“Five years.” Five years would still be torturous, but just knowing that he need only bed one more lass before having his responsibilities of laird reduced by such a drastic measure made the prospect so much more bearable.
“Five years? I doona ken what ye mean, lad.”
Adwen loved the look of confusion on Orick’s face. “If I am able to bed a lass in each territory and return proof to Griffith that I did so, then he will return to the castle in five years to serve as laird in my stead so that I may begin my own travels once again.”
“Ye have spent yer whole life travelling throughout the world. Is no part of ye ready to settle in one place for awhile?”
The very thought made his chest heavy. “No at all.”
“And just how are ye supposed to prove such a thing to yer brother?”
Adwen reached behind him, grasping on to the leather bag carrying the precious trinkets that would buy him his eventual freedom, tossing it in Orick’s direction.
“Here. Look inside.”
Adwen watched as Orick took in the hair ribbons, the small pieces of dresses, the few handkerchiefs, even a lock of hair or two, each not only given but signed by their owner.
“Do ye mean to tell me that ye dinna steal these things from the lassies? That they each gave these, uh tokens, to ye willingly?”
He couldn’t help but smile at the twisted sense of pride that surged through him thinking back on his conquests. “Aye, every one. Told them I wished to have something to remember them by. They all seemed to believe it well enough.”
Orick chuckled in that same deep, baritone laugh that echoed through the chilly air. “I’ve finally made sense of it. ’Tis no that ye possess any great skill in wooing the lassies at all. ’Tis only that ye are verra skilled at picking out the lassies with the least amount of intelligence in a room.”
Adwen didn’t appreciate that idea whatsoever, although he couldn’t deny that he found most of the women he bedded to be dull and foolish, incapable of real conversation—not that he had any interest in conversing with those who joined him in bed. “Ye offend me, Orick. I’ll no accept any part of what ye just said.”
“I doona care if I offend ye. ’Tis true enough, I can see that now. No lassie with a mind smarter than that of a sheep would let ye into her bed and then cut off a piece of her hair to send it with ye for remembrance.”
The distance to the castle seemed to grow longer as Orick’s comments continued. His words filled him with self-doubt, an emotion he’d rarely experienced throughout his privileged life.
“Enough, Orick. I doona wish to hear another word from ye. At the evening’s end, we will travel to the inn. Ye can judge for yerself whether it be the lass’ stupidity or my charms that lure her into my bed.”
“Thank ye, but ’tis no something I wish to witness. Are ye sure ye wish to go to the inn, though? I believe ye might have better luck elsewhere.”
Orick’s jests angered him. He’d grown accustomed to his remarks over the years, their relationship one based more on friendship than service.
“Just what do ye mean, Orick? Ye are fair close to taking this too far, friend.”
“I only mean that while the lass looked crazy enough, with her dancing and the broomstick, she dinna look like the kind of lass to be taken advantage of.”
He could no longer feel the cold with the way his neck grew hot in response to Orick’s suggestion. “Advantage? I doona take advantage of anyone, Orick. They leave my side satisfied and happy with never a complaint to be had.”
“How would ye know? ’Tis no as if ye stay around long enough to hear them. The lass we saw through the window had a spark in her eye that I canna imagine most of them have possessed. If ye wish to win the wager, find yerself someone who appears a little less happy when she’s all alone, aye? Someone who appears in need of companionship.”
Adwen exhaled as they approached the pond leading to McMillan Castle. Finally, they were close enough that he could rid himself of Orick’s nagging presence for a while.
He pulled his horse to a stop, dismounting as he strode toward the entrance, leaving Orick to see to the horses as he spoke over his shoulder in order to get in the last word.
“If I wished to find a lass who needed companionship, I would surely ask ye to seek her out for me. Ye should know the look of one.”
His words were harsh. Guilt immediately stung at Adwen, but he placed it into the back of his mind. Orick had been brutally honest with him as well, as per usual, and they would find out which one of them was right soon enough.
CHAPTER 8
If not for the one dirty and exhausted traveler who stopped in for an early dinner before continuing on his way, there’d have been no real reason for me to stay and watch things while Gregor and Isobel were away. Still, I gave them my word, so I busied myself through the duration of the evening by trying, rather unsuccessfully, to improve my bread baking skills.
After stuffing myself with bread that was either too tough, or too salty, or too just plain gross, I gave up, surrendering to the fact that I was just not meant for bakerdom.
From the looks of the village outside the main window, it seemed that Gregor and Isobel weren’t the only folks interested in checking out the travelling healer. The village looked vacant, and the cold, windy air gave the evening a spooky feel, as if someone were watching me just past the edge of what I could see through the window. I did my best to busy myself so as not to think on it all too much.
It didn’t take long to wipe everything down—Gregor kept things very clean. Dust and dirt only seemed to aggravate Isobel’s cough.
After too much bread was baked and the tables were cleaned, I took to sweeping the floors while conducting a private stage show for all of the empty chairs. I chose to perform a one-woman stage version of Phantom of the Opera. Knowing every word by heart, I think it would be fair for me to speak for all of the invisible ghosts that took in my grand performance and say that I killed it.
Exhausted and happy, I collapsed into one of the many chairs, realizing that I’d not truly been this alone in a very long time. Something inside me reveled in it; enjoyed the freedom of being able to sing at the top of my lungs and prance around like a fool without being worried that a maid or other castle worker would come busting in through the doors. There was such a lack of privacy at the castle; never a moment presented itself where I could be the crazy goofball of a woman I was so accustomed to being in my life before.
I felt very little remorse at breaking Eoghanan’s trust to begin with since I was doing it to help Gregor and Isobel. I knew Eoghanan would understand once I explained it to him. But now that I’d so thoroughly enjoyed my evening alone, any repercussions that might occur if he wasn’t so understanding would be worth it.
Once I took a moment to catch my breath, I stood and went to lean my head out of the front door, to gauge the time of evening based on the moon’s position—it was somewhere between nine and eleven by my rudimentary guess, and I expected Gregor and Isobel to arrive back shortly. Assuming it safe to go ahead and close down for the evening, I stepped back inside and blew out all of the candles in the front, deciding to wait in Isobel’s private sitting room until their return.
With the rest of the inn now dark save the sitting room, which remained lit by a candle in each of the corners, I wrapped myself in a thick wool blanket and sank comfortably into a rocking chair. The flicker of the lights combined with my own rocking had me near the edge of sleep when the sound of wind whooshing through the front door as someone entered sent me soaring to my feet.
In my rush to find out who was there, I tripped on the edge of the blanket, falling headfirst into the edge of the doorway. I screamed and cursed as I stumbled into the dark hallway, feeling my forehead with one hand to make sure I wasn’t bleeding and guiding myself with the other.
Satisfied that my skull was still in one piece, I opened my eyes slowly to find the outlines of two humongous men standing in the dining room.
“Do you need a room?” I didn’t appreciate that the strangers saw fit to walk into a darkened building, but I knew that Gregor needed all the income he could get. I wasn’t about to turn away the first real guests of the night.
“Aye, lass. Apologies for our late arrival, we have been visiting friends.”
I knew enough of hospitality around here to find his statement odd and thought it best to illuminate the room as quickly as possible, in case they turned out to have less than honest intentions for entering. I didn’t have any real weapon, but there were a few kitchen utensils that weighed a good deal, and I was feistier than my size suggested.
“Visiting friends? And they didn’t offer you a bed for the night?” I backed into the sitting room so I could keep an eye on them, reaching just inside the doorway for the first candle I could get my hands on.
“Aye, o’course they did. ’Tis only I dinna wish to sleep in the castle. I doona much care for them.”
I stilled midway into the dining room, gripping the candle hard enough that wax dripped onto my hand. I had to grit my teeth to keep from dropping my only source of light as the hot wax blistered my skin.
Adwen MacChristy. It had to be. The very guest I was supposed to have been at the castle to meet this evening. Surely, he would’ve heard my name before; I was certain that my absence had been discussed at dinner. I couldn’t tell him who I was unless I wished for word to get back to Baodan. I enjoyed my work here. I wasn’t about to do anything to compromise it.
“Are ye all right, lass? Ye seem to be staying a good distance away. I can promise ye that we mean ye no harm.”
It was the voice of the second man who stood nearest to the doorway. He was even taller than the first, and I found him to be one of the most formidably large men I’d ever seen. Not fat, simply tall and broad and, even in the darkness, all muscle. All I could see was his outline, but had this been the twenty-first century, he would have undoubtedly been some sort of professional athlete.
“Yes, I’m fine. I just spilled some wax. Give me a moment.”
They stood in the entryway while I lit all of the candles. Only once I was done did I step back to fully give them a good look over.
Good-looking specimens, the both of them.
The taller one who’d just spoken offered me a warm but shy smile as I looked them over. His bright blue eyes shone with a kindness that immediately eased any previous concern I’d had about the two men. He had dark hair, cropped shorter than most men of the time but still long enough that natural curls stood out on end, giving him a wild, rugged appearance.
He had the biggest hands I’d ever seen. As I gazed at them, I could see the wear on his palms, the callouses caused from repeated hard work. I immediately made the assumption that this man wasn’t Adwen. Not that the other lairds I knew didn’t work hard, they certainly did, only it wasn’t often the same back breaking work that so many others did day in and day out.
The man I presumed to be Adwen stood only a few inches shorter than the first, bringing him in at a solid six-foot-two. He was impossibly handsome, with dark hair that fell nearly to his shoulders and thick dark brows that framed honey-colored eyes.
He took one step toward me, placing his hand on the side of my arm.
“Ye have burned yer hand from the wax, lass. Let me take that candle from ye.”
The touch of his hand sent a spark shooting down my arm and I relented, passing off the dripping candle before turning to dip my hand in a cool basin of water.
“Thank you. Uh, the castle you say? So you know the McMillans then? Might I ask your names?”
I glanced up at both of the men as I splashed the cool water over my hand, and the man I believed to be Adwen confirmed my assumption about his identity.
“Aye, to all three of yer questions, lass. Aye, we were just at the castle. Aye, ye may ask our names—my name is Adwen MacChristy, and I’m soon to be laird over Cagair Castle. This here,” he paused and gestured for the second man to step forward. “This is Orick, my friend and trusted hand. And lastly, aye, I know the McMillans well and, from yer accent and the resemblance ye bear to Eoghanan’s wife, I’d venture a guess and say that ye know them even better than I. Can I ask ye yer name, lass?”
I’d never really thought that Grace and I looked that much alike, but for our entire lives people had pointed out the similarities. I supposed, despite our mutual denial, that it was true. In my haste to hide the panic on my face, I turned to find a cloth to dry my hands.
“My name is, uh, Lily.” I gritted my teeth, thinking it a foolish name to choose, but my other sister’s name was the first that came to mind. “And no, I’m afraid that I don’t know them. Just in the same way that everyone else does around here; I’ve never been a guest in the castle.”
“Is that so, lass? Forgive me, but I find it hard to believe that ye are no the same lass that was absent from the dining hall this evening. Ye speak in the exact same manner as the wives of the laird and his brother.”
I glared at him, realizing that he’d known who I was instantly, but aggravated that he seemed so intent on gaining some sort of confession. He didn’t know me; none of it was any of his business.
“Well, perhaps we just come from the same place originally.”
He crossed his arms, his face so smug that I wanted nothing more than to slap the expression right off it. “And just what land might that be? I’ve traveled to a great many places and no anywhere have I heard speech such as what ye three lassies have.”
I racked my brain for the name of a place obscure enough that surely sir nosey-britches wouldn’t have traveled there. Nothing brilliant came to mind and unexpected words escaped my lips. They couldn’t have been more stupid. “I come from Atlantis.”
Orick, who’d not spoken since I re-lit the candles, couldn’t contain a laugh as Adwen took a step closer to me, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Oh, the lost city, lass? Well, what a grand tale ye must have since ye escaped the mythical, doomed city so well and intact. Ye must be hundreds of years old by now, aye? I must say, ye look verra young for yer age.” He laughed until his face was bright red enough to serve as a stop sign.
By the time he finished, I was thoroughly pissed. “What’s the matter with you? Why do you care who I am? You just came here for a bed to sleep in, right?”
Adwen looked over his shoulder and gave Orick a sly grin that only served to baffle me further. “Aye, but that is no the only reason I came here tonight.”
“Excuse me? Just what exactly does that mean?”
I reminded myself of Cooper after he’d been caught by Eoghanan; I was behaving in much the same way, babbling incessantly in response to my irritation. I couldn’t seem to stop and took to flailing my arms about dramatically as I spoke, pointing my fingers at him and pacing the room. I looked mad.
“You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know what you mean by that. Fine. I give up. My name is not Lily, but it is none of your damn business what my name actually is. I feel like I’m being interrogated by the police, and that only actually happened once and…”
I stopped once I saw the look of pure confusion that seemed to mingle with a bit of fear on Orick’s face and look of pure delight on Adwen’s.
“Lass…” Before I could continue, Adwen took three steps toward me, grabbing onto the sides of both my arms so that I could no longer pace frantically about the room. “Might I call ye Jane, for I know that to be yer name? I heard Eoghanan discussing ye with the wee lad, Cooper. I believe ye might be in some trouble when ye return to the castle, but ’tis no my concern.”
I yanked myself free from his grip and moved to sit down. “None of it is any of your concern.”
He nodded, not hesitating for a moment to sit down at the table across from me—much to my continued irritation.
“Ye are right, lass. Forgive me. ’Tis only that I dinna understand why ye felt the need to lie about who ye are.”
“I don’t think
Baodan would approve of my working here. Only a few people in the castle know that I’ve been spending my days here. Please…” I hesitated, everything inside me not wanting to ask any favor of the infuriating man. “Don’t tell Baodan if you see him again. I like my work here. I don’t wish to spend my days lying around the castle.”
He reached out and gave my hand a light squeeze before I jerked it back toward me. I found him overly excessive with his touching for someone I just met.
“He will hear nothing from me, lass. Might I give ye one last heed?”
I folded my arms in my lap in case he tried to reach across the table again. “Does it matter if I say no?”
“No.”
“Then absolutely, heed away.”
The corner of his mouth lifted and I couldn’t tell whether he was angry or amused. “The way ye spoke to me earlier, cursing and speaking of something called a ‘police’…if I dinna already know of the magic and not only where but when ye come from, ye would sound right mad. Ye need to be more cautious, lass.”
“What?” I stood, bumping the edge of the table so that it ran into Adwen’s stomach. “You know? How?”
I knew only through explanations given by Grace and Mitsy that the MacChristy family had been used as a cover-up of sorts with the Conalls several years prior, when a twenty-first century woman like myself had come through looking like the exact twin of a MacChristy already living in the seventeenth century, but I didn’t know they’d told the MacChristy family the truth of all that had happened.
“Sit yerself down, lass. Yer face is all red again, and ye look as if ye might swoon.”
The shock of his words combined with the frustration that still coursed through my body made me rather lightheaded. Reluctantly, I did as he instructed.
“Aye, Eoin Conall, laird over at Conall Castle told me everything no even a fortnight ago.”
“And you believed him?”
“Lass,” he moved to reach for my hand again, and I pulled it from his grasp, shaking my head at him as I narrowed my eyes angrily. He returned his hand to his side, the left corner of his mouth pulling up in the same frustrating way once again. “I’ve traveled all over the world and seen a great many things that I can give no true explanation for. We Highland folk know that magic exists in the world, ’tis only that we doona see it with our own eyes verra often. But after meeting the many of ye lassies that seem to have traveled through, what with yer wild tongues, and strange sayings, I doona doubt the truth of it for a moment.”
Love Beyond Compare (Book 5 of Morna’s Legacy Series) Page 4
