“Baldric,” he said, with a grin that made her warm to him instantly. “Sir Baldric, technically, but Baldric’s fine by me. I’m Lord Weatherby’s right-hand man, as it were. And a friend of your sister’s. I owe that woman more than a few life debts.”
“I’d love to hear that story,” she said, grinning.
“Maybe we can swap.” He looked at Graham, his eyes narrowing a little as he took him in. “And who might this be?”
She hesitated. How was she supposed to introduce Graham — a mercenary and her captive, a man who was here to wage war against Lord Weatherby’s allies?
Chapter 17
But Graham stepped forward smoothly. “Graham, at your service, sir,” he said, sketching a neat little bow that Bethany found quite impressive. “I’m accompanying Lady Cortland back to the castle.”
“Well,” Baldric said thoughtfully, looking curiously at them both. “Any guest of a Cortland is a guest of mine. Would you accept our hospitality? You both look as though you could use some … refreshments.”
“That’d be wonderful,” Bethany said gratefully.
Sure enough, Baldric lead them up the stairs to the manor, catching the sleeve of a servant who was bustling through the rather beautiful foyer area. Graham and Bethany stared around at the ornately decorated walls — she felt acutely aware of how filthy she was, surrounded by such opulence, and she could see Graham fidgeting with his mismatched armor. Well, that made two of them feeling out of place.
“Nancy will show you to some guest quarters and organize some refreshments for you,” Baldric said, giving her a wink. “I’ll advise Lord Weatherby you’re here and he’ll receive you presently. I’m sure he’ll be fascinated to hear about what’s brought Delilah Cortland’s sister to us.”
“It’s a long story,” she said, feeling a little anxious. How much did these people know about the so-called ‘witchcraft’ of Castle MacClaran? Could she tell the whole truth — the full story that she’d told to Graham the night before — or would she have to be cagey about it? And what was she going to tell them about Graham? He was technically her prisoner, after all… what if the full story got him into trouble? After all, he was here to wage war on Lord Weatherby’s lands… even if the mercenaries weren’t there to bother Weatherby, she imagined he might object to them fighting the MacClarans, if they were such close friends.
They followed the woman Baldric had pointed to down a long hallway, just as sumptuously decorated as the foyer, and soon enough she guided them into a beautifully decorated guest room with an enormous bed in the middle of it. She and Graham both stared at it, and she couldn’t help but think of their passionate encounter the night before… she stole a glance at his face and had to suppress a grin at the realization that he was thinking the exact same thing, a blush standing in his cheeks. But before it could get too uncomfortable, the servant came bustling through.
“We’ve some hot water on the way for you both if you’d like to bathe,” she explained brightly. “And would you be wanting anything to eat? You’re a little late for lunch, I’m afraid, but there’s some lovely bread fresh out the oven, I can bring you a plate with some cheese if you’d like —”
“That’d be wonderful,” Graham said quickly, and Bethany suppressed a giggle at the way his stomach was growling.
The servant bobbed a very charming little curtsy and left them to their devices. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before a couple of women brought steaming buckets of hot water. Bethany elbowed Graham aside and claimed first bath in the little room that adjoined the guest room, where an ornate tub stood in pride of place. She soaked for as long as she dared in the water, luxuriating in the hot water on her sore muscles, and scrubbed every last trace of dirt from her skin. It was a shame she didn’t have a change of clothes, but she’d given her clothing a good rinse in the water as well, and though it felt a bit uncomfortable to get back into wet clothing, it was at least nice to feel clean again. She padded out into the guest room again, shivering a little, and settled by the fire to try to dry her clothes and warm her body up while Graham ducked into the adjoining room to clean himself off, too.
Once they were both feeling somewhat human again, Nancy, the servant from before, popped back into the room with a plate full of bread and cheese as promised. They made short work of the little meal — the bread was still hot from the oven as the servant had promised, and Bethany had never tasted anything so delicious in all her life. Graham’s eyes were shut in bliss as he wolfed down his share of the bread, and she giggled a little, suddenly feeling a lot better about the whole situation now that she had a belly full of food.
There was a soft cough from the doorway. Baldric was there, waiting for them.
“Lord Weatherby is ready to receive you,” he said, a twinkle in his eye undercutting the formality of his speech. “If you’re ready to accompany me?”
They followed him down the long corridor, his boots clicking on the polished floor. It was so different in atmosphere to the hallways of the castle — and Bethany had to admit, she preferred the rough stone walls of Castle MacClaran. There was a lived-in feel to it — a sense that people lived there. The manor felt more like a museum. She kept her elbows tucked close to her side, worried that she’d make an injudicious move and knock something precious to the ground. Even the servants seemed nervous and tense — not worried about anything in particular, but just generally anxious. They kept their eyes down and seemed afraid to make eye contact with guests like Bethany and Graham — the servants at the castle seemed much happier, much freer in their movements, much more likely to stop and chat with you.
These reflections gave way to surprise as Baldric showed them through yet another set of ornate wooden doors. They found themselves in a large formal dining room, the kind of space that might seat ten or twelve people for a meal — there was an enormous carved wooden table taking pride of place in the centre, with about a dozen chairs lined up at it. There was an ornate flower arrangement in the center of the table, and it had clearly already been set for dinner… Bethany wondered idly who Lord Weatherby would be dining with. His family? Was he married — was there a Lady Weatherby somewhere in the depths of this absurdly large house? She supposed there must be… but given the scope of this place, she could probably search for her for hours without ever crossing her path.
Lord Weatherby was sitting at the head of the table — a man in his mid-thirties, clad in rich fabrics — including a rather ridiculous amount of black velvet. He was lounging a little, reclining in the chair with a bored expression on his rather plain face. He had hard green eyes, set off by fastidiously combed jet black hair, and Bethany could tell he was a little overweight… A rarity in these times, she thought with amusement. She wondered if it was considered attractive to be carrying a little bit of extra weight? After all, it was a sign of wealth… and in times like these, wealth was attractive. The same way her girlfriends might give a man in an expensive tailored suit a little more attention than they might have if he were just wearing jeans and a T-shirt…
The lord raised an eyebrow as Bethany and Graham entered the room, clearly a little surprised to see them.
“Lord Weatherby of London,” Baldric said formally, gesturing to the lord as he introduced him — the man gave a little wave of his fingers. “This is Bethany Cortland, the sister to our good friend Lady Delilah.”
Weatherby’s eyes widened a little at that. “I didn’t know Delilah had a sister. How odd. What is it you’re doing here? From what I heard, you were in quite a state when you turned up on my doorstep. Haven’t fallen out with the family, have you? I’m afraid we don’t have any rooms to put you up in.”
Bethany very much doubted that was the case… but from the man’s bored, drawling tones she was already getting quite an accurate picture of what he was like. Interesting. And he called Delilah a friend?
“We’re grateful for your hospitality,” she said now, trying her best to be as civil and courteous as she could. “It’s be
en a rather strange day.”
“It seems that way,” Weatherby said, raising an eyebrow. “And who’s this? You travel with a bodyguard, do you?”
“This is Graham,” she said smoothly, making a decision. “He’s my prisoner.”
Graham cleared his throat, giving her a sharp look as she spoke, but she didn’t look at him, keeping her eyes fixed on the Lord. He had sat forward at that, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. Even Baldric looked surprised, though Bethany could tell he was a lot better at hiding his feelings than his lord was. “Is that so?”
“It’s a long story,” Bethany said, cutting off Graham, who’d opened his mouth to object. “Would you like to hear it?”
“I think so,” Weatherby said, shrugging. “Nothing else to do in this tedious country. It’s been so quiet since all that excitement with those witch hunters.”
“Delilah told me a little about that,” Bethany said, interested in Weatherby’s perspective on the matter, “though I can’t say she told me the whole story.”
“It was awful,” Weatherby said, shuddering. “A whole mercenary army at my gates… they took me prisoner, don’t you know, and Baldric too. I was able to fight them off, eventually, and reclaim my home, but it was a close thing.”
Baldric’s eyes were twinkling, and he coughed, raising his hand to cover what Bethany was pretty sure was a smile. She made a mental note to ask Baldric a little more about what had actually transpired… she had a suspicion that most of the fighting had been done by Baldric and not by Lord Weatherby as he claimed.
“Witch hunters,” Bethany said thoughtfully. She could feel Graham grinding his teeth beside her, clearly unsure of how to handle this situation. Well, she’d felt pretty uncomfortable when she’d been his prisoner, too. “How long have they been gone for?”
“Over a year,” Baldric said, looking at her sharply.
“Well, Graham has some interesting news for you,” Bethany said brightly, giving her hapless companion a nudge in the ribs. He cleared his throat, stepping forward and burning with resentment.
“I’m a member of a company of witch hunters,” he said, his reluctance strong in his voice. “I’m sworn to Sir Matthew Willows —”
“Willows?” Weatherby interrupted, his eyes narrowing. “I recognize that name, Willows. Baldric, who’s that?”
“Brother Willows was the priest who took us prisoner, m’lord,” Baldric said, his eyes narrowing.
“Brother Willows was Matthew’s brother,” Graham explained, but he looked stunned, clearly taken aback by what he was learning about his sworn lord’s family. “I didn’t know — I wasn’t aware he’d taken anyone here hostage.”
“Oh, yes. Me and my whole household, him and his mercenaries. You’re not in good company, Graham. Do you have a last name?” Weatherby added, giving him a suspicious look. Graham hesitated — Bethany could sense him weighing up his options. Would he reveal his true parentage to the English lord in an attempt to curry some favor? She wasn’t sure whether it would work or not. Weatherby seemed on good terms with Delilah, at least, but she didn’t know how he felt about the rest of the MacClarans.
“We lost my father when I was very young,” he said stiffly, and Bethany felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for him. Part of her was pleased to have put him in this uncomfortable situation — it felt like vengeance for taking her prisoner the night before — but part of her honestly felt a bit sorry for him. It seemed a little unkind to torment him like this. But it was a little too late to go back on it now, wasn’t it?
“Am I to understand you and a band of witch-hunters are in the area?” Baldric asked now, shooting Weatherby a sideways glance as though growing impatient with his lord for not asking basic questions.
Graham nodded. “We’re camped south of the village a few miles from here. Our interest is in Castle MacClaran, not in any of your territory, Lord Weatherby. Once our business is concluded, we’ll leave your lands.”
“It would have been civil for your lord to contact us before camping out on Lord Weatherby’s land,” Baldric said sharply, glancing at the Lord.
But Weatherby waved his hand, clearly disinterested in that part of the story.
“Oh, what does it matter to me? Just one more soaking wet patch of dirt like any other. Camp as long as you like. What business do you have with the MacClarans?”
“They’re responsible for the death of Matthew’s brother,” Graham said with his jaw tight. “And we’ve reason to believe they’re harboring witches.”
Lord Weatherby chortled, sitting up in his seat with clear interest. “Witches, is it? Fascinating. You’re not the first to think so. Well, far be it from me to interfere with a mission from God.”
Bethany took a breath, deliberately keeping her features neutral. Was Weatherby really so happy to let a war wage on his lands? Was he so disinterested in preserving the lives of the people who dwelt in his territory? And what exactly did he mean by the lands being his, anyway? Didn’t they belong to the MacClarans, to the people in the village, to the inhabitants of Scotland? She bit her lip, wishing she’d paid a little more attention to history when she was at high school. Then again, it wasn’t as if medieval Scottish politics had been high on the list of priorities for her overworked, underpaid History teacher…
“Very gracious, Lord Weatherby,” Graham said, offering him a little bow.
Bethany gritted her teeth, annoyed to see that he’d managed to turn the situation around. Then again, what had she been expecting?
“I mean, best of luck to you,” Weatherby shrugged. “Those MacClarans are a tricky lot and no mistake. We’ve tried being at odds with them before, haven’t we, Baldric? Didn’t go especially well for us.”
Baldric nodded, a look of mixed amusement and concern on his face as his Lord held court.
“We eventually gave up on fighting with them. We all get along marvelously now, don’t we, Baldric? Maybe you and your lord ought to try it,” he added, waggling a finger at Graham.
“Perhaps, my Lord,” Graham said solemnly.
“So, Bethany. Presumably you’re on your way back to the castle?”
“Yes, well,” she said irritably, glad to have the floor again. “I would have been back safe and sound last night, but Graham felt it necessary to take me prisoner.”
“Is that so?” Weatherby chortled. “So he took you prisoner, then you took him. Well, when’s the wedding?”
Bethany felt a treacherous blush rising in her cheeks, but Lord Weatherby was still speaking.
“I’m past being surprised at the things these MacClaran women are capable of, honestly. I didn’t think a woman could fight with a sword until I saw your sister Delilah prove me utterly wrong last year. I wouldn’t have thought a woman could take a soldier hostage, either, but it doesn’t surprise me. Do you intend to drag him back to the castle with you, using whatever strange power you’ve compelled him with? No wonder people think the castle’s a breeding ground for witches, with women like this one about,” Weatherby joked.
“She’s certainly something,” Graham agreed, shooting her a look out of the corner of his eyes which she steadfastly ignored.
Was Weatherby aware of how serious the situation was? There was an army camped out on his lands, preparing to lay siege to a castle… and he was making jokes? Was he stupid, or was he just completely disconnected from what was actually going on, on the lands he claimed to possess? His second-in-command Baldric seemed a much more capable ruler… but it wasn’t as though she could talk to Baldric without offending Lord Weatherby. She made a mental note to try to get the man alone at some point, if she could.
But before the conversation could continue, there was a cautious tapping at the door. A nervous looking servant entered when Weatherby called her in, her eyes large in her face as she looked at the gathering.
“Forgive me for intruding, m’lord,” she squeaked anxiously, her eyes flicking from Graham to Bethany to Weatherby. “But you’ve more guests outside, and
they aren’t very willing to wait.”
“What an exciting day it’s turning out to be,” Weatherby said, spreading his arms enthusiastically. “More surprise guests. Who might these be?”
“He introduced himself as Matthew Willows,” the servant said nervously. “He said he’s looking for a witch and her captive?” Her wide eyes settled on Bethany… who felt her heart sink into her toes.
It seemed Matthew had caught up with them after all.
Chapter 18
Weatherby was peering thoughtfully at the servant, his eyes flicking back to Bethany with a calculating look. Baldric cleared his throat, the look on his face indicating that he fully understood the severity of the situation. He moved smoothly across to the servant, clearly wanting to go and intercept the witch hunters, and Bethany cleared her throat.
“Lord Weatherby? It might not be ideal for me to be here when you entertain Sir Matthew and his men.”
“Oh, is that so?” Weatherby’s eyes were twinkling with mirth, as though he thought all of this was very funny. Her heart was sinking. Would this foolish English lord let her be taken by the witch hunters again? After everything she’d done to get here, to get away from them, was she about to be returned to their clutches?
“Lord Weatherby, please,” she said softly. “I’m no more a witch than my sister is, but these men have decided I’m dangerous… I’ll be seriously harmed if you let them take me. Please.”
“Very well,” Weatherby shrugged, waving a hand. “I suppose we ought to hide you. Oh! I know what would be fun!” His eyes gleamed. “Why don’t you hide in the kitchen that adjoins this room? That way you can peek through and hear all of what the witch hunters say about you.”
“Sure,” she said distractedly, glancing at Baldric. He gave her a reassuring look, and she took a deep breath, then headed for the door Weatherby had indicated. On her way past, the lord tipped her a dramatic wink, clearly deeply amused by the whole situation. Well, she was glad someone was happy, at least. She’d never felt so stressed in all her life. Would Weatherby actually keep her presence a secret — or would it amuse him to reveal her to Matthew and the others? What about Graham? Would he tell his lord that Bethany was hidden in the room next door — would they insist on taking her with them?
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