Page 43 of Duncan

“I took a dip to rinse off the salt before I came to report, Captain. Volunteers get to do that.” She smiled up at him. “Did you lock up Nicole Fairburn for some reason? I haven’t seen her around lately.”

“She spends much of the day in her chamber.” He sighed. “Duncan’s leaving the stronghold every morn to attend the villagers, and doesnae return until long after dusk. According to Fletcher, since the healer shared his bed with the lady a week past they’ve no’ spoken.”

“But that means they’re lovers. You said it would be another month, and Jamaran picked next week. That means I won the Duncan and Nicole Get Busy pool.” Caroline grinned as she stepped back and held out her hand. “Hand it over, pal.”

Nyall sighed as he unbuckled the sheath with his favorite fighting dagger from his belt and offered it to her. “Our friend the commander never mentioned what item he wagered.”

“It’s not an item. He has to cater to a personal fantasy of mine.” Her eyes filled with mischief. “If you want to watch him pay up, come to our cottage after sunset.”

He walked with her to the great hall, where the laird and his wife stood with Shaw and Brochan, both of whom appeared drenched.

“You lot need settle for what you may scrounge from my cold pantry for the evening meal tonight, Captain,” the cook said as he wrung out the bottom of his dripping tunic. The puddle that splashed to the stone floor collected itself and crept up over his sodden boots, thanks to his mortal weakness, which made him a magnet for sea water any time he came near it. “Worth stocked the big hearth with pine instead of oak, and lighting the wood near set Jamma and her bairn on fire. Every damned dish I prepared, ’twas doused with sand while they put out the flames. Chieftain, that scullery’s a menace.”

“Only think what Worth might do if we pit the lad against the enchantress,” Shaw told him, patting his shoulder. “Come and change your garments.”

Nyall frowned after the two men as they walked away. “How does Brochan escape the sea water when ’tis soaking him?”

“He strips atop a high stool, and tosses the wet clothes in a bucket, which Shaw shall carry out before the water seeks him.” The laird rubbed his eyes. “They emptied every tide pool from here to the east end of the island, but found no hybrids in hiding.”

“Jules and I and the Selseus are having the same bad luck.” Caroline regarded Valerie. “Could it be because one of them died here? Maybe they know we captured it.”

“Connal has contacted the druids on the mainland, and they claim the Cait Sith may be capable of reading each other’s thoughts,” the other woman said. “It’s possible the hybrids share the same ability.”

Nyall hadn’t heard about the laird receiving word from the magic folk. “Why involve the druids in our quest against the hybrids?”

“Caroline, why don’t we go and help Janna and the kitchen maids put together a cold buffet for the evening meal?” Valerie asked, tucking her arm through the diver’s before she could reply, and guided her out of the hall.

As soon as they were out of earshot the laird moved toward the central hearth, a spot where no one could overhear what was said.

“You may trust my wife keep your counsel, my lord,” he reminded Connal.

“We didnae tell the druids anything about the hybrids. After reports reached them of Derdrui’s slaughter of mortals on Insii Orc—some of whom shared their bloodlines—they sent us all they ken of the Cait Sith. They’ve agreed Mistress Fairburn may use their time portal as well.” His expression darkened. “She must go on the morrow, as soon as MacLeir may set sail for the mainland.”

That surprised him. “You wish her gone when she possesses a healing boon, and we face a war with the enchantress?”

“’Tis been much gossip and fretting among our vassals about the lady. That I might ease their worries I asked the druids send a copy of an old portrait from their archives. I possessed only a vague memory of the drawing, as did Fletcher,” the laird told him, and drew a small scroll from his sleeve. “Take a look.”

Nyall unrolled the parchment, which had been etched and delicately hand-tinted to portray a woman with red-gold hair and large blue eyes. Her coloring was not only identical to Nicole Fairburn’s, she possessed the same pointed nose and chin.

“How can druids in our time ken Mistress Fairburn’s face when they’ve never met the lady?” he asked Connal.

“’Tisnae her, lad,” he said softly as he took the scroll from him and rolled it up. “’Tis Princess Eilonwy, our sire’s first wife. He drew her once for the druids we sheltered from the Romans, as the magic folk wished see her beauty. They kept the original portrait sealed and preserved in their archives.”

When the laird tossed the portrait into the flames Nyall nearly snatched it out again, but then he understood.

“You believe Nicole’s the princess’s daughter?” He threw up his hands. “How? Eilonwy’s been gone these two thousand years at least. The lady came from the future.”

“She’s admitted lying about her name. What more does she conceal?” Connal’s jaw tightened, making a muscle along it tic. “Mar ever told us the princess died in Elphyne at the hands of the enchantress. Before she died mayhap she birthed our sire’s daughter, and hid her somewhere in the mortal realm. Or ’tis possible the lady’s a dark Fae like Derdrui, and one night whilst we sleep she shall slay us all in our beds. I cannae tell you because I dinnae ken the truth of Nicole Fairburn.”

Nyall bent down to pick up a split and tossed it into the flames, covering the curl of ash that was left of the scroll. He didn’t wish to believe their sire would have concealed a full-blood Fae daughter by Eilonwy from them, but Mar may have done so to protect the lass.

“Why dinnae you ask Mistress Fairburn if she’s Fae instead of sending her back? ’Tis said they cannae lie. Or bid the healer test her with one of the baubles from his cabinet,” he said.

“Duncan’s already bedded her,” the laird told him. “How think you he’d act upon learning all I’ve told you?”

Nyall realized if Nicole was Eilonwy and Mar’s daughter, that would mean the lady was their half-sister. “Fack. You cannae tell him ’tis a chance she’s our sibling.”

“Now you understand my haste in sending the lady away from Caladh.” Connal touched his shoulder. “Say naught of this, only post two men by the infirmary for the night. Whatever Duncan discovers, he cannae go unguarded until MacLeir sets sail for the mainland.”