by Sarah Hegger
“We need to tell Roderick what he said about Rhiannon being after you.” Niamh winced and sent them careening around a corner. “He’s not going to be happy about any of this. I kind of understood before, but I really get why now.”
“Roderick must have known who Alexander was all along.”
Niamh ground the gears as she accelerated around the green. “Of course he did. That’s why he got so rabid about us not having anything to do with him.”
“It also explains why Alexander was part of the cavern massacre.” Speaking her thoughts aloud scraped Bronwyn raw and she wanted to weep. “Alexander does whatever his mother tells him to do.”
They didn’t need to go looking for Roderick when they got back to Baile. He stood outside the kitchen, arms crossed, wearing an expression so similar to Alexander’s that at any other time it would make her laugh.
He waited for Niamh to turn off the engine and approached the Landy like he meant to beat the shit out of it.
“We’re sorry.” Niamh hopped out first.
Feeling like a coward, Bronwyn climbed out and went to stand behind her. Roderick was just a guy, a bossy one who looked good and mad, but still flesh and bone. Maybe.
“You left the castle.” He folded his arms and glared down his nose at them.
Feeling a bit like being in the principal’s office, Bronwyn tried to pull herself together. “We only went for a quick trip to Tesco.”
“Who is Tesco?”
Niamh snort laughed, caught Roderick’s blistering lack of amusement and sobered. “It’s a shop. A food shop. For buying food. We were gone less than five minutes.”
“Baile provides.” Roderick said. “You do not leave this castle like that again.”
“It was a mistake.” Niamh gave him her sultry smile. “We’re sorry, Roderick.” She put her hand on his chest. “We understand now and it won’t happen again.”
Unlike Denis at the fairground or poor deluded Neil, Niamh’s smile bounced right off Roderick and he continued to glower. “You do not leave the safety of the wards on your own.”
“Look, we know you’re upset.” Niamh dropped the charm routine and went with calm reason. “And you have every right to be. We should never have left, but Bronwyn’s had a bit of a shock and could we deal with that first?”
“What has happened?” Roderick pinned Bronwyn with a glacial blue stare. “Are you hurt?”
Nowhere that showed she wasn’t. “I’m…fine.”
“Is she?” Roderick looked at Niamh.
With an apologetic glance at her, Niamh shook her head. “No, she’s not. We just found out Alexander is Rhiannon’s son.”
“How?” He pinned Niamh with that stare.
Some still functioning part of Bronwyn wanted to kick against his authoritarian attitude, and had she been less shaken by Alexander’s revelations she might have. Maybe. Roderick was kind of intimidating.
“Ummm…” Niamh cleared her throat.
“Blessed.” His voice rumbled through his broad chest. “I am responsible for your wellbeing and continued existence. We cannot afford to lose one witch. I need the truth.”
Niamh squared her shoulders. “We ran into Alexander while we were out. It was a total accident—”
“You ran into Alexander?” The way Roderick said his name made Bronwyn’s nape prickle. She thought he was angry before; now he was livid. His complete stillness radiated fury from every large, muscular inch of him. “Where?”
“Tesco.” Niamh took a step back, caught herself and bellied up again. “Near the cauliflower.”
“Florets not whole cauliflowers,” Bronwyn clarified.
“I made it plain that Alexander is not a friend and you should stay away from him.” Roderick spoke in the sort of forced calm you would use on a child you found poised to attempt free flight off the roof. “He kills witches and enjoys it.”
“I think him not being a friend is a bit of a massive understatement.” Niamh scrubbed her face with her palms. “You could have said he was her son.”
Roderick opened his mouth, shut it and nodded. “You are right. I am not always clear on what you witches do and do not know.” He grimaced. “Or how much to divulge all at once.”
“This is all so confusing.” Niamh’s voice wobbled and Bronwyn saw a touch of her confusion and upset reflected in Niamh’s eyes. “I’ve always liked Alexander. He was lovely and so nice to us, and funny and charming.” Tears dribbled down Niamh’s cheeks. Her dogs appeared from the kitchen and surrounded her, pressing against her legs. “Now I find out he’s her son, and he’s ancient. Like ancient like you’re ancient.” She crouched down in the center of her pack and drew strength from them. “And you say he was here that day, and killed all those witches, but he’s never hurt any of us. In fact, he’s always gone out of his way to be nice to us. And right now, in Tesco. He yelled at us to get behind the wards and to stay away from his mother. Why would he do that if he wanted us dead?”
Roderick’s tone gentled and he crouched in front of Niamh. “What did he say?”
“He said I was in danger, and he was most specific about it being me.” Bronwyn found her voice. “He says Rhiannon wants me, real bad, and I won’t like what she wants, and when she’s done with me, she’ll get rid of me. Then she’s coming after the others. He told me, more like ordered me, to stay behind Baile’s wards.” She risked poking the bear. “I’m as confused as Niamh and then there’s this insane pro—”
“The prophecy.” Maeve took the word out of her mouth as she came through the kitchen door and stood beside Roderick. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“You know about that?” And she’d been scared to bring it up in front of Roderick, but if Maeve knew, Bronwyn would bet her life Roderick knew too.
Niamh glanced from one to the other of them. “What prophecy?”
Bronwyn was going to let the oldies do what they should have already done and tell the rest of the coven about the prophecy.
Roderick and Maeve glanced at each other, doing that communicating without words thing again. “How are you doing that?”
“Eh?” Roderick barely glanced at her.
“Speaking to each other.”
“We’re bonded,” Maeve blushed as she said it. “I can hear his thoughts, when he lets me, and feel what he feels. He can do the same with me.”
Bronwyn shared an ah-ha look with Niamh.
“Wait!” Niamh held up her hand like she was at school. “I could see inside Alexander a bit. Are we bonded?”
“Not!” Roderick grimaced. “But you’re a guardian, so you have an affinity to all creatures, including murdering whoresons who deserve running through with steel.”
Clearly, Roderick didn’t share their ambivalence about Alexander.
Chapter Sixteen
Four more days until she had to catch a plane home, and with all of them holding firm on the not leaving Baile thing, she had no idea how she was going to manage that. Bronwyn was also no clearer on whether she wanted to be on that plane back to the States or not. Actually, that was a lie. She wanted to stay, but she couldn’t drop her entire life in the States and shack up with a bunch of strange witches in England.
Or could she? Deidre would have been all for it. Perhaps Deidre had wanted this for her all along. Dee probably hadn’t known about the English witches, or else their family might have run for the safety of Baile before any of their avoidable deaths.
Her anger rose sharp and clear. The Beaty women didn’t have an unfortunate way of dying young at all. Instead they had a determined enemy trying to ensure they didn’t live. Well, she’d gotten her answers about why her family died young. Rhiannon had killed them, and now she wanted Bronwyn.
Last night she, Roderick, Maeve, and the Cray women had sat in the kitchen and dissected every word of Alexander’s. Well, Roderick had done the dissecting. The rest of them had provided information and eaten the excellent dinner Alannah had served. They’d also tried to stay out of Ro
derick’s pissed off arc. All except Sinead, who was determined to modernize his thinking.
A knock on her door brought her back to the present.
“Hi.” Alannah peered around the doorjamb. “Feel like joining a rescue mission?”
As opposed to sitting here and brooding? “Damn straight I do. Who are we rescuing?”
“Maeve.” Sinead put her head next to Alannah’s. When Sinead wasn’t wearing her habitual scowl, it was nearly impossible to tell them apart. “We’ve got to do something about that dress of hers.”
“I think it’s all she has.” Alannah looked crestfallen. “She wears it every day.”
Bronwyn hadn’t really given it much thought, and the distraction opportunity was more than welcome. “I guess she didn’t pack for the journey they undertook.”
“We should find something for Roderick too,” Sinead said. “But I can handle that.”
She looked delighted by the prospect, and Bronwyn had to laugh. “You’re going to torture him, aren’t you?”
“A wee bit.” Sinead smirked. “I mean, he could do with a bit of torturing, don’t you think?”
“Just a wee bit.” Bronwyn made a tiny gap with her thumb and forefinger. “All that medieval manliness does make me want to put him in his place.”
Alannah laughed. “Which is where exactly?” She motioned Bronwyn to join them. “He owns Baile, or as near to owning Baile as anyone can, and he was the first coimhdeacht. That makes him everybody’s…great great great grand-something.” She cocked her head. “Is he even related to any of us?”
“Probably.” Sinead looked struck by the idea. “I’m going to do a bit of digging through the library. There are lots of personal journals in there. Want to bet me I find Roderick manwhoring his way through quite a few of those?”
“Um…no.” Bronwyn had listened to what Hermione had said about Sir Roderick. Even though she had been talking about a mythical man at the time, there was probably still some smoke to the fire around Roderick and the women of Baile.
Alannah carried a large canvas tote with her as they walked down the corridor. “Maeve is a little shorter than us, but we can alter anything to fit her.”
“Hang on.” Bronwyn ran back to her room, grabbed a pair of jeans and rejoined them. She held up the jeans. “Something to add to the cause. From one short girl to another.”
Maeve answered their knock on her door and blinked at them. With her blond hair and blue eyes, she oozed Disney-fairy prettiness. “Hello. Is everything all right?”
“Yup.” Sinead held up a tote like Alannah’s. “We come bearing gifts.”
“Oh?” Maeve’s face lit with interest as she studied the bag.
Alannah gave Maeve her lovely, serene smile. “We thought your look could do with updating.”
“My look?” Maeve glanced from one to the other of them. “I’m not sure what that means.”
“Your dress.” Bronwyn didn’t want to cause offense. “We noticed you’re wearing the same one you were unfrozen in.”
Maeve’s face fell. “Yes. I need to make another, but with all that’s been happening—”
“You made that?” Sinead stared at her. “Like yourself?”
“Ye-e-es.” Maeve looked at Sinead as if one of them had lost their marbles and both of them knew who it was. “How else?”
“We buy our clothes now.” Bronwyn held up the jeans. “These are mine, but I have another pair like them that I prefer. Same size and style, but I just like them better than these.”
Alannah gaped at her. “Isn’t it amazing how that always happens?”
“No, it doesn’t.” Sinead shook her head at them. “It’s all in your min—”
“Those are breeches?” Maeve flushed as she stared at the jeans. “I’m not sure I dare.”
“Of course you do.” Sinead upended her bag on Maeve’s bed. “Now we have a few other things for you to choose from. If you can sew, that solves the problem of them being too big for you.”
Maeve approached the bed slowly. “Are all those for me?”
“The ones you like,” Alannah said. She blushed. “But first we need to deal with the…er…undies.”
Maeve looked confused for a second and then blushed alongside Alannah. “Oh.”
“This is a bra.” Sinead rooted around in Alannah’s bag and came up with a lilac lace bra. “Actually the full word is brassiere, but nobody uses that anymore. Niamh has those huge knockers, but we guesstimate you are a similar bra size to Alannah and me.”
Frowning, Maeve studied the bra. “There’s not much to it, is there?”
“How much more do you need?” Sinead turned the bra to her and studied it. “Boobs go in the cups and the straps hold them firm. You don’t need any more than that.”
“I suppose not.” Maeve kept her hands behind her back. “Is this what everyone wears as underthings now?”
“Well, these and knickers.”
“Knickers?”
“What Bronwyn calls panties.” Sinead hauled out a couple of packs of panties. “These have never been opened.” She tore a pair out the pack and held them up for Maeve.
Maeve stared and then giggled. “Those are tiny.”
“You’re tiny,” Sinead said. “And there will be no wearing of granny panties on my watch.”
“What?” Maeve wrinkled her nose and looked ridiculously adorable.
“Never mind.” Alannah came to her rescue. “Let’s get these on you first and see if everything fits. Then we can try some clothes.” She motioned the bed. “Anything catch your eye?”
Maeve swung to Bronwyn and pointed. “The breeches. I want to wear the breeches.”
The new witches all wore those breeches, and Maeve had been coveting them since she’d first seen them. They clung to a woman’s legs and bottom in a way that both scandalized and intrigued her. One would not have to worry about stepping on those, or trailing skirts through the mud. Even if they did leave your hidden parts exposed.
“We call these jeans,” Alannah said. “Nearly everyone wears them, because they’re so comfortable, and you can wear almost any top with them. It depends on what look you’re going for.” She handed the jeans to Maeve. “Of course, we’ll get you your own clothes, but these should do for now.”
First Maeve got into the underwear. The bra was simple enough, and Bronwyn did the fastenings for her. The panties were tiny and made her blush, but she wanted to get to those breeches, so she forged ahead.
The jeans fit. The fabric felt rough against her skin, but the jeans allowed her a surprising freedom of movement. She walked across the room, then back again taking longer strides.
“What do you think?” Bronwyn had a strange way of speaking that had taken Maeve a day or two to accustom herself to. “They look great on you.”
“Really?” She peered over her shoulder at her bottom. It appeared very round and very there. “Does everyone’s bottom stick out so far?”
Bronwyn laughed. “Did you just ask if your ass looks fat in those pants?”
Then Alannah and Sinead laughed as well, and Maeve found nothing funny in what she’d said.
“Sorry.” Bronwyn caught her expression and sobered. “It’s an old joke, and then the first thing you asked...” She waved a hand. “Never mind. We’ll get to all the stuff eventually.”
“You look gorgeous.” Alannah handed her what looked like a chemise with impossibly thin straps. It was covered in the prettiest little flowers, however, and Maeve liked how cheerful it was. “Try this on.”
“By itself?” The fabric was awfully thin, and in the right light, a person might see right through it.
“No.” Sinead pointed. “You wear the bra under it.”
“Or not.” Niamh slunk into the room. “If you’d like to drive Roderick out of his tiny, Cro-Magnon mind, you could wear it without.”
“Niamh.” Alannah giggled. “He’s not that bad.”
Sinead snorted. “No, he’s worse.” She turned to Maeve. “Is h
e always so bossy?”
“No.” The need to defend him roared through her, but the truth couldn’t be denied. “Well, yes, but he is the first coimhdeacht and that is—was—a position of considerable power.”
“Huh.” Sinead wore a crafty look on her face that augured ill for Roderick’s wellbeing.
It felt disloyal to say out loud that she was rather looking forward to Sinead taking on Roderick. It had been too long since Roderick’s authority had been challenged. These women might be her friends. They were already her coven sisters. The thought pushed her loneliness back far enough for her to draw a deep breath. It felt like the first true breath she’d drawn since she woke in that time.
The shirt fit loosely, but she did like the way her bare arms and shoulders looked. “It’s very daring for the daytime.”
“Sister.” Niamh grinned and tucked her arm through Maeve’s. “Let’s have this conversation again in a month or two.”
Niamh had the same undeniable sensuality Edana had displayed, but there was a warmth to Niamh that Edana—may she rot in hell—had never possessed.
“There.” With a smile, Alannah stepped back. “All done. Are you ready?”
“Not really.” If she appeared like this, people might laugh at her. Roderick might not like it at all. Which should not bother her one bit. Indeed, if Roderick did not like her jeans, he could walk around in skirts. On that thought, she followed Alannah out of her chamber.
Maeve watched the strange one, Roz, as the woman made her odd clicking and whirring sounds and then scuttled out of the kitchen. “What ails her?”
“We’re not sure.” Niamh wrinkled her nose. “But she thinks she’s an owl.”
Certain she had misheard, Maeve stared at her. “She what?”
“Thinks she’s an owl.” Niamh heaved a sigh. “She wasn’t always like this.”
Sinead snorted. “Come on, Niamh, Roz has always been a bit weird.”
The way they used words in this time was different as well. Maeve didn’t think Sinead meant that Roz had the power to influence destiny. “Do you know her blessing?”