Relief filled Mairi at the sight of Ramos framed in the doorway like some dark avenging angel. His hair was wet, his shirt askew and his feet bare. He’d never looked better to her.
“What the bloody hell is going on?” He shouted to be heard over the noise in the room, pushing his way past the Duke and his brother, who both stood just inside the entry.
Ramos gripped her shoulders when he reached her, the warmth of his hands releasing her from the shock that had held her frozen in place.
“Out,” he bellowed, barely sparing a glance to the clamor behind him. “Everyone out of here.”
Anabella lunged for her, grabbing at the drying cloth as Mairi tried to dodge the woman’s outswept hand. Only Ramos’s quick intervention saved her from enormous embarrassment. She grappled to rearrange the cloth, which had slipped dangerously low.
When she looked up at Ramos, the eyes that met hers were stormy, reminding her once again of the photograph on her bulletin board back home.
He reached past Sallie, pulled a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around Mairi’s body before turning to face the growing throng. “Get that woman out of here or I will.”
“Mother,” Ran began, gently pulling at his mother’s shoulders.
“Dinna ‘Mother’ me, lad. I’m no leaving,” Anabella yelled. “No now that I have my proof.”
“And what proof might that be?” Blane’s voice cut through the noise.
A peek over Ramos’s shoulder showed Mairi several other people had squeezed into the room. She lowered her head, not wanting to see the servants, her cousins, and even the Duke and his brother, all staring at her.
“There. On her foot,” Anabella accused. “The jewel Connor’s heathen gave to her. She wears it still.”
How stupid. Now, because of her carelessness, they would both be exposed, with the Duke looking on. There was no excuse for it, no way to explain…
Ramos’s calm voice interrupted her thoughts. “I beg your pardon? That ring?” He pointed to her toe.
“Aye, the very one given her by that filthy heathen, right here in my very own home.”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, my good woman. As Navarro family tradition dictates, I myself put that very ring on Mairi’s foot the day she was declared my ward. It will remain there until she marries and is no longer under my protection.”
Mairi leaned her head against his back and closed her eyes, not daring to look over his shoulder now, not with that inventive piece of fiction hanging in the air.
“I dinna believe you.”
“I don’t particularly care what you believe, Lady MacPherson. Now, if you’d all be so kind, I must insist that everyone leave my ward’s room.”
The words rumbled in his body, their vibrations comforting against Mairi’s cheek, lulling her so that she almost missed Blane’s parting words.
“There’s an uncanny resemblance, to be sure, Anabella, but she’s no our Mairi. I wish it were true, but it’s no. Our Mairi is lost to us, many years gone past.”
“But I was so certain.” The woman’s voice faltered to a stop.
“Would our Mairi stand meekly behind the shoulder of some lad and allow you to attack her that way? I dinna think so. No, back in the day, it would have taken the lot of us to pull our own Mairi off you.”
“I suppose yer right. I hadna even thought of that. Mairi was never one to shirk a fight. More likely to seek one out, in fact.”
“Aye, that she was,” Blane agreed. “Our own Mairi was a fearless, independent lass, no like this one.”
The words floated through the door to Mairi, assaulting her like a slap of cold water as Ramos walked her over to her bed. He assisted her off her feet and left detailed instructions for Sallie to see to her comfort, but she barely noticed.
Her cousin was correct. The Mairi he had known would never have huddled behind some man’s back, waiting for him to defend her. That Mairi would have handled the situation without help.
Unfortunately that Mairi had long ago turned into something very different.
Fearless and independent? They wouldn’t think that if they’d seen her when Cody and Cass had come to her rescue, huddled in the corner of the dark little storeroom downstairs, crying like a lost lamb awaiting its slaughter.
No, Blane was right. She wasn’t that Mairi anymore.
The very walls closed in on him.
Leaving Mairi in Sallie’s care, Ramos strode the length of the dark hallway, past his room and down the narrow stone steps. The need to escape was strong, but he maintained an even stride down the wide hallway to the great entrance and out into the cold, wet night.
Once there, he moved to the far edge of the landing, grasping the railing with shaking hands. He drew great draughts of the cold, damp air into his lungs, waiting for the queasy, claustrophobic feeling to pass.
When he’d raced into Mairi’s room, the first face he’d seen had been his father’s. He’d brushed past Reynard, their shoulders actually touching as he rushed to get to Mairi’s side. To shield her from the man his friend Sarah had called pure evil.
His father.
He’d looked into Reynard’s eyes and seen…nothing. His own father.
“What the bloody hell did I expect?” He muttered. After all, how could his father know him? He wouldn’t even be born for another six centuries.
No, he couldn’t blame Reynard’s lack of recognition for the weight on his soul or for the curdling in his stomach. It was the fact that he’d seen that empty look before. It was the same void he’d seen in the woods of Thistle Down Manor the day his father had ordered the woman under his compulsion to fire her weapon.
There had been nothing in those eyes that day, either, and whether the bullet was aimed at his enemy or his son had made no difference to him.
Ramos backed up against the hard stone wall of the castle and allowed the cold rain to wash over him, taking with it his gut-twisting need to retch.
If only it could as easily wash away the pain in his heart.
Twelve
That was interesting.” Reynard smiled as he poured himself a drink from the decanter on the table.
“Yes it was,” Wyn agreed. One of the best performances he’d seen in quite some time.
“Did you see the girl’s chest?”
“I could hardly miss it. Most impressive.” Wyn took the cup Reynard offered him. “Though I wouldn’t have minded seeing a bit more.” He’d actually intended to see more when he’d mind-pushed the screamer to snatch the drying cloth away. Too bad the girl’s guardian had been there to intercede.
“Keep your mind on business, Wyn. I was referring to the mark there. Did you see it? I think we may have stumbled onto the real thing this time.”
“Perhaps.” More likely another false trail. How many times had Rey dragged him along, chasing after some rumor, some legend, some worthless Mortal superstition? “But I thought the boy said the mark was to be found on the back.”
“So he did. Perhaps he was mistaken about that.”
Wyn didn’t respond. He needed to keep his irritation in check. If the boy was mistaken about the location of the Fae mark, what else might he be mistaken about? Here they were once again in the middle of nowhere, pursuing some local legend, all because of Reynard’s obsession to find a female descendant of their people.
Wyn tipped back his head and drained the goblet, though it would do nothing to settle the feeling of unease that had crept over him in the girl’s room. Not even the strongest of Mortal spirits would have any effect on him. What he wouldn’t give for one small glass of Faerie nectar. It had been so very long.
“Still”—Reynard stroked his chin thoughtfully—“it is the little redhead who’s supposed to have the gift.”
Wyn chuckled. “I’d have thought you’d had your fill of redheads by now.”
Reynard sneered. “Hardly. Besides, this is business, not pleasure.”
“No reason we shouldn’t enjoy ourselves.” Rey’s foolhardy plan
was unlikely to work anyway. And from what he’d seen on display of that blond beauty down the hall, it looked like there might be some enjoyment to be had in this outpost of humanity, after all.
“That’s your problem, Wyn. You waste your energies on the pursuit of pleasure whereas I channel my energies into purpose and planning. That’s why I’m in command and you’re merely my second.” Reynard removed his jacket and tossed it to the foot of the bed. “Having either female should be easy enough. I’ll be patient and make my decision when the time is right.”
“Having either female easy? I shouldn’t think Adira would be at all pleased to hear you say those words. What would your own dear redhead think of your latest plan?” He knew the answer to that question without having to ask. The vindictive bitch would be furious if she knew what was going on here.
“Please, my dear Wyn.” Reynard arranged himself on the bed, one foot propped atop the other, arms behind his head. “When have you ever known me to be concerned about what anyone thinks? Least of all my fair courtesan.”
True. Wyn rose from his chair and sauntered to the door. “On that note, your grace, I’ll take my leave of you.” He bowed low on his way out, knowing Reynard would never notice the sarcasm in his action. The Fae wasn’t patient; he was oblivious. Reynard had grown so full of himself over the centuries, he actually expected to be treated as royalty.
Wyn, on the other hand, understood patience. He’d learned its cruel lessons in the time since he’d left the Faerie Realm. He wasn’t second in command because of misdirected energies; he was second because he chose that position. He would be patient, too. Like Reynard, when the time was right, he’d be making his own decision because, unlike Reynard, Wyn had no desire to conquer the Realm of Faerie, to rule it. He only wanted the right to go home. And what was he willing to do, to sacrifice to gain that right?
He shook his head, pausing at the entry to his room, taking one last look down the hallway to where the two women in question were even now sleeping.
As he closed the door, he noted with satisfaction the fire, the fresh decanter on the table and the turned-down bedcovers. There were advantages to his station. All the benefits bestowed upon the Duke, with none of the responsibility. How fortunate for him Reynard was so ambitious.
Still, this pittance was no match for what he’d lost.
No match for what he might stand to regain if there actually were some truth to this particular family legend.
As he lowered his body into the chair by the fire, he acknowledged that, unlike so many times in the past, there was something unusual about this family, some energy he could sense.
He leaned his head against the back of his seat, staring into the flames. Yes, this whole experience felt different.
Perhaps it was time he did a little investigating on his own.
Thirteen
The minute Mairi seated herself at the great table, she knew it was going to be a long and trying session.
“I dinna expect to see you at main meal today.” Sallie’s opening shot was innocent, yet just loud enough to garner the attention of those present.
“And why is that?” Mairi would have preferred to bite off her own tongue rather than hand over the perfect opening to that spoiled brat. But she didn’t. She fell right into the trap.
“Weel…” The girl opened her eyes wide and looked knowingly around the table. “I wouldna have the courage to show my face if I’d made a spectacle of myself the way you did yestereve.” Sallie lifted her goblet, a sly smile lighting her face as she looked over the rim. “Baring yer great body for all the world to see.”
“Sallie,” Blane reprimanded sharply. “What happened yestereve was no fault of Mairi’s.”
“And you’ll apologize immediately,” her mother added.
“My apologies, Cousin Mairi.”
The insincerity of the quick apology matched the young woman’s expression.
Mairi’s mouth dropped open. She felt it happen and snapped it shut. The red that flooded her face had as much to do with fury as humiliation. But before she could respond, a sharp blow to her ankle diverted her attention.
Ramos’s warning kick went unnoticed by any but her, as did the laughter he hid by lifting his goblet to his mouth for a drink of wine. When he started to cough, she pounded his back a bit harder than necessary, though he appeared not to notice.
“Blane is right, Sallie.” Anabella cast a sympathetic glance toward Mairi. “I’m responsible for poor Mairi’s embarrassment. I’m no sure what came over me to make me behave so badly, but I am sorry for it.” She smiled brightly before leaning in to pat Blane’s hand. “As you said, dear Blane, I only have to pay attention to see how verra different this one is from our Mairi. I canna imagine her sitting here quietly through such as this. Unlike our Mairi, this lass has been raised to be a lady.”
Pity from Anabella. It couldn’t possibly get any worse than this.
Mairi tried to disappear into her seat as an awkward silence gradually gave way to normal conversation. Ramos attempted small talk, but she ignored him. When his fingers feathered over her arm, she jerked away from his touch without looking at him, angry with him for not defending her. Angry with herself for expecting him to do so.
The stinging pain in her chest, when it began, was small and might have gone unnoticed had she been engaged in conversation. Mairi glanced up from her meal to find the Duke studying her intently.
When he spoke, everyone at the table gave him their undivided attention. “My brother and I are extremely grateful for the kind hospitality you’ve extended us. During our time in Edinburgh, Ran told us so much about you, we almost felt as if we knew you. Isn’t that so, Wyn?”
The Duke’s brother nodded and lifted his cup in a toast to all his dining companions.
“Thank you, yer grace,” Blane acknowledged.
“It’s an honor to have you in our home,” Drew quickly added, adoration shining in his eyes.
The Duke smiled indulgently at the young man before turning his gaze back to Mairi. “Ran told us many family stories, but one in particular we found quite entertaining. I wonder, Laird MacKiernan, if I might impose upon you to indulge my curiosity about the Faerie legend?”
Next to Mairi, Ramos tensed. Though there was no outward indication of it, she felt it all the same. It was as if the air between them grew suddenly heavy.
“I’d be the one to answer those questions, yer grace.”
“Sallie,” both Blane and Rosalyn admonished at the same time.
“I am the only one at this table—other than my mother, of course—who carries the blessing, am I no?” She smiled at the Duke and touched a hand artfully to her hair. “What would you like to know?”
“So it’s true? Your family claims to descend from the fabled Fae?”
“Aye. As a female descendant of the Fae, I bear their mark myself.”
“Their mark? I’m afraid I don’t understand, ma fille chérie.” The Duke looked first to his brother and then around the table.
Sallie’s laughter trilled. “A birthmark. I have the mark of my Fae ancestor on my back.”
Reynard Servans sipped from his goblet before glancing around the table. “Do all les belles dames…” He smiled apologetically. “Please, pardon my lapse. Do all the lovely ladies here bear such a mark?”
“No!” Caden’s fiancée blurted out, her face turning a bright crimson as she nervously fingered the ornate cross she wore about her neck.
“Alycie speaks the truth,” Sallie added, irritation fleeting across her delicate features as she glanced at the girl. It was gone before she faced the Duke. “Neither she nor Lady MacPherson are related by blood.”
Mairi kept her eyes on the trencher in front of her, slowly eating the food, which had lost all flavor. Her little cousin prattled on, flirting with the Duke, a person who was so awful his presence rattled even a man like Ramos.
A covert glance at the Duke and his brother told her nothing. They looked perfectl
y innocent, like any other highborn gentlemen of their time. Both, in fact, were extremely handsome men, with long blond hair pulled back and tied at the neck. The Duke was perhaps a bit shorter than his brother, but both men had equally elegant features and manners.
The annoying sting intensified and she fought the urge to rub the spot. She looked up from her food to find the Duke staring at her once more.
“And you, mademoiselle? You are related by blood, are you not?”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Ramos’s hand freeze as he reached for the meat in his trencher.
“I am, yer grace.”
“But Mairi disna bear the mark, nor does she have the power of the blessing,” Sallie interrupted.
The Duke continued to watch her. “This is true?”
“It is, your grace. I was not born with the gifts or with the mark.”
“And no with any sort of prospects, either,” Sallie added.
“Sallie,” her mother reprimanded sharply. “I’ll thank you to mind yer tongue, lass.”
“We all ken the truth of it, Mother. If she’d any prospects at home, her guardian would no have to drag her all the way to Spain to find someone daft enough to wed her.”
Next to Mairi, Ramos at last lifted a piece of meat to his mouth, awkwardly bumping his goblet in the process. The cup tilted sideways and tumbled, splashing spiced wine down Mairi’s front and into her lap.
She gasped as the cold liquid hit her.
“Oh no,” he said. “How unforgivably clumsy of me. I am so sorry. Now you’ll have to leave us to tidy yourself up.”
“It’s no a problem. Dinna worry yerself about it,” she mumbled quickly, hoping to avoid becoming the center of unwanted attention yet again.
“No, my dear, as your Guardian, I must be firm about this. You’ll return to your room at once.” He stood, one hand on the back of her chair, the other gently grasping her upper arm, pulling her up.
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