Deceiving the Bandit Lord

by Elle Clouse

  Aisling placed another log on the fire and smiled when she heard no more protest. A quick glance at her sleeping nanny and she let herself out. Almost noon and she was stir crazy, besides her goal was to make herself undesirable enough that Declan wouldn’t want her. She needed a certain Brogan Fletcher for that.

  Down the stairs and past the dining hall, Aisling found the kitchen.

  “Excuse me, my lady,” a young woman stuttered as she glanced up at Aisling from washing dishes. She wore a simple smock and apron with all her hair shoved under a tight fitting bonnet. She dried her hands on her apron and awkwardly curtsied. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “Where is Lord Armanta?”

  “I don’t know, my lady.” The woman’s nostrils flared then she cast her gaze down to Aisling’s feet and fidgeted.

  “What is your name? I thought I met the entire staff last night at dinner.”

  “Corinna Patrick, my lady, the new cook.”

  “Is today your first day, Corinna?”

  “Aye, my lady.” Corinna’s eyes darted between the side cabinets and the fire then back again.

  “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

  “Thank you ma’am. I mean, my lady.” Corinna bit her bottom lip and fussed with the hem of her apron. She looked like a scared rabbit ready to bolt.

  “Is this your first assignment too?” Aisling couldn’t watch the woman fidget anymore and walked to the kettle over the cook fire. “Is this old coffee?”

  “Aye. To both.”

  Aisling scrunched her nose then walked to the kitchen window. “I’m Miss Murphy but call me Aisling. We are bound to be snowed in together for quite a while. Looks like another storm is blowing in.”

  “Aye.”

  Aisling gazed at the woman, she wouldn’t make eye contact. “Is there something wrong?”

  She shook her head.

  “If you insist, I was trying to be friendly. Didn’t mean to offend.”

  “Oh no, I’m not... It’s...”

  Aisling turned to the woman and leaned against the counter, her hand folded on lap. Their eyes met and she nodded, glancing around the empty kitchen.

  She whispered: “I’ve never met a wolfkin outside my pack.”

  “Your pack? Wolfkin?” Ailsing squeaked. She’d only told Connor and he was miles away. She lowered her voice. “I’m not. How? How do you know?”

  Corinna stood up tall. “I’m wolfkin too. Can’t you scent me?”

  “Gods no, I can’t smell you. Why on earth would I do that?”

  “It’s not on purpose, we can always find our own.”

  “It’s not something I talk about.” Aisling crossed her arms.

  “Aye, my pa said we’d be locked up if we told outsiders. They don’t understand. But we are the last to stay on as farmers here, the Raffertys too. The rest abandoned these ways and live in the Wylderlands.”

  Aisling always heard stories of wolfkin in the forest but never believed them. Her brother and Lachlan were the only wolfkin she knew, and now Corinna, if she told the truth. It would make sense to stay out of society if it meant imprisonment.

  “Why did your family stay?”

  “We are people too. Pa says we need to find a balance between the two and not shun either side of ourselves.”

  “Your father sounds like a wise man.” Ailsing couldn’t help think about her mother and how her father cast her out for being a wolfkin.

  “It hasn’t been easy, even those among the pack don’t agree with our choice. Pa hopes with the new lord, the pack will leave us alone and let us live our lives. Maybe with the new king and Lord Armanta’s connections we can get some protection.”

  “So you are an outcast among your own people.” Aisling sighed.

  The outside door opened and Glenn stepped in, his arms full of logs. He nodded to them briefly before depositing part of his load beside the cook fire, then passed through to the great hall.

  Aisling locked eyes with Corinna and pressed her finger to her closed lips for silence. Corinna nodded.

  “Have you seen my brothers, the Lords Bowen, Shane or Niall?”

  “Aye, my lady.” Corinna relaxed her shoulders and faintly smiled. Corinna motioned out the door the steward had just entered. “They are working on the stables with the guardsmen.”

  Aisling frowned, her cloak was in her room and she didn’t dare wake Miss Cotton to retrieve it. She peaked out the window again and spotted all five guardsmen, and her brothers, standing beside the structure, taking orders from a new face. The barn was gutted down to the rafters. Aisling didn’t think she’d ever see her brothers work together but they each held a bundle of roof thatch and nodded as the foreman spoke and gestured to the roof. It was nice to see rank thrown aside to get the task done. But no Brogan.

  Corinna returned to her dishes, the gentle clank of plates and water sloshing brought Aisling’s attention back to the kitchen. The counters were clear, a collection of jars sat on the island counter.

  Glenn returned after moment, his arms free and he properly bowed. “Lady Murphy, how may I serve you?”

  “Where is our host this afternoon?”

  “Alas, the lord overexerted himself this morning and is resting. I’m sure he’ll be about for the evening meal. In the meantime, how may I assist?”

  She held her hands out, palms up. “It appears my brothers have made themselves useful and I find my hands idle.”

  Glenn tilted his head to the side and raised his brows in questioning.

  “Is there any task I perform? Any chore I can do?”

  Corinna dropped a plate back into her dishwater with a loud splash. Both Glenn and Corinna glanced at her; she recovered her plate and kept her mouth shut.

  “Are your rooms not adequate?” Glenn asked after a moment. “There are several great volumes on history on the shelves there and I can find you a deck of playing cards if you require.”

  “I’m not going sit around reading or gaming while there’s work to be done. Surely there is something I can do? Nothing like raising a barn, mind you, but something helpful.”

  Glenn thought for a long moment. “Heavy curtains. Many of the curtains are in need of repair. They would keep the evening chill at bay.”

  “I can mend curtains.” Mending curtains wasn’t what she had in mind but it was something to do. She could knit lace and embroider silk, surely she could make short work of curtains. With the lord resting, the hunt was probably postponed. Aisling was surprised he agreed to take her and looked forward to it.

  Glenn nodded and turned. Aisling followed after him down the hall. He stopped at a door midway down and pushed it open. Beyond was a sewing studio but long neglected. Bolts of fabric lined the far wall, covered in dust. The armoire on the left side stood ajar revealing scissors, needles and thread. An old dress form mannequin lurked in the corner with a partially sewn dress draped over it. Windows allowed light in and a small potbellied stove sat in the other corner. Atop sat an old ceramic kettle.

  “I can bring what you need to your chambers.”

  Cold air from the room rush past her, sending a shiver down her spine.

  “Can’t we light the stove? Seems silly to move everything upstairs.”

  “I don’t know if the stove has a clear chimney. I don’t dare light it until someone has a chance to look at it. It’s not an area I know anything about.”

  Aisling frowned. She did not want to be holed up in her room. Miss Cotton was quite the needy child when ill.

  “Perhaps the main hall?” Central, warm, and a good view of the manor. If Brogan roused before the evening meal, she’d know. She looked forward to seeing him again.

  Glenn nodded and plucked a basket from a corner, threw in items from the armoire and handed the basket to her. He picked up a pile of heavy folded curtains and exited the room, awkwardly closing the door behind him.

  Aisling followed him back to the main hall. They passed through the kitchen where Corinna kneaded dough.

 
Glenn set the pile of curtains on one of the wooden benches and she sat beside them. She could still smell the cold and must on them, hopefully she wouldn’t be asked to launder them once repaired.

  “Shall I bring you some tea?”

  She shook her head. “No thank you.”

  Glenn bowed and left her to the curtains. She felt the material and picked up the thimbles from the basket. The fabric was thick and layered; great for keeping cold out but rough on the sewing fingers.

  BROGAN WOKE WITH A jolt and sat up. The servant room was empty and he didn’t remember crawling onto his cot to sleep. Repairing the hot house windows has been taxing. He last recalled Ardhor say he should stop working. He ran a hand over his face to rub away the fatigue behind his eyes.

  Outside men shouted and the clap of hammers on wood sounded at a regular pace. The stable repair. He had promised to help.

  Brogan stood and braced himself against the wall as a wave of vertigo hit him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, waiting for it to pass. Maybe he should have listed when Ardhor said to take it easy.

  He shuffled down the servant hall into the kitchen. Corinna sat at the center prep table tying herbs into bundles. Behind her above the hearth hung similar bouquets to dry.

  “Is there any more of that coffee left?”

  Corinna looked up, her eyes wide, then shook her head. “Sorry my Lord. Glenn dumped it out an hour ago. I can make you some more?”

  “No, it’s fine. I’ll manage.” In all their cleaning and sorting of the manor, Brogan never saw a clock. He had no idea how late it was. A quick glance out the kitchen window and he saw the stable with its new roof. The men were boarding up the walls and Phelan stood ready with plaster to fill the holes.

  “My Lord, Lady Murphy asked about you earlier. She’s in the great hall.”

  Abandoning the idea of helping with the build, Brogan turned from the window. Aisling’s company was more desirable anyway. He found the her buried under a pile of fabric with thimbles on her fingers and a scowl on her face.

  “Miss Aisling.”

  She looked up and smiled. “Brogan.”

  “What in the world are you doing?”

  “I made the mistake of asking your steward for a task. Go ahead and fold those there will you please?” She pointed to a pile of fabric pieces thrown to the side of her bench.

  “Are these curtains?” He held up a panel then brought the corners together, folded it and set it on the opposite bench.

  “Yeah, I thought the task simple enough but the fabric is doubled up and hard to get through.” She held up her hand and wiggled her thimble covered fingers.

  Brogan folded the finished curtains then grabbed the last of fabric panels for himself. He plucked what he needed from the sewing basket. He glanced up after threading the needle and caught Aisling staring.

  “Where did you learn to sew?”

  “My aunt. She always said work was work no matter who did it or what the task was.” He popped on a thimble and applied the needle to the doubled layered fabric. His hand ached from forcing the needle through several passes. Similar to the glass from earlier, he willed the needle through the stitches. The thread slipped through without much resistance but fatigued washed over him as he worked. Too soon from his lessons that morning.

  He glanced up. Aisling had returned her attention to her work. Ardhor’s comments about magic being noisy concerned him. If people could sense his ability that might bring more problems than he wanted. The king coronation already shone a beacon on Cearbhall as a place where magic lingered.

  “Where is Miss Cotton?” He hadn’t seen the nanny all day and Aisling was never left alone during her time at Cearbhall. Or perhaps Brogan was never left alone with Aisling, he couldn’t be sure.

  “Miss Cotton is resting.” She smiled up at him, her green eyes holding his gaze.

  “Good.” Brogan mumbled as if dazed, then he closed his eyes a moment. He had to think of her reputation, this wasn’t one of his cons. “I mean, is she well? You shouldn’t be without a companion...”

  “Am I not safe with you, Lord Armanta?” She tilted her head to the side with a pert smile. “Kiera said you minded her sensibilities while in Cearbhall.”

  “Kiera minds her own just fine.” He laughed then caught himself. “That’s not to say—“

  Aisling reached out and touched his arm to silence him. “I mind mine just fine too. To be honest, I am sick of having a nanny and a companion and a chaperone all the time. It’s as if I’m not trusted to make the right decision. Or any decision. At all.”

  Brogan covered her hand with his own, capturing it over his arm. “I understand. I didn’t mean to imply. I should know better after life with Kiera. Now I see why you two made fast friends.”

  “You should know that Kiera only spoke well of you in court. Cursed you under her breath the whole time too.”

  Brogan laughed. “I hope you didn’t believe too much of the nonsense.”

  “Well, my cousin revealed himself as a wolfkin to save her and his brothers tried to destroy the castle with all of us inside... It doesn’t sound like nonsense compared to that.”

  “I suppose not.” He rubbed his thumb over the soft skin of her hand and she sighed. “You’ll have to tell me what she said.”

  Aisling snickered and pulled her hand free. “Maybe another time, Lord Armanta.”

  His stomach rumbled and she giggled.

  “Perhaps dinner will be served soon?” He mentally added acquiring a clock to the list of things the manor needed.

  “Yes. I’m famished.” She tied off the thread and nipped the string off between her teeth. Dropping the needle and spindle back into the basket, she hastily folded the last curtain. She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet, his curtain thrown on top of the pile in a wad. She tugged him toward the kitchen.

  Glenn glanced up from kneading more dough. His gaze dashed between the two, arm in arm.

  “The curtains are done and sitting on the bench in the main hall.”

  “Thank you.” He nodded and averted his eyes.

  Corinna beside him smiled between slicing some tubers. More vegetables for the soup pot.

  Aisling stepped to the window, leaving his arm a tingle.

  “They look about finished, perhaps we can make them some spiced hot cider or cocoa?”

  “That would be splendid but we don’t have either.” Brogan spotted new jars and burlap sack on the counter and pointed. “Is this the care package from my cousin?”

  “Yes.”

  Canned fruit, jams, relishes, dried green peas, spices, jerky, and a sack of root vegetables. Kiera had thought of everything. It only took one winter in Hell’s Gate learn to hoard supplies.

  “There may be mulled wine in the cellar,” Glenn offered.

  “Oh, let’s look!” Aisling shook his arm, her eyes wide and a smile on her face. “Shouldn’t take more than a moment.”

  “Take a candle with you, there are no sconces or windows down there.”

  Chapter 5

  Aisling followed Brogan down a dark stairwell with a lantern held aloft. Cold and dark as a starless sky, the cellar was a large square room lined with aisles created by floor to ceiling wooden shelves. Each housed a multitude of bottles laid on their sides and covered in a thick blanket of dust.

  “I’ve never seen a wine collection so massive.” Brogan held the lantern high and examined the closest shelf, plucking a bottle from a pile and blowing off the dust. He squinted at the label.

  “These all look to be white wine.” He moved onto the next rack and inspected a bottle. “Here are some reds, now to find something spiced.”

  Aisling stepped close to him to look over his shoulder. He stiffened and stepped away. She loved the heat that rolled off him. Something about his presence made her feel safe for the first time in years.

  Even with a proper chaperone, Aisling never felt comfortable in her own skin and a smirk from Brogan made her feel at home. Could he l
ove a wolfkin? She shook her head, she wasn’t here for a husband; she was here to avoid one.

  “This should do.” Brogan plucked two bottles from the shelf. He handed them to her and grabbed two more. “Let’s return before we are missed too much.”

  He searched her face and waited.

  She nodded and turned toward the light from the kitchen. A lessor man would take advantage of her. She was the king’s cousin, a wealthy titled woman. A power hungry man would seize the opportunity.

  Aisling glanced back at Brogan. His gaze snapped up and he smiled, his cheeks burning. He was interested but keeping his distance. She looked forward and smiled.

  “Hang on a moment.”

  She stopped before the stair and turned. Brogan disappeared down an aisle then returned.

  “I thought I saw something, but just a shadow.” He shrugged then motioned her up the stairs.

  She stepped up but she slipped on the stair. Her balance shifted and she fell forward, dropping the wine bottles to brace herself. “Uh oh!”

  The bottles clanked against the stone floor but did not shatter. Brogan appeared beside her, his hands holding her waist as she tried to right herself.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Yes.” She looked up, his blue eyes meeting hers and her heart raced. “Just clumsy.”

  He pulled her to her feet but held her hand.

  “I’m fine Brogan, I promise.”

  He sighed and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her cheeks burned and she grinned. Then he took back his hand like he had touched a hot pan and stepped back.

  “I can’t have the King’s cousin getting injured in my care.” He retrieved the bottles from the floor. He nodded up the kitchen with all four bottles in his hands. “My lady?”

  He followed her up the stairs and set their bottles of spiced wine on the countertop.

  “I’ll let the men know they can call it a night.” Brogan set his hand on her shoulder as he spoke, the breath from his words tickling her ear. Her temperature spiked.

  She turned to him but he had released her and stepped outside. The door clicked closed behind him.

  “So how do I warm this up then?” She tapped the glass with her fingernail.