“Mistress Abernathy, this is Avery…”
“Campbell,” Avery filled in.
“Mistress Campbell is needin’ work. Lachlan asked me to bring her to ye. Says he’d consider it a personal favor.”
Mistress Abernathy snorted in derision. “This scrawny thing? I have work, but I’m not sure she can do it!”
Avery was nowhere near scrawny. Her figure had always been more curvy than slender, and she was tall, taller than Mistress Abernathy.
“I’m stronger than I look,” Avery said. If she were honest with herself, she probably wasn’t 1745 strong. These people had never known the pleasures of a cell phone or a remote control. Even though she worked out regularly and carried up cases of beer at the bar, she was exhausted, and her feet still hurt from yesterday’s hike. No need to oversell her abilities. “I can cook.”
That raised Mistress Abernathy’s eyebrows. “It’s one thing to cook for a family, another to cook for a castle, ye ken?”
“I’ve cooked for large groups before.”
“Ye make good bread?”
“The best. And I’ve served before as well.”
Mistress Abernathy made a sound deep in her throat and sized her up, wiping her meaty hands on her smock. “Aye. Tell Lachlan I’ll give her a try.”
William bowed his head and left the kitchen.
“If ye work out, ye’ll have a room in the castle and regular pay. It ain’t much but enough to keep yer belly full and clothes on yer back.”
Mistress Abernathy motioned for her to follow her into the kitchen and threw an apron at her. She was quick to tie it on and fall into line with a team of women. One of them pushed dough in her direction and she began to knead it on the floured surface.
Avery released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. In the center of a storm of fear and uncertainty, she had a job, she had a bed, and she had a distraction. Now all she needed was a plan.
It had been seven days since Avery had taken the job working in Castle Dunchridhe’s kitchen, and all she had to show for it were sore fingers from kneading dough, a sore back from a mattress that wasn’t fit for a dog, and a collection of burns from cooking over an actual fire rather than a gas stovetop. However, she had won over the kitchen staff by introducing them to her special grilled cheese sandwiches, which she made two different ways: plain and with raspberry jam. It seemed the affections of most women, from any time or place, could be bought with the right combination of carbs and dairy. They couldn’t get enough.
Avery was frying a batch for her new friends in a three-legged skillet over the fire when she felt Mistress Abernathy staring at her.
“Do ye mind me askin’ where exactly ye come from?” She gave Avery a strange look. “Avery is such a strange name. I canna say I’ve ever heard of a Campbell named Avery before.”
“I’m from the mountains.” She hoped the intentionally vague explanation would be enough. She flipped the sandwich in the pan.
“Where in the mountains?”
Avery looked at her but didn’t answer.
“Yer skin is quite fair for growing up in the wilds. And ye know strange things about cookin’ and such. Are ye a fairy, Avery?”
“Fairy?” She laughed. “No.” When Mistress Abernathy didn’t seem convinced, she changed the subject. “Is it true, the stories they tell about Lachlan slaying Xavier?”
Mistress Abernathy shot her a curious sideways glance and laughed. “Who’s Xavier?” The old woman walked away, shaking her head and mumbling something about young women out of their minds.
“Shhh. Stupid girl,” said a voice from behind her.
She looked over her shoulder but there was no one there.
“He’ll have yer head if he hears ye say that name.”
Avery’s eyes widened when she recognized what was speaking to her even if she didn’t know the creature’s name. The tone of the voice held the same tinny quality as Tempest’s and Laurel’s, although she sensed this voice was definitely female.
“Are you his oread?” she whispered.
“Shh. What did I just say? Do not address me directly. Look toward the fire.”
Avery did as she was told. Thinking back, the bard and the painting had only called Xavier the dragon. His name was never used. Whatever had happened here, no one seemed to remember him. But her heart leaped with hope. If Xavier’s oread was here, maybe he wasn’t dead at all.
“Do you know where he is?” Avery whispered toward the fire.
She felt a disturbance in the air beside her.
“Dungeon,” the voice whispered. “I’ll come for you tonight when it’s safe and take ye to him.”
Avery nodded. “What’s your name?” Avery whispered.
“Glenna.”
The air shifted again, and she was gone.
That night Avery was exhausted by the time she was dismissed to retire to her chambers. Her room was only as wide as her bed and had a sloping ceiling that limited the area where she could stand at her full height. Still, she was thankful for the bed and would have gladly made use of it if not for Glenna. When would she come? Would they have to hurry from the room?
She knew she’d fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, but she had to find out what happened to Xavier. He was her only chance of ever going home, or at least to what served as home these days, Nathaniel and Clarissa’s. At first she tried to wait for the oread, but after falling asleep on her feet and falling into the wall, she blew out the candle next to her bed and fell asleep still dressed in her clothes.
“Wake up, girl.”
Avery came awake to an invisible force shaking her by the shoulders.
“Glenna?”
“Shhh. Lower yer voice. Who are ye and how is it ye ken my laird?”
Avery lowered her voice to a level she could hardly hear. “I’m a friend of his brother’s. Is he alive?”
“Aye.”
Avery’s heart leaped. “Take me to him.”
“Ye’ll be able to free him?”
Avery didn’t know how to answer that without seeing where Xavier was being held. Certainly, if it was easy, Glenna would’ve done it herself. “I’m going to try.”
She swept her bag off the floor and slung it over her back, then reached for the candlestick.
“Nay,” Glenna said. “’tis too risky. Follow me.”
Avery didn’t have to ask her what she meant. The oread began to glow until her outline was visible in the darkness. She was dressed like the other women here but had a set of gossamer wings that fluttered at her back. She looked like a winged ghost.
Glenna silently opened the door, and Avery squeezed through before closing it softly behind her. She followed the oread to the rear of the castle, then down a stone staircase. They descended two levels and stopped at a heavy iron door in front of which slept a guard snoring like a bear. An empty cup sat on the floor near his feet and smelled strongly of whisky.
“Sleeping draught,” Glenna said. “I spent all afternoon concocting it.” Silently, she moved past him and tugged the door open a few inches. Its hinges squealed and Avery froze, but the sleeping man simply grumbled, wiped his nose with his hand, and fell back to sleep. Avery squeezed through the narrow opening.
The dungeon was dark and dank. The steady drip of water echoed against the stone. She covered her nose and mouth against the smell of mold, human filth, and something else. Something animal. She scanned the cells. There was a man huddled in the first one who looked more dead than alive. He didn’t raise his head as she passed. The next three cells were empty. She kept going, following Glenna as she led her farther back into the bowels of the dungeon.
By the light of the oread, who glowed brighter now like her own personal star, Avery came upon a cage with polished silver bars. The construction reminded her of a modern jail, and it stood out against the dark stone walls. She squinted through the bars at a shadowy figure near the back of the cage. Glenna came closer, and her light beat back some of the d
arkness.
There was someone or something near the back of the cell, but the stooped figure looked more animal than a man. She strained her eyes to see. The size of a bear, he was crouched on his haunches, his skin dirty but mounded with muscle that tapered along his spine and disappeared into a pair of filthy breeches that strained at the thighs. His feet were bare. He rocked on his heels, his auburn hair hiding his face.
“Xavier?” she whispered.
His head rose, but he didn’t turn to face her. Glenna frowned beside her.
“How long has he been down here?” Avery asked.
“Too long,” the oread answered.
“How is it that you’re the only one who remembers his name?”
“Lachlan’s mind control doesn’t work on me, only humans. I’ve been hiding in this castle since they captured him, but I can’t open the cell. It’s enchanted, ye ken.”
Inspecting the door to the cage, Avery was surprised to find there was no lock. There wasn’t even a place for a key. She stared, bewildered. How was she supposed to pick a lock when there was no lock to pick?
She placed her hand on the bars in frustration. They felt cold, icy, and her palms tingled as if the metal was charged with electricity. Weird.
“Xavier?” she whispered again. “Nathaniel sent me.”
This time Xavier did turn his head, and something deep inside her clenched. If his portrait had affected her, his presence did even more so. Everything about him was larger than life. He was Conan the Barbarian. He was a god, a titan, a warrior who could pull her apart with his bare hands. She could feel his blue gaze hot against her skin as if he were touching her.
She tugged on the bars, testing them. A shock ran up her arm.
“Ow.” Her elbow twanged like she’d struck her funny bone, and then by some miracle the door gave. She swung it open wide. Strange… it wasn’t locked.
“You’ve done it,” Glenna whispered, her voice laden with awe.
Avery wasn’t sure what she’d done other than pull open the door, but she understood they were on borrowed time. They had to leave now, under cover of darkness, or they had no hope of escaping. “Xavier, my name is Avery. I’m a friend of Nathaniel’s. We need to go.”
He rose slowly, his eyes widening as they roved over the open door. She blinked. He charged. And all the air left her lungs with an oomph as his shoulder hit her gut and her feet left the floor.
Chapter Ten
The woman on his shoulder had to be an enchantress. After all, she’d said Nathaniel had sent her, and his brother reached for magic the way Xavier reached for his sword. But how would Nathaniel know he needed help? And how had she gotten past the wards to find him?
Although he longed to ask her a dozen questions, there would be time enough once he delivered them both to safety. He bounded through the door, slamming it unmercifully into the guard behind it. Lachlan’s man flew, his head cracking against the stone wall. Xavier swept the man’s sword into his hand. He wasn’t one to turn his nose up at an opportunity.
He took the stairs two at a time, the stone making a strange noise with every step. It was an ugh sound. No, it wasn’t the stone; it was the girl. He shifted her on his shoulder and heard her take a wheezing breath. A pang of guilt jabbed through him. She was a lovely wee thing, and he was manhandling her like a sack of wheat.
“Sorry, lass. Almost there.”
A guard appeared in the hall in front of him, sword raised. “Halt!”
Xavier slapped the sword with his own, freeing it from the man’s grip with brute force, then kicked the man squarely in the chest. He heard ribs crack and the guard collapsed, wheezing. He leaped over the body, trying not to think about who it was he’d just incapacitated. It was better if he didn’t know.
He tore out the back of the castle and headed straight for the stables, ripping the door off Tàirn’s stall with one hand. The jet-black stallion whinnied in greeting, nudging his shoulder before lipping the woman’s face.
“Och. Blah. Put me down!” she cried, wiping away the equine kiss.
He set the woman on her feet.
“Tàirn is mine, the fastest horse in here. He’ll get us out.”
She wheezed at him, her chest rising and falling in pants. He hoped he hadn’t bruised her too badly. Hurriedly, he tossed a saddle on the stallion’s back and tightened the girth, then slipped a bridle on. He was just finishing the tack when a stable boy rushed in.
“Stop there!” the boy yelled.
“Back away. Ye’ll not want to be facing off with me tonight.” Xavier stared at him and allowed fire to fill his eyes.
The boy’s face turned ashen, and he turned on his heel and ran. Smart young man. Xavier hoisted himself into the saddle, then held his hand out to the wee lassie who was still desperately trying to catch her breath. She stared at his fingers, her face pale.
“I dinna mean to be so rough with ye, but Lachlan will have our heads if we dinna move and quick.”
Her blue eyes flicked to his and held, and then her hand was in his own. He lifted her onto the saddle. She hoisted her skirts and tossed her leg over to straddle Tàirn in front of him like she’d been born to ride and had no use for the manners of a lady. He didn’t know who she was, but as she settled in against him, he decided he liked her.
“Very weel. Hold tight, lassie. Tàirn, fly!”
The stallion lurched forward, breaking from the gate at a gallop. Lights ignited in windows to the sound of pounding hooves. Xavier held the woman to him to keep her in the saddle. Even an accomplished rider might struggle at this speed.
Behind him, dogs barked and the howls of angry men rang from the castle.
“I ken Lachlan’s learned I’m missin’.”
He banked left, the woman releasing a pronounced squeak as she pitched sideways in the saddle. At a full run, he headed toward the fairy hills. All he needed was to get far enough away from the castle to make it difficult for the sídh and they’d have a chance to survive.
As the distance flew by, the trees grew closer together, tangles of mist playing in the moonlight around the horse’s legs. He didn’t break until the stallion was showing signs of fatigue. Even then he didn’t stop, just slowed and walked him to a nearby stream. This would have to do. He dismounted, helping the wee lass down as he did.
“We’ll camp here,” he said. “Whit’s yer name, lass?”
The woman stared back at him for a moment, wavered, and then, bending abruptly at the waist, vomited near his feet.
Avery felt like she’d just gotten off the world’s least fun roller coaster. Her ass hurt like she’d been spanked, she was sure she’d bruised her ribs, and her stomach had decided to empty what little was left in it onto the ground in front of Xavier. Hello. Nice to meet you. I came from outside your world to throw up on your bare feet.
“Easy, lass. Come. Drink some water.”
She allowed him to help her to the stream, knelt down, and rinsed her mouth out, then took a long, deep drink from her hands. Fuck, she’d forgotten Nathaniel’s pill to purify the water. She might pay for that later. Pull yourself together. She splashed water on her face and neck and rinsed her mouth again. The cold helped. Slowly, the nausea from the day’s events abated. She sucked in a few deep breaths.
As she blinked away the cold droplets, she recognized a boulder near the shore. Wasn’t that where she’d rested on her way into the village? She wondered if her furry friend lived nearby. Not that he’d be out now. This time of night, anyone with a bed was likely in it.
Rising from the water’s edge, she saw that Xavier had already gathered wood and started a small fire.
“Ye all right, lass?” he asked her.
Avery nodded. “Yes, thank you. I’m not used to riding like that.”
She balked at the odd look on his face.
“Whit happened to yer voice?”
Frantically she felt the length of her neck, searching for Nathaniel’s enchanted mole. It was gone. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
He held up his hands. “Easy. I thank ye for yer help, lass. I’m just wonderin’ as ye don’t sound as if yer from here.”
“I’m not.” She tossed up her hands. “Nathaniel sent me from the outside.”
His big hands rubbed his face. “Ye don’t sound like yer from there either.”
She sighed. “I’m not. I’m American.”
“Aye.” He looked her over as if he found that confusing, but he didn’t ask her again about her origins. “Sit. Tell me how ye come to be here.” He gestured toward the fire he’d started, then stepped over her vomit to take a seat on a log beside the flames.
“Sorry about that.” She kicked some dirt over where she’d lost her lunch. Her gaze darted to where the large black stallion rested beside the trees. “He’s faster and bigger than any horse I’ve ever ridden. Even faster than Nathaniel’s Diablo. I guess my stomach couldn’t handle the excitement.”
“It’s the rare horse indeed that can best Tàirn. I’d worried Lachlan hadn’t been exercising him since he locked me up but must have been. He’s even faster than I remember.”
Xavier motioned to the other side of the fire where another large log waited. “I’m afraid this is the best I have to offer ye for the night, but as ye can see, I’m a bit short of wear myself.”
He gestured toward his bare chest, and Avery suddenly felt a keen awareness of every inch of his masculine presence. She swallowed and glanced away.
“I can share my arisaid if you’re cold.” She cleared her throat and lifted the edge of what amounted to a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
“The cold doesna bother me.”
She blinked slowly. “Of course it doesn’t. You’re a dragon like your brothers.”
“Aye.” He scratched his bearded jaw, and she felt the weight of his gaze travel over her.
“Do you think we are safe here? Will Lachlan come after us?” God, she hoped they were safe for now. She was exhausted and sore. All she wanted to do was sleep.
Highland Dragon Page 8