“Your probability calculations are the next best thing to gut instinct.” They’d also saved Greyston’s backside more than once. “Care to venture a guess at the odds of Lady Lily joining us?”
Neco stared at him blankly. “I don’t have enough data to make an accurate prediction.”
“Ah, yes. Until today, I’ve managed to avoid inviting young, unmarried ladies to accompany us.”
Movement caught his eye at the main entrance. “Speak of the devil…s,” he dragged into the plural as Lady Harchings came into view beside Lily and Ana.
Their porter pushed a trolley stacked to tipping-point with trunks, portmanteaus and oversized carpetbags. Trailing the entire party was Lady Harchings’ air-paddler man, William.
He had a very bad feeling about this.
Lily saw him and increased her step in his direction. Lady Harchings fell behind, seemingly entranced by the last stall being packed up for the evening. One man stood on the table to untie a banner while another chased after an automaton puppy that had escaped and was bouncing down the platform with the occasional mechanical yap.
As soon as Lily reached him, Greyston pulled her around the closest marble pillar. “Please tell me they aren’t joining us.”
Lily grimaced. “I tried my utmost to persuade her otherwise.”
“Then you’ll just have to try harder.” The last thing he needed was yet another responsibility, especially one who came with a bad-tempered, overprotective husband. “You know what kind of danger we may be facing.”
“So does Lady Harchings. That’s where I went wrong,” she sighed. “I was only trying to make her understand the danger, but the more I explained, the more insistent she became. She refused to hear that she’d be of little help if the worst came about.”
Greyston caught sight of the porter pushing the baggage wagon onto the platform and called out, “Hold it, man.”
“And then I got to thinking,” Lily was saying, mindless of the interruption, “that perhaps she’d be safer with us anyway. Wouldn’t she? That is to say, anywhere is safer than London right now, what with Lady Ostrich running around.”
The porter glanced over his shoulder and Greyston motioned the man to wait.
“Lily,” he said in a warning tone, turning back to her. She’d managed to talk herself in circles and do his head in at the same time.
“How delightful.” Lady Harchings popped out from the other side of the pillar with a wide smile. “We’ve progressed to first name terms. Formality can be so tedious, especially since we’ve such a long journey ahead of us. You must call me Evelyn.”
“Greyston.” He slanted his gaze at Lily, wondering how these two ladies had ever become friends. He decided to put their differences to the test. “My friends call me Grey.”
“Then Grey it is.”
His gaze returned to Evelyn. “I don’t wish to be rude, but it would be best if you didn’t travel with us.”
“It most certainly would not be.” Evelyn gave a dismissive laugh. “Spare a moment’s thought, and you’ll realise it is in everyone’s best interest that Lily be properly chaperoned.”
“By you?” He raised a brow at her. Evelyn Harchings didn’t have a conservative bone in that gorgeous body. Her eyes sparkled with fun and mischief and her wild nature was more often than not one flirtatious comment away from wild temptation. All admirable qualities, he conceded.
“I am a married woman,” she reminded him.
“Has your husband approved your travel plans?”
“My husband,” Evelyn said lightly, “has kicked me out.”
“Evie,” protested Lily, “that’s not entirely true.”
Evelyn looked at her. “He said either William leaves or he does.”
“That’s not kicking you out.”
“Harchings house belongs to Devon and he can live there alone with his ridiculous ultimatums.”
Her stubborn defiance didn’t surprise Greyston. That she’d taken William as a lover did, and why else would she be forced to choose? He could’ve sworn that behind Evelyn’s vibrant character was a passion that would commit her to a husband once she’d chosen. As inept as he was at reading society ladies, however, he knew he hadn’t misjudged Lord Harchings. And when he comes after his wife, he’ll find me nesting the pair of lovebirds.
He was about to issue an ultimatum of his own when chaos erupted on the platform. The porter jumped aside with a loud curse and barrelled into William. Ana swerved out of their way and Neco came rushing forward.
Greyston’s heart stopped dead, then kicked into a pounding beat against his skull. He jumped in front of Lily, wedging her between his body and the pillar. Shielding her from whatever danger had found them was instinctive.
He reached behind his back for her, holding onto her arm, reassuring himself that she was safe. He had her here now, willing to go with him, and he couldn’t risk her deciding to stay behind with Evelyn if he put his foot down. I’m stuck with the whole bloody menagerie.
“What’s happening?” she said urgently.
“Nothing.” He released her, moving forward to get a better view of the platform. “No one’s here.”
The conductor stuck his head out of the front carriage and blew the warning whistle. With that, the cause of the trouble streaked from the baggage wagon and dashed between Evelyn’s skirts.
Greyston steadied her as she stumbled into his arms. The last time he’d held her had been on the dance floor. She’d roused his blood then, and that was when they’d kept the prerequisite two feet apart.
“Oh,” she gasped, tiptoeing halfway up his shin to escape the automaton puppy tangled in her skirts. “Oh! Oh.”
He closed his eyes, enjoying her soft warmth. Even wriggling, her curves slid along his lean contours in a tantalising dance. Her scent was summery, with a trace of something spicy, and damned if he didn’t fancy that too.
Maybe having Evelyn along wouldn’t be that tiresome after all. He was accustomed to snatching pleasure as he went, more often than not on the run, and she wouldn’t slow him down, wouldn’t expect or want anything beyond a few stolen encounters to feed her reckless, daring spirit. They were well matched, far more so than him and…he slammed that thought. He shouldn’t be thinking of Lily in that way, even if it was just to consider how unsuited they were.
His gaze drifted to Lily and came up against her direct stare.
She dropped her eyes at once.
Greyston scooped Evelyn clear off the ground and set her down out of the way. The puppy spun a few times before slowing into a wider, groggy circle.
“’Tis been malfunctioning since the day I got it,” the stall owner grumbled as he stomped up to them, red-faced and full of apologies.
“It’s no problem at all,” Evelyn assured him.
“Sold the thing twice now, I have, but folks keep returning it and demanding refunds. Costing me good, decent sales, that’s what.”
“The train’s about to depart,” Greyston said, leaving them to it as he crossed to where the others waited.
Once William had identified the valises required for the journey, Greyston charged Neco with helping the porter off-load the rest in the baggage car. Then he sought out the conductor to arrange passage for his unexpected companions. The man was just informing him that there was only one extra sleeping cabin available when the ladies joined him.
“You’ll take the spare cabin,” he told Evelyn, “and William will have to share with me.” That’s when he saw the fluffy bundle tucked beneath her arm. “You bought the bloody nuisance?”
“The stall owner was going to crush it beneath his boot,” she said indignantly. “I’ve always wanted an automaton pet, but Devon would hear none of it.”
Another surprise, Greyston thought. In his experience, beautiful, wilful women always got their way.
She looked up at him, fluttering long lashes. “You have no objection, do you?”
With the imprint of her soft body still stamped in his bloo
d, he was not above getting one over her estranged husband.
“Given your unhappy situation,” he murmured, cupping a hand beneath her elbow to assist her over the gap between the platform and the train, “it’s my privilege to grant your every heart’s desire.”
“I have the comfort of my dearest friend and the pleasure of your charming company.” She leaned into him ever so slightly as she stepped aboard and, with a smile and one last flutter of those lashes, turned from him with a husky, “There’s nothing unhappy whatsoever about my current situation.”
Greyston grinned as he watched her tempting figure disappear into the shadows. The imminent future looked very promising from where he stood.
Chapter Eight
The train chugged along for about an hour before it shunted onto the high-speed tracks and from there, the rocking motion smoothed into a streamlined buzz that whispered through the panelled walls. At this speed, no one would be getting on, in the usual or irregular manner, until they pulled into Edinburgh. Greyston sent Neco off with the Foggles to do another sweep of the compartments. “In case someone slipped past while we were distracted at the station.”
“You mean the ostrich lady, m’lord?” William asked. He was seated at the furthest end of the bench, twisting his cap in his hands.
“What do you know about Lady Ostrich?”
“Lady Lily described her to us on the way to the station and said we were to keep vigilant.”
“Did she say why?”
“Only that the lady was dangerous and we mustn’t approach her.” He shuffled uneasily on the bench. “Lady Eve said the ostrich lady had already killed once.”
“That’s true.” Lady Eve? Greyston seriously considered the notion of William and Evelyn. The Irish lad was tall, lanky, and there was definitely something about his look to suggest a devilish streak that might appeal to Evelyn. “How old are you, William?”
“Almost eighteen, m’lord.”
Far too young to be involved with a married woman, he told himself, ignoring the fact that he had only four years on the lad. With the life Greyston had led, four years was as good as ten. He’d almost convinced himself he was doing the lad a favour by taking Evelyn off his hands when the implication of William’s words suddenly struck him.
Damn it, Lily. In the next breath, he damned himself instead. Ladies prattled about everything and nothing. He should have thought of it earlier. He pulled his jacket from the top bunk bed, which he’d claimed, and shrugged into it. “I’m going to stretch my legs.”
He only went as far as two doors down.
Ana answered his knock at once.
“Neco needs your help,” he told her. “He’s searching the train for Lady Ostrich.”
Her eyes zoned in on him, instantly alert. “Did she board?”
“That’s what I need you to determine.” He stood back to allow her to pass.
“Stay right here, Miss Lily,” she issued over her shoulder before hurrying down the passage.
“Is she here?” Lily was already on her feet, palms pressed to the extendable table she’d folded out from the panel below the window. “Did she find us again?”
“I very much doubt it.” Greyston slid the door closed behind him. He leaned a shoulder against it, keeping as much distance between them in the compact cabin as he could. He was coiled tighter than a spring and didn’t trust his temper right now, whether Lily was to blame or not.
“Who all knows I can step back in time?” he demanded more sharply than he’d intended. He wasn’t accustomed to any person knowing enough about him to impact his life with their mistakes. “How many people have you told?”
“Not a soul.”
“Then how did you explain returning from the dead?”
“I didn’t.” A frown sliced her brow as she held his dubious stare, then cleared on a blink. “Ah, I begin to see, and while I did express the danger to Evelyn, I thought it wise to suppress some of the detail.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “Evelyn knows Lady Ostrich has killed.”
“Yes, but she has no idea I was the victim.” She sank into her seat with a sigh. “I’m not a complete idiot.”
Greyston sucked in a slow, easier breath and pushed away from the door. “Thank you.”
“Rewinding time is your secret to bear or share.” Her hands remained on the table, spread over what appeared to be a notebook. “Besides, who’d believe it?”
“You did.” He moved to sit on the bottom berth opposite her, his gaze appraising her afresh.
Far from being a vapid idiot, she was quick-witted and astute. So, she didn’t keep a pair of pistols strapped to her hips—and he’d been on intimate terms with a few women who did—and she might not step up courageously in the face of immediate danger. He’d overlooked the quiet core of her strength, a remarkable quality that bounced off all the traumatic and bizarre thrown at her, that kept her afloat when most would flounder. He’d dismissed her pretty features into a bland, hollow wasteland, but that was the farce, the rigid guard she kept in place.
“What choice did I have?” she said, rolling hazel eyes at him. “I was right there with you, the world fading into shades of nothingness around me as you undid time.”
Her lips mesmerised him as she spoke. How had he ever thought them thin? Before he knew it, he was wondering at the woman who’d be revealed if some of those guarded layers were stripped away. “There’s always a choice, and you chose to open your mind to the impossible over a host of hysteria-induced alternatives.”
He clenched his jaw to trap his smile. Damn it all, he couldn’t start admiring Lily now, not in that way. He could strip her to the bone and there’d still be too much to fit into his world. Too prim, too proper, too complicated. She’d never be his for the taking.
“Don’t build me a halo of false attributes,” she said curtly. “My ready acceptance of all things unnatural is a mark of cowardice. It means I can put off delving below the surface where monsters lurk.”
“I disagree.”
She lifted a brow at him, her lower lip twisted beneath a row of white teeth. Then she gave a ragged laugh. “You also disagree that I’m partly responsible for the ghastly state of Evelyn’s marriage, but it’s no less true.”
“You seem more upset about Evelyn’s marriage than she is.”
“Reserve your judgement until you know her better.”
He’d already judged Evelyn from a hundred different angles and liked each and every one.
“I like her just fine right now,” he drawled, relieved to divert his thoughts to a safer passion and feel the welcome tug of desire for a woman that could, and—given the trail of hints she’d scattered his way—would, be his for the taking.
Lily opened her mouth, then closed it abruptly without pursuing the subject. One hand drifted from the table to her lap, revealing part of a charcoal sketch that covered the page on which the notebook lay open.
He leaned forward to get a closer look. The likeness to Lady Ostrich was striking. “You have an artist’s eye for detail and the talent to do it justice.”
“My mother ensured I had a fine education,” she said with a trace of bitterness, flipping the notebook shut. “I can stitch, draw, dance and engage in witty banter or political debate, depending on the mood. I play the pianoforte and can even hold a tune if called upon. All sterling accomplishments and all worth absolutely…nothing…” Her voice trailed off and her gaze went over his shoulder, her finger tracing a random pattern on the leather cover of the notebook. Her eyes snapped back to him. “Was she a witch? My mother, I mean. Was my mother a witch?”
Greyston almost laughed aloud. But she had a serious look in her eye, in the set of her chin, and hell, maybe she was right. Maybe the whole lot of them were witches and warlocks, druids or some other creature he couldn’t even imagine. He’d given up trying to put reason to the madness long ago. “Do you think such things are real?”
“I didn’t think it possible to hurl a man across a room
with the crook of a finger or rewind time on a whim, yet that didn’t stop it from being real.” She mangled that lower lip with her teeth again—a recently formed nervous habit? “If all this extraordinariness ties back to Castle Cragloden, and it seems it must, then my connection is through my mother.”
“You have that the wrong way round. It is your mother who is connected through you to Cragloden and Duncan McAllister.”
A spark of cognition lit behind her eyes. She’d just recalled a forgotten memory, reached a new conclusion…or he’d just stumbled on a truth she’d been hiding from the start.
The time for dilly-dallying around each other’s trust was long gone and he was prepared to lower the first barrier.
“My father sent me away to Cragloden Castle the day I turned fifteen.” Without explanation and with very little regret on both sides, not even when Greyston had thought Cragloden must be a workhouse for unworthy vermin. His one reason for staying had also become a pressing reason to leave. His brother Arogan, older by three years, had suddenly become more aggressive in his defence of Greyston. Unnecessarily. How often hadn’t he wished his father would strike him, give Neco cause to knock the old man to the ground? But his father had never posed a physical risk and Greyston had hardened himself to emotional attack from an early age.
“Was Cragloden an academic institution?” asked Lily.
Greyston shook his head.
“Did your father say why you were being sent there?” she pressed.
The only words his father had ever had for him was abuse shouted in a drunken rage. Which had been preferable to the times when the haggard man would sit across the table in silence, staring at Greyston with hate and accusation in those sunken eyes.
“The first I heard of Castle Cragloden was when my father called the direction out to the driver.” Before she could voice the question furrowing her brow, he moved the story along. “To my amazement, McAllister welcomed us as guests.”
A Matter of Circumstance and Celludrones (Dark Matters) Page 8