Thomas swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I was twelve when I left,” he continued. “Just me and Cullen. A boy and his dog against the world.”
Nearly the same age as I had been when Mairi Grieve took ill, and I changed from not-daughter to full-time caretaker. Such burdens we had faced, so very young.
“You have done well for yourself.” I placed a hand upon his shoulder. “If the baron cannot see that, it is his folly, not yours.”
Thomas covered my hand with his own and we stood a moment, while the liveried servants bustled about.
Suddenly Thomas shook his head and looked at me. “My Bess,” he said. “How weary you must be. Let me find someone to announce us and show us to our rooms.”
My sore feet cried out in relief, and I gave him a sweet smile and nod. And yet:Rooms?He meant two. Must we ever be plagued by mortal ideas of propriety? But I was too exhausted to argue the point.
“Beg pardon.” Thomas hailed one of the grooms who scurried past. The man did not notice. Thomas waved at another servant, who headed down the corridor towards us, but the man turned and went another way. It seemed rude.
“We have entered a house of illness,” Thomas said, by way of explanation, “and at harvest time to boot.”
I considered our bedraggled clothing. “I suppose they do not recognize the young boy who left the manor many years ago.”
“But I do,” said a female voice behind us.
We both turned to face the most elegant young woman I had ever seen.
Her gown was fitted, though not snug, and in two colors: red and blue. I had only ever seen kirtles of one hue. She wore a diaphanous veil over her coiled and braided hair, a cross at her throat, and a belt at her waist dangling with small tools and keys. All iron, of course.
I took a step back.
Thomas, on the other hand, did drop to one knee before her, removing his hood.
I stared a moment, not seeing my merry shepherd in this reverent young man. Then I dropped to one knee myself.
When we stood again, Thomas met the young woman’s eyes. “Little Maggie?”
She laughed demurely. “No one has called me that in many years.”
Little Maggie?My belly sunk. I cleared my throat.
“Where are my manners?” Thomas asked. “Margaret, this is Bess. Bess, this is Margaret of Roxburgh, my old friend.”
And my heart clenched, as though it were trapped in an iron vise.
Twenty
What can I say ofMargaret of Roxburgh? Among mortals, ’tis reckoned better to say nothing than to speak someone ill. Among the fair folk, on the other hand, it is forbidden to lie. And so, it seems I must say nothing at all.
Nay, I can say this: I never knew Margaret to say an unkind word. She had no need to, when she could open her blue eyes round and wide in innocent shock or make a moue of disapproval with her perfect little mouth. Which she did. Often. Margaret of Roxburgh could chastise me in a thousand different ways and never even utter a word.
But for Thomas Shepherd, she had nothing but smiles.
“Oh, it is good to see you, Thomas!” She clasped her hands together, smiling prettily. “And forgive my forwardness, but you are looking so well.” Her eyes glanced away, and her cheeks grew rosy pink.
Thomas might forgive her forwardness, but I never shall.Warmth in my veins, tingling in my fingertips, but the sight of the cross at her throat made it retreat, turned my flesh cold.
“You do flatter me, little Maggie.” His eyes passed over her, indiscreetly. “Although not so little anymore, are you? ’Tis a fine lady you’ve become.”
And I was as small and plain as I had ever been.I would take off this false seeming right now and show him who I truly am.Yet the very doors spoke poison to me; my fae half retreated inside.
Margaret lowered her gaze, wielding blushes like a weapon. “I did worry so, when you left us, Tom. Glad I am you prospered in the meantime. And is the dog doing well?”
“The dog?” It creaked out of me, while a sinking sensation hit my belly.
