“I’ll need shoes,” he said to the rag collector after he found some old clothes that looked as though they would fit him.
“Nae so easy to find, mate,” said the dealer, who gaped at Matthew’s big feet. “C’mon—I’ll take ye ’round to a shop where ye can buy shoes at the second hand.”
’Twas not easy to locate a pair of shoes that did not pinch Merrick’s feet, but he eventually found some that were workable. He paid the shopkeeper to wrap his good suit and keep it for him until he returned, and dressed in the old clothes. But for their rough texture and drab colors, the brown trews and loose gray jumper were more like his Coruain clothes than the fine suit he’d been wearing all this time.
Setting off for the Lanes on foot, Merrick realized he might locate Harriet Lambton right away. And if he found the locket and the stone within, he should return immediately to the Astar Columns and back through time to Coruain.
Yet the thought of leaving Jenny alone and waiting for him at the hotel was disquieting. He owed her some explanation of his actions, even if he had to lie about having a wife in Scotland. At least that was a tale she could believe. ’Twas one she already believed.
Merrick went up Fisher Street and turned into Rosemary Lane. He saw a number of unsavory characters sitting on broken-down chairs in dried-up gardens, with naught to do but watch the foot traffic. But there were no gangs of youths looking for trouble. Stopping in the midst of the debris on the street, he tossed a coin to one of the men and asked if he knew where to find Blue Bell Lane.
After receiving directions, he hiked deeper into the poor district, where houses and shops were so crowded together, ’twas difficult to breathe. He passed an old church whose walls were crumbling, though two stone statues of ancient statesmen in robes remained intact. A small black sìthean leaped from nowhere onto the shoulder of one of the statues, making Merrick suspect the stone statesmen were actually dragheens. He wondered how they’d managed to escape the blight that had penetrated the neighborhood, and why they’d stayed.
“Begone, sìthean!” he said in a hushed tone.
One of the dragheens blinked its eyes and gazed directly at Merrick as the sìthean squealed and jumped down, running away into a ruined building nearby.
Merrick looked up at the dragheen, glad to find allies here. He’d known some of the stone guardians had remained in Tuath after the Druzai exodus to Coruain, but thought it fortuitous to find these two who might actually be able to help him.
“Guardian?”
“Aye,” said a crackling voice. “But who are you to ask? To know?”
The second dragheen merely tipped his head slightly and waited for Merrick’s reply.
“I am Merrick Mac Lochlainn, son of Kieran of Coruain.”
“’Tis himself,” said the first dragheen to the other.
“Aye, Doughal.”
“What do you mean?” Merrick asked, carefully looking ’round for anyone who might be lurking nearby to witness his exchange with the two stone creatures. Dragheens of various forms were not unusual on Coruain, but here within Tuath lands, they kept entirely to themselves, maintaining a secret presence. They moved slowly, if at all, as was their wont, speaking to no one but each other, and not with words.
“We know of the Mac Lochlainn,” said one, his voice rough with disuse.
“We know of Merrick and Brogan and the search for the stones,” said the other.
Merrick frowned, deep in thought. “How could you know this?”
The first dragheen made a low sound. “’Twas foretold.”
“By whom?” he queried, surprised that the stone creatures already knew of him.
“’Tis not known.”
“An ancient oracle foretold it,” said Doughal, contradicting the other.
“A Druzai oracle?” Merrick asked.
“Mayhap, m’lord. Or a powerful seer. ’Twas long ago, well before e’en yer time.”
“We are at yer service, m’lord.”
“Do you know where the blood stone is hidden?” Merrick asked.
“Alas, m’lord,” said one dragheen.
“Torin and I know naught.”
“And the words of the oracle…or seer? Do you know what was said?”
A harsh sound came from both creatures in unison, and Merrick knew they would say no more about any prophecy they had heard. ’Twas the way of the dragheen. They were benign creatures who lived according to their own rules, whispering suggestions to the minds of the unwary, and alerting their allies of impending dangers. There had always been dragheen contingents guarding Coruain House, but Eilinora had managed to destroy every last one of those who guarded Kieran before they could give warning to the chieftain. Merrick believed the witch had intended to flaunt her exceptional mastery over them.
“I am looking for a woman called Harriet Lambton. Do you know of her?”
Torin answered, his voice the harsh sound of gravel trickling across stone. “Nay, m’lord.”
“Mayhap you’ve heard of a man with the same name? Jack or Frank Lambton?”
“Aye. These we know.”
“No’ brothers, m’lord,” said Torin.
“Cousins, mayhap,” Doughal remarked.
“Or no relation at all.”
“Please,” Merrick interjected, his patience depleted by the dragheens’ slow banter. “What do you know of these Lambtons?”
The dragheens turned still and silent as two young girls wearing dark shawls walked past, looking warily at Merrick. He gave a nod and bent down to tie the lace of his worn and uncomfortable work shoe. When the girls had passed, Doughal gave him a general idea of where to find each of the Lambton men. While there was no guarantee that either man was connected to Harriet Lambton, they were the only clues Merrick had to follow.
He took his leave and followed the dragheen’s directions to an adjacent crowded lane of shabby houses where the smell of privies and cesspits was nearly overpowering. Many of the houses were deserted, and there were narrow, dark alleyways at intervals where rats and other vermin scurried, unchecked.
He knocked on the first door specified by the dragheens. A filthy, poorly clad child pulled it open, but he was pushed aside by a work-worn woman who closed the door but for a crack. Through that small space, she spoke curtly to Merrick. “Aye,” she stated harshly. “What’s yer business?”
“Looking for Jack Lambton. I’ve got something for him.”
“There’s nae tha’ any Scotsman would have that he’d want, eh?” said the woman.
“What about his sister? Is she here?”
The woman’s expression went blank. “Sister? Jack’s got nae sister.”
Merrick tipped his hat and backed away. “Then I am verra sorry to have bothered you, ma’am.”
As he picked his way through the littered alley to the next location, a fellow with curly dark hair ran past, bumping into him. Merrick felt his pocket and realized the lad had taken the coins he’d stashed there.
Merrick thought of postponing his search for Lambton to go after the thief, but the lad clearly had greater need of the money than Merrick. There was much more back at the hotel, and a few more coins in his other pocket, too.
Besides, he needed to find Lambton. The brìgha-stone might be very near, signifying an end to his quest.
Retracing his steps, Merrick found the place where the dragheens had told him to look for Frank, but it was a ruin of a building that looked uninhabitable. Merrick found no one inside, and doubted the place had been more than a deserted hovel for a very long time.
Sure he could find someone else to ask about Lambton’s whereabouts, Merrick left the spot and moved on, sighting a seedy tavern on the far side of a row of run-down wooden buildings. As it started to rain, he walked over to the place and went inside, where a number of rough-looking men stood at the bar, drinking. Merrick joined them.
He ordered a mug of ale and turned to the drinkers next to him. None of them fit Lambton’s description. “Would any of you
know of a man called Lambton? Frank Lambton?”
The men pointedly ignored him and continued talking among themselves. ’Twould be so easy to use a blathering charm to loosen their tongues, but if Eilinora or any of her minions were nearby, they might hear the magic in his voice, and see the sparks his magic would cause. He was not going to make that mistake again.
“I’ve got a profitable proposition for Lambton, if anyone knows him…”
“Nae Lambton hereabouts,” said one of them.
“Is that so?”
Each man leveled a threatening glare in Merrick’s direction, as though ’twould take but one more word to incite them to pounce on him. But Merrick towered over every last one of them, exuding the confidence of a man who had no fear.
And he was becoming just frustrated enough not to mind cracking a few heads together. Being robbed so easily did not bode well, nor did missing Lambton at every turn.
“I found Jack’s wife,” Merrick said. “But Jack is no’ the Lambton I seek. I’m guessing someone will know where Frank might be.”
He lifted his ale and turned to size up the rest of the tavern. The interior was dank and dark, lit by an inadequate chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling. There were scarred wooden tables and benches in the room, and a few chairs scattered haphazardly. Not a single sconce or candle brightened the place, nor was there a fire burning in the hearth. A number of grimy paintings in heavy frames hung on the walls, and one or two women plied their unsavory trade in the darkened corners.
Merrick put down his mug. “’Tis a pity you’ll no’ partake of the reward for finding Lambton.”
He went outside and started to walk away when a woman in a thin woolen cloak stopped him under the leaky eaves of a nearby hovel. “I heard ye inside. Looking fer Frank.”
“You know him?”
“Aye. Everyone knows Frank. But he’s nae one t’ make himself known t’ strangers.”
“Where can I find him?”
She was a pretty lass, though poverty and hard living was taking its toll. A colorful bruise on one cheekbone illustrated the rough living she made, and the whites of her eyes were tainted a bloody red. She held out her grimy hand, palm up. “What’s it worth t’ ye?”
“Tell me how to find him and I will be verra generous.”
She took back her hand. “He likes t’ lasses. New blood is wha’ he wants.”
Merrick noted that her hair was light-colored, and he figured her skin would be fair, too, if only it met with water and soap on occasion.
“No’ you, then?”
“Nay.” She touched her injured cheek. “He’s nae interested in me nae more.”
“You’re suggesting I lure him to the tavern with a woman unknown to him?”
She shrugged and held her hand out once again. “I jus’ know what I know. What ye do wit’ it be yer own business.”
Merrick looked down the lane for signs of an available woman, even though there was unlikely to be any “new blood” about. He looked back at the girl.
“Bring her ’round to the Old Scratch,” she said, “and Frank will hear about it. Like a bee t’ honey he’ll be.”
Matthew finally came into the hotel lobby, so tall and handsome it made Jenny’s heart skip just to see him walking toward her as though there were nothing on his mind but her. But she knew differently, and had only waited long enough to tell him she was leaving for Darbury.
“Jenny, lass. Come with me,” he said, shifting the parcels he carried so that he had a free hand to take her elbow and escort her upstairs. “We’re going to find your friend Harriet tonight.”
“No, Matthew, I’ve already—”
“We’re verra close, Jenny, lass. Tonight, we’ll have your locket.”
She let him escort her into her room, dismayed that it took but a word and his slightest touch to draw her into the quest she no longer cared about. She memorized each of his features, down to the dimple that appeared in his cheek when he spoke. She inhaled deeply of his scent and let the timbre of his voice roll through her.
“There are two men called Lambton who are known thieves.”
“Which one do we want?”
“Unfortunately, ’tis Frank. The other one has no sister, but a wife and children. He would likely be much easier to locate.”
He started to unwrap the smaller of the two packages, and Jenny did not have the heart to tell him her locket had lost its importance. He was so determined to do this one thing for her, and she could not bring herself to separate from him just yet.
“How do you plan to…” She saw a bright blue dress rolled tightly in the wrapper, and looked up at Matthew with questioning eyes.
“I know ’tis not your usual fashion.”
She smoothed down the skirt of the somber black gown she wore. Lacking in style and color, it was just like every other speck of clothes she’d worn since her arrival at Bresland, with the exception of the colorful Gypsy skirt and blouse Rupa had given her. Lifting the garish blue dress from the bed, she saw that it had no sleeves to speak of, and the neckline dipped so low it was absolutely indecent. He could not possibly mean for her to wear it.
She sat down in the chair across from the bed.
“Jenny, listen to me.”
“Surely this is not for me?”
“I spent some time in the Lanes, searching for Frank Lambton.”
Jenny wrinkled her nose with distaste at the memory of the district where they’d been accosted on their way to the distillery.
Matthew took a seat on the bed, his demeanor different from what it had been earlier. The search pleased him and seemed to draw them close again, but Jenny knew better than to trust it.
“Frank Lambton runs in the opposition direction when anyone asks about him, and he’s got friends who shield him. But I found that he frequents a public house up in a place they call Feathers Court. I’m hoping to lure him out.”
“Lure him…?” Jenny’s eyes wandered to the dress, and she realized what he was asking. “You want…I’m…bait?”
“Believe me, I tried all afternoon to find him, but he managed to elude me at every turn. And his sister is just as bad. Worse. No one has ever even heard of her.”
Jenny swallowed and nearly refused.
But she could not, not when her locket might actually be within reach. Besides, the little charade he proposed would delay her departure for only another hour or two.
“What do you want me to do?”
Merrick stood abruptly and went to the window, dragging one hand across his face. Now that he’d spoken it aloud, the idea of setting Jenny up to draw Lambton out rankled. He’d left the Old Scratch and found a concealed place where he could watch for the bastard to join his cronies at the tavern. But the rum dubber never wandered into Feathers Court.
Merrick knew he had no choice. He’d gone back to the secondhand shop and changed clothes, then picked up the only vaguely suitable dress that was to be had, and bought it for Jenny. When he’d seen her in the lobby, something inside him had shifted.
“Mayhap ’tis no’ such a good idea after all, lass.” There was no guarantee they would find Harriet even if her brother did turn up.
He started to put away the wretched little gown, but Jenny stilled his hands, her expression one of resignation. “’Tis the only way to find Harriet and retrieve my pendant?”
He nodded. “I canna think of any other way.” Not without magic. His visions of Ana indicated that the situation on Coruain was dire, and he’d wasted too much time already.
“Then we have no choice, do we?”
Merrick’s chest swelled with deep respect and admiration for this courageous lass who possessed no magic to protect her. As frightened as she was, she did not let her fear prevent her from going along with his dangerous plan.
“From what I gathered this afternoon, Lambton will go for any new female who comes ’round.”
“You think he’ll show himself for m-me?” she asked, as though she co
uld not believe a man would cross the burning fires of Hades for her.
Mo oirg, he would cross the fires of Hades and battle all the Odhar for her.
He closed his eyes and tamped down the rising tide of emotions he had no right to feel. “Aye, lass,” he said. She was not Druzai, and he had his duty to his people.
“If you dress in that”—he gestured to the revealing gown—“and go to the Old Scratch, Lambton will turn up.”
Jenny paled.
“Ach, Jenny. I know ’tis a poor plan,” he said, deciding he would not put her at risk, no matter what the cost. He had to find some other way. “Forget that I—”
“No, Matthew. I can do it.”
He jabbed his fingers through his hair and muttered a curse. He wanted to take her into his arms and tell her they need not go through with his plan, but he could not. He had no choice but to get the blood stone, and he had to return to Coruain. Alone. The plan to use Jenny to lure Lambton and find his sister through him was the best one—the only one.
“What do I…H-how am I to…”
She was so perfect, she would need to do naught to attract the man. “You’ll go inside the tavern and walk up to the bar. Order a drink. Smile and appear to be…”
Turning away, he rubbed his hand across the lower half of his face in frustration. Ainchis ua oirg, he did not think he could watch Jenny offer herself as bait for a low character like Lambton. His mouth went dry at the thought of her walking into that filthy tavern, to be eyed by the dense ruffians and drunkards at the bar.
“Jenny. Moileen.” Ach, but he should not call her that. She was not his Druzai mate. She could be naught to him.
And yet he had to use her to get the blood stone, else Ana and countless others would die.
“I should appear to be what, Matthew?” Her pretty throat moved as she swallowed thickly, and he could barely suppress the urge to press his lips to the pulse that fluttered there.
“Appear to be a comely lass waiting for her lover,” he said, his voice sounding harsh to his own ears. “I’ll be nearby, wearing these.” He opened the second package and showed her the rough trews and jumper he’d worn all afternoon. “No one will touch you, Jenny. I swear it.”
Temptation of the Warrior Page 20
