Gifted Thief (Highland Magic #1)(57)

Aifric exchanged a look with his son. ‘No one that we know of. We have our best people working through the magical register though. We will find them.’

I tilted up my chin. ‘You’d better hope it’s before I end up getting fried. Where will you all be then?’

‘We will put a guard on your rooms.’

‘No, you sodding won’t. How can I trust your guards? They might be in on the plot.’

He stiffened. ‘Our people are loyal.’

‘When someone stops trying to murder me, I might believe that.’ I swept an imperious gaze across the lot of them. ‘I don’t feel well,’ I declared. ‘I’m going to lie down. Give me back my letter opener.’

Jamie and Aifric both gave me strange looks but Byron dug into his pocket and handed it over. I felt considerably more secure with Bob back with me. As soon as I’d tucked the knife away, I held a hand to my forehead and frowned.

‘You have a fever.’ Byron’s voice was quiet.

Yes, Golden Boy. I have a very bad fever. Spread that little titbit around so everyone thinks I’m about to receive some terrible Gift that’ll put yours to shame.

‘It better not last long,’ I grumbled aloud. ‘The faster we can start travelling to the Foinse, the faster I can escape this hell hole.’

‘I’ll have some chicken soup sent up to your room. That usually helps.’

My eyes narrowed in disgust. ‘I thought you guys had been keeping an eye on me. Don’t you know I’m vegetarian?’ I had no idea where that came from. I loved bacon. I must have been trying to goad poor Aifric Moncrieffe into more grovelling.

‘I’m sure we can arrange something that will suit your tastes,’ he said without a trace of a grovel. Oh well.

I harrumphed loudly and spun round, adding a wobble for good measure. Then I stalked out.

My grand exit wasn’t as dramatic as my entrance. Mainly because I’d barely gone three steps before Byron caught up with me and grabbed my elbow. ‘Are you okay?’ he demanded.

‘Do I look okay?’ I snarled back. ‘I’m amazed I have any eyebrows left after that fiery demonstration.’

He gazed at me, his face impassive. ‘How did you get out of the grove without anyone noticing?’

A slightly crazy Macquarrie woman. I sniffed. ‘It’s not my fault if you weren’t paying attention.’

Something sparked in his eyes but he sensibly held his tongue. ‘You should take up the offer of the guards,’ he said instead. ‘Whatever you might think, the Moncrieffes are not trying to hurt you.’

‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’

He ran a hand through his bronzed hair. Damn that stupid curl for still being there. ‘I know you think that it was me because my second Gift is pyrokinesis. It wasn’t me, though, Integrity. I promise you that. I wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of bringing you here simply to try and kill you. I could have done that when you were sleeping in my arms.’

I stiffened. This time it wasn’t an act. Why did he have to bring that up again? ‘I know it wasn’t you,’ I said with an air of affected insouciance. ‘You’re not the type.’

‘You didn’t suspect me?’ He was watching my reaction very carefully.

‘No,’ I lied. ‘I’m good at reading people.’

Byron looked relieved. ‘I’m pleased.’

‘Now I really do have to go and lie down.’

‘I’ll escort you.’

I looked him over. It would take a brave evil mastermind to try and kill me when the Steward’s son was around. He could easily get caught in the crossfire. ‘Fine,’ I snapped. ‘Lead the way.’

Byron took my arm. I must have been doing a better job of acting sick than I’d realised. He leaned in towards me and sniffed. ‘You smell … interesting.’

Shite. I’d forgotten that I’d thrown his aftershave all over my skin. ‘What can I say?’ I shrugged. ‘I meant it before when I said you smelled delicious so I bought some of that aftershave to use myself.’

Something flitted across his face and he dropped his voice. ‘I like that you want to smell like me. It’s as if you’ve been rubbing yourself all over my body like a cat.’

I pushed away the image of me doing just that. It certainly hadn’t taken him long to get over the trauma of my ‘death’. ‘It’s the smell of the aftershave I like. Not you.’

He grinned. ‘And here was me thinking you were a girly girl with all of your hot pink attire.’

A girly girl? I liked Hello Kitty and hot pink and sparkly nail polish. But pigeonholing me was unfair; I also liked science fiction and scaling high walls without a rope. Why did men always think you were either a tomboy or a princess? It was possible to be both.

Byron must have sensed my antagonism. ‘It doesn’t mean I think you’re a pushover,’ he breathed. ‘Far from it.’

His voice had changed into that husky rasp again. It was sooo time to back away. ‘Considering I’ve survived being eaten by a giant sea worm and being barbecued like a marshmallow, I’d say that was a given,’ I said stiffly. And with that, we walked in silence back to my room.





Chapter Sixteen