by Lydia Dare
He tried to bite back a grin. Could the fates be any more kind? Certainly, she wouldn’t want her older brother to find them in this compromising situation. “Well, what’s it to be? Shall I drop my shirt?” His fingers inched downward.
Her face shone instantly red. She glanced away from him as she muttered, “Mòr,” and flicked her wrist in his general direction. At once the clothes he wore and the shirt in his hands righted themselves.
James smiled at her, though she still had her face turned away. “Many thanks, Miss Lindsay. And I’ll expect my watch by the end of the night.” He buttoned his trousers, pulled the shirt over his head, and tucked the ends into his waistband.
At that moment, Captain Lindsay turned down the corridor toward them. “Blaire,” he called again. “Brannock said ye were quarrelin’ with Lord Kettering.”
James shook his head. “Nothing quite so dramatic, Captain. All is well.”
“Wonderful,” the captain said as he neared the pair. “Dinner is ready, my lord, and I am dyin’ ta learn how ye ended up in my cellar.”
“As are we all,” Miss Lindsay muttered under her breath.
James inclined his head to his host. “Of course, Captain. My memory is somewhat spotty, but perhaps we can put the pieces together that I do remember. It’s a bit disjointed.”
“And, Blaire,” the captain said as he glanced at his sister’s disheveled appearance. “Make yerself presentable.” The man disappeared back down the stairs.
“I’d sooner be boiled in a vat of bubblin’ oil,” the lass muttered as she turned toward her own chambers, presumably to make herself presentable despite her protestations. He liked her quite a bit in her homespun gown, which was still damp from where he’d pulled her against his naked, wet body. He hardened in response. Dinner. He had to find dinner very, very soon.
***
Mutton stew! Blaire nearly groaned aloud. What awful stuff. Still, it was her fault. Mutton stew was common fare when Aiden was in charge of meals. She wondered if she could last until morning without a bite to eat. Tomorrow, they would go into the village of Strathcarron and see about hiring staff. Perhaps there was an inn where she could break her fast in the morning.
Blaire glanced across the table at their guest, and what small appetite she did have quickly evaporated. Kettering’s dark eyes seemed to bore into her as though he could peer into her soul, and, for a moment, she wondered if he did, in fact, possess just such a power. Was that why he’d been trapped at Briarcraig? Could he see into others’ souls? What would one do with a power like that? Something nefarious, no doubt.
She watched as Kettering took a cursory glance at his own bowl before returning his attention to her. The watch she’d taken from his clothes rested heavy in her pocket. She had no intention of stealing the thing, not really. She’d just thought it might give her some clue about his purpose. A little ceremony with the piece under the light of the moon could possibly tell her something of the man before her. Blast him for realizing it was missing so soon.
“So,” Aiden began from his spot at the head of the table, “we are all curious, my lord, ta learn how ye arrived at Briarcraig.”
A heart-stopping, charming smile appeared on the baron’s face. “I don’t know precisely how I ended up in your cellar, Captain, but I can give you an educated guess. What, may I ask, is the date?”
Aiden frowned. “January 19th.”
Something flashed in Kettering’s eyes, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. “I suspected as much.” He shook his head. “Are you familiar with Lord Totley?”
Lord Totley? Hardly. Blaire had never heard the name. However, the Lindsays were far from the sort who rubbed elbows with peers.
Aiden shook his head. “I doona believe so.”
Kettering sighed. “Well, apparently, I should have become more familiar with the man before I agreed to visit his country home in Roxburghshire. He’s a friend of the Regent’s and always has a fine hand at cards, but…”
“But, what?” Aiden asked, sliding to the edge of his seat.
Kettering looked back and forth between Blaire and Brannock and cringed. “Some vices are better left unspoken, Captain. Suffice it to say, a number of the guests were a bit more unsavory than one might hope to spend time with.”
“The five women?” Blaire prodded, not believing one word of his Banbury tale. “Ye mentioned them initially.”
Kettering glanced briefly at her and then turned his attention back to Aiden. “I believe one or more of them put something in my port one evening. “Those women are my last memory before waking up here.”
Blaire didn’t even try to suppress her snort. “And why would they bring ye here? Had ye done somethin’ ta deserve imprisonment?”
The baron’s eyes flashed back to her with a look so smoldering that she gasped for breath. “I have my whole life, Miss Lindsay, been a gentleman. No one has ever before thought I deserved to be drugged and stashed away in some castle. I’m not at all sure where I even am, to be honest.”
“The Highlands,” Brannock piped up.
“So five women drugged ye in Roxburghshire and drove ye inta the Highlands in the dead of winter ta dispose of ye in my brother’s castle?” Blaire shook her head. What nonsense. “Do ye truly expect me ta believe that?”
Kettering smiled. “Oh, I intend to find the women in question and determine just why they would assault me in such a way. You can be assured, Miss Lindsay, that I will find the truth.”
And that sentence was the first sincere thing he’d said, in Blaire’s estimation. A chill raced down her spine, though she wasn’t at all sure why.
“Tell me, did one of these women happen ta look like me?” Blaire crossed her arms beneath her breasts with impatience. Five witches. She only knew of one coven with that number.
“In fact, Miss Lindsay, one of them bore a striking resemblance to you.” His eyes narrowed at her. Blaire’s heart began to beat double time at the admission. It really was her mother he sought. How was that possible? Alpina Lindsay had been dead ten years. Certainly he hadn’t been locked in that cellar for a decade. Yet his clothes were from another time, longer than ten years if she had to guess.
“Would you happen to know where I can find her, this witch who resembles you?” Kettering’s voice broke into her thoughts.
Brannock sat forward and opened his mouth. Blaire snapped her fingers, and her brother sat back with a huff. She couldn’t allow the lad to tell Kettering that the witch he sought didn’t exist anymore or she’d never discover the true reason why he was locked in the cellar. And until she knew that reason, she couldn’t let him leave. He was too much of a threat.
“I’m no’ aware of any witches who look like me. I was simply curious. But I will do what I can ta help ye find what ye’re seekin’.”
“I would be thankful for your assistance,” he said as he bowed his head in her direction.
“Is your dinner no’ appealin’ ta ye?” Ever since he’d sat at the table, he’d simply dipped his spoon into his stew over and over, though he’d yet to take a single bite of the stew. Shouldn’t he be starving? Even Aiden’s cooking had to be better than nothing.
“I find myself a bit distracted, I admit,” he said quietly, and then he immediately turned to Aiden to speak, still without taking a bite. The man had been locked in the cellar for God only knew how long, and he wasn’t in search of a meal? That wasn’t normal. It wasn’t natural. Had the man truly gone ten years or longer without sustenance? She shook her head at the foolish notion. No one could survive that long. She was missing something important. Was there some sort of food source in the cellar? She’d have to take another look at the room.
Safely tucked beneath her dress, the ring around Blaire’s neck seemed warm against her skin. Just as she was about to reach for the relic, a clatter arose at the front door. The ornate brass knocker Blaire had seen earlier banged heavily against the oak. “Who the devil could that be?” Aiden mumbled to himself as he wiped his m
outh, dropped his napkin in his plate, and rose to his feet.
“I’ll get it!” Brannock bolted from his seat and down the corridor.
A smile crossed Lord Kettering’s face. It was unlike any she’d seen grace his lips since she’d found him. It held no malice, no temper, no condescension, and no lack of trust. It was simply pleasure. “That will be for me,” he explained to Blaire as he came to his feet as well. She followed him down the corridor toward the great hall, with Aiden quick on her heels.
“Someone kent ye were here?” she called to his retreating back. Why hadn’t that someone helped him escape the room before now? Kettering was indeed an infuriating mystery.
“Some bonds are difficult to break,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “Thank heavens.”
Blaire touched a finger to her hidden ring and toyed with it absently as she trailed behind the baron.
When she reached the great hall, she stopped dead in her tracks. But Kettering didn’t. He nearly flew into the man who stood in the entryway beside her brother. The two men clasped hands tightly, and it almost looked as though they both took a long, deep breath together.
“He said he was lookin’ for Lord Kettering,” Brannock announced proudly.
“And do ye ken just who ye’ve admitted inta our home?” Blaire eyed her young brother with a raised brow.
“Pardon me, Captain Lindsay,” Kettering said after he coughed lightly into his hand and cleared his throat. Was the man emotional? A better question would be what was the bond between these men? She’d find that out, too. “This is my oldest and dearest friend, Matthew Halkett, the Earl of Blodswell.”
Aiden extended his hand. “It’s nice ta meet ye,” he said warily. Aiden had good instincts, even if he wasn’t magical. Of course, he sensed that something was amiss.
Blaire made a noise. A very unladylike noise.
“And the lovely lady?” the earl asked, gesturing toward Blaire. His dark gaze slid across her, disturbing in the same way Kettering’s was but different. Only she couldn’t discern the difference. It was there, but Blaire couldn’t name it.
“This is Miss Blaire Lindsay, the captain’s sister.” The baron stepped closer to her as he spoke and even closer when the earl bowed in her direction. Blodswell raised an eyebrow a fraction. Only a fraction. But she noticed it.
Then Kettering introduced Brannock, who preened under the attention.
“I never thought I’d find you,” Blodswell muttered under his breath to Kettering, but Blaire heard the admission anyway.
“I feared you wouldn’t, either, old friend, but I am happy to see you.” The camaraderie between the two was real. That much was obvious.
“If it’s quite all right with your friends, perhaps we could stroll the grounds for a time. I do have something to discuss with you, James,” the earl said. “Although I do hate to interrupt dinner. Something smells delightful here,” he said as he inhaled deeply. His dark gaze danced across Blaire, making her shiver.
Kettering stepped closer to her, and his brow furrowed. Strange. Very strange.
“Aiden’s mutton stew is nothing ta boast about.” Brannock inhaled deeply and then groaned. “It doesna even smell appetizin’, sir. But we’re gettin’ servants tomorrow.”
“Ye are welcome ta stay,” Aiden said hesitantly. “For dinner.”
Blaire punched his arm. “Invite them both ta stay the night,” she hissed at him. “Now.”
“Why the devil would I—” he began to say, until she stomped on his instep. Hard. “Bloody hell, Blaire. What is wrong with ye?”
The earl stepped to the door and opened it. Kettering scurried out of the sunlight with a wince, moving into the shadows as he’d done earlier. “On second thought,” the earl said, shutting the door, “perhaps we could beg some privacy in one of the Lindsays’ parlors instead. Just for a short time so we can become reacquainted.”
“Aiden!” Blaire hissed again. If Aiden didn’t ask soon, she’d overstep the bounds of propriety and invite them herself. Damn it all to hell. She couldn’t allow them to leave Briarcraig. Not until she knew why Kettering had been trapped and locked up. She glanced at the handsome earl beside her brother. He was just as dangerous as the baron, if she wasn’t mistaken.
“Ask them!” She glared at her brother. Aiden pursed his lips together. Stubborn man. Fine, she’d take matters into her own hands. “We’d love ta have ye both as our guests here at Briarcraig,” Blaire blurted. “I’ll go and prepare another room for the earl.”
Blodswell bowed swiftly. “I’d be honored to be your guest, Miss Lindsay.”
He cut a fine figure and was honestly a gentleman. What else he was, she had no idea. But she planned to find out.
Nine
“Where is your ring?” was the first thing out of Blodswell’s mouth when they finally found themselves alone. They’d talked about inanities the entire time the witch lurked in the corridor eavesdropping. They’d both known she was there. Finally, her brother had retrieved her with a stern word. Her cursing in response made Matthew smile.
James held up his hand and rubbed his ring finger. “I have no idea. It wasn’t there when I woke up.”
“It’s nearby. That much is obvious.”
“Is it?” James swung around quickly to face him. “How do you know that?”
“It connects us. If it’s lost to you, we lose the connection. I lost you for twenty years, old friend. I thought you were dead.”
“I may as well have been. I slept for two decades, Matt, thanks to your blasted coven.”
“My coven?” Blodswell placed a hand over his heart and opened his mouth in mock-astonishment. “When did the Còig become my coven? The last I heard, they were an entity unto themselves.”
“They’re a force to be reckoned with,” James grunted. “They attacked me.”
“Why would they do such a thing? It’s not like them to take action lightly.” His eyes narrowed. “What did you do? Did you attempt to entrance one of them?”
“Of course not,” James scoffed. “I was standing outside an inn, minding my own business and enjoying a perfectly lovely cheroot.”
“Stalking prey, in other words,” Matthew said with a nod. “Since you have no need to inhale.”
No, James had no need to inhale, and Matthew had taught him the little trick with smoking. It made them appear more human if they adopted some of man’s more basic habits. “I may not need to inhale it, but I can still taste it,” James muttered.
Matthew gestured at him impatiently. “That’s neither here nor there. I’d like to hear your tale, James.”
And James was ready to tell it to someone he trusted. “The night had just fallen.”
“And you were thirsty?”
“Yes, I suppose I was. A lovely young woman, one who resembles Miss Lindsay quite closely, by the way, approached me. The night was incredibly foggy, so foggy I could barely see my hand in front of my face, but I could see her. Very clearly. Actually, there were two of them.”
“A moment,” Matthew said quickly. “You say one of them looked like Miss Lindsay? The captain’s sister?” He gestured toward the corridor.
“An amazing resemblance,” James confirmed. “The silver eyes. The raven hair.”
Matthew frowned. “Go on.”
“Well,” James snapped his fingers, “just like that the fog lifted, and there were five of them. Then the next thing I remember, I woke up locked in a dank cellar of this castle, which I believe to be somewhere in the Scottish Highlands.”
“In the middle of nowhere,” Matthew confirmed. His dark gaze raked across James. “You haven’t been outside yet?”
James held up his hand and once again pointed out the absence of his ring. “I’ve never been suicidal.”
“No, you have not.” A small smile curved Matthew’s lips. “Tell me, have you fed? You’re looking quite pale.”
“Not yet.” James tugged at his waistcoat.
“But the lovely Miss Lindsay,”
Matthew began.
“Is an innocent,” James snarled. Even he was surprised by the amount of bite that was present behind his growl. What should he care where his next meal came from? And the woman had been nothing but a thorn in his side since she’d freed him. Yet she had freed him, and she did have the loveliest silver eyes.
“It’s like that, is it?” A corner of Matthew’s mouth lifted as he turned and adjusted a crooked painting on the wall.
“Go to the devil, Matt,” James replied, but he wasn’t able to keep the smile from his face any better than Matthew had. Blodswell could read him. Hell, he could feel him.
“The Còig is a benevolent lot, James. They do not act lightly, and they do not tempt the fates. Everything they do is done with purpose. I can’t think of any reason why they would imprison you and steal your ring. There is something we don’t know.”
Though what it was, James had no idea. He clucked his tongue as he rolled the thought over in his mind.
“Does Miss Lindsay have powers?” Matthew suddenly asked. “Have you seen any evidence that she’s magical?”
She didn’t make an effort to hide the fact. “Fireballs in her own hand. She hides daggers about her person. And wields them with stealth and purpose.”
“How the devil do you know that?”
“Because she nearly unmanned me with one when I had the nerve to kiss her.”
“And therein lies the crux of the matter.” Matthew whistled softly.
“She’s a means to an end. Nothing more. I need her so I can find the other witches.” He needed to find out why they’d stolen twenty years of his life.
Matthew folded his arms across his chest. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but if Miss Lindsay has verifiable powers, and you say she does?” He waited for a nod from James. “Then the witches you seek cannot be found.”
Matthew’s statement didn’t make one bit of sense. He couldn’t possibly know that. “I beg your pardon.”
“There’s only one Còig.”
“Thank God,” James muttered. They were a menace. He couldn’t imagine more than one malicious coven running loose.