The House Of Gaian (29 page)

Donovan stiffened, all humor gone. “That’s none of your business. Baron Liam.”

“Don’t turn into a gentry prude, just answer the question like a man.”

Donovan rose slowly. “What’s this about?”

Just thinking about it made his skin hot. “Selena said Breanna wants— That Falco wants— That I’m—”

He rammed his fingers through his hair and curled them into fists. “She called me a jackass.”

Donovan settled back in his chair and stretched out his legs again. “It’s no more Lady Selena’s business than it is mine, but if I’ve translated that sputtering correctly, I have to agree with her.”

“What?”

“To answer your first question, yes, Gwenn and I were lovers before we married. And her brothers made my life a misery while I was trying to get to that point.”

The pain of pulling his own hair slowly cleared Liam’s mind. He lowered his arms. “How did you get around it?”

“I finally invited her to go for a long ride one afternoon, took her to my house, and scandalized my servants by taking her up to my room, locking the door, and spending the day in bed with her. We had quite a few long rides between the sheets after that— until the night we had a storm and I insisted that she stay overnight since I didn’t want her riding out in that weather, even if I was escorting her home. Her brothers showed up bright and early the next morning. A little too early. The House of Gaian may have more leniency when it comes to legal contracts, but they’re far stricter than any blustering gentry father when it comes to heart loyalty. Gentry men have indulged themselves often enough that the Sons of Gaian don’t always respond with enthusiasm when a man who isn’t one of their own looks toward one of the Daughters.”

Fascinated now, Liam eased a hip onto the comer of his desk. “What did you do?”

Donovan grinned. “Told them if they gave me a few more days, I’d convince Gwenn to marry me. Took me a little longer than I’d expected to win her family over to the idea, me being a baron and fine husband material, but in the end, I got the woman who owned my heart.”

Liam looked away. “This isn’t the same thing.”

“For you? Or for Breanna?”

He felt the heat rising in his face and cursed softly.

“Liam...” Donovan shook his head. “Breanna is a grown woman. She’s not someone whose head will be turned by flattery or florid phrases whispered in the moonlight. We’re prejudiced about the Fae. You know we are. We expect them to seduce women, enjoy them, and then leave. But I don’t think Falco is going to leave. You see a man who wants to have sex with your sister. I see a man whose eyes light up whenever he sees her. I’m not saying you should actively do anything, I’m just saying you shouldn’t stand in the way.”

“I wasn’t aware that I was,” Liam muttered.

“Of course you weren’t. But until you stop being a barrier between Breanna and Falco, Lady Selena will continue thinking you’re a jackass and you won’t win any ground with her.”

Liam shifted. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” Donovan smiled. “I’ve seen the way your eyes light up, too, my friend.”

Selena studied the small black dog yapping at the trees that bordered the large back lawn. “So. That’s the dog you want to give me for my sister? He doesn’t notice twenty strangers riding in with horses, but vigorously defends you against unwanted squirrels.”

Breanna scowled. “Squirrels can be pests. Besides, he’ll notice you. Eventually.”

“When?”

Before Breanna could reply, Fiona walked out of the manor house and came toward them smiling.

Introductions were made.

“Here,” Fiona said. “I’ve packed an overnight bag for you.”

“I didn’t say I was doing this,” Breanna muttered, staring at the bag on the ground in front of her.

“You’re doing it.”

“Doing what?” Selena asked.

“She’s going to spend the night in Tir Alainn,” Fiona replied. “With Falco.”

“I see.”

Breanna shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I should wait until Liam gets back.”

“No!” Fiona and Selena said. They looked at each other and smiled in understanding.

“You don’t have to be afraid of falling off the shining road,” Fiona said. “You’re riding double with Falco.

”

“I’m not afraid.” Breanna narrowed her eyes. “I never said I was afraid.”

“And if the Fae get all snotty about a witch being in their Fair Land, you can just threaten to call up a wind that will spin their little piece of their world like a child’s top. That’ll impress them.”

A snort of laughter escaped before Selena could prevent it.

“See? Selena agrees with me.”

Breanna turned her narrowed eyes on Selena. “I could phoof you.”

“Do something better with your time,” Selena replied. “Go up to Tir Alainn, find a room with a bed and a stout lock, and let the man seduce you until you’re breathless.”

“Blessings of the day, ladies,” Falco said, leading his horse up to where they stood.

Selena looked back and noticed how the grins on all the escorts’ faces disappeared when Breanna turned to stare at them. Falco looked adorably nervous, although she hoped his nerves settled before he got Breanna into bed.

“Are you ready, Breanna?” Falco asked.

“I—”

“Yes, she is.” Fiona snatched up the bag and handed it to Falco. He tied it to the saddle, mounted, then held out a hand for Breanna. When she didn’t move, Fiona grabbed her arm and tugged her toward the horse.

“Stop that,” Breanna hissed. “Since everyone knows why we’re going to Tir Alainn, why don’t we just strip naked and have sex in the middle of the lawn?”

“While that would be handsomely entertaining for the rest of us,” Selena said, grabbing Breanna’s other arm, “you really should have a bit more privacy the first time.”

“You’ll look after Gran?” Breanna said when she was mounted behind Falco.

“I’ll look after everything,” Fiona promised. “Just forget the world for one night.”

Falco urged his horse into a canter and headed for the woodland trail that would take them to the shining road. They disappeared into the trees just as a blond-haired girl walked out of the kitchen.

The strength of the need to change into a shadow hound and attack was the only thing that kept Selena from making the shift. One look at this girl, a complete stranger, and she wanted to rip flesh, taste blood.

“What do you want, Jean?” Fiona said.

“Where’s Breanna?” Jean demanded in a sulky voice.

“She’s gone for a few hours.”

“Where?”

“What do you want?”

The flash of hostility in the girl’s eyes made Selena snarl. She took a step toward the kitchen door, watched Jean’s eyes widen with apprehension. She took another step.

Jean dashed inside the kitchen and slammed the door.

Selena turned on Fiona, who paled. “Who is she?”

“She’s”—Fiona nervously cleared her throat—“she’s kin. She isn’t being pampered the way she thinks she’s entitled to be. And she’s jealous of Breanna.”

With effort, Selena leashed the shadow hound side of her nature.

Fiona shrugged. “It’s Jean’s nature to be petty and spiteful. She wants to be married to a wealthy gentry man or, barring that, have a Fae Lord who will shower her with lavish gifts. Since none of the men have shown interest in providing for her and some are now openly hostile after being entangled in one of her love charms, she’s even more resentful of Falco’s affection for Breanna.”

“There’s more than pettiness and spite in that one’s nature,” Selena said. She had to get away from here, had to get away from that girl before she did something that couldn’t be undone. “I’d better—” She looked over to where her escorts waited with the horses and saw Liam ride through the arch.

Fiona sighed. “Who’s going to tell him?”

“I’ll tell him.” There was something else she had to tell him now. Varden, too. They both needed to be watchful. She trusted her instincts, and those instincts were insisting that something inside that girl was
wrong
.

“Better you than me,” Fiona said. From the open kitchen window, they heard a crash followed by raised voices. “I’ll just go sort out the latest squabble.”

Selena nodded and walked toward Liam, giving Varden a signal on the way to tell him to accompany her. After she got done talking to him about Jean, she didn’t think Liam was going to put up much of a fuss about Breanna.

“Morag! Lady Morag!”

“What’s happened to her?”

“She’s exhausted. Lady, let go of the horse.”

Unable to straighten up, Morag bared her teeth. “Get away from me.” Voices swirled around her. Faces drifted in and out of her blurred vision. “Get away.”

The dark horse rose up in a half-hearted rear, barely able to lift his front legs above the knees of the men around him.

“Steady, lad,” a strong voice said. “Steady now.”

“Get away,” Morag rasped, her dry throat scraped raw from the effort to speak. “I killed the last man who got in my way. I’ll kill you, too.”

“There now, Lady Morag,” the strong voice said. “There now. You’re so tired you’re not thinking clearly. Come on now, darling. Let us help you off the horse so we can tend to both of you.”

Darling? Tend to her? Morag struggled to see the face that went with that voice. It finally came into focus. She didn’t remember his name, but she remembered his face. A Lord of the Horse. A Clan’s stable master.

“I have to keep going,” Morag said. “I have to reach Bretonwood before he does. I have to.”

“And you will, darling. You will. But now you have to get down off the horse. You’re too tired to ride, and he’s too tired to carry you.” A huff of exasperation. “And what is it we should tell Lady Ashk when she returns if we let you ride off without looking after you?”

Ashk. She’d seen him when she’d ridden east with Ashk.

“If I could have some water... and a little food.”

“That’s the way of it,” the stable master said. “Here now. Let us give you a hand down.”

She dismounted and would have crumpled to the stable floor if the stable master hadn’t been ready to support her.

“Bring a stool for Lady Morag and a dipper of water. Put extra straw in that stall. Give the lad a good bed. Let him have some water and feed him by hand once you have the tack stripped off of him. There now, Lady. Just sit down here. Easy now. Here’s some water. Sip it, now. Just sip. Boy, run up to the Clan house. Tell our Lady of the Hearth that the Gatherer is down here and needs something warm and easy to eat. Hurry up now.”

Hands brushed her tangled hair away from her face, tucked a blanket around her.

She sipped the water and watched in a daze as men gathered around her dark horse, stripping off the saddle and bridle, bringing him water, feeding him handfuls of grain, wiping him down with a soft cloth.

The soothing murmur of voices talking, reassuring, leading the horse to the stall.

“Don’t shut him in,” she said. “They tried to lock him in to stop me. He almost hurt himself trying to get out. That’s when—” That’s when she’d done to one of her own kind what she’d done to no one except Black Coats: gathered a man who was healthy and whole, ripped his spirit out of his body and left it there for another of Death’s Servants to take up the road to the Shadowed Veil. She remembered loud voices, angry voices, hands grabbing at her. Dead flesh. She’d done that to a Black Coat, too—unfurled enough of her power to kill a piece of a man without taking his spirit, without killing all of him. She should have killed the Witch’s Hammer that day. That moment of mercy, that moment of pity that she’d felt when she’

d seen him on the wharf at Rivercross had cost so many so much. It hadn’t been pity that had stopped her at the Clan house where they’d tried to keep her from pursuing the Lightbringer. Perhaps it had been nothing more than a hesitation to harm her own kind despite their clear intention to harm her. There was no pity in her anymore, no hesitation. The dreams that haunted the little sleep she’d gotten had burned those feelings out of her.

“Here, Morag.” The stable master was back, holding a bowl with a thick cloth under it. “Here’s soup, and some bread and cheese there. Eat now, and we’ll fix you a place to sleep.”

“Can’t stay.” Her hands shook with the effort to hold the bowl. He took it from her, knelt down, and held it for her. “Can’t. He’s too far ahead of me.”

“He won’t be far ahead of you for long. Eat up now. It won’t do you any good inside the bowl.”

She picked up the spoon and began to eat. The first taste made her want to gulp it down. When had she last eaten? She couldn’t remember. The days had blurred. So she ate slowly, chewing the small chunks of bread and cheese when he offered them to her.

She almost wept when she put the spoon down, unable to eat any more with the bowl still two-thirds full.

“That’s good,” the stable master said, setting the bowl on a bale of hay. “We can warm it up again if you get hungry later. Now.” He took her hands. She couldn’t tell him how painful simple kindness was right now. “I know you’ve no time to waste, so we can put a cot in one of the stalls here. We keep a couple handy in case we need to keep a close eye on a sick horse. We can put it in the same stall with your lad if that will make you both rest easier.”

“I can’t.”

“You can and you will.” He shook her hands. With effort, she focused on him—and realized there was no longer any kindness in his face. “He’ll not be as far ahead as you think.”

“He can run until he tires, then use another horse—”

“And where would the Lightbringer be getting another horse? There’s not a spare horse to be had, what with the huntsmen needing riding horses and pack horses to join the other Fae heading for the coast. And the rest of the horses are needed to protect the Old Place. No, Morag. Whether on four legs or two, they’ll be his own. If he wants food, no one will stand in his way of going to the kitchen and getting some for himself, but there’s no one who will fetch and carry for him. He’ll have to travel harder and won’t get as far. As for you, you’ll get a few hours sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll give you a horse you can ride through the next Clan territory or two. You can leave him there, and the Clan will send him back to us.”

The dark horse snorted, stamped a foot.

The stable master grinned as he looked over his shoulder. “Never fear, lad. She’ll not be leaving you. But you’ll run easier if you’re only carrying yourself, and I’m thinking she’ll need you strong at the end of the journey.”

Morag frowned. “You said there weren’t any horses to spare.”

He turned back to her, no longer amused. “We’ve none to spare for the likes of
him
. You’re in the west now, Morag. Things are different here. The Lightbringer will get no help from us, and you’ll get all the help we can give.”

The west. She’d reached the west.

She let him lead her to the cot in the stall. Before she could collapse on it, female voices suddenly filled the stable. Women came into the stall carrying a basin of steaming water and bundles of cloth. They shooed the stable master out and closed both halves of the stall doors before she could warn them not to.

The next thing she knew, she was stripped out of her clothes, given a hurried sponge bath, bundled into a clean nightgown, and tucked into bed like a weary child. The women promised they’d have her clothes washed and dried by first light. Then they were gone.

She heard the quiet creak of a door opening and struggled away from the sleep that pulled at her.

“There now, lad,” murmured the strong voice. “Don’t fret now. We’re not shutting you in. Just keeping the bottom half closed to give your lady a bit of privacy. Rest now. Rest. You’ve work to do soon enough.”

Morag gave up the struggle, let sleep pull her down. And for the first time in too many days, the dream didn’t chase her.