Amaury rode out on three successive mornings as the sky was barely tinged with pink. In a way, he enjoyed leaving the confines of the keep and escaping the watchful gazes of the company. Oliver accompanied him, riding Ghita, the dogs ran with him and Persephone excelled in adding to the toll. They spoke openly when they were far from the keep. He felled a deer each day, earning the gratitude of the cook.
Who was not, it had to be said, so talented with a sauce as Denis, the cook at Kilderrick. How curious to feel any longing for that place, but Amaury knew it was more a case of not feeling at ease at Caerlaverock. His motives were suspected and he knew it—indeed, he would have been surprised if it had been otherwise. He was unknown and foreign, neither of which counted in his favor. He kn
