Page 35 of Tair

“We need to have a chat, Seneschal,” Lucy said, giving him the usual tight-jawed smile she reserved only for him.

Sgathan suspected one of the vassals had yet again given away something that this wench was too clever not to have noticed. “Didnae the laird command you remain in his bedchamber until midday, so you dinnae tempt the men to ravish you?”

“Maybe. He’s been ordering me around so much I can’t remember all of it. Also, no one really wants to ravish me when they know Tair will rip out their spine for even breathing hard on me.” She leaned over to peer into a sack of grain. “Have you and the staff looked inside everything for this cluet thing? I’m told you know the castle better than anyone else, yet you never seem to be looking for it.”

“Unlike you, Mistress, I do as the laird orders.” He looked down his nose at her. “’Twould prove wise if you’d obey him.”

“Well, you haven’t been abducted by an enchanted shawl and traveled back in time seven centuries, now, have you?” Lucy picked up a small pottery crock from the table he had used for his writing, uncorked it and peered inside at the murky liquid contents. “What is this, medieval shoe polish?”

“’Tis oak galls, for making ink.” He took the crock from her, corked it and tucked it into the pouch on his belt. “I must finish my work. Go and plague my brother, I beg you.”

“Which one?” she asked, shutting the door and leaning back against it. “You have, what, seven hundred?”

“Dorchad may entertain you proper,” he suggested, and moved until only an inch separated his big chest from pressing against her full breasts. “Or do you come to tempt me?”

“Oh, sure, because tempting knobs is my new hobby.” She rolled her eyes. “Nice that I’m up to my eyeballs in them here. Why do I have only one maid helping me search—and why is everyone hiding the fact that you MacRune aren’t human?”

“We’re as you see.” Beinn or Garia, Sgathan thought, had said too much again. “I ken our lord told you of our dark Fae sire.”

“Yes, but he didn’t mention you’ve all been alive for at least a hundred years.” She waited, and when he didn’t reply she sighed. “I don’t want to believe the entire clan is immortal, but if your father was, then you must have some of his longevity. Why don’t you man up and say something?”

“I dinnae waste my breath on wenches.” Sgathan moved in, caught her chin in his hand, and leaned down until his breath touched her lips. “I should take you to my chamber, and shackle you to my bed, so you may use that pretty mouth to suck me whenever I desire such.”

Her golden lashes flickered, and then the sharp prod of a dagger tip pressed against the front of his trews.

“What’ll you do if there’s nothing left for me to suck, darling?” Lucy countered sweetly.

Generally Sgathan kept all females firmly at a distance, but there was something about this wench that made him want to hug her. Gods, but she could be as heartless and bloodthirsty as his twin.

“I concede, my lady.” He carefully released her and backed away.

“I’m a wench until I have a weapon, and then I’m a lady.” She made a contemptuous sound. “Nice to know how to keep you chaps in line. Threats of castration are even better than a bucket of cold water.”

Sgathan inclined his head and waited for her next demand.

Lucy’s stance eased but she still held the dagger ready. “I’m not kidding about looking for the cluet, you know. One year will pass much sooner than all of you think, and the queen of the demons wasn’t kidding. She’s one of those ‘if I can’t have it, no one can’ types.”

“Aye, so ’tis said.” He wouldn’t tell her just how vicious his sire’s liege could be. “Only the stronghold, ’tis enormous, and our vassals, they’re needed for their work.”

“I’m not asking you to give me all of them, just whoever you can lend me for a few hours every day.” She gestured in the direction of the garrison hall. “We could use some of the clan for the search, too. Can’t you help me out here?”

Sgathan agreed with her thinking, and suspected why she was so set on finding the enchanted cloth. If the dark Fae queen destroyed the mortal realm, then her future would never come to pass, and she would never be born. While the clan might be burned alive, Lucy would simply cease to exist—a fate so ghastly the thought made him shudder.

“’Tis much that occupies me of late, my lady,” he admitted. “I shall see which of the vassals may be spared to aid you. Cath assigns the garrison’s duties, so you must speak with him about recruiting the clan to your cause. ’Twould be better if you bid the laird provide you more aid with your search. ’Twas his command that you be kept from harm. Mayhap you should permit him to guard your person while you look. “

“That’s not what he wants to do to my person.” She moved forward quickly as the door to the granary opened and Dorchad stepped inside. “I think that’s my cue to go back and search fruitlessly with one maid. Thanks in advance for your help, Seneschal. Hey, Wanker.” She ducked her head at him, sniffed at his twin and then strode out.

“’Tis a bold lad who swives the laird’s bed slave in a storeroom,” the chieftain said sourly. “Should our brother learn of such, your neck may bid farewell to your head.”

Sgathan regarded him. “She didnae come to me for facking, eejit, and she’s no’ his bed slave. The lady wishes to find the cluet, and sought my aid. I shall give her a few more maids so they may search for that enchanted facking rag. She’s sincere in her worries.”

“Bollocks. That canny wench needs aid as much as I do blade drills.” His expression remained flinty, but his voice softened a degree when he added, “Dinnae step between Mistress Brooke and the laird. Both shall give you cause to regret your kindness.”

Was Dorchad trying to protect Lucy from Tair? “Brother, I’ve a brain, you ken. I but teased her a wee bit to discourage her. But I cannae refuse her request when all our lives may depend on her success.”

His twin made a rough sound. “As you say. Only remember my warning.”

After the chieftain left, Sgathan walked back to his work room and tried to tally his latest counts, but after a few moments abandoned the task and walked down to the kitchens. There he found Ronan cutting through a great mound of dough to form the pieces into loaves.