The Goblets Immortal by Beth Overmyer (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📕

Aidan tried not to tense. If she lied and said yes, that could be easily checked into, especially by someone of this lady’s status. If Slaíne told the truth….

Slaíne spoke. “Nay, ma’am.” Here she leaned in and said in a conspiratorial voice, “It’s been my experience that foreigners ain’t treated none so well in these parts.” She pulled back. “Besides, I did not know who I should report the robbery to.”

The two guards, who had been standing at full attention when their superior arrived, now were fully at ease, shifting their weight from side to side and throwing muttered insults at each other. Their mistress ignored them.

The woman’s age was impossible to gauge from her face, though the slight strain in her voice put her, in Aidan’s estimate, in her forties. From what he made out in his short glimpse of her, the woman seemed in decent physical shape and could easily pose a threat if Slaíne were to engage her, which he prayed she would not. A moment of awkward silence passed, and Aidan knew Slaíne should be the one introducing herself. This could be going much better than it was. “Pray, forgive me. I have not yet introduced myself. I am Lady Dewhurst.”

“Milady.” Slaíne made a half curtsy, but did not introduce herself.

“And your name might be…?”

“Slaíne Cuthbert, milady.”

There was a small pause. “Welcome to the heart of Breckstone, Miss Cuthbert. Are you in possession of anything I should know about?”

“Milady?”

“Are you carrying arms? You know, swords, daggers, and the like.”

Slaíne gave out a short laugh. “If I did, we would nay have run afoul of those highwaymen, I dare say. And I would think me clothes would be baggier.”

Lady Dewhurst returned the laugh, though it was twice as short and more than affected. With care, Aidan monitored the lady’s Pull and the Pull of her clothes and the possessions she carried on her. Lady Dewhurst, it would seem, carried nothing openly. But with a little probing, Aidan felt the repulsion he was expecting but dreading: iron. From the size, he would hazard to guess it was a small dirk in its sheath, and it was strapped to her ankle. He should be in little danger from her. Well, unless she bent down on whatever pretense she might assemble.

“Very well. I assume I won’t have to search you. Only your man.”

Aidan willed Slaíne not to react.

“Rutherford has nothing to hide.” Even as she said it, the two guardsmen of the Dewhurst estate stepped forward, kicking up dust as they came.

Aidan remained calm and still, trying to affect a resigned, servile manner. These thugs had several weapons apiece, as he had observed, and, unlike earlier, the swords and daggers could not be dealt with by Dismissal…not in front of the wife of the man who was after his blood.

The one on the left slammed into Aidan, causing him to lose his balance and his footing and topple to the ground. He shielded his face as they jumped him.

All the while as they searched him with unnecessary roughness, Slaíne remained silent, just as he would have wished her to. Putting up a fuss over a mere servant would not serve them well in the long run.

It was when they’d searched him once through and through and they started the search all over again, that Slaíne did speak up.

“Are we quite finished here?” Her words were laced with disdain with an undercurrent of boredom. “Really, you’d a’think they’s afraid of one scrawny, unarmed manservant.”

To Aidan’s surprise, the men got to their feet, giving Aidan a light kick apiece before returning to their mistress’s side. “He’s clear, milady.”

Aidan knew he was going to feel the effects of their near-brutal search later, but he feigned indifference as he scrambled to his feet, still keeping his gaze downcast.

“Well,” said Lady Dewhurst. “I apologize for any misconduct on my men’s part. They are, after all, just men and can’t always control themselves.”

“Quite.” The tone was polite enough, though Aidan could tell that she was fuming inwardly.

“My husband and I were just sitting down for our mid-morning tea, Miss Cumber.”

“Cuthbert,” Slaíne put in.

“Rather. If you would like to go around back to the kitchen, Cook should have something to refresh you.”

This was it. This was their chance. Aidan tried not to get overly excited or anxious; any reaction on his part could send things spiraling out of control quickly. Instead, he contented himself with staring at Slaíne’s boots.

“That would be lovely. Thank ye for yer kindness, Mrs. Dewhurst.”

Aidan winced. It was an obvious slight Slaíne had just made, addressing the woman by a lower rank. Lady Dewhurst, however, seemed to be ignoring it.

“Have you no horses?”

“Goblins ate him.”

“Oh, how vulgar.” A pause. “Him? You only had one horse?”

The ladies’ Pulls moved out of the woodsy area, and the two guards stalked off into the bracken. Aidan followed after Slaíne, keeping a respectable distance.

“No, the horse what was eaten were mine. The others could nay be spared.”

Slaíne was better at lying than he at first thought she would be. That put him in mind: Had she been lying about anything to him, and if so, would he be able to discern it? But he was getting distracted. Shutting out Slaíne’s Pull, Aidan reached out and explored the manor, which he had not set foot in for around two decades.

There were many human Pulls concealed within and scattered without. He felt Dewhurst’s moving to and fro in one long line. That concerned Aidan for a moment, for a pacing man was an indecisive man, and an indecisive man was a worried man. Did he suspect Aidan’s presence? No, he was getting ahead of himself. He’d better attend to the bigger threat he was sensing: repulsions. Beneath his boots, concealed deep within the earth, he at once felt as though he were not fighting gravity so hard, that he was being pushed away from the earth. To his wonder, Slaíne did not seem all too