The Jezebel (Taskill Witches 3)

/> Roderick was startled anew. If that was true, and he had no reason to doubt Clyde, ever, it changed everything. “How can I go fetch her,” he declared, feeling even more frustrated than he had been before, “when I do not know where she is?”

“She and the man they called her guardian were taken to the naval garrison.”

Her guardian was with her. That blackened Roderick’s mood. He was even more astonished that Clyde knew so much. “How do you know that?”

“I forced it out of my quarry last night, before I lumped him on the head.” He gave a wide grin. “I pulled off his hat and wig, put my dirk behind his ear and told him I’d spare his ears if he told me what I wanted to know.”

“Why did you do that and put yourself at risk?”

“Because I knew the question was in your head and would remain stuck there. It was my duty to ask it.”

“I’m grateful.”

“So now you have no excuse.”

“I can find her and assure myself she is safe, but there is no hope in this mistaken notion you have of sweethearts.... And she is fully able to defend herself if she pleases, we all know that.” Roderick paced up and down, frustrated. The fact that he could go to her only addled his head more. “She’s destined for the Highlands and I’m a seafaring man.”

Clyde lifted his shoulders, eyes twinkling.

Roderick stared at him, and then something in him gave way. He nodded. “Go to the ship, ready the men for departure. I will find her.”

“And you’ll bring her back with you?”

Again he felt thwarted. “If I did, the crew would have her walk the plank.”

“Leave the men to me. It is me who muddled their thoughts, and can put them straight.” Clyde gripped Roderick’s arm. “Bring her back with you. She is meant to be with you aboard the Libertas.”

He shook his head. “She seeks her kin in the Highlands, but if she needs me, and the men are agreeable to it, we will take her there before we head for Holland.”

Clyde nodded. “I’ll go to the ship. Leave the men to me. They were already coming round. Brady is the only one fixed in his mind. You fetch your Jezebel, and be quick about it.”

I must be mad, Roderick reflected as he shook hands with Clyde and then hurried through the streets to the garrison.

When he got there, he knew with certainty that he was mad. It was a fortress, with soldiers standing all around. Lowering his head, Roderick passed them by, boldly daring them to call him out. There was a whispered discussion going on amongst them, news of a disappearing ship in the night making them uneasy, no doubt.

As he skirted the building he could find no entrance that was unguarded, but luck was on his side when he came upon a delivery cart where three men were unloading barrels.

He observed the action from a ways off, and as the third lifted a barrel onto his shoulder and headed into the garrison, Roderick strode to the cart and lifted a barrel in turn. Shielding his face from view with his arm, he fell in line behind the three men and entered the building.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Controlling Cyrus turned out to be much easier than Maisie had hoped. He was responsive to her whispered enchantments; he had an open mind to witchcraft, which made it easier for her to sway him and guide his thoughts. It was a relief to see the wickedness in him subdued. After the years where he had kept her grateful and needy, and had so often caused her to feel uncomfortable in his presence, Maisie felt there was justice in controlling him for just these few hours, before she escaped his special noose of companionship.

If she did not focus on him entirely, however, Cyrus became disagreeable. It was as if he sensed he wasn’t in control, but couldn’t understand why. His mood at those times wasn’t pleasant. That was the situation now, while they sat over breakfast, and her thoughts had been whisked away to Roderick Cameron once again.

They were provided lodgings overnight in the naval garrison in Dundee. Mercifully, the chamber Maisie was given had a bolt on the door. She slept only fitfully and out of pure exhaustion, then awoke at dawn to troubled thoughts and with an aching heart.

That morning, a servant brought her a clean gown gifted to her by the wife of one of the officers. It was a simple design, but fitted her well. There were also clean undergarments and stockings. Warm water was provided for bathing, and when Maisie studied herself in the looking glass, she decided that, all things considered, her appearance was not too disgraceful. Shadows under her eyes were the only outward signs that she’d been split from the man who had so quickly come to hold a high place in her heart. Now that her allegiance was with Roderick—whom she might never see again—she found it harder with each passing moment to even look at Cyrus.

As if he knew that was the case, Cyrus had stationed her opposite him at the table, where warm mead, bread and cheese had been served. Maisie glanced at her surroundings, a room of some grandeur with a long oak table for feasting. A window high up at the end of the room caught the light and poured it over the table. Weapons and shields were mounted here and there on the walls. Their breakfast had been served on a smaller, less ostentatious table to one side, and Maisie attempted to get some of the food down while she assessed Cyrus’s state of mind. It wasn’t good. Once her attention drifted and she did not sway him to her way of thinking, he became uneasy.

“I still cannot believe you were so reckless,” he stated.

Maisie noticed then how bitter and arrogant his tone was. Despite his romantic overtures toward her, it indicated he still viewed her as a wayward witch-child who needed to be watched over, a child who had no mind of her own and would be grateful for his protection.

That had been the case, previously, but Maisie Taskill had matured greatly over the past days, and she’d been shown that even a powerful man, a leader of other men, could speak to her with respect—and adore her as a woman. How she ached for him, her seafaring lover. And the more Cyrus repeated the naval captain’s question and asked her if she had been defiled, the more it led her dangerously close to declaring she had been defiled in all manner of ways and enjoyed every one of them.

The need to speak her mind was growing acute.