Gifted Thief (Highland Magic #1)(46)

‘You should go,’ Byron snapped. ‘I want to talk to her alone.’

I was tempted to say to Jamie that he should tell Byron to piss off. Judging by the expression on his face, however, it probably wouldn’t help. With his bundle of clothes still clutched to his body, he darted out of the door.

I got to my feet, deciding to brazen it out. ‘Don’t you knock?’ I enquired.

Byron bent down, grabbed my discarded top and flung it at me. ‘Cover yourself.’

I caught it but made no move to put it back on. ‘If you’re embarrassed, you are free to leave.’

He hissed through his teeth, ‘Is this a ploy to get back at me for Tipsania? Are you trying to make me jealous?’

I blinked. Seriously? ‘No. It had nothing to do with you.’

Byron snorted. ‘Sort yourself out. When you’re decent, I’ll be waiting in the library.’

Like I was supposed to know where that was. He spun round and stalked out before I could ask him for directions. I glared at his retreating back. God, this place was even worse than I’d thought.





Chapter Twelve




After dousing myself with water and scrubbing my skin clean of slime, gunk and Jamie’s lingering scent, I went in search of Bob. Byron’s glowering face could wait.

I ignored the many Sidhe who stared at me with unchecked fascination and limped downstairs. It was painful to breathe; I could swear that the damned worm had broken one of my ribs. Whatever, I was going to have some brightly coloured bruises. Going by the looks I was getting, there was a good chance several of them would be on my face.

I glared at a few of the less subtle Sidhe and they backed off. I also scanned every face for signs of disappointment that I was still alive. One of these wankers had summoned the stoor worm. Unfortunately, if my would-be executioner was one of these guys, he or she was a damned good actor.

I’d just reached the front doors and was about to step outside when there was an alarmed shout. ‘Chieftain Adair! You can’t leave! Not yet.’

I turned, sucking in a breath as my body complained at the sudden movement. ‘It’s Taylor, not Adair. Whoever my parents were, the Adair Clan is dead.’

The Sidhe who’d addressed me was an older woman with a lined face and less than pristine clothes that marked her as a lower-class Sidhe. She caught up with me. ‘You should be proud of that name,’ she scolded. ‘Pride is important. Like lions. Lions are strong. They’re the kings of the jungle. That’s why they live in prides.’

I raised my eyebrows. I’d been accosted by a mad woman. ‘Why should I be proud? Everyone treats me like I’m a leper because of that name.’

She shook her head. ‘They’re just too scared to come and talk to you.’ She grabbed my shirt and started pulling, as if she wanted to drag me back inside. ‘The Adairs are legends in their own right.’

‘Were legends,’ I said flatly, shaking her off. ‘But thank you for your words.’ I supposed the least I could do was to be polite. I turned to go.

‘Where are you going? Don’t leave! We need you.’

‘I’m not leaving,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘I’m going for a walk.’

Her eyes rolled in an alarming fashion. ‘Walk the walk and talk the talk! Let me get you an escort at least.’

I shuffled away from her. ‘I think I can manage to walk on my own.’ Besides, the only person in the entire castle who I trusted at that moment was Jamie. He was the only one who couldn’t have set the damn stoor worm on me.

‘I knew your parents,’ the old woman burst out desperately, her frizzy hair trembling with the effect of her outburst. ‘Mummy and Daddy. Mother and Father. Mum and Dad. Mere and Pere. Ma and Pa.’ Her voice trailed off.

I looked at her. When I was growing up in the Bull’s demesne, I heard my father mentioned a lot. No one ever breathed a word about my mother. The woman beamed at my sudden interest. ‘I can tell you all about them,’ she said. She flapped her arms. ‘Chat chat chat!’

Something inside me hardened. Whoever my mother was, she was dead now. And I’d had it drummed into me that my father was a villainous prick who sacrificed hundreds of lives simply because it had suited him. People said the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Well, I didn’t want to be anywhere near it. Anyway, this woman was clearly nuts.

‘No, thanks,’ I said curtly, trying to ignore the way her face fell.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and strode away, glad that she didn’t try and stop me. It was already dusk, with the sky the colour of murky purple in the way you only ever see in the Highlands. I sucked in a breath, got my bearings, and marched round the castle walls. My posture and frown made it clear to anyone watching that I wanted no further part in small talk about my heritage or even the damned weather.

I found Bob’s ‘scimitar’ in a clump of dandelions by the far west corner. Glancing up, I could still see the trail of slime left by the stoor worm. I shook myself, still incredulous that I’d escaped, then reached down, grimacing in pain, and grabbed the hilt.

Checking that no-one was watching me, I rubbed the blade.

Bob squinted up. ‘This isn’t a good time,’ he declared. ‘Sisko’s in trouble and I’m not sure he’s going to make it.’