Gifted Thief (Highland Magic #1)(44)

Byron seemed to decide that engaging me in discussion about my name was pointless. He turned round and strode ahead. I gazed after him for a second then followed. Whatever was about to unfold within the depths of the Cruaich castle, it certainly wouldn’t be dull.

Once inside, I was surprised at the interior. It wasn’t as flash as I expected. It was grand, certainly, but more from a sense of ancient tradition than ostentatious wealth. Byron was moving well ahead of me but rather than quicken my step to keep up, I deliberately slowed my pace and drank in my surroundings.

A red carpet ran the length of the stone-flagged floor and the walls were draped with the different Clan tartans, most of which I was surprised to recognise. The Adair Clan colours, a clash of orange, blue and green as I recalled, were conspicuously absent. So much for making a big deal out of the Adair name, I thought sardonically.

There was a set of grand doors at the end of the carpet. Byron stopped at them and turned, impatiently tapping his foot as I ambled towards him. He didn’t seem happy at my slow progress.

I was overtaken by a sense of mischief that I rarely indulged. I stopped and took out my phone. Byron’s expression grew even more thunderous, especially when I took several selfies, flicking my hair and pouting at myself. I was taking inspiration from Lexie; she was very skilled at this sort of thing.

‘Get a move on.’

‘But, Your Highness, I want to record myself for posterity. There has to be some sort of record that I was here. Otherwise when you try to get rid of me once I’ve helped you reach the Foinse, I won’t be able to prove that I was here.’

Byron blinked in astonishment. Interesting. Perhaps that wasn’t the endgame after all – but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

‘I’m going to send this to a few friends,’ I chirped. ‘So they know where I am.’ I pressed the necessary buttons. My hairdresser would be very surprised when she checked her messages.

‘Whatever you might think,’ Byron said, his voice softening a touch, ‘we are not going to hurt you.’

I met his eyes. ‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’ I jerked my head at the doors. ‘Aren’t we going in?’

A muscle in his jaw throbbed. ‘Just one thing first.’ He dug into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. I recognised it immediately. It was good to know that my little diversion had worked. I wondered how hard it had been to retrieve the letter from the post office after I dropped it into international mail. ‘Can you explain this?’

‘Explain what?’

He slid out the glossy page that was folded inside the envelope and waved it in my direction. I’d torn it out of one of Taylor’s girlie mags; it was a particularly graphic representation of a mocked-up Sidhe man performing fellatio on a rather well-endowed female troll.

‘You know that intercepting mail is a serious offence?’ I enquired, cocking my head.

‘These immature little rebellions are pointless. They’re only going to delay matters.’

I looked at him from under my eyelashes. The loss of the Lia Saifire and the pornographic post were really getting to him - probably because he wasn’t as ‘in charge’ as he liked to be. Good.

‘How long are these matters going to take?’ I asked.

‘We’ll head out for the Foinse straight after dawn. It takes about a day to get there. We’ll arrive in the grove by midday Tuesday so if all goes to plan, you can be back home and sleeping in your own bed by Thursday night.’ Something sparked in his eyes. ‘If you wish, I can tuck you in.’

Byron was obviously irritated and was trying to intimidate me and put me in my place. I quashed down the lustful butterflies that sprang up in my stomach and licked my lips. I twirled my fingers through my hair and moved closer to him, brushing against his body. The answering tension in his muscles brought me deep satisfaction.

‘Don’t,’ he growled.

I stepped back. ‘Then stop trying to flirt with me. We both know that moment has passed.’

He looked like he was about to say something and thought better of it. ‘Fine,’ he snapped, ‘come on then.’

Without further ado, Byron pushed open the large doors, revealing a vast room. Smack bang in the centre was a table, with a lot of well-dressed Sidhe sitting around it. Every head twisted in our direction while I sucked in a breath. I’d thought Byron was attractive but these guys were something else. Not a single blemish marred their skin and not one hair was out of place. It felt like I was walking into the pages of Vanity Fair.

A man at the far end of the table got to his feet. The simple gold band encircling his head signified his role and I immediately spotted the family resemblance. So this was Byron’s father, the Sidhe Steward Aifric. He’d been the leader of the Clans for years. It had always seemed a rather pointless role – not just to me but to many Clan and Clan-less people. Each Clan head had his own agenda which almost never corresponded with anyone else’s.