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Bracken’s lady was not among those leaving, but she had said she was going and something compelled him to follow this assorted group. He reasoned that if she was in the keep, he would lose nothing. If she was a part of this band, she was heading out into unprotected territory where no lady belonged.
    With tremendous ground-covering strides, Arik started after the group. It wasn’t long before he had to shorten his steps in an effort not to overtake them. A woman in an ancient cloak stood out to him, but he made sure to watch each one. With an occasional glance to the rear, Arik walked on. If Megan was in this group, he would not let her from his sight.

     
    Bracken found that animals had already been at the dead bodies of Vincent’s men. He eyed the scene with a combination of remorse and anger. He was sorry for such a brutal loss of life, but his anger stemmed from the fact that Vincent had sent only three men to escort his daughter to Hawkings Crest. From the letter, Bracken had been expecting a most cherished young woman, but this act on Vincent’s part would speak otherwise.
    At least he knew she had been telling the truth about the attack. Bracken began to wonder whom he’d seen at court so many years ago. Surely the blonde was not now a redhead. Bracken shook his head. Not even with the dirt removed would Megan match the beauty of the other girl. His own eyes told him that.
    Bracken suddenly ground his teeth. A redhead! Since talking to his aunt he had been picturing a beautiful blonde, but the woman who had stood before him was most definitely a redhead. Bracken was notpleased. He had not liked red hair since a young vassal had come to Hawkings Crest many years earlier to serve under his father. The boy had had a shock of red hair almost orange in color, and by the time he’d returned to his family, Bracken was more than relieved to see him go.
    Bracken realized that Megan’s hair was not orange, but he had never found redheaded women attractive. And why had she been dressed like a beggar and working in his keep like a serf? Bracken’s frown was so fierce that one of his men, approaching with Megan’s trunk, hesitated in his stride.
    “What is it?” Bracken asked calmly, having accurately read the other man’s thoughts and quickly schooled his features.
    “A small trunk. It’s almost empty, but the trunk itself is not damaged.”
    Bracken lifted the lid and pulled out a garment. It appeared to be much like the one Megan had been wearing when she had come to the war room. Bracken suddenly understood. These were clothes from the abbey. One more dig into the trunk and Bracken found another dress. This was cut from fine cloth, but it was not overly fancy. Again Bracken frowned. He would have thought Vincent could have done better for the girl. Maybe he expected Bracken to dress her. The thought did not please him. Bracken was not a miserly man, but he did not know this girl and seriously doubted at the moment if she truly was Vincent’s daughter. That being the case, there would be no wedding, at least not before he had some answers.
    Bracken shook his head to dispel his tempestuous thoughts. Right now he needed to return to Hawkings Crest. Men needed to be sent to bury these guards, as well as the dead thieves, and someone must be sent to London for Aunt Louisa. Megan may not be who she claimed to be, but if she was the daughter of a duke, things were looking bad, very bad indeed.

     
    From his place behind the travelers, Arik watched the “old woman” drop farther and farther back. She still hobbled along, but when the last of the group turned at a small bend in the road, she suddenly darted into the trees. Arik came to a swift halt before taking his own place in the foliage.
    He stood patiently and was not disappointed. That red head poked out after just a few minutes, and with a glance in all directions, Bracken’s lady started back down the path, this time with the cloak thrown over her arm, her