Belmary House Book Three (14 page)

“But I booked us a flight,” she said in a wavery old lady voice Tilly had never heard before.

She narrowed her eyes at Helen, who pursed her lips and looked away.

“Then you take it,” she said, not about to be manipulated by her sweet and devious granny. “Like I told Dex, I’ll be back in London soon. A few days, that’s all.”

Liam walked into the kitchen, nose buried in a book, and therefore didn’t see Helen go after him with her tote bag. The first whack knocked the book out of his hands and the other caught him in the side of the head.

Before Tilly could tell her she’d once again attacked the wrong man, Liam grabbed her wrist and stopped the flying bag mid swing.

She looked up at him breathlessly as he held onto her, supporting her back so she wouldn’t fall down from the force of her missed blow.

“Well, who is this enchanting woman?” he asked Tilly over Helen’s head, his eyes quickly returning to her grandma’s astonished face.

Tilly did a double take when she saw Helen flutter her lashes and coyly look away. That move must have run in the family, and it worked as well on Liam as it always did on Ashford when Tilly used it.

“I’m Helen Barlow,” she said, still in his arms.

“She’s my grandmother,” Tilly explained.

“Grandmother? You mean mother,” he said, voice positively oozing with smarm. Tilly wanted to gag, but Helen beamed. “Or sister,” he added recklessly.

“Oh, come on,” Tilly said. “I thought you had a plane to catch, Gran.”

Liam righted her, introducing himself with an old-fashioned bow. She apologized for hitting him, hiding the offending tote bag behind her back. He laughed as if she’d told the world’s funniest joke.

“On the contrary, I’m sure I deserved it.”

Revoltingly, Helen laughed as well, a tinkling bell of a laugh that made Tilly’s jaw drop. These two were flirting. She tried to do the math in her head, and figured out Liam had to be at least ten years younger than Helen.

“But tell me you aren’t leaving already?” he asked with concern. “You must have just arrived.”

“No, she wants to be on her way as soon as possible,” Tilly said, feeling a devil poking her. Helen whirled and withered her with a look, and she added, “She rented a car. And booked a flight.”

“I’m sure it can be changed,” Helen said, fumbling for her phone. “I’ll just do that right now.”

“Then you’ll allow me to take you on a stroll in the gardens?”

“What is going on here?” Tilly demanded. “You, Mr. Grandma Whisperer, go back to reading your book. Gran, we still need to talk about some things.”

“If I’m staying, dear, there will be plenty of time to talk more. I saw an inn when I drove up, I’ll just call them and see if there’s a room.”

Piper hurried in at that point, having been alerted to Helen’s presence, and made Tilly’s life even more complicated by insisting that Helen stay at the castle, once again citing her ten million rooms. Liam’s eyes lit up with a wolfish glow and she vowed to do regular patrols of the halls that night, in case he tried something. Or horribly, in case her grandma tried something. Helen had surreptitiously reapplied her lipstick while she haggled with the airline, fluttering her lashes some more as she took Liam’s arm for the tour of the gardens.

“That was so cute,” Piper said after they left. “Did your grandma give you hell when you told her you were staying with Ashford?”

“I didn’t tell her yet. I was working up to it when Don Juan of Detroit came in and swept her off her feet.”

“Hopefully he’ll put her in a good mood for when you do tell her,” Piper said.

Tilly didn’t want to think about Liam Wodge putting her grandmother in a good mood, but Piper had a point. Maybe his unwarranted attention would be a good thing. Piper’s phone rang and she stepped away to answer it.

Tilly sat down and ate some more cookies, absently listening to the wind rattle the window panes. The pleasant morning had degraded into a blustery afternoon, and dark clouds threatened rain. She was glad she’d decided to cut her shopping trip to the village short, not wanting to get caught out in what was sure to be a nasty storm. Maybe getting rained on would cool Liam and her grandmother’s ardor.

Piper’s upraised voice, tinged with alarm, turned Tilly’s attention to her, pacing as she spoke into her phone.

“What is it, Danny? Is your brother okay? I didn’t hear what you said. You have to calm down.”

Tilly raised her brows questioningly and Piper covered her other ear, all her attention on the phone. Piper made several noises of agreement, then promised to find Lachlan and ended the call.

“What now?” she muttered, punching in another number, but hanging up in frustration after a minute.

“Is everything all right?” Tilly asked, worried for her new friend.

“One of my goatherds was practically hysterical, wanting us to get out to the west field. I have to find Lachlan. Danny said he’s not answering his phone, and he didn’t answer my call either.” She twisted her hands together with nerves.

“Do you want me to help you look?”

Piper gratefully accepted the offer, and told her where she’d be looking if Tilly found him first. Tilly ended up spotting him, along with Ashford, outside of a very nasty looking pig’s pen. They stopped their chatting at her harried race up to them, and she told them something was wrong in the west field. Lachlan checked his phone and made a face.

“I forgot to charge the damn thing again. Ah, must be something wrong with the wee goats. Well, I’ll head out that way. D’ye mind calling Piper and telling her to meet me at the carts?”

“We’ll go with you, if you think you might need extra hands,” Ashford said, impressing Tilly with his helpful concern. “I grew up on a farm, so know a thing or two about goats.”

Tilly let him tuck her arm under his as he hurried along beside Lachlan, finding his agricultural confidence alarmingly sexy. She’d loved her time at his country estate, and had even been offered a position as the dressmaker’s apprentice, but she’d never thought she would find being in love with a farmer so charming. She found she wouldn’t mind at all if Ashford let the portal be closed up, as long as she was with him, of course, so they could live their lives peacefully on his lovely, hilly land.

Piper met them at the golf cart shed and they piled onto one of them, Ashford holding on for dear life and frowning distastefully at the ground as it sped by. Tilly directed his attention to the horizon, where low purple and black clouds had gathered against the steel grey sky. The barest hint of sunlight shone valiantly through the massive storm front, one beautiful beacon of orange light. He relaxed and nodded at her, leaning back in his seat and relaxing his death grip somewhat.

“It’s only because of the open sides,” he said. “I never cared for racing in Phaetons when I was younger, either.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, not caring that he had a mild speed phobia. Life wouldn’t move that fast when they were back in 1814, and he had plenty of luxurious, plodding carriages for them to get around in.

They came upon two young men, waving their arms at them. Tilly recognized one of them as Shane, Mellie’s boyfriend, who’d been with Dex and Emma when they arrived. It really was a small village if he worked at the castle as well.

Before anyone could ask what was the matter, the boys turned simultaneously, wordlessly pointing down a low grassy slope. In every direction was miles of green, except for where they pointed. Piper gasped and began to run down the hill, but Lachlan pulled her back.

“There’s something down there,” Shane said. “In the middle of it.”

“Ye didna go down there, did ye, lad?” Lachlan asked, voice tinged with fear. The boys shook their heads.

Tilly glanced at Ashford, but the way he stared at it made her believe he’d never seen anything like it either. A perfect circle of land, at least thirty yards in all directions had been scorched to dirt, with what looked like a small cairn in the dead center of it. Something was scattered around the neat pile of rocks, in a pattern too symmetrical to have just fallen there.

“When was the last time you were out this way?” Piper asked, squinting to try and make out what was below. “Something’s on the cairn.”

“Something’s around it as well,” Tilly said, a shiver going down her spine that had nothing to do with the gusty weather.

“We were here just yesterday,” Shane said.

“Aye, the goats took a liking to it last week and have been coming out here since,” the other boy agreed. “That thing wasna there yesterday.”

“A fire big enough to cause something like this,” Lachlan started, shaking his head. “We would have seen smoke.”

“It wasn’t a fire,” Ashford said angrily. He pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to drive off a headache, then sighed.

Without another word, he strode down the incline and into the middle of the circle. A shriek rose up in unison, and Tilly held her breath, waiting for something to happen. He made it to the cairn, and leaned over, snatched something off it, and strode back. His brow was furrowed and a deep anger shone in his eyes, rivalling the sky with their leaden intensity. He held out a cracked piece of parchment, first showing one side stained with what looked like blood, and the other, covered in a scrawl that Tilly couldn’t make out at first glimpse.

“This is from my family’s spellbook,” he said, crumpling it in his hand before smoothing it out again.

Tilly’s stomach rolled over. “I thought the Povests had that book,” she said. He looked at her pityingly and she nodded, understanding. “They were here,” she whispered.

Piper grabbed Lachlan’s arm, and he put a steadying hand on her back. The two boys were pale and sweating in the cold wind, their fear coming off them in waves, though they couldn’t possibly understand what they were afraid of.

“Can you read it? Do you know what it means?” Piper asked, leaning over to peer at the old-fashioned, spidery handwriting, liberally sprinkled with odd symbols.

Ashford blew out a long breath and barked a curt, humorless laugh. “I can read it,” he affirmed. “It’s a spell that will lead you home, no matter where you may be. They’re telling us to go home. Or else.”

Kostya stood before the council. He’d been back a week if he counted the lost two days. These ancient, stooped people were all related to him somehow and he struggled to place them. Their faces barely showed beneath their hoods and he caught glimpses of pale, tired eyes. He’d thought there were more when he was younger, at least eight of them had stared down at him the last time he’d had to go before them. What had he done all those years ago? He couldn’t remember. Now there were only five, and one coughed violently until he had to sit down, leaving a blank space in their previously unbroken line.

No, they weren’t as intimidating as they had been when he was a child, in trouble for being reckless or perhaps just covering for someone else. The visit with his grandmother was still fresh in his mind, and now faced with this diminished council of elders, his confidence rose.

“Sit yourself down, boy. We’re far too old and tired to keep standing here menacingly. And Rolf has already given out on us.”

The council member pushed back his hood and Kostya thought it might be his great-uncle Dolan on his mother’s side, but the man was so hidden in wrinkles, he couldn’t be sure. He gave the already sitting council member a dirty look and they were seated.

He studied their gold and jewel encrusted thrones, each one padded with a thick velvet pillow and thought about the sparse furniture he’d been given, about Sorin’s rickety chairs. He knew there was enough food, he saw the bountiful crops being brought in every day from the rich fields surrounding their land. Where did it all go? The council members were as skeletal and frail as any of the villagers.

“Where’s Grandmother?” he asked, sitting on the edge of his chair and facing them.

“She’s not well,” the sick one coughed out. “None of us are.”

His great-uncle glared at him before proceeding. “That doesn’t matter. We’re a separate entity. We’ll report to her after we’ve made our ruling.”

Kostya smothered a laugh. Separate entity, his hindquarters. They did what she told them to do, when she told them. He wondered if her illness was a ruse. Perhaps she was avoiding him, possibly afraid? He really did laugh at that. Something had to be in the air here, giving him that false sense of security. He expected to get a slap at the very least for his outburst, but after raising a disgruntled eyebrow, his great-uncle merely cleared his throat and shuffled around in his robes.

“Very well, then,” he said, pulling out a red leather bound book and flipping through it. He squinted down at it until the crone next to him took it from him and found the proper page. She handed it back to him with a huff. “Oh, this is a long list,” he said, perking up.

“Are you trying to say you have a list of my supposed crimes?” Kostya asked. “I dispute them all.”

They tutted at him. “Besides betraying your family all those years ago, this is a list of Camilla’s crimes. You’ll be expected to pay for them.”

“Why?” he asked. “My wife left me when I tried to reason with her. I don’t feel responsible.” He looked down so they wouldn’t see the lie in his eyes. He knew he shouldn’t feel responsible. Anyone would tell him he’d done all he could, but he’d go to his grave wondering if he could have done more. “You know I fixed the problem for you,” he added bitterly. “Was that enjoyable for you to watch? Why didn’t you take care of it before it got to the point it did? One word from my grandmother and it would have ended.”