by Hazel Hunter
“Okay. Let’s mark trees.”
It took another hour to find enough mature elms for the project, and toward the end the guard actually located an ash tree deep in the woods. The tree had recently died, probably from a lightning strike, judging by the black burned streak bisecting the trunk.
“We can steam this wood to curve it into new wheel rims,” Rowan said as she marked it. Since she had no further use for the blade, she handed it back to Ochd. “That’s all we need.”
Ochd nodded and accompanied her out of the forest. In the mill yard several guards were leading some horses to a trough, which Tri was filling with a bucket.
They always made the stupid one carry the water, Rowan thought. She couldn’t help letting out a short laugh as the scar-faced guard lost his balance and fell into the trough. The other guards quickly backed away to avoid Tri’s splashing efforts to right himself.
“You need to get Hendry to fix him,” Rowan muttered to Ochd.
“Naught can do that.” The guard sounded impassive, but his new face grimaced.
Finally pushing himself out of the trough, the scar-faced guard grinned down at himself. “Tri wet. Tri like better than burnt.”
He didn’t like it for long. Huge tumors began bulging all over the guard’s scarred face and neck, extruding into pear-shaped knots that rapidly swelled and began falling off his body.
Rowan remembered the horrific whipping she’d taken from Murdina, and how Ochd had held her against the post for the duration. She’d tried to keep silent during the lashing, but she couldn’t stop the tears of agony from running down her face. When one had plopped on Ochd’s palm, a twig had sprouted from it. He’d even told her to bite it to keep from screaming.
Water did something to them that they didn’t like.
“Go see Aon,” Dha shouted at Tri, who swatted at the pears hanging under his chin as he lumbered toward the back of the mill.
The rest of the guards retreated from the trough and the puddles around it. Three led the obviously-thirsty horses back toward the stables.
Rowan thought for a moment. She’d never seen any of the guards go near water. Even in the granary they stayed far away from their drinking and bathing buckets, which Hendry always carried in.
Water is their weakness.
Chapter Six
LILY FELT CADEYRN roll away from her and braced herself for what was to come. When the bed creaked, she opened her eyes to watch him move to stand by the door. He seemed to be listening for sounds from the passage. Why was he turning his back on her when he thought she worked for the druids? She wanted to ask, but the consequences of what she’d done were finally settling in. It took all her attention to hold back the shakes and tears. Closing her eyes, she thought of the last time she’d felt this wretched.
Back in London, on the day she’d left her father’s house.
Lily had waited until she’d taken her bag out to the cab she’d called before she went into her father’s library. She could have left her keys with the housekeeper, but that felt cowardly. The therapist she’d been secretly seeing for more than a year had advised her to begin her new life by leaving all the family’s dirty linen with her father.
The library smelled of old leather, older books, and brandy-soaked dried apricots, Edgar Stover’s favorite snack. A pile of the dark, withered fruit sat in a crystal bowl on his large, immaculate desk. Behind his custom-designed executive chair hung a painting of Charlotte, Lily’s dead mother. Her father hadn’t looked up from his copy of The Daily Telegraph.
“I see you’re determined to continue this farce,” he said.
Edgar’s bulk always seemed to grow larger with every moment Lily looked at him, but at twelve stone the epicure dwarfed most men. Although he sounded calm, she could see the redness flagging his round cheeks, and the slight quiver of his double chin. He never showed this side of his temper in public, or someone might have meddled. Convincing the world that he was an elegant, refined gent meant a great deal to Lily’s father. He went to a great deal of trouble to perpetuate that façade.
“I must report for duty in an hour.” She’d never again have to cower in front of him, and the thought dispelled her own shakes. “There’s a great deal of work to be done before the passengers arrive. We sail tomorrow at noon.”
He snapped down the upper half of his newspaper. “I suppose as your current employer I should have the honor of firing you. I believe I will, for theft, and I’ll inform your—What is it called again? Cruise line?—that you’re not to be trusted.”
“Oh, dear, my letter must have gone astray. I officially resigned as your sous-chef last week.” She tossed the letter onto his desk. “I also mailed copies to the cruise line and my new supervisor.”
Her father chuckled. “Do you imagine that they’ll take your word over mine? I own the best restaurants in London. You’re a glorified scullery maid.”
“I included a copy of the video from the last time you treated me like one.” She rolled up her sleeve to show him the results. “My new boss is an executive chef. He’ll recognize the mark and how I got it.”
Edgar’s brow lowered. “Codswallop. You got in my way that night.”
“I was on the other side of the kitchen when you began screaming at me for using dill instead of tarragon for your quail.” She nodded at the envelope. “I thought your memory might be spotty, so I included a copy of the video for you. You really should have checked the security cameras before you got cross, Daddy.”
He peered at the envelope and then her. “You planned all this, didn’t you? You switched the cameras on early that night, and then deliberately provoked me.”
She had no qualms about admitting her part. “I’m well aware of how much you despise dill with game birds. I made sure to add lots, just in case you’d drunk too many cocktails before eating. According to your last article for Fine Cooking, alcohol does so dull the palate.”
His eyes turned to dark crescents. “I’ll make it my business to ruin you. You won’t get a job frying fish and chips in Brixton.”
“I’m never coming back to England.” As he lumbered to his feet she played her final card and pulled the boning knife out of her sleeve. “Lay a finger on me, Edgar, and you’ll dearly regret it.”
Though he came up on his toes and leaned forward, he stopped, eyes on the blade. His mouth twisted in a cruel curve.
“How like your mother you are,” he sneered. “Weak. Go on then, just leave.”
“Mummy committed suicide after taking years of your shite,” she snapped. “You only waited a few months after the funeral before you started in on me. You forced me to become a chef. You wouldn’t let me work anywhere but your restaurants. You’ve kept me locked up in this bleeding mansion for years, and even that wasn’t enough to please you. Well, I got help, Daddy, and I’m not going to hang myself. I’m going to live, far from here, away from you.”
Turning her back on him had been a terrible risk, but Lily couldn’t look at him anymore. He followed her out into the hall, where he stood watching her walk to the front entry.
“If you go, we’re finished,” Edgar had roared after her. “Shag your way across the Atlantic, you scheming little slut, but you’ll get nothing again from me.”
“Please, God, yes.” She yanked open the door and stepped outside to her first moment of freedom in twenty-six years. London’s gloomy charcoal sky had actually looked beautiful.
Lily opened her eyes to see the rough beams of the ceiling over the bed. She’d fallen asleep, and when she looked for Cadeyrn she saw him sitting by the bed with his eyes closed. His streaked dark hair, so unlike hers, framed his handsome, clever face. His mouth had relaxed from a hard, grim line to a sensual fullness. When he slept he looked tantalizing, like a lover waiting for his lady to wake him with a kiss.
He might have been her lover, if she hadn’t cocked up everything.
She’d never regret what she’d done to get away from Edgar, Lily thought, but she wished she
had been honest from the start with the Scotsman. She’d been so afraid that if she had told him the truth, he wouldn’t have come back with her to rescue the others. She hadn’t even given Cade a chance.
Or maybe I’m just as manipulative as Edgar, Lily thought tiredly. Not that it mattered anymore. Once the big Scottish warrior decided on a plan, he’d throttle her and that would be her end. At least she’d gotten away from her father for a few months. The only part she hated was that Edgar would assume after she’d gone missing in her time that it was because of the solicitor’s letter. Her father would go to his grave thinking she’d jumped off the ship in despair over him.
At least she’d have the kiss with Cadeyrn to take with her into the unknown. Lily could still taste him on her lips, as heady as champagne and twice as intoxicating. She’d never had any relationships. Edgar had scared off the boys in school who had taken a fancy to her. But she’d had one lovely, lusty affair with a Norwegian helmsman. That had ended when he’d taken a job on another ship. He’d even asked her to put in for a transfer, but she’d known she was too damaged for such a fun-loving bloke. Cade, now, he might have been her proper match.
“Lily.”
She looked over, flinching a little as she saw Cadeyrn kneeling by the bed. She tried not to look at his hands. “Sorry I fell asleep, mate. Treachery can be so exhausting. How long was I out?”
“All day.” He studied her face. “Why do you call me ‘mate’?”
“It’s what we call chaps we like in my time. It means friend. So does boyo, although that’s a bit cheekier.” Why would he let her sleep instead of killing her? Oh, he meant to leave her behind for the nutters. Hendry would make short work of her, unless he tossed her to Coig. “Ready to go, then?”
“No’ without you.” He reached down, giving the lock on her chains a sharp twist to the left. His eyes never left hers. “I dinnae trust you, but I’ll need your help. When we return to my clan, you’ll be judged by my chieftain.”
Lily’s throat tightened. He wouldn’t kill her, and that was the best thing that had happened since she’d been dragged back through time. No, kissing him was.
“What can I do?”
He didn’t answer, but his arm bulged, and he grunted as the sound of metal groaning and wood splintering came from the side of the bed.
“Allow me,” she said.
She pushed a small amount of her power at the lock and felt a prick of pain behind her right eye. He pulled up the chain, showing a broken link hanging from the end.
“You did this?”
Lily nodded. “I can move things with my thoughts. I made one link come apart.”
“You can do this to anything?” When she nodded his expression grew grim. “Why didnae you use it on the famhairean to escape?”
“I did, at the forest farm, to help Althea.” She considered telling him about the after effects, but so far the discomfort had been manageable. “It winks out on me if I use it too much or too often. After the battle I could barely roll a pebble for days.” And she’d had a gusher of a nosebleed that it had taken Emeline an hour to stop.
“Then dinnae use it,” Cadeyrn said flatly. “Until we reckon how to escape, we let them believe I’ve fallen for your scheme.”
So, he was going along with it. Relief made her voice shake a bit as she said, “We still need a plan, and I have to get word to the others, so they’ll be ready.”
His eyes narrowed. “You cannae help them if you’re dead.”
“There are other ways, boyo– I mean, Cade.” She bit her lip as she rose from the bed, and reached under it to take out the dagger she’d stolen from him. “Sorry. I slipped this from your belt after we came through the portal.”
Cadeyrn’s jaw tightened. “How many famhairean did the druids bring here?”
“All of them, about fifty, I think.” She handed him the dagger, which he tucked in his sleeve. “Hendry keeps guards outside on all the doors at night, but there’s a window in the kitchen that looks out on the garden. We can use that to get out and back in.”
He thought for a long moment. “I cannae risk being caught outside. The famhairean will ken you have betrayed their masters and kill us both.”
“Then I’ll go alone.” She sat up, gingerly easing up her leg to examine the shackle, which still had a short length of chain attached to it. Carefully she wove the links around the cuff. “They’ll make noise,” she explained. “Now how do we get out of this mess, and what do I tell the other women?”
Before he could reply the sound of heavy footsteps came from the outer passage.
“Quickly,” Cadeyrn said.
She latched her shackle to the broken chain, and moved over so he could join her on the bed. She straddled him to push his hands up to the head board, and hooked them in place just as the door opened.
Lily bent down. “I’m sorry about this,” she whispered by his ear. “But we have to make them believe I’m seducing you.”
Cadeyrn tensed under her. “Then kiss me again.”
Lily cradled his face between her palms and covered his mouth with hers. She shifted down so she could lay atop him, her thighs pressed against the outside of his. He went erect against her, so hard and so fast it made her gasp against his lips. Then a shadow fell over them, and she turned her head to look up at the guard. It was Ochd, and he was staring at them both with an odd intensity.
“What do you want?” Lily demanded, trying her best to sound cross. “We’re busy.”
“I bring food.” He dropped a loaf and a wedge of cheese on the bed. “What do you to him?”
“I’m thanking him for not being a complete arse, like you lot,” she snapped. “Now if you could please sod off?”
“You thank with mouth-on-mouth…kissing?” Ochd asked her, reaching as if to touch her face.
Lily swatted his hand away. “I’m not thanking you for anything, you ruddy wazzock. You’ve barely brought enough food for him. Get out.”
The guard scowled, but shuffled back and left.
She waited until Ochd bolted the door before she pushed herself up. “We’ll have to do more of that if we’re to make them think we’re shagging. Sorry, I mean–”
“I ken what you mean. Dinnae be sorry.” He watched the door for another moment before he asked, “Do you ever speak to the famhairean with such contempt?”
“More or less. I’ve gotten beaten for it, but it was worth the bruises.” The warm rush of his breath on her face made her want to hold onto him. But more than anything she wanted to lose herself in his gorgeous golden eyes, the ones that had helped her keep her sanity. Instead she climbed off and took down his manacles before she collected the food. “Here, you must be hungry.”
“Aye, but no’ for that.” He got off the bed. “Tell me about the other lasses they’ve taken, and what powers they possess.”
“There’s a Scottish nurse named Emeline, and two Americans, Rowan and Perrin. They’re sisters.” She described them briefly before she said, “Emeline has been doctoring us, and she’s very good at calming hot tempers. I think she can influence feelings. Rowan has a scorching temper, but she’s very strong, likely because she’s a carpenter. Her power is a bit like mine. She can change the shapes of wood. Perrin is a dancer, but she’s been under the weather…ah, sickly. She has visions of things before they happen. She saw me finding you by the river.”
Cadeyrn nodded. “Did she see us escape?”
“No.” Lily grimaced. “She can’t control her visions at all. They simply pop into her head whenever they like. She’s become very frail, so we’ve tried to protect her from them.” She caught the shift in his expression. “What is it?”
“The famhairean despise all humans, but they serve the mad druids. ’Twas their tribe that first created them. They’ll do much to protect Hendry and Murdina—and that we can use. But we’ll need time, mayhap a day.” He used his dagger to divide the cheese and bread, and put half in her hands. “Eat.”
Lily had no app
etite, but she dutifully pinched off a piece to chew. Broken bits of grain studded the stale bread, and the cheese proved almost as hard. But sitting and eating with Cadeyrn made her feel a strange rush of emotion. She didn’t understand it. Being close to him made her feel safe, and she’d never felt that way around the opposite sex.
“Tell me your thoughts,” he said suddenly.
She could have said anything, but the truth suddenly came out of her. “I’m glad you didn’t kill me, as I haven’t had a lot of luck with men. I don’t trust them.”
“Before Althea came to the clan, I’d never spoken to a woman.” Lily blinked at him, but he got up and went to the door to peer through the narrow gap by the hinges. “They’ve put out the lights.”
“Stay on the bed while I’m gone,” Lily told him, mounding the blanket over his tartan to make it look as if she lay beside him. When she reached for his shackles to help arrange them, he caught her hand in his.
“If you’re caught, run for the portal. My clan shall find you.” Before she could argue he shook his head. “If you dinnae return I’ll free the other lasses and follow.”
He’d be torn apart or beaten to death before he reached the granary, Lily thought, and he knew it. “I’m not leaving anyone behind here. We go together, or not at all.”
His expression darkened. “You’d wager your life on that?”
“I have already, mate. Twice.”
She went to the door, and used her power to lift the bolt bar, catching it as she stepped through and easing it back into place. The needle of pain behind her eye expanded into a throbbing knot, and her vision blurred. Blinking until it passed, Lily tread silently down the passage and looked into the empty kitchen. Getting through the window without making a sound took several tense minutes. She dropped down into the garden, landing on a patch of snow-covered earth that crunched beneath her ruined shoes. The soles split and flopped as she tried to walk.
I’m not going to die because of bloody useless shoes.