Lennox eased back while he stared up at the weapon. Inwardly, he groaned and cursed. A quick side-glance alerted him to three other men several paces away, one with a musket and two others with swords. They were soldiers.
Was the hunt for the Somerled coven already under way? That was not good, although he could quickly distract this party from their cause by means of magic. Chastising himself for resting, he rued the extra time this intrusion would add to his journey. It was an irritation he could do without. Chloris was in danger. Every moment he wasted might be recorded in fresh scars, and he could not live with himself if that were the case. However, if he could draw these men away from the coven’s trail, there was some purpose in it.
The man standing over him was smartly dressed in civilian clothes but appeared to be their leader. Lennox assumed him to be a bailiff. The man did not remove his tricorne hat, and he booted Lennox in the hip as he looked him over. “What have you done with the woman?”
Lennox frowned. “I travel alone.”
He mustered an enchantment, readying to call upon the elements to deflect their attention from his coven, who would by now be well on their way and perhaps even past Kilmaron, north as the crow flew from his present whereabouts. Beneath his breath he whispered the Pictish words. The nearby stream bubbled and rose fast. Within moments it would breach its banks.
Shadow lingered by the stream’s edge and he backed up and neighed, but the strangers had their full attention on Lennox. One of the soldiers stepped forward and nodded at Lennox. “I think I was mistaken, sire, ’tis not the man I saw at The Drovers Inn, the one who helped her escape.”
Lennox tried to make sense of what they said.
“And they were on foot,” the second soldier added, “this man has a horse.”
The leader of the group shot the two men a disapproving glance. “They could have stolen a horse by now,” he barked. Looking back at Lennox he demanded more information. “What is your purpose and where are you headed?”
Lennox’s mind worked furiously. They were looking for someone but it was not him, nor was it his coven. He kept his expression open and steady. “I travel to Edinburgh on a family matter. I am alone. Search my goods, you will find I only carry provisions for one.”
The leader did not take his attention from Lennox and continued to train his weapon on him, but he gestured at Shadow and one of the men darted over and began to search the saddlebag.
Lennox didn’t bother to watch. There was nothing there that would connect him to Somerled. It was not Somerled’s coven they were after, though, of that he was now sure. Something nagged at him. Who was it that they sought? A leaden feeling in his gut grew, alongside the suspicion that it was people of his own kind. They sought a man and a woman, by the sounds of it. As the men’s comments came together in his thoughts, Lennox’s heart thumped wildly. A woman, a woman had escaped them. Escaped. He recalled what he’d been told in Dundee, that Jessie had been aided by a man. Could it be that these men hunted his own sister, and that she was hereabouts? Sharpening his senses, he sought knowledge by reaching out for the presence of the person they hunted.
“Who is it you seek, sire?” Lennox asked the man who watched him, to hold his attention. “Perhaps I have seen them. Perhaps I can assist you in your quest.” He opened his hands in an innocent gesture.
The man pursed his lips thoughtfully.
Before he had a chance to answer, Lennox felt the woman’s presence.
A witch, there was no doubt about it, and she was hiding nearby. Without taking his attention from the man who stood over him, he honed his deepest, most innate senses, and attempted to discern the woman’s whereabouts. A moment later he sourced her heat, and recognized therein her pagan heart, her burgeoning craft. She was hiding some forty strides beyond, at his back, sheltered in the deep gorse that grew at the place where the steeper slopes sprang from the more sheltered glen.
He also felt her fear.
The woman had faced this situation before. She’d been hunted and scorned. She’d seen dreadful things and she’d run many times. Worse than that, she feared her end was near, and the end of someone she loved who accompanied her.
That age-old pain rose inside him. With effort, he kept it in check. That was hard because he felt as if someone had put a fist in his chest and wrung his heart. Could it be Jessie? Could it truly be his sister crouched there fearing for her life? Through the pain, hope flared.
“There are witches about,” the man with the pistol answered.
Aye, there are. And I will use every whit of the magic I know so that you never discover the one who is hiding at my back.
“Witches, you say!” He widened his eyes, but he could not do more than whisper the words, for they were all but trapped in his throat. Meanwhile, he assessed the danger. He had to protect her from discovery. The men had come into the glen the way he had, and if they passed on in the same direction they would skirt the woman’s hiding place.
The soldier had completed his hunt through Shadow’s saddlebag. “Nothing there, sire, and he spoke the truth. He carries only enough for himself.”
The second soldier nodded over at the stream. “The water is rising, sire.”
“A bit of water won’t hurt you!” The man lowered his pistol, his expression angered. “Your brains are addled.”
“So would yours be, sire,” muttered the second soldier, “if you’d been charged by a possessed pig.”
Their leader rolled his eyes.
Lennox observed intently. It would appear the woman they sought had given them a runaround. Despite his caution and his increasing need to know who she was, that pleased him. He had to usher these men on their way, fast. Summoning his deepest reserves he whispered under his breath, evoking the elements. Within moments the sky darkened, clouds moving in from behind him. Thunder cracked overhead.
“We have bigger worries,” the man said, looking at the sky. Looking at Lennox he added, “Be on your way quickly and be wary of a couple on foot.” With that he gestured at his men and they headed off back to the ridge beyond, where Lennox spied their mounts.
Lennox rose to his feet, dusting himself off and taking his time about it. The soldiers mounted and the leader directed them back toward Cupar. As he’d hoped, the threat of poor weather had sent them back the way they’d come. When one of the soldiers looked back, Lennox raised a hand then headed toward Shadow. Mounting, he set off quickly. Once he arrived at the ridge he paused and watched them gallop into the distance. He wanted to go back, but not until he was sure he would not lead them to her. There was a tight knot in his chest. It was born of hope. When he attempted to quash it, to allay the potential disappointment, he could not.
Only when he was sure the men would not return, he looped back and returned to the spot by the brook. Dismounting, he stood and waited. Hoping all the while—willing it to be Jessie.
If the woman wanted to come out, she would surely know she was safe in his company. Perhaps not. Not all members of the coven he knew well had the same level of skills he did, in fact they each had different abilities. He stood his ground because he had to know her identity. Even if it were not Jessie, he wanted to warn the woman of the direction they took, but he did not want to frighten her by stomping over there and hauling her out. If she came out of her own accord, he could reassure her.
“Those who hunt you have gone,” he called out, “you are safe now.”
A figure emerged and peered across at him, a young woman.
Lennox felt her scrutiny, and it was so intense the hairs on the back of his neck lifted. Her head and shoulders were swathed in a dark shawl that obscured her features. Nevertheless a connection, deep and undeniable, flared across the space between them. He opened his mouth to ask her name, but found he could not speak.
“You...” Her voice faltered. “You are Lennox Taskill, are you not?”
The sound of his family name spoken aloud made Lennox’s heart stall. Outside of his coven, only his siste
rs would know that.
A tall man emerged behind the woman. He attempted to block her, his arm in front of her causing her to pause. “Jessie, be careful.”
Jessie. Lennox felt as if he’d lost touch with the ground beneath his feet—that he might stumble and fall. It truly was Jessie.
The woman shook her head at her companion. “Do not fear. He is brethren, I sensed it.”
She took a few tentative steps forward and then removed the dark shawl that she had wrapped around her head. She lifted her chin.
Lennox inhaled sharply. For several moments he thought he was looking at the ghost of his dead mother.
“Jessie?” He spoke his sister’s name gruffly, for he was overwhelmed at the sight of her.
She nodded then broke into a run, hurling herself into his arms.
Lennox clutched her against him, his vision blurring as he felt her real and solid—alive and safe—in his embrace. Staring down at his young sibling, he could scarcely believe the woman she had become. “Is it truly you?”
“It is.”
“You escaped them in Dundee. I went there.”
“Aye, a week or more since. Gregor here freed me.”
Lennox looked beyond her at her companion. The man had followed and stood close by, observing, one hand wrapped around the hilt of an ornate handled dagger.
Lennox returned his attention to Jessie. “Maisie, is she with you?”
Jessie shook her head. “I have not seen her, not since...that day.”
She did not say more, but Lennox read it in her face.
Not since their mother had been hanged and burned before their very eyes.
* * *
It was not easy to recapture the intervening years for one another, but Jessie’s companion left them alone while he went in search of provisions. In the shelter of the rocky enclave they became brother and sister again. When Lennox quizzed Jessie about her life during the intervening years he found himself both fraught with anxiety and lost in admiration for her tenacity and her ability to survive the harsh reality of her young life. For his part, he kept things simple, but Jessie seemed equally awed that he had escaped the attempt to silence him forever, returned to the Highlands, then made his way back, intent on finding them. When he told her about his current mission in Edinburgh, she smiled.
He reached into his pocket and drew out the two magical charms he had crafted from wood and kept for his sisters. “I have carried these many years, for I made them when we were first parted.”
He held out his hand, gesturing. “Keep it with you always. Hold it to your heart if you need me and I will come to your side.”
Jessie looked down at the objects in his hand, and then took one, studying it. “I feel your magic. You’re most gifted, brother.”
“I have had years to learn, and knowledgeable people around me, a coven of my own.”
For a moment she rested her fingers over the second charm and he felt her yearning for her twin. Then she tucked her own into her bodice and smiled at him.
“Was there never anyone for you?” From the information he had gleaned, it seemed that she had always been alone.
“Until Gregor. Sometimes I wondered about people, but I was too afraid to ask them, after what I saw.”
It tortured Lennox to think of her so lonely, in a time and place that did not accept their beliefs. “That will never be the case again.”
Jessie stared down at his open palm.
Lennox closed it, pocketing the second charm. “You and Maisie were so close,” he commented. “Do you ever feel anything of her?”
Jessie nodded. “Not often, but there are times when I feel how far away she is, and she longs to find us as much as we crave to find her.”
“The villagers who kept you said nothing?”
“No. No one would even answer me if I spoke of my family.” She fell silent awhile, and Lennox saw how hard her life had been, and for a long while. “I did see the carriage that took her, when they finally let us down from the pillars outside the Kirk.”
“A carriage?” Lennox’s attention sharpened.
“Aye. It was a fancy affair, with a crest on the door.”
“Would you recall the crest if you were shown it?”
Jessie’s forehead creased. “Possibly.”
“Several members of my coven are wainwrights. We had good trade in Saint Andrews these past two years. It might be possible to study a record of crests, once we are all safe and can give the subject some time.”
“Oh, Lennox, that would be grand.”
“Keep the image of the crest in your thoughts and we’ll find a way.” The priority was to get everyone to safety in the Highlands, but there was a slender chance there and he could see Jessie’s yearning, the hope that they might find her twin. Lennox could scarcely imagine how hard it must have been for her. They were inseparable as children. He’d assumed them together all these years, with each other for comfort.
By the time the man she called Gregor Ramsay returned from a nearby village with provisions, they knew the important events of each other’s lives and how they both came to be at this spot where their paths had crossed.
“Jessie tells me you are a seafaring man,” Lennox said, as her companion shared out bannocks and cheese.
“I was.” The man seemed not to want to say more on the subject.
Lennox eyed him with curiosity. There was a tightly packed bundle that he kept close at his side, and Lennox sensed it was of great value. The man had a scarred face, and yet he was not cowed by it, nor did he try to hide it. How had he come by the wound, Lennox wondered, wary of the man’s sway over his sister.
Jessie ate heartily, which encouraged Lennox to eat, too.
“We will come to Edinburgh with you,” Jessie stated. “We can help you find your Chloris.” She smiled at Lennox.
“You cannot go to Edinburgh,” the man called Gregor Ramsay insisted. “We take the road north.” He directed his next words at Lennox. “Where Jessie is safe and unknown.”
Lennox did not argue with him because the man was correct in what he said.
He was not sure he liked the man, though. Neither was this Mister Ramsay one of their kind, although he seemed to have accepted it in Jessie, as Chloris had in him. It affected him oddly because the sight of these two together made him think even more about his relationship with Chloris, and how they might manage together, despite their differences. They would make it work.
Nevertheless it was not what he’d wanted for his sisters. They held beliefs that meant they would be safest with a Witch Master, someone who would not be afraid of them and would not turn on them. He thought of the young men in his coven, strong, loyal young men. This man, Gregor Ramsay, had knowledge and wisdom in his eyes, something he saw in those who traveled to faraway places, but Lennox was not sure of him yet.
“Nonsense,” Jessie retorted. “My brother needs our help and I am not known in Edinburgh.”
Lennox shook his head. “Your companion is right in what he says. You should be on your way north. I was in Dundee two days ago, I went to the tolbooth. I spoke to people there. The hunt goes on. They want your blood.” As much as they will all want mine in Saint Andrews by now, he thought, realizing it was well after noon and Keavey’s men had likely breached the warding spells set for them.
Mister Ramsay looked concerned. “They did not realize you were Jessie’s brother when you asked after her?”
Lennox shook his head. “No. I invented a tale to cover my queries. But they are still looking for you, not just those three who we sent off earlier, but many more.”
A shadow passed briefly across Jessie’s expression and her lips parted, but she did not speak for a moment. When she did it was only to insist that she help him. “Aye, we know they are not far behind us.”
She wrapped her hands around her upper arms and her companion moved instinctively, drawing her in against him with his arm around her shoulder. She rested her head against his chest and Lenn
ox watched, touched by this strange sight. After all these years, while he thought of his siblings as young girls who were in need of his protection, he saw that she’d grown and thrived, too. She was a strong, passionate woman, and she was determined to survive. And now she had a lover, a protector of her own.
Jessie lifted her head and in her eyes he saw the weary, age-old wisdom that her life had brought her. “I will not be parted from you again, brother. Besides, there is strength in numbers. We will go to Edinburgh together and aid you during your quest. It makes sense, for we will then be together and united in order to travel north to where we had our beginning.” She held his gaze. “I cannot risk losing you again.”
How was it that she was the one saying things that he should be saying, binding them together as kin once more? Lennox observed his sister’s companion as he considered the dilemma. The man would not be easily swayed, and Lennox could not fault him for that. Perhaps he could warm to the man. He had rescued his sister from the tolbooth, after all, and the bond between the two was clear to see. Time would tell whether Jessie’s affection toward him was truly warranted, and Lennox saw that keeping both of them close at hand would allow him to be sure that his sister’s affection was warranted. “Are you in agreement, Mister Ramsay?”
Gregor Ramsay had a shrewd look in his eye. “I will agree, but only because they’re searching for a woman with one man. If we travel as three, Jessie gains more protection and is better hidden.”
“I respect your argument,” Lennox replied.
Gregor Ramsay shot him a look. It was a subtle, guarded warning, perhaps.
Lennox gave a wry smile. “You are as wary of me as I of you.”
“At least.” Gregor inclined his head.
“Gregor!” Jessie looked affronted.
Ramsay did not respond to that, although he still kept her close, holding her tightly to him. “We will help you in your task, but as soon as I have the slightest suspicion that the town bailiff has word of Jessie’s whereabouts she will be gone, with me.”
Lennox respected that, too, but he wasn’t about to say so. He nodded. “That is fair.” He was warming to this Gregor Ramsay after all. “We’ll need to purchase two more horses.”
The Libertine Page 22
