Chapter 6
“Sorry,” Madeleine said, holding out her hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Deryn swallowed thickly, trying to calm the thundering of his pulse. Aye, he was startled all right, but not in the way she thought. That dress...
He’d never thought to see it on anyone ever again, and now seeing it on her brought back memories that were so clear and sharp it was like being stabbed with jagged glass.
He wiped a hand across his forehead, mastering himself with an effort. “It’s fine,” he muttered. “Please, take a seat.”
She moved to the other chair and Deryn tried not to look at her as she lowered herself into it. Mara stirred from her spot by the fire and padded over to Madeleine for a scratch, which the lass was only too happy to bestow.
“You’re a good dog, aren’t you?” she crooned, rubbing Mara’s ears. “Yes, you are.”
Despite himself, Deryn found himself studying Madeleine surreptitiously. Her hair, a dark blonde like ripe wheat, spilled over her shoulders in an unbound wave and now that she was no longer cold, wet and terrified, there was a pink blush to her cheeks and a light in her earth-brown eyes that hadn’t been there before.
He poured her a dram of whisky from the flagon and held the cup out to her. She took it with a grateful nod and drank, wincing at the taste.
“I never did have much of a taste for spirits. Bad experience with vodka on my eighteenth birthday put me right off.”
“Is that so? Well, ye will be pleased to know I dinna have any of this ‘vodka’. In fact, I’ve never heard of it. Is it a drink local to where ye are from?”
She shook her head. “What? Not heard of vodka? It’s from Russia originally, I think.” She fell silent, staring into her glass. Then she looked up suddenly, her deep brown eyes meeting his. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Um...why do you dress the way you do? In those odd clothes, I mean.”
He frowned, a little bemused. “How else would I dress? These are the colors of my clan. Clan Stewart.”
“Right. I see,” she said although from her expression it was obvious that she didn’t see at all. “And this house,” she gestured around at Deryn’s cottage. “Are you trying to be carbon neutral? I admire anyone who chooses to live off-grid—it’s becoming ever more popular and at least half my clients want eco-houses these days, but normally they have solar panels and wind turbines and the like. I can’t see any of that here.”
What on earth was she talking about? None of what she’d just said made any sense. “I dinna follow ye, lass,” he said slowly. “This is how all Highlanders live, except for the nobility in their big castles.”
“All Highlanders? No they don’t, they live in towns with cars and buses and...” She stopped and wiped a hand across her forehead. “It doesn’t matter. Never mind. Thank you, by the way. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come for meand Rory.” Her voice cracked on this last part, and she cleared her throat before taking another pull of whisky.
“I did what anyone with half a shred of decency would have done,” he replied, uncomfortable with her thanks. “Tonight, ye and yer boy will sleep safely.”
She nodded, some of the tension leaving her face.
Deryn’s grip tightened on his whisky cup. Rodric MacKay had a lot to answer for. He was the worst kind of scoundrel, in Deryn’s opinion. The kind that believed he had the right to do as he wished to whomever he wished. Deryn’s own father had been the same, terrorizing his mother and sisters with his fists until Deryn had grown big enough to stop it. He’d vowed to never let anyone abuse those weaker than themselves. It was one of the reasons he’d joined the Order of the Osprey. He did not regret that decision, despite all it had cost him.
“Where are ye from, lass?” he asked.
“Fortrose near Inverness,” she answered promptly. “Rory goes to school there and I run an architect business with my friend Helen. God knows how she’s going to react when I don’t turn up to work tomorrow morning. Mr and Mrs Miller want their design finished by the day after tomorrow, and they areverydemanding clients. They’ve probably been on the phone a hundred times already. And I’m supposed to be in Edinburgh for a conference on Saturday week. And then—” She cut off abruptly and gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I tend to ramble when I’m nervous.”
Deryn had no idea what a ‘phone’ or a ‘conference’ was or what she meant by ‘Saturday week,’ but there was one thing he latched onto. “Ye are from Fortrose?”
It was a long way from here, at least a two-day walk on foot, but at least he knew how to get there. But therein lay a problem.
“Fortrose is to the east,” he said. “And Torryn Keep lies in between. In fact, it’s positioned where it is to guard the roadseast, so getting past it without being seen willnae be easy. In the morning, I’ll go scouting to see if Rodric MacKay is looking for ye. If luck is on our side, he willnae be, and ye can begin yer journey home tomorrow.”
Madeleine stared at him, her eyes round. She swallowed and then nodded. “Tomorrow.”
Deryn leaned forward. “Listen to me, lass. I know what’s happened has ye all in a knot. But I need ye to pay attention to me now. Ye must be careful until we can get ye home. Rodric MacKay is the lord of these lands and as such, everyone that lives on them is either under obligation to him as their lord or in his pay.”
“But not you?”
