Deidra laughed. “She does not!”
“She wants some oats.”
“No!”
“Hay? Her blanket? To be brushed? A carrot?”
“No, silly! An apple!”
“Ah. Of course.” He leaned his head back and smiled, rocking on his heels.
“You can’t really speak to animals,” Deidra said.
“No, I cannot.” He looked toward the open door, then back at her, his head tilted slightly. “Would you like me to show you something, Miss Deidra?”
“What?”
“You’ll have to come with me.”
She struggled to get out of the hay as he straightened, extending a hand out to her.
Don’t go!
Deidra dropped the hand she’d almost slipped into his and looked at Moireach in surprise.
The horse shook her head and whinnied.Smells bad. Get away.
Deidra backed away from the man. He gave the horse a narrow look, then smiled at Deidra again, his wide, white smile not so friendly anymore. “What’s wrong, Miss Deidra?” He walked toward her.
She looked around for a place to hide. More men entered the stable, talking loudly, and the man turned away. Deidra ran past him, darting out the door. She didn’t stop running until she was back in the room with her father and uncle. She crawled back under her blanket at the end of the bed just as her father sat up, rubbing his eyes.
“Squirrel? Where have you been?”
Her heart raced. She wasn’t supposed to leave the room. “I had to go.”
“Go where?”
She raised her brows and looked at the pretty painted screen that hid the closestool.
“Ah,” he said. He never wanted to talk about things like that. He asked no more questions, and Deidra let out a sigh of relief, thankful she’d not gotten caught disobeying. Her father worried so much lately, and, just like Uncle Drake had warned, learning she was a witch made him worry even more. She wished she were better at keeping secrets. She didn’t want to give him anything else to worry about.
Chapter 13
Rose managed to avoid William by leaving Lochlaire the next day. He wandered the castle, Deidra and his brother trailing after him. He hadn’t realized he was looking for her until he located her sisters. They were in the bailey with the laundresses, sorting through soon-to-be-washed garments. An enormous iron cauldron was set on a tripod, and servants piled faggots beneath it.
“Are you looking for Rose?” the countess of Kincreag called, shaking out a soiled shirt. “Because she’s in the village.”
In the village. His spirits sank abruptly, his prospects for the day diminished. He approached the women, nodding to the cauldron. “What are you doing?”
Dame Isobel sat on a low stool, her customary gloves removed. The countess passed garments to her, one after the other. Dame Isobel would hold them, pale green eyes glazing over momentarily, then she would pass them to a laundress with a shake of her head and take the next garment.
“We’re looking for the witch’s accomplice, as you suggested,” Dame Isobel said as she took a kirtle from her sister. “So far I’ve had no luck.”
“What about you?” William asked Lady Kincreag.
“Have you seen any ghosts?”
“Aye, I did!” she said with a bright smile. “But he knows nothing.”
