Gifted Thief (Highland Magic #1)(38)

By the time I’d gone another sixty steps, there must have been a hundred Sidhe watching me. None of them uttered a single word. It was seriously creepy. I could feel my stomach in knots. What exactly were they planning? I was no match for one well-trained Sidhe, let alone this number. However if they tried to rip me to shreds, they’d have no chance with the Foinse. If they were going to use words to intimidate me … well, I was sure I’d heard worse in my time. I stiffened my resolve. How bad could this be?

When I reached the first watcher, I made a point of refusing to look at him. There was a sudden movement and I tensed, waiting for the attack to come. There was nothing. The next Sidhe also moved, followed by the one after that. One by one, each of the watching Sidhe copied the next. At first I couldn’t work it out; it was like some strange Fey Mexican wave. When I finally looked over and realised what they were doing, it hit me like a painful bolt in the chest. They were bowing. To me.

My heels clicked against the ground. Even I heard my steps falter. Then I picked up the pace again. They were probably just relieved I was coming to save their sorry arses. It didn’t mean they wouldn’t try and stab me in the back once I was done.

I’d almost reached the castle when another figure appeared. This one I knew. Byron was no longer wearing the casual T-shirt from our last encounter; instead he had on an elaborate floaty white shirt which was open at the neck. He’d foregone trousers for a traditional kilt in Moncrieffe colours. Irritatingly, it matched his eyes as if it had been designed just for him. The heavy tartan folds rippled in the gentle breeze. If he was trying to look like a cover model from a steamy historical romance, he was succeeding.

He pasted a smile on his face that belied his anger. When I stepped up to him and took his outstretched hand, he pulled me close and whispered in my ear. ‘The Lia Saifire appears to have gone missing. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?’

I grinned. ‘Goodness. How very careless of you to lose such a priceless gem.’

Byron growled and released me. ‘Miss Adair, if you’d like to follow me.’

I raised up my chin. ‘Actually, it’s Taylor.’

Something unfathomable crossed his eyes. ‘Pardon?’

‘Taylor,’ I told him. ‘My name is Integrity Taylor. Clan Adair is of no consequence to me.’ I took Taylor’s surname not long after I joined him. It meant far more than some defunct Sidhe Clan ever could.

Byron’s green eyes darkened. ‘These people are here because of the Adair name.’

‘Despite what my father did?’

‘Look a little closer. They’re all lower-level Sidhe. You won’t find many amongst the highborn bowing to you.’ His tone was more sympathetic than taunting.

I looked back at the Sidhe who were still watching me and shrugged. ‘Curiosity never killed anything except a couple of hours. They can rubberneck what they want.’ Hell, despite the weird bowing thing, they were probably hoping I had horns sprouting from my head and a forked tongue. I was almost sorry to disappoint them.

Byron seemed to decide that engaging me in discussion about my name was pointless. He turned round and strode ahead. I gazed after him for a second then followed. Whatever was about to unfold within the depths of the Cruaich castle, it certainly wouldn’t be dull.

Once inside, I was surprised at the interior. It wasn’t as flash as I expected. It was grand, certainly, but more from a sense of ancient tradition than ostentatious wealth. Byron was moving well ahead of me but rather than quicken my step to keep up, I deliberately slowed my pace and drank in my surroundings.

A red carpet ran the length of the stone-flagged floor and the walls were draped with the different Clan tartans, most of which I was surprised to recognise. The Adair Clan colours, a clash of orange, blue and green as I recalled, were conspicuously absent. So much for making a big deal out of the Adair name, I thought sardonically.

There was a set of grand doors at the end of the carpet. Byron stopped at them and turned, impatiently tapping his foot as I ambled towards him. He didn’t seem happy at my slow progress.

I was overtaken by a sense of mischief that I rarely indulged. I stopped and took out my phone. Byron’s expression grew even more thunderous, especially when I took several selfies, flicking my hair and pouting at myself. I was taking inspiration from Lexie; she was very skilled at this sort of thing.

‘Get a move on.’

‘But, Your Highness, I want to record myself for posterity. There has to be some sort of record that I was here. Otherwise when you try to get rid of me once I’ve helped you reach the Foinse, I won’t be able to prove that I was here.’

Byron blinked in astonishment. Interesting. Perhaps that wasn’t the endgame after all – but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

‘I’m going to send this to a few friends,’ I chirped. ‘So they know where I am.’ I pressed the necessary buttons. My hairdresser would be very surprised when she checked her messages.

‘Whatever you might think,’ Byron said, his voice softening a touch, ‘we are not going to hurt you.’

I met his eyes. ‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’ I jerked my head at the doors. ‘Aren’t we going in?’

A muscle in his jaw throbbed. ‘Just one thing first.’ He dug into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. I recognised it immediately. It was good to know that my little diversion had worked. I wondered how hard it had been to retrieve the letter from the post office after I dropped it into international mail. ‘Can you explain this?’