Greyston almost laughed aloud. But she had a serious look in her eye, in the set of her chin, and hell, maybe she was right. Maybe the whole lot of them were witches and warlocks, druids or some other creature he couldn’t even imagine. He’d given up trying to put reason to the madness long ago. “Do you think such things are real?”
“I didn’t think it possible to hurl a man across a room with the crook of a finger or rewind time on a whim, yet that didn’t stop it from being real.” She mangled that lower lip with her teeth again—a recently formed nervous habit? “If all this extraordinariness ties back to Castle Cragloden, and it seems it must, then my connection is through my mother.”
“You have that the wrong way round. It is your mother who is connected through you to Cragloden and Duncan McAllister.”
A spark of cognition lit behind her eyes. She’d just recalled a forgotten memory, reached a new conclusion…or he’d just stumbled on a truth she’d been hiding from the start.
The time for dilly-dallying around each other’s trust was long gone and he was prepared to lower the first barrier.
“My father sent me away to Cragloden Castle the day I turned fifteen.” Without explanation and with very little regret on both sides, not even when Greyston had thought Cragloden must be a workhouse for unworthy vermin. His one reason for staying had also become a pressing reason to leave. His brother Arogan, older by three years, had suddenly become more aggressive in his defence of Greyston. Unnecessarily. How often hadn’t he wished his father would strike him, give Neco cause to knock the old man to the ground? But his father had never posed a physical risk and Greyston had hardened himself to emotional attack from an early age.
“Was Cragloden an academic institution?” asked Lily.
Greyston shook his head.
“Did your father say why you were being sent there?” she pressed.
The only words his father had ever had for him was abuse shouted in a drunken rage. Which had been preferable to the times when the haggard man would sit across the table in silence, staring at Greyston with hate and accusation in those sunken eyes.
“The first I heard of Castle Cragloden was when my father called the direction out to the driver.” Before she could voice the question furrowing her brow, he moved the story along. “To my amazement, McAllister welcomed us as guests.”
“What other kind of welcome were you expecting?” Lily leaned forward, practically squinting she was concentrating so hard on him.
Warmed by the depth of her gaze, he felt himself slipping toward a moment of confidence. A swift kick through the servant’s entrance? Slapped in chains and hung to dry? None of the kinds of welcome she was capable of imagining, and exactly why he couldn’t start losing himself in her eyes.
“We weren’t the only guests.” Greyston shot to his feet and paced a path to the door. “Anya Preshkin, a petite, black-haired girl from St. Petersburg had arrived three weeks prior.” He turned to watch Lily as he spoke, but saw no flicker of recognition in her puzzled expression. “There was Horace Stowe, a red-haired lad from New York. Piederre Strezzo, youngest son of the Marchese Strezzo di Picante from Florence.” Names and faces burnt into his mind. Strangers he’d barely gotten to know but would never forget. “James O’Leary came a couple of days after me, from Meath in Ireland.”
“My goodness, what was that?” Lily exclaimed. “A gathering of the Foreign Legion?”
“We’d all also recently turned fifteen, within days of arriving there,” Greyston said, “and we each had our own advanced celludrone who’d been with us since birth.”
“That sounds…”
“Sinister?” he supplied. “You wouldn’t have thought so, not if you’d been there. Not at first. McAllister was friendly enough, encouraged us to do as we pleased and answered many of our questions.”
One night, though, Greyston had snuck downstairs to the workroom converted from the old castle dungeons. He hadn’t glimpsed much more than the shadows of towering bookcases, closed cabinets stacked against the wall and the long workbench over which McAllister had been hunched. The man had rushed forward immediately, shooing Greyston out with a firm hand and locking the reinforced iron door behind them. He hadn’t seemed angered at the intrusion, but the secrecy had unsettled Greyston.
“Once he got talking about his celludrones, he’d go on for hours about the intricacies of their design and the unique defence instructions he’d loaded. He even showed us the original celludrone schematics.”
“What did he want with you?” Lily folded the table away and stood, putting her back to the window. “Why were you there?”
“McAllister promised to explain everything. He was waiting on one last person before commencing what he referred to as his orientating schedule.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning a shoulder against the door. “But you never came.”
“Me?”
“Your mother arrived without you, all hell broke loose and we never got to hear McAllister’s explanations.”
“Wait.” She put out a hand. “You were there the same weekend my mother died?”
Greyston nodded, his jaw tight as he remembered the aftermath. “The gas explosion ripped Cragloden apart at the seams. There was nothing left. No one survived.”
“Except you,” she said, her voice a little breathless with what sounded suspiciously like awe.
The way she was looking at him, Greyston knew at once where her thoughts had headed. “I didn’t time-run to save myself. Hell, back then, I didn’t even know I could.”
“Then how did you survive?”
“Neco and I were out riding at the time,” he said flatly, then turned the conversation on its head. “Your turn to share, Lily.”
“Me?” One hand flew to her bosom. “I’m struggling to make a shred of sense from what you’ve told me. What makes you think I have anything pertinent to add?”
“I don’t think,” he said roughly, yanking his hands from his pockets. There was only so much naïve innocence and false ignorance he could take. “I know.”
“Based on what?” She notched a brow at him. “Arrogant assumptions or wild guesses?”
He moved forward, one slow step at a time.
He’d been watching from the library window when her mother’s carriage had pulled into the courtyard all those years ago. He hadn’t minded Cragloden, hadn’t had any better place to be, but they’d all been growing restless waiting for solid answers.
“Lily isn’t coming,” the lady was saying when he put his ear to the door of the room her and McAllister were ensconced in.
“What’s done is done, Amelia. Changing your mind was never an option.”
“This is my daughter’s decision and that choice was always hers. You gave me your word.”
“She’s in no position to make any decisions,” McAllister said. “She doesn’t even have an elementary knowledge—”
“I’ve told Lily everything.”
He was almost on top of Lily before he stopped. “Your mother swore she’d told you everything.”
“Obviously she didn’t. She never said a…” Lily faltered as she met his gaze, couldn’t look him in the eye while she lied outright.
“Dammit, Lily.” He slammed his palm flat against the window, just left of her head. She shrank from him, gaining herself no more than a few inches that he reclaimed by leaning in. “She said you knew exactly what was at stake.”
“Lily wants nothing to do with this…this ominous army of yours.”
Excitement coursed through his veins at the mention of an army, and turned his blood to ice the next moment as he thought of the petite Anya and how they’d each been handpicked from various corners of the world. This was no army sanctioned by government, and if it wasn’t for the greater good of the country, then it had to be against.
McAllister’s voice faded to an inaudible muffle, then came back strong. “She must be trained in protection and defence at the very least. Sweet Jesu, Amelia, you’re not shiel
ding her; you’re throwing her to the wolves without so much as a club to swing. Your good intentions will see her dead.”
“She has Ana.”
“Ana is not enough.”
Greyston didn’t stick around to hear the rest. He didn’t even bother with his belongings. He grabbed Neco and the two of them appropriated a pair of horses from McAllister’s stable. He owed McAllister nothing.
A night spent roughing it in the open, however, had left plenty of time for his guilt to stew. When he’d returned to Cragloden the following morning to warn the others that McAllister was up to something deadly, the sight of a constable wagon and men in uniform scouring the ravaged ruins for bodies had greeted him.
“What are you hiding?” His right hand went to the window on the other side of her head, caging her in.
“Nothing.” She tilted her head back, her gaze holding his in a murky blend of indignation and bewilderment.
“Your mother told you something.” This was why he’d gone looking for Lily and somewhere along the line she’d convinced him she was clueless. Greyston was many things, a bastard, rogue, scavenger, but never a fool. Not until Lily had come along. “I saw it in your eyes when we were talking about your connection to McAllister and Cragloden.”
“That was something else.” Crimson streaked her cheekbones. Was she blushing? “It had nothing to do with you.”
He lowered his head, bringing his warning closer. “Your denials no longer work on me, Lily.”
Her breathing changed, shallow and flustered, sighs of warm air on his face. “Greyston, don’t…”
She thinks this is a seduction? On that thought, his gaze dipped to her mouth. Her lips were right there, mere inches from his, soft and inviting. There wasn’t much more space between the rest of them either, a mistake his body suddenly registered.
“We can play your games all night long,” he said, his blood thickening with desire and heating with anger at the same time, “but here’s your last warning. I don’t play nice.”
The colour bled from her cheeks. “The morning my mother left, as she hugged me goodbye…” Lily drew in a deep breath. “She said she’d done an unforgivably stupid thing when she was young and that she was going to Cragloden to fix it. She said she wouldn’t allow the sins of her past to plague my future.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist, the movement drawing his attention to the high collar buttoned halfway up her throat. And lower still, to the modest swell beneath a busy bodice of frilly lace and lemon and white stripes. It took him a few heartbeats longer than it should have to notice she’d finished.
“That’s all?” His gaze swept up, distrust straining his jaw. “That’s what you found so hard to tell me?”
Once again, she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I thought my mother had been talking about a delicate indiscretion in her past,” she said in a small, flustered voice. “Possibly while she was still married.”
“As in an affair?”
The colour rushed back to her face. “Well, yes, that did seem to be the most logical explanation. Until you pointed out that I was the connection to Cragloden. And while an old family scandal could most certainly plague my future, with everything that’s happened recently, it occurred to me that perhaps I’d jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
Her simple sincerity blunted the edge of his anger. She wasn’t keeping secrets and she wasn’t deliberately misleading him. “Only perhaps?”
He should have felt disappointment that she really didn’t know anything, even if he’d have had to take that information forcibly. Instead, relief loosened the tension at his jaw. He’d always walked alone, but Lily was different, unique, and possibly the only person in this world capable of walking alongside him. He didn’t want to have to take from her.
“More so since hearing your account of Cragloden,” she conceded with a fleeting grimace.
There and gone, leaving his gaze lingering on the curve of her mouth. Okay, maybe there was one thing he wouldn’t mind taking from her. She was growing on him, one innocent blush at a time.
Except, all that blushing and flustering hadn’t been for him, he realised. She’d worked herself up into a breathless frenzy at the horror of actually having to say delicate indiscretion out loud. If he took her in his arms and kissed every last drop of primness out of her, she’d likely have an apoplexy on the spot. Or worse, demand a proposal of marriage in return.
Greyston’s arms fell to his side as he stepped back hastily. “I should go check if Neco has found anything.”
Her brow puzzled as she watched his retreat. Greyston kept going until he was standing in the corridor with the door firmly closed between them.
There were plenty of desirable women around, and he’d learned how to give up longing for that which he couldn’t have at a fine young age. His thoughts turned to Evelyn as he made his way to his room. But a dalliance there wasn’t without conflict either and it didn’t help to find William exactly as he’d left him: perched beside the window, twisting his cap in his hands and looking stiff enough to fracture into a hundred pieces if someone so much as nudged him.
“You’re supposed to be the great adventurer, man,” Greyston muttered. “Make yourself comfortable at least.”
“Sorry, m’lord.” William started to rise, then sat again. “I’m not accustomed to sharing quarters with a lord of the realm, m’lord.”
A pity the lad’s hesitation didn’t apply to ladies of the realm. “I’ve never considered myself a bloody lord of anything, so I guess that makes us equals.” And may the best man win, fair and square. When William’s eyes widened on him, Greyston clarified, “Feel free to call me Greyston.”
Just when he thought the lad would protest, a la Lily style, William cracked a small grin.
“Round one to that Irish spirit.” Greyston stripped his jacket from his shoulders and tossed it over his bed. “Now, where’s Neco? Has he been back? Ah, there we go,” he added at the knock at the door. “Enter.”
When the door opened, it was Evelyn who stepped over the threshold.
“I’m in desperate need of a man.” Her blue gaze sparkled with amusement as she glanced from one to the other. “Either of you will do.”
Her vibrant energy was infectious. Greyston actually considered her offer as he appraised her many wonderful qualities through half-lidded eyes. Hell, no law said a woman had to be fussy. Most men weren’t.
William got there first, jumping to his feet. “What’s the trouble, Lady Eve?”
Evelyn smiled at the lad. “Puppy slipped from my arms and darted into the men’s smoking lounge.”
“You have a wicked sense of humour,” Greyston said, chuckling at her propensity for flirtatious dramatics. A trait William was apparently acquainted with.
“Life would be so very boring without adding the occasional sprinkle of spice.”
He inclined his head in agreement. “I’m surprised you didn’t barge in after him yourself.”
“I’m not in the habit of barging into inappropriate places,” she replied indignantly, then ruined the effect with a cheeky grin. “My entrance was quite graceful. Unfortunately the dour doorman promptly escorted me straight out again and promised he’d deal with the problem.” She stood aside to let William pass, then turned to follow with a parting, “Needless to say, I was not reassured.”
NINE
The train pulled into Edinburgh shortly after breakfast the following morning. Greyston instructed them to remain onboard while he procured a hackney cab. Two minutes later, Evelyn popped her head inside Lily’s cabin.
“Come on.” Her eyes danced with excitement. “I’ve never set foot on Scottish soil and I refuse to wait another second.”
The air around Evelyn stirred with fresh promises and guilty pleasures. No wonder Greyston was entranced with her. Not that Lily begrudged Evelyn her beauty and the thrall she spun. One word from her, Lily knew, and her friend would turn that vivacious charm into venom icy enough to shrivel Greys
ton’s every glance her way.
And he’d been doing plenty of that.
She’d noticed the way Greyston looked at Evelyn, on the platform at Euston, in the dining car last night, at the breakfast table this morning. As much as Lily told herself she didn’t care, well, she did.
Yesterday, Greyston’s dark, mesmerising gaze had settled on her lips and in that brief moment, with only inches between them, his hands either side her head, the whole of him overpowering her senses, everything in her had stilled…he was about to kiss her.
Only he hadn’t. He’d reacted like he’d suddenly remembered what a drab maiden she was and he hadn’t been able to get out of her cabin fast enough. So Lily wouldn’t give the word.
She’d never be the colourful creature who walked fearless in the shadow of scandal, the kind of woman that could enamour a man such as Greyston. She’d spent too many years believing that carelessly flaunting society rules was the karma that had sent her mother to the wrong place at the wrong time and gotten her killed. And even now that Lily had accepted the truth; that she, in all her inconspicuous, inane dullness and impeccable propriety, was in fact the reason behind her mother’s visit to Cragloden, well…that didn’t really change a thing when it came to her and Greyston.
Lily snapped the latch of her valise and straightened to give Evelyn a droll look. “Then you’ll have to set forth without me.”
“You’re not seriously playing lapdog to Grey’s imperious command?”
“Speaking of dogs—”
“William’s taken Puppy for a walk.”
“Is that really necessary?”
The Dark Matters Quartet Page 9
