“You wanted to ask me something?” she prompted.
He blinked at her. “Aye. Aye, I did,” he rushed.“Ah…Searrach.”
Iris tried to steel her expression against the distaste she felt.“What of her?”
“How long has she livedat Darlyrede?”
Iris frowned. “Perhaps two months. Why?”
“Do you know from where she hails?”
“Don’t you?”
And then Padraig smiled too, and like all the other times he had forgotten himself, his face transformed, emphasizing the grand shape of his mouth, the merry tilt of his eyes. Iris didn’t think she’d ever met a man so blatantly…sensual.
“Scotland, aye,” he allowed. “But how did she come to be here? I assume she’s nae family with her.”
Iris shook her head. “She appeared on the bridge one day. Not unlike someone else recently. Only she claimed to have been attacked. She stayed on to work, once she had recovered fromher injuries.”
Padraig’s face bore a keen expression. “Attacked?”
Iris’s cheeks tingled. “I can only speak to what the woman said. The band of criminals terrorizing Darlyrede’s wood and road are well known.”
He nodded. “Naefamily, then.”
Iris shrugged. “I suppose not.”
“Is she to be trusted?” he asked suddenly, as if unsure whether it was the right question but desperate to know the answer.
Iris paused, feeling that she was suddenly on unsteady ground. She could see the discomfort on his face. “Trusted to what?”
His ears went red. “Hargrave was eager enough to offer her up. Either she’s worthless or he’s sent herto spy on me.”
Iris was impressed. For all Padraig Boyd’s inexperience, he seemed to have taken quick measure of the Scottish woman whom most of the other servants regarded with extreme wariness.
“I’m sorry, Master Boyd,” Iris said, letting Satin go when he slithered from beneath her hand and bounded to the floor. She stood. “You seem to have mistook my position at Darlyrede. I have been in the employ of Lady Hargrave, exclusively, until your arrival. Perhaps it would be better to pose your question to Sir Lucan, as you intended. I believe he is more familiar withsuch matters.”
True.
Padraig’s eyes narrowed the tiniest fraction. Perhaps someone else would have missed it, but Iris’s brother had taught her well.
“Should I nae tell him about your hellcat when I see him?”
Iris couldn’t help her smile. “They’ve already met. Our secret issafe with him.”
“Ah, I see.” Now Padraig’s smile was enigmatic, and his eyes bored into hers and rattled her in a way Iris couldn’t recall since his arrival at Darlyrede. “I reckon it is safe with me as well.”
He had formed an opinion of her somehow. And perhaps it wasn’t a good one.
She followed him to the door, where he paused, turning to face her. “Good night, Beryl. I’m looking forward to our lessons tomorrow.”
Iris knew she should smile at him, ease his suspicions, whatever they were. But despite the fact that she seemed to have done nothing but smile since he’d come into her chamber, looking up into his face now, she could not. Something in his eyes made a sound in her head like the loud hush of wind over waves, surface peace hiding dangerous depths below. Not the danger of Vaughn Hargrave, where the end was painful and sudden, but a slow, sinking descent that meant holding your breath for years and years and years.
Did she see the danger Padraig Boyd faced reflected in his eyes, or was it the potential danger of the man himself?
“Good night, Master Boyd.”
Satin swirled around her ankles after she had closed and bolted the door, meowing as if his best friend had justabandoned him.
