White Gate Heart

• Chapter Thirteen •

Before I could make any more observations of Mark, Lydia snapped her fingers in grave annoyance.

Turning towards her, I sat straighter and raised my eyebrows in questioning. She gaped her mouth open and rolled her eyes.

"Whoever you're gawking at must be more important than what I just told you," she snapped. Without warning, she turned to see who I was staring at. Luckily, his back was turned on us and seemed to be ensnared in his own drink. I cringed gently at the thought of beer and the overpowering stench of ale.

Shrugging, she gave her attention back at my face. I folded my hands in my lap and dug my nails into my skin; quite a painful nervous habit.

"Oh Rebekah, that man has no decorum whatsoever. Glancing at his appearance just makes me cringe," Lydia whispered. Her rude comment forced me to bite my cheek; although he was my friend too long ago.

Shrugging off the uncivil mannerism of Lydia, we ordered small bowls of broth and respectfully gave our thanks to the cook as she gave us the steaming meal.

The warm scent of chicken and green beans flowed into my nostrils; close to heavenly. Both Lydia and I seemed to down the broth in an unladylike manner. We honestly didn't bother, for we rarely saw a sight of these people, they wouldn't care.

My senses kept blaring as I could vaguely see the turn of Mark's head each minute. He would refuse to forget that I was present. It was difficult to interpret if he was offended that I didn't talk to him, or if he was genuinely curious as to why we were there.

After what seemed of prolonged hours, we paid and left graciously, our bellies feeling somewhat heavier than when we sat down. Not long after we took our last steps on the tavern steps, I heard the bell ring as a customer behind us left. The temptation to turn my head overtook me and I was unfortunate to meet Mark's watchful eyes.

Lydia grabbed my arm and snatched me from the awkward situation. Of course, she did it unknowingly.

"Look, Rebekah! Here is a lovely hat! Surely I must get it for our little brother," she shrieked in excitement. Rolling my eyes, I nodded and urged her on.

"Your excitement is expressed far too much over the tiniest of matters," I stated. An idea turned in my head and I couldn't help but look for Mark. If Lydia was distracted, I could speak with him. Sure enough, there he stood at the water trough with his midnight black steed.

My eyes widened at the earlier memory of the mystery rider that gave me a graveled pupil. His horse seemed in a better state, but drank great loads of water.

Anger flustered my cheeks and I balled my fists. Leaving Lydia to meddle with the brother charity, I stomped over to Mark.

"So, you must be the lunatic that was riding this morning," I spat when I reached the trough. Mark's back was facing me, and I could sense his exasperation and great annoyance. Turning, he wore a smirk and laughed gently.

"That occurrence was not so amusing to us! It landed me with a scratched eye, thank you so very little," I commented sarcastically, glaring at him. If a look could murder, I would've been arrested for such.

Mark wiped his face with his hand and attempted to look sorry. His mouth twisted into an odd frown.

"Quite sorry, your Majesty," he bowed with sarcasm. Returning to his horse, he began rubbing him down to rid of the sweat.

My frustration and pure vexation boiled over. Before I could control my body, I had the urge to stomp on his foot, hard. Of course, I allowed it to unfold before myself. My mouth dropped as I guffawed at what I did.

A groan slipped from Mark's mouth and he returned to facing me. He folded his lips over in pain and bit his cheek. I clamped my mouth with my hand in surprise and began to stutter with my words. At this point, our commotion was earning curious and shocked looks from bypassers.

"I-I-I'm, so sorry!" Near the end of my sentence, I laughed gently, for Mark looked quite ridiculous as he bent over in pain. Surely, I could not have hurt him that much? I just wanted to earn his attention so he would stop thinking he was so smart with his words.

"Yeah, you sound it," he groaned.

"Sure do pack a hard foot in that shoe, do ye?" he asked, straightening himself before anymore glances from street walkers were earned. His horse snorted its nostrils and seemed to laugh at his owner. Mark glared at the stallion.

"No, but I really am sorry. You should really learn not to talk so... arrogantly?" I said, but close to a form of a question.

"Well that's a grand apology," he exclaimed, giving me the attention of his back instead of his face. He continued to rub his stallion's forelegs.

"You should be the person apologizing!" I exclaimed loudly, folding my arms over my chest with a loud huff.

He ignored my rant and opened his mouth to speak, but shut it before he could.

"Spit it out," I spat at him, nearly tasting the vinegar I felt towards him at the moment.

"I'd rather not. Excuse me, Rebekah, but I need to ride into Boston. I've got to deliver a message from my Uncle to.. a man of confidentiality," he mumbled, hurrying as he saddled his stud and seemed to be flustered. Mark rushed placing the bridle on his horse, making the horse anxious and prance. Why was he in such a worried hurry?

"A man of confidentiality? Such as whom?" I asked with great curiosity, forgetting his unspoken apology. Why would Mark be delivering a message to someone of such importance? I would never trust him with an important message if I were the sender. Just his appearance would have given me a weak impression. He looked freshly out of the jailhouse, if you ask me.

"When I say confidentiality, it means that it is only to be known between my Uncle and that man," he noted with a bitter tone, seeming annoyed at my persistence.

"Then why did you bother to tell me?! Now I'm much too curious and I refuse to leave until you do so," I piped, placing my hands on my hips in hopes that he'd give in to my stubborn actions.

"My father always told me to not start something with a woman if you can't bother to finish it, I can see that he is right. Don't worry, you won't have to leave, because I will," he stated, mounting his horse with a grunt and without a goodbye, urged off into a gallop. I stood there stunned and disrespected. What man treats a woman of my fortune that way?! He was so disrespectful. I thought we could become friends again, but he seemed far too arrogant and busy to bother. We had not been in each other's presence for years and this is how he treats me. Deeply invested in my own thoughts, I could not move quick enough before I was bumped onto the muddied ground.

Groaning in sore pain, I whipped around, my bottom still in the mud. I was faced with the charming face of Charles Poppenburg.

"My goodness! I am so sorry, Miss Wills! We're after a man with a black stallion and I was rushing-- please accept my apology! I would discuss this further but I must go! We have an arrest to make!" he informed, grabbing my arms to pull me out of the mud. His eyes could not leave my face, but he was forced to do so when his comrade pulled him away to help in the chase. I was left watching the bright red coats sprint off into the distant village road. People seemed to split to allow the officers room to chase.

I didn't have the faintest idea Charles was a soldier; what a gallant ordeal.

Even further surprise and astoundment was felt when a deep realization hit me quicker than a bullet. Mark owned a black stallion, which was galloping off at a fast pace.