Gifted Thief (Highland Magic #1)(55)

Using Lily’s directions, I skirted round until I was directly below Byron’s room. No doubt he’d still be down with the others at the grove. With any luck, he’d think I was a burnt-out corpse. I’d never get a better chance to sneak into his room than this.

Craning my neck up, I examined the stonework. It helped that the castle was old because there were plenty of footholds. Unfortunately a lot of the stone was worn and weathered; I’d have to be careful to avoid the smoother patches. I grinned at my foresight in bringing my toolkit and sprung up.

Despite my aching body, I was surprisingly fast. It was considerably easier scaling up this sort of surface than glass. I found several cracks wide enough to wedge my fingertips in. Only once was I forced to unclip my old ice-pick and jam it between two bricks to avoid sliding back down. All the same, Byron’s room was higher than our entry point at the bank had been, so I was sweating by the time I hooked my leg over his window ledge and pulled myself in.

I was surprised to see that Byron’s rooms were smaller than mine. They were very clean and tidy but there wasn’t room to swing a cat. Maybe it was some sort of show of humility. If he could be the Steward’s son and not demand the grandest suite in the castle, then other Clans couldn’t complain about him getting preferential treatment. No wonder he’d gone all out at the Astor Hotel. I bet he spent as little time here as possible. Byron probably lived in palatial luxury back on Moncrieffe lands.

Ignoring his lingering scent, I made a beeline for his bed and checked underneath the mattress and the frame. I found a chewed-up pen lid and little else. I stood up again and stepped over to the chair where a pile of folded clothing lay. Carefully examining each item, I discovered nothing interesting. Perhaps Byron was too clever to leave anything incriminating behind. It was annoying, however, that there weren’t even any jewels or money that I could nab. There wasn’t even a crappy safe to crack.

After running through all the items in the bathroom, including checking the shampoo to see if it had a false bottom, I returned to the bedroom and sat on the end of the bed. I could play the seduction game again but I doubted he’d fall for it after walking in on Jamie and me. I wasn’t entirely sure I could stay in control in that kind of situation either. I needed to be sneakier.

I might have failed miserably at hiding out and spying on Byron at the Astor but if he really thought I was dead, he wouldn’t be expecting me here.

I sniffed my armpits. After my climb, I was definitely on the whiffy side. Not wanting my own smell to give me away, I grabbed his bottle of (surprisingly cheap) aftershave and daubed myself with it. I rather liked it. Maybe I’d keep it. Without thinking, I stuffed the bottle into one of my pockets. Then I smoothed down the sheets to remove all traces of my presence and scooted under the bed. I rather hoped he’d take his time returning. I could do with a little nap.

I was dozing off when the door slammed open. I just managed to stop myself from banging my head painfully as I jerked up. Close call.

‘Fuck!’ There was another bang. It was definitely Byron. He thumped something else. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’

Was he upset because he’d realised there wasn’t a body – charred or otherwise – inside the grove and I’d escaped? Or was he upset because he thought I was dead and he now had no way of restoring the Foinse?

I watched his feet stomp about, up one way and down another, over and over again. Considering the size of the room, I thought he’d get dizzy after a few turns but he just kept stomping and turning.

Eventually – and scant seconds before I thought I was going to go insane from watching his feet – there was a hesitant knock on the door. Byron flung it open with such force that it banged against the wall. If the castle hadn’t been made of stone, the ensuing vibrations would have been felt floors below.

‘What?’ he snapped.

I twisted my head, peering at the new set of shoes which had appeared. I was still trying to work out who they belonged to when the nervous cough enlightened me.

‘The Steward asked me to inform you…’

‘Of what?’ There was a strained urgency to Byron’s voice.

Jamie dropped the formality. I was glad. Regardless of what else was going on here, it didn’t seem fair for him to lose one of his friends just because of a quick shag based on post-traumatic desire. ‘Byron,’ he said, ‘she’s not there. Integrity’s not in the grove.’

Shite. I needed to see the expression on Byron’s face to be able tell whether he was pleased at this news or not.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally spoke. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes. She must have got out another way. She’s not in her room – we’ve already checked. I mean,’ Jamie backtracked, ‘Brody checked. Not me. I didn’t go inside. I…’

‘It’s fine, Jamie. But if she’s not in her room then where the fuck is she? Whoever did this might have hold of her. I should have taken that story about the worm more seriously.’ He thumped something again as overwhelming, unmitigated relief flooded through me. It hadn’t been him after all. ‘Fuck! I told her!’

‘Uh, told her what?’

He groaned. ‘That my second gift is pyrokinesis. No wonder she’s run.’

‘I’m sure she wouldn’t think that you had done all that though.’