymity. Escaping as she had from the convent after the final disastrous “calling”she’d been set to by Bishop Grimstead, no corner of her home country feltsafe.
She huddled beneath her cloak. Had thetemperature dropped another ten degrees? Looking up from her basket, shesquinted at the back door of the inn.
Black spots immediately danced before her eyes asthe building began to blur in her vision. Frigid and foreign fingers graspedat her legs beneath her skirts, pinning her in place. After a moment ofextreme disorientation, her vision cleared. She found herself staring throughthe trees at thefrontof the building; a completely different positionthan before.
What is happening?Her mind was suddenlyinterrupted by the thoughts of another in a frenzy of quick and foreigncalculations.
The inn doors are thick and the ceilingshigh. Too high to jump. Clever innkeeper doesn’t want unwelcome visitors inthe night.
The voice permeating Evelyn’s thoughts was arctic,sinister. AndMale.
A dark chuckle choked her, filling her throat withmalevolence and bitter envy. No matter, the soldiers camping in the fieldstonight will be crushed on the morrow.
Cold hatred reached out toward the structure,emanating from this body she inhabited. If she’d been capable, Evelyn wouldhave cried out with the chilling force of it.
Yes…He’s here,the triumphant voicehissed.
Whose thoughts were these?
As if lured by the evil stirring the air, the traitorousMcKay and his clan ambled on unsteady legs in the direction of the front guestentrance. Evelyn was startled to feel amusement and recognition in thisforeign conscious she somehow inhabited.
Angus, favored a splinted arm. “Once we find her,I’m going to enjoy plundering an English cunny as her countrymen have plunderedour lands for centuries.” A drunken, riotous chorus of agreement sounded fromhis five or so kin. “Then, I’ll let ye all have a turn wi’ her.”
“We’ll ugly her up, after, so no one will stand tolook at her face, the haughty witch!” Evelyn recognized him as the man who’dreasoned with Roderick in the tavern.
They’re after me! She panicked. Desperateto return to her body from… whatever was happening, she struggled with all herwill.
Unfortunate little witch. The whisperedlaughter followed her as she somehow ripped from his presence and slammed backinto her own being. Her eyes flew open to behold the rear of the inn again andthe small kitchen door. Plucking up the basket from where she’d unwittinglydropped it, Evelyn scrambled for refuge as though demon hounds bit at herheels.
ChapterFive
She sped across the empty dining room and pluckeda candle from its perch, intent upon using its wan light to wind her way to thehidden linen closet beneath the stairs. There she might make her bed.Grimacing, she turned down the back guest hallway, which was only a short fewdoors on the way to the stairs. Evelyn had never been fond of small spaces.They terrified her, in fact. Her stomach twisted uneasily at the idea ofspiders that surely made their nocturnal homes in the dank recesses of thecupboard.
