“Better you than the Laird,” Helen said, biting her lip. “I hadn’t even thought of that — of the chain of command, and all that. What if he’d caught me? He might have thought I was… undercutting his authority, somehow, or something like that.”
“Maybe.” Elena shrugged. “He’s gotten a lot better since he married Anna, from what I can gather, but it’s possible he would have taken offence. A lot can go wrong around here, Helen — and the consequences are more severe than you might think. Especially when it comes to the villagers.”
“The villagers?” She leaned forward, sipping at her soup, curious despite herself.
Elena was nodding. “The thing about the villagers… and this took me a while to figure out… they don’t think. Not the way we do, at any rate. It’s probably something to do with how sheltered the Clan keeps them from the realities of the Fae, from just how wrong things can go… but no matter how much evidence we show them that the Fae are out there wreaking havoc, it just doesn’t seem to stick. They slide back again and again to accusations of witchcraft — or worse, to pretending these things aren’t happening at all. Honestly, Perry’s doing well by even acknowledging that the Monster’s real. Half the villagers are convinced it’s either an urban myth — or a demon. Father Caleb’s doing, that,” she added with a roll of her eyes. “Overall, he’s been a good influence, but I sure wish he hadn’t taught them about demons.”
“So it was a pretty dumb move to try to tell him about Kelpies?”
“Not dumb, just misguided.” Elena sighed. “But yeah, pretty dumb. Best case scenario, he thinks you’re some dumb woman with a uterus full of hysteria and dismisses what you said completely.”
“That’s more or less what happened, yeah,” Helen admitted, feeling a flare of irritation at the nasty things Perry had said to her.
“Right.”
“What’s the worst case?”
“Worst case is he takes what you know as evidence that you’re a witch,” Elena said frankly. “He takes that information to the townsfolk, it spreads, and before long you’ve got a crowd of villagers baying for your blood. It almost happened to me.”
“What? Seriously?”
“Yeah. Brendan stopped it, but… well, I still don’t like going to the village if I can help it. It was a little more complicated, with me — a woman who looked like me was actually hurting people a lot, and there was some mistaken identity involved with what went on — but I was horrified by how quickly the villagers turned on me. You try to think people are kind and good at heart, but…” Elena shuddered, frowning into her soup. “And they are, mostly. But they can get scared, Helen. And when they get scared…”
“They do terrible things,” Helen murmured.
Elena nodded, and they sat in silence for a long moment, both of their minds occupied with the awful things human beings were capable of.
Chapter 29
The conversation with Elena gave her a lot to think about. Distracted, ill at ease, and with a restless, nervous energy in her that she couldn’t dispel — something to do with the adrenaline of the interrogation, perhaps — she decided to go and see if she couldn’t make herself useful somewhere. She found the Headwoman in the kitchen, presiding over some baking, and offered herself as a kitchenhand. Blair was grateful for the help. It seemed that with the guard shifts doubled, Brendan had taken it upon himself to draft a few of the kitchenhands into the guard — a kind of militia that they relied on in times of stress. What it meant for Blair was that she was short-handed. Helen felt glad to be of service — she passed a busy afternoon and early evening in the kitchen, helping to keep the place clean as well as rolling up her sleeves to help with dinner. By the time Blair released her from her service with an approving nod of thanks, she was worn out — but feeling a lot better about the impromptu interrogation she’d attempted earlier that afternoon.
She sat with the other women at dinner, losing herself in their chatter. Anna and Nancy were sharing stories of their children, laughing with Elena, who still had so much to look forward to with a baby on the way. She was convinced the child would be a boy — Brendan, though, was staunch in his belief that it was a girl, which was making it difficult to decide on a name.
“It’s bad enough how much he fusses over me,” Elena said, rolling her eyes. “You’d think I was made of glass, not just pregnant.”
“Oh, Donal was the same. Men are stupid. They don’t understand pregnancy, so assume that we’re not strong enough to handle it without their wise advice.”
“Bet you set him straight on that one,” Nancy commented, her eyes gleaming.
Anna chuckled. “Oh, aye. Losing a swordfight to a pregnant woman will change a man’s mind about how frail she is, that’s for certain. I don’t often beat him, but I did that day. Very satisfying.”
That reminded her — she reached into her dress to extract the iron blade that Brendan had given it earlier, turning to Anna. “Speaking of sword fights — do you suppose you could give me a few lessons with this?”
“Oh, iron dagger. Good thinking. And yes, absolutely. You know to put it well away from the cottage if you go to visit Maggie and Darter, right? They’re worse than allergic.”
“Yeah, Brendan warned me,” she said, smiling.
“I can definitely give you a lesson or two, but it’s all pretty straightforward. Point and stab. Most Fae will give you a wide berth if they even smell the iron on you at all, so as a protective talisman it’s pretty good.”
“Good to know,” she said simply, smiling. It is good to have friends, she thought, gazing around the table at the women who’d taken her into their little group — she felt especially close to Elena, especially after their long conversation that afternoon, and she admired Anna fiercely for her strength and her kindness. She was looking forward to getting to know the others better, too — especially Kay, who she hadn’t had a chance to spend much time with. Even in the darkness that surrounded them, with the Kelpies on the loose and a sense of dread building as a result of the villagers’ anger and fear of the Monster, she felt safe here. She felt like between the five of them, they could solve any problem that the world saw fit to throw at them.
She’d been dreading seeing Niall again — but when she stepped through the door of the quarters they were still sharing, he was in the midst of some kind of argument with Eamon, who was shouting and thumping his fists on the table. She could feel the frustration in the room like a fog, and with a sigh she moved forward quickly, taking a seat at the table and trying to get Eamon’s attention, using his fondness for her as a weapon. Sure enough, it worked — his sharp eyes were on her and, sniffling, he turned his attention to her.
“What’s the matter, little dude? Why are you crying?”
“Da,” he said, shooting his father a resentful look as he turned his tear-soaked face toward her. “Won’t let me do anything.”
“We’ve been having a conversation about wandering about after dark,” Niall explained — and she could see just from looking at him how well that conversation was going.
“I like it at night! There’s stars and it’s dark and the Monster only comes out at night anyway! How am I supposed to see her if I have to go inside when it’s still light!”
Helen could feel her heart sinking — these kinds of tantrums were exactly what Niall had been worried about when it had become clear that Eamon was going to need to be kept on a shorter leash than usual, at least until the issue with the Kelpies was solved.
“Your da’s just trying to keep you safe, Eamon,” she said softly, but Eamon wasn’t listening.
He was clearly cranky and exhausted, and this last insult to his sense of freedom had been too much — all he wanted to do was cry, and there would be no reasoning with him. In a way, he reminded her a little of Perry… although he had being four years old as an excuse for how irrational he was being. Perry wasn’t so lucky, she thought with a grin. Eamon was also a lot cuter than Perry… even angry and tear soaked, those bi
g green eyes were irresistible. Just like his father’s, she thought with a fond smile as he shuffled over to bury his face in her arm and weep.
“Well, at least he’s not screaming anymore,” Niall said, scrubbing at his exhausted face with the heel of his hand. “He had a tantrum all morning about not being allowed to run around on the beach, and then as soon as we got over that one, the sun was setting, and it was time for a new tantrum about not being allowed to wander off into the dark.”
“Sorry to hear it,” she said sympathetically, unable to stop herself from grinning a little at how frazzled Niall looked. “He’s a tough nut to crack, huh?”
“He doesn’t listen to a word I say,” Niall said distractedly, running his hands through his hair. “I’m honestly tempted to go Kelpie-hunting so he can wander all he wants. It’d be easier than teaching him to keep himself safe.”
“Tell you what — why don’t I take him for a few days? He and I can wander together — not too far,” she added with a wink — “and you can have a bit of a break from trying to do two full-time jobs.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Niall said faintly. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. Only if that’s okay with you, though, Eamon? What do you say? Shall we spend a few days together?”
But Eamon was fast asleep, leaned up against her arm, and she chuckled a little — there was something very endearing about the way the little boy could go from tantrum to fast asleep in a matter of minutes.
Niall sighed, getting to his feet and gathered Eamon up in his arms. “Bed time, I think.”
“Goodnight, Niall. Goodnight, Eamon.”
“Goodnight, Helen. Thanks for the soothing words,” he added with one of those heart-stopping smiles of his.
As they went their separate ways to bed, she couldn’t help but grin to herself. Strange — he hadn’t brought up anything about the kiss they’d shared. Had that been because Eamon had been there? Did he not want his son knowing about their interaction? Or was it simpler than that — was it that the kiss hadn’t really meant anything to him? At any rate, she was grateful that their friendship clearly hadn’t been affected by the kiss… but at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit disappointed that he wasn’t more affected as she settled down in bed. She’d certainly barely been able to stop thinking about it. Was he really that cold-hearted? Surely not…
Troubled by these thoughts, but too bone-deep exhausted to spend much time lying awake, she lapsed into a deep and restful sleep — this one, thankfully, troubled with far fewer awful dreams about men riding Kelpies.
The next few days passed in a whirlwind. She hadn’t realized just how much effort it took to be solely in charge of a rambunctious four-year-old like Eamon. From the minute he woke up in the morning, he was on the go — chattering on and on about whatever came to mind, leading her this way and that, running up and down the stairs of the castle… she felt like she was being pulled along most of the time, not like she was the guardian at all. They walked up to the castle for breakfast, then she had to physically stop him from running up to the men in the courtyard who were training with wooden swords.
“I wanna sword!” he yelled, over and over, as she scooped his wriggling body from the ground and physically carried him away — much to the amusement of the guards, who stopped to laugh and wave to the little man.
“Send him to me in ten years,” Brendan called after her, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I could use a man with that kind of pluck.”
“Ten years, hear that?” she murmured to Eamon, out of breath as she carried him down the stairs. But ten years was too long to wait, clearly — ten seconds was too long to wait, as far as Eamon was concerned. So he sprinted down the stairs — they spent a good chunk of the afternoon on the beach, roaming up and down. It is safe during the day, she reminded herself firmly. Kelpies hunted by night, not during the day… still, with Eamon charging up and down with a piece of driftwood clutched in his chubby fist, shouting that he was going to fight all the bad horses, she couldn’t stop herself from scanning the treeline for wet-maned horses…
Still, it was a nice way to spend the afternoon. And when Eamon finally started to flag a little, complaining that he was hungry, she was more than happy to walk him up to the castle for dinner. They dined with Anna and Nancy and their children, Eamon as the oldest happily holding court, Helen sharing stories about the hijinks that the boy had gotten up to that day. Overall, she decided as she fell into bed that night, it wasn’t a bad way to spend a day. Eamon was a handful, certainly — but there was something so rewarding about watching him explore. It was as though she was watching him grow up, right before her eyes. Was this why people found parenthood so rewarding? Was she beginning to come around to the idea of having a caregiving role in Eamon’s life?
But worry kept gnawing at her stomach. Sure, she could play the stepmom role… but what good would that do if Niall didn’t want her to?
Chapter 30
The next day dawned bright and clear, and Helen found herself chasing Eamon around again. The more time she spent with him, though, the better she got at predicting his moods, at navigating his stormy temper, at figuring out what was going to set him off before it had a chance to. It was a skill… she was beginning to feel a little guilty for how often she’d assumed that the parents at work had an easy go of it, getting all that time off when they had children. Chasing Eamon around was a full-time job and then some — she couldn’t imagine coming home from a day’s work to do more of this.
They were exploring the castle together when Helen heard the low voices of servants, whispering about something, and something made her pay closer attention, letting Eamon take his time examining a suit of armor they’d found on the fourth floor. It seemed that something was happening — a prisoner was being released? Her heart jumped in her chest as she realized what it must be — they were letting Perry return to the village. Already? Was that really wise? She grabbed Eamon by the hand and hurried him downstairs, making some vague promise about Blair’s famous shortbread as she did to keep him compliant.
There were several guards in the hall downstairs, each of them keeping a wary eye on the prisoner. Perry. Her jaw tightened when she looked at him. He seemed a little more subdued than he had when she’d seen him, but that arrogant, furious gleam was still in his eye and he looked at Niall with utter loathing on his ugly face. The harbormaster was standing in the door of the castle, presiding over the guards as they escorted him toward the door. Eamon, seeing his dad, pointed and cried out — and Perry’s head swiveled to take in the child, and Helen behind him.
“Oh, it’s Niall’s little brat,” he sneered.
Eamon stiffened, clearly angry, and Helen picked him up, hoping to distract him from the man’s unkind words.
“You’re letting that whore touch your child, Niall? That’s not good parenthood —”
“You watch your tongue while you’re in my son’s presence,” Niall said sharply. “How dare you speak of Helen Washington like that. Get moving.” He was holding his sword, Helen realized with a shock, and she gasped as he jabbed at Perry with it — only to realize that the sword was still in its scabbard. No damage done by a sharp steel blade, then — but the message was clear, and though he grumbled, Perry kept walking.
“Wanna see,” Eamon insisted, and she followed the procession at a distance, curious herself to see what would happen when Perry was set free.
To her surprise, she could see a gaggle of villagers gathered at the open gates, looks of mistrust on their faces. None of them seemed willing to actually set foot on castle grounds, though they were all clustered close to the gate. Had they come to pick up Perry? That was strange. She scanned their faces from a distance, trying to recognize them — presumably some of them were the men from the little gang they’d met earlier, but there were women among them, too. Just how many sympathizers did Perry have among the folk of the village? She felt worry gnawing at her stomach as she thought abou
t what Elena said about the villagers operating more on feeling than on logic. What if they felt that Perry had been poorly treated?
The guards released Perry’s bindings, and Niall pointed toward the gate, a mute admission that he was free to go. But Perry didn’t seem to have finished with the people of the castle. He took a few steps toward his little fan club at the gate, then turned back, raising his voice to be heard above the whistling wind.
“The people of this castle are all scum,” he proclaimed, loud and sneering. “I curse them, every single dog among them, down to the lowest cur — whose name is Niall,” he added, glaring at Niall as he spat onto the stone of the courtyard. “I hope your brat of a child is eaten by the Monster.”
She saw something snap in Niall. Before anyone could react, or even cry out, she saw him lift his sword — and bring it crashing down onto Perry’s side, making him exhale with surprise and recoil. Niall chased him from the castle grounds, flogging him with the sheathed sword as he went, roaring in fury at what he’d said — Perry stumbled out of the castle gate and into the arms of the villagers, who jeered and booed at Niall as he stepped back, letting them leave unharmed… though Helen could tell by the set of his jaw and the tension in his body that he would very much have liked to continue what he was doing, perhaps without the pesky scabbard in the way. It was a little frightening — even Eamon was frozen in her arms, his big eyes fixed on his father.
“Da’s so tough,” he whispered, and she sighed with relief. At least the little boy wasn’t scared.
“Hey, Eamon. Want to come and play with Gwyneth?” Anna was at her side — she turned, surprised to see the woman. Anna’s sharp eyes flicked to her. “Niall might need someone to talk him down,” she said softly.
Needed By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Forever Book 5) Page 18