Chapter 4
“What is it?”Greyson narrowed his eyes at the crone. “Dinnae tell me you’re here as a seer, about to declare my days are ending. I ken we all leave this earth sooner or later, but” – he glanced about the ‘great hall’ – “I have still have much to do. Nor am I ill, so I dinnae need the cures of a Highland wisewoman.”
“Cailleach, we say in the glens.” Devorgilla smiled and helped herself to another oatcake and a bit of cheese. “And you needn’t worry. I only do good where’er I go. It isn’t my way to foretell doom. Though…” She paused to eat the cheese-laden oatcake. “I might ask a soul’s assistance now andthen.”
Greyson didn’t take thebait.
From all he knew of thiscailleach, supposedly the most powerful in Scotland, she wouldn’t need anyone’s help. She was, however, known formeddling.
“What is this about?” Greyson folded his arms, wondering if she’d maneuvered him into pressingher.
He knew heshouldn’t.
“Aye, well…” She rocked back on her heels, her red plaid laces flashing again. “There is a matter. I would appreciate a bit of help for a lassie inneed.”
“I am no’ your man.” Greyson was firm. “I dinnae rescue damsels in distress. Find another knight in shiningarmor.”
Devorgilla left the table and began walking around the room, her gaze drifting over the medieval torches painted on the ‘great hall’ walls, the artfully-crafted row of tall, arch-topped windows that looked out on such real-seeming turrets and curtain walls. The night-bound sea that a soul would swear crashed and pounded on rocks far below Arbuckle Priddy’s clifftopstronghold.
“You call an ancient castle home,” Devorgilla said, coming back to Greyson. “Leastways, this room replicates one. So why shouldn’t you play theknight?”
Greyson frowned. “I dinnae play at anything, surely no’ the fate of a lass I dinnae even know. You travel the land, my lady. You said so yourself. Surely you have plenty friends who would be eager to do yourbidding.”
“I am no’ the one inneed.”
“You ken what I meant.” Greyson started to say more, but Priddy’s painted hound chose that moment to tip back his head and howl. Leastways, a shifting of the room’s light and shadows gave the impression the beast had moved. Just as the wind whistling past the real windows sounded, for a beat, like the wail of a howling dog. As Devorgilla didn’t even blink, Greyson figured he’d imagined the incident – as he oftendid.
Or so he excused suchthings.
Just now, he glanced at the door. “You troubled yourself for nothing, dear lady. Wise as you are, you should have known better than to seek me for such apurpose.”
“Ach, I may have erred, aye.” The crone looked more sure of herself than ever. “I know fine you are no’ a rescuing sort,” she added, stepping aside as Wiggle dashed into the room and streaked past them to almost fly to the top of his ‘tree.’ A refuge Greyson had fashioned for the little red squirrel out of fallen branches he’d collected on his walks through the gorge. “You only help wee woodland creatures you find abandoned and motherless, left alone tobrave-”
“Leave Wiggle out of this.” Greyson glanced at his pet, then back to Devorgilla. “Rescuing a squirrel is a far cry from becoming embroiled in the affairs of youngwoman.”
“I am no’ arguing.” Devorgilla went to the small desk beneath one of the painted windows and flipped open the ledger there, glancing briefly over the scrawled figures before closing the book. “And this…” She turned to face Greyson, her gaze sharp. “Are these no’ the records of the help you send theSilver Thistlesurvivors? As well, the families of thoselost?”
Greyson saidnothing.
He knew where the crone wasgoing.
He also wasn’t surprised how well she knew hisbusiness.
“This whole house…” Devorgilla waved an arm, taking in the restored splendor of the ancient hall. “Was this place no’ falling in on itself? The stonework crumbling and its wood warped and blackened? Have you no’ removed the panels that hid the artist’s mastery, so revealing his talent to a world now ready to appreciate him? If that is no’ rescuing lost causes, I dinnae ken whatis.”
“You have made your point.” Greyson winced at her logic. “I have much to do this day. State your concern and then leave me to my peace. I will think on the matter. But only after you give me your word this isn’ttrickery.”
“Pah!” Devorgilla clapped a hand to her heart. “I ne’er trick folk. I help them. Sure as I’m standing here. You will find nae man with a complaint against me. Nor anywoman.”
“I dinnae care what you do with such souls.” Greyson leaned toward her. “Dinnae do it withme.”
I am no’ a fool. Lassies in difficulties want only one type of aid – a deep-pursedhusband.
I could not wed if I madly desired to doso.
The whole of my fortune is gone. Nor will I leave Gannet House and I cannae think of any woman who would wish to dwell in such an unusualhome.
A place filled with ghosts, whimsically painted rooms, and a mad, ever-racing-aboutsquirrel.
