“Well, for one thing, the men of Tír na Lune are surprisingly skilled with their fingers. He did this twisting mo?—”
“Not what I meant,” Lachlan croons without a hint of reproach. Not like there would have been in Breton, if a woman dared talk of such things over breakfast.
“Spoilsport.” She shoots me a mischievous glance. “I’ll bet Charlotte wants to know. Once Duke Áine returns, she’ll get well acquainted with his fingers.”
A tense curiosity shoots through me. I wonder what the duke looks like. He sounded pleasant during the presentation ceremony.WouldI like to get to know his fingers? Then again, given what Lachlan told me about the situation in Campan’s Vale … I don’t know enough to judge yet, but something tells me that while Duke Áine’s title is noble, the man himself may be far from it.
Lachlan’s grip on his knife tightens ever so slightly, but his voice is as calm as always when he asks, “And whenwillthe illustrious duke be returning? Or was that not one of the secrets you learned from the gentleman who entertained you last night?”
Aowen snorts. “He was hardly a gentleman, praise Danu. But he did claim the duke will be back for dinner. I snuck down to the staff quarters before I came here, bribed one of the girls to show me this evening’s place settings, and we’re in luck. Charlotte will be seated right next to him.”
“Good,” Lachlan says, a vein in his jaw ticcing. “Hopefully he’ll make up for his absence last night. And for sending Lisande LaBeaumont in his stead. What’s she doing here?”
“She’s the duke’s current lover,” Aowen bemoans. “Her father introduced them. She’s been here for months, weaving herself into his life. You need to be careful, Lachlan. Desmond would call you back in a heartbeat if he knew she was here, given your history with their fam?—”
“I know.” His tone is sharp, and Aowen takes the hint, crunching into her apple instead of elaborating.
“Do you think she orchestrated the snub last night?” I ask, glancing toward Lachlan and studying his arresting profile. The sharp line of his jaw, the fan of his dark lashes, how his bottom lip pokes out just a bit farther than the top one.
He’s a fascinating study. So much so that I nearly miss Aowen’s answer to my question. Something about how it’sextremelylikely that Lisande organized the trip that the duke and his closest male courtiers took to Farlock’s Edge—a playground of a city along the border between Tír na Lune and Tír na Dubh with vices to suit any depraved taste.
Aowen rises from the table. “I’m going to take a long, hot bath. Rinse the man stink off me.” Vesper squawks at her. “No, no. You help Charlotte with that rat’s nest atop her head.”
Vesper hisses, then zooms into my room.
I smooth a hand over my curls. Surely it’s notthatbad. “Should she be?—”
“She’s already stolen a few strands, right? Few more won’t kill you.” Aowen winks. “After, you and I are going for a little tour around the castle. I’ll introduce you to some of the courtiers. Since the duke isn’t here to share his clue, maybe they’ll be able to give you a hint of where to start looking for the fragment.”
She glides into her room, humming a bawdy folk song that I recognize—something about a maiden and a horse and a bareback ride. Granny used to sing it to me when she was feeling cheeky. Which was often.
I chuckle at the memory while rising from my own chair, then pop one more bit of scone into my mouth. “If you’ll excuse me,” I say to Lachlan. “Apparently, I’ve got an appointment with a hair-eating pixie. What’s on your agenda today?”
He folds his knife and sets it upon the table next to his half-finished carving, which looks more like a shank than anything else at the moment. “I’ve got a check-in with Sir Quinn, the captain of Duke Áine’s celestial knights. Reviewing the castle’s security protocols, plans to coordinate for the Wild Hunt, that kind of thing.” He switches to thediamrhán. I’ll still be available to you, though. Check in whenever you need me.
“Actually, Iwillneed you later.”
“Really?” His brows rise as he removes his glasses. A tragedy. “What for?”
“I’d like to start searching the castle grounds tonight.”
“Ah.” He breaks my gaze, begins fiddling with the edge of a napkin. “Yes. Yes, of course. That’s smart.”
It’s obviously not the answer he was expecting.
Oh, this will be fun.
“Why?” I drop my voice, focusing my attention on his side of thediamhrán, which he’s left open. “What did you think I was going to ask you?”
I catch flashes of teeth across skin, fingers dimpling flesh, mouths breathing against each other, and?—
He slams it closed. “Nothing.”
And there goes his blush again. He really must stop doing that, or I fear I may fall in love with him. God knows I’ve fallen in love for less.
He coughs into his fist, still not looking at me. “Do you have an idea of where you’d like to start?”
“Well, Desmond’s piece was buried in a family tomb. Perhaps Áine’s is as well?”
