Anne Bishop - Shadows and Light

“What can I do for you, Liam?” Elinore asked.

It was a simple thing, really, but he suddenly felt awkward. “The council of barons is meeting at the end of the week.”

“I see,” Elinore said in a voice that gave him no clue about her reaction to that news. “So you’ll be leaving in a couple of days?”

“Tomorrow. It’ll give me time to take care of some business in Durham before the council meets.” I’m not meeting a mistress, he wanted to shout at her when he saw the way her face seemed to close him out. And even if I was looking to spend time with a woman, I’d be breaking no vows since I’ve made none. “Is there anything I can bring back for you while I’m there?”

“No, thank you.”

“Books?” Liam prodded. Elinore loved books.

She shook her head, then paused. “Well... Perhaps a book of stories suitable for Brooke?”

He walked over to her chair, knelt on one knee beside it, and rested his hand lightly on her arm. Her eyes widened, and he wondered if she were going to scold him for kneeling by her chair now that he was the baron. Oh, she wanted to. He could tell by the way she lightly caught her tongue between her teeth to keep herself from saying anything. He grinned at her.

“Come now,” he coaxed. “It would be a shame for me to be standing in a bookshop and only come away with one book. Just one book for yourself?”

She looked away from him. A bit of color rose in her cheeks. “There was mention a few months back that Moira would be having a new book out soon, and I do enjoy her stories—and not just because she’s my cousin.”

“Done.” He kissed her cheek, then stood. “I’d better see to the rest of my arrangements if I’m going to leave early tomorrow morning.”

He was glad she didn’t ask him what arrangements. He wasn’t sure how to explain the decision he’d reached.

As he left the manor, intending to go to the stables to have Oakdancer saddled, he saw a young man riding toward him and waited.

The young man raised a hand in greeting. “Good day to you, sir.”

“Good day,” Liam replied.

“Could you tell me where I would find Old Willowsbrook? When I inquired in the village, they directed me here, but this isn’t quite the place. It’s been a few years since I’ve been there, and I seem to have forgotten the way.”

A few years ago, the man before him would have been a boy—certainly too young for courier work. Which meant he was lying about having been to the Old Place before, and that made Liam uneasy. “What business do you have there?”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but it’s none of yours.”

“I’m the Baron of Willowsbrook,” Liam said, his former courtesy turned cold. “So it is my business.”

The young man paled a little. “I’ve a letter for one of the ladies there.”

“Which one?” Why was he pushing? It truly wasn’t any of his business. If the man hadn’t lied in the first place, he might simply have given him directions and let him go.

“Mistress Nuala.”

Liam extended one hand. “I’m going that way. I’ll see it gets delivered.”

The young man paled a little more. “My instructions were to place it in Mistress Nuala’s hand personally. Tisn’t important or anything,” he added hurriedly. “You understand how ladies can be at times about making sure letters reach the right person, although why they make such a fuss is beyond me. My sister is a right fusser about things like that. I happened on a letter a friend of hers had written to her. Hand delivered it was, too, so I thought— Well, I was younger then. But there it was, four pages, sir, filled with discussion about ribbons and the length of sleeves and the different shades of green needed to do some embroidery. Four pages! And they, my sister and her friend, always got right stiff about having their letters delivered properly.”

“Probably because your sister’s friend also had a younger brother,” Liam said coolly. The man was lying with every breath. Oh, he was telling the truth about having a sister, Liam was certain of that, which only made the lie about the letter’s unimportance more damning. Whatever he was delivering to Nuala was something he didn’t want anyone else to know about—or connect him to—and it occurred to Liam that Elinore’s concern about the witches needing his protection might have weight.

“Very well,” Liam said. “I’ll ride with you, since I’m going that way. Follow me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Not happy, but trying not to show it, the young man waited while Arthur saddled Oakdancer. Once Liam was mounted, they rode to the Old Place in silence.

“Breanna!”

Shading her eyes, Breanna looked up at the housekeeper, who was leaning out an upstairs window. “Glynis?”

“You’ve got company coming. Best look sharp.”

Wondering if that was a suggestion that she should change out of the tunic and trousers she’d been working in or simply a warning, Breanna shrugged, then walked to the arch. Liam and Oakdancer were easy enough to recognize, but it took her a moment to place the other man.

When they were a few feet away, the men reined in.

“Good day to you, Mistress,” Liam said.

Had he forgotten her name? Breanna wondered.

It was his quick glance at the other man and the stiff way he held himself, as if ready for a fight—and the question in his eyes, directed straight at her—that told her he wouldn’t give her name to a stranger, and he’d make that stranger’s life a misery if she even hinted there was cause.

In a flash of insight, she realized Liam would react the same way if a stranger approached his little sister, Brooke. This wasn’t about being a baron—although she was sure he’d make use of the power the title gave him. This was about being an older brother.

Not sure how she felt about that—pleasure and confusion danced inside her in equal measures—she turned to the other man, and said, “Cousin Rory?”

The young man sagged in relief. “It’s glad I am to see you, cousin Breanna.”

Breanna narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “Why?”

“Well, there is that,” Rory muttered. “Father sent a letter and things to Nuala, asked me to deliver them personally.”

“Then you can use the kitchen door same as the rest of the family,” Breanna said tartly.

Rory flashed a grin at her, brushed his fingers against the brim of his hat as a salute to Liam, then urged his horse through the arch.

“There’s no point having him go through the front door,” Breanna said, walking toward Liam while he dismounted. “He’d just head straight for the kitchen anyway, wouldn’t remember to stop and wipe his feet, and then he’d have Glynis chasing him with a broom for mucking up her clean floors.”

Liam just stared at her.

“You’ve never been chased by an annoyed woman with a broom,” Breanna decided.

“No,” Liam said faintly, “I’ve never had the pleasure.”

She studied his boots. “Well, if you’re wanting the experience, just walk through the front door and don’t wipe your feet.”

“I’m the Baron of Willowsbrook.”

“From the ankles on up, you’re the Baron of Willowsbrook. From the ankles on down, you’re dirty boots on a clean floor. I’ll give you odds which part of you Glynis will notice.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll stay where I am,” Liam muttered. He was appalled to realize that a tiny part of him wanted to find out if a woman would really whack a baron with a broom because he tracked dirt on her floor.

“So,” Breanna said, wondering where his mind had wandered off to. “Besides giving Rory an unwanted escort, what brings you here?”

“Does he really have a sister who writes long letters about ribbons and the length of sleeves?”