A Matter of Circumstance and Celludrones (14 page)

Lily pinched her brow as an ache throbbed at her temple. Her mother
had
married for more. To prevent Lily being born a bastard. “Did you know my
father?”

“Lord d'Bulier?”

“No,” Lily muttered impatiently. “My real father.”

“I do not understand.” Ana smoothed her hands down her skirts in a
manner reminiscent of Lily when she was agitated, nervous or at a loss. “My
data indicates Lord d'Bulier is your real father.”

Lily so desperately wanted to accept that as the truth. And she very
nearly did, if not for another of Greyston’s earlier accusations that leapt to
mind.
You are not one of those analytical machines, Lady Lily, you can do
better than spewing out whatever rubbish has been fed into you.

Lily was starting to feel as if she’d been bred and raised on rubbish
and lies. Ana couldn’t be one hundred percent sure of that fact—no one but a
mother ever could, really—and she was usually careful about qualifying her
statements when there was any probability of doubt. “Does that come from your
original data or what you’ve digested along the way?”

“My original data.” Ana went still for a few moments, then shook her
head. “There is nothing else to contradict that information.”

Nothing Ana had seen or heard, perhaps, but that only meant everyone
had been successfully discreet. For all Lily knew, McAllister had preloaded his
celludrones with whatever lies he wished to perpetuate. She didn’t know the
moral integrity of the man, or his purpose, and what she’d heard so far didn’t
sound promising.

Lily was done with blind faith. She was determined to question
everything. She’d learnt from her mistakes and she’d learnt another thing,
something Greyston possibly hadn’t even figured out yet: If they went looking
for answers with Neco or Ana, they’d have to handpick the truths from the
dubious facts McAllister might have planted for some unknown purpose.

“What are you two being so serious about?” Evelyn called.

Lily cleared her brow as Evelyn handed Puppy to William and approached
them. She wasn’t ready to divulge her suspicions, didn’t know if she’d ever be.
“It seems I’m anxious about flying after all, despite my best attempts.”

“Oh, but you’re doing marvellously.” Evelyn took her hand and pulled
her closer to the window. “And look, it’s almost over.”

Lily peered down. They were flying low, only a hundred or so feet
above a long body of water that tailed to an end a little further inland. “Is
this the Firth of Tay already?”

“It must be,” Evelyn said, her voice filled with awe. “We haven’t even
been travelling for a full half-hour.”

“Incredible,” Lily agreed in all sincerity. She might still be wary of
sailing the Aether, but she could certainly appreciate the benefits.

Once they’d cleared the water, the ship came to a complete stop
midair, hovering above a meadow of long grass. A narrow tower castle stood
between the meadow and the bank of the Tay, enclosed by a high wall.

The inter-leading door from the pilot’s cabin opened and Greyston came
through. “Would you ladies care to enjoy our descent from the deck?”

Evelyn didn’t hesitate.

Lily wasn’t far behind, the prospect of a viewing deck not quite as
daunting as it had been at the beginning of the journey. The doorway didn’t
lead directly into the pilot’s cabin, as Lily had supposed, but to a dimly lit
cubicle. The area was small with a wire meshing floor and steel pipes running
above. Two further doors opened onto it, as well as the square archway that
took them up a short flight of steel-rung stairs and onto an enclosed landing
with the same wire-meshing floor. Above, a domed ceiling curved into the nose
of the capsule.

Greyston cranked a lever bolted to the wall. The rattling squeak of
chains and gears echoed around the hollow chamber. Natural light slivered from
a crack above, rapidly widening as the entire ceiling peeled back on a track
and volley system.

Evelyn grabbed Lily by the hand, urging her toward the railing created
from the lower half of what had been the cabin wall. The breeze was sharp and
would have been a little chilly without the sun beating down on them from a
cloudless sky.

When Evelyn tried to drag her closer to the edge, Lily slid her hand
free and dug her heels in. “I can see perfectly fine from here, thank you.”

Evelyn swept forward with a wink thrown over her shoulder. She gripped
the railing and went up onto her tiptoes to lean over as she glanced from one
side of the horizon to the other. “Is this all Adair land?” she called out,
spinning back to look at Greyston with a teasing smile. “For as far as the eye
can see?”

“More likely, for as far as you can throw a stone,” he responded
dryly.

“This is the Red Dancer!” Evelyn exclaimed, her gaze set above their
heads.

What on earth was a red dancer? Curiosity got the better of Lily and
she moved closer to the edge of the ship so she could follow Evelyn’s line of
sight. The ship’s sails came into view. A pitch-black sea of horizontal
canvasses at varying elevations and then, with another step, a single red sail
in all that black that hadn’t been visible when the sails were furled.

Evelyn’s gaze dropped to meet Greyston’s. “You’re the captain of the
Red Dancer.”

“Is that the name of your ship?” Lily asked him, retreating from the
edge once more.

“Actually,” Greyston said, humour speckling the brown of his eyes,
“she’s called the Red Hawk.”

“That depends on whom you’re talking to,” Evelyn said, a smile
bursting from her lips as she sauntered toward Greyston. “And you’re well aware
of it.”

To Lily, she said, “British Customs have dubbed her the Red Dancer
because she keeps waltzing just out of their reach.”

“The British Customs officials are blundering idiots who don’t know
her real name,” Greyston corrected. “And for the record, I’ve never waltzed
just out of their reach. They’ve never come within a mile of my air dust.”

Evelyn stopped an inch from Greyston and looked up at him. “You’re a
blackguard and a smuggler.”

“I’ll give you the first,” he said, the creases at his eyes settling
into his lazy grin. “But they’ll have to catch me red-handed before they can
convict me as a smuggler and that will never happen with those floating
contraptions they flap around in.”

“You admit to running contraband?” Lily gasped.

Greyston slid that grin her way. “I admit to nothing.”

“So tell me,” Evelyn said, tapping a finger to her lips. Drawing
Greyston’s gaze like a lodestone, Lily noticed irritably. “What does it feel
like to be a
wanted
man?”

“Not nearly as good as it is to
feel
a wanted woman,” he
returned smoothly. He’d leaned in slightly, but his words still carried on the
breeze.

Lily glanced away from them as heat crawled up her throat. It was a
sign of how far her world had descended into chaos that she wasn’t completely
mortified to be associating with a smuggler, merely agitated at the flirtatious
turn of the conversation. Perhaps she would give Evelyn the word, sooner rather
than later, if only to put a stop to this silly nonsense.

“Devon will be in a black fit when he finds out,” Evelyn suddenly
exclaimed.

Lily’s gaze whipped back. But they weren’t locked in an intimate
embrace. If anything, Evelyn had put some distance between herself and
Greyston.

“He had you within his grasp and didn’t even know it,” she finished.

The humour panned from Greyston’s face. “What the hell does the war
office want with me?”

“I only know about the Red Dancer because he’s come home furious the
last few times you evaded customs and I’ll warrant he’s not interested in
border control or illegal trading,” Evelyn said. “You’ll have to ask him
yourself if, or should I say
when
, he gives you the opportunity.”

If the war office was after Greyston, then Lily had no doubt it was
somehow linked to Lady Ostrich, Cragloden or whatever other mess they were in
and had nothing to do with treason.

She stepped closer to confront Evelyn. “You can’t say anything to
Devon about Greyston being the captain of the Red Dancer. Swear you won’t.”

“Evelyn can tell her husband anything she wants,” Greyston said
roughly. “I’m not in hiding and I’ve never tried to keep my ship’s identity
secret.”

Just then, their descent came to an end with a bumpy scrape and
Greyston used that as his cue to leave. The hum of the engine faded into a
creaking groan throughout the hull as the ship settled into its resting
position.

“Devon’s duty is to the Crown and he withholds information from me on
a daily basis,” Evelyn said as they made their way down the steps. “On this
particular trip, my duty is to you, Lily, and I promised you my confidence. I
have no intention of disclosing anything to Devon.”

“Thank you,” Lily said, sighing. “Greyston might not think twice at
breaking a few laws, but I don’t believe he’d ever put our country at risk.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Evelyn said with a smile.

Greyston reappeared while his men were lowering a walkway that folded
out from the cargo door in the hull. “Neco will return with the wagon for your
luggage,” he informed them, although his own carpetbag was slung over one
shoulder.

It was a short walk across the meadow. Greyston led the way to a side
gate hinged into the castle wall and was waiting for Lily on the other side.

“I’m sorry about my abruptness earlier.” He slid his hand under her
arm as he stepped in line beside her. He slowed their pace on the cobbled path
that ran directly alongside the tower house until they fell some way behind the
others. “You came to my defence and, as unexpected as that was, I appreciate
it.”

“Even though you didn’t need it,” she quipped, glancing around the
courtyard. Down the far end was a rather sparse orchard of white-blossomed
trees and what appeared to be a mishmash patch of vegetables and herbs
partially sheltered with sackcloth. The only outbuilding was a stable with five
stalls, its shingle roof overrun with moss.

William handed Puppy to Evelyn and then he and Neco broke away from
the path to cross the courtyard to the stable, where Lily assumed they were to
harness the luggage wagon. There wasn’t another soul to be seen and maybe it
was that, but there seemed to be a general air of desolation and neglect about
the place.

“The British officials can bring their finest posses and trawl the Red
Hawk twice over,” Greyston said. “They won’t find anything to incriminate me.”

“I’m amazed they haven’t already done so.” Lily peered at him to find
his gaze on her.

“Incriminated me?”

“Brought their finest posses,” she murmured, but all she could think
of was the last time he’d been so near, looking into her eyes, melting her a
little with a kiss that never happened. And then all she could think about was
the way he’d leaned in close to Evelyn with that intimate exchange of
want
and
feeling
.

She slipped her arm from his grip and made a show of
patting down her skirts. “I mean, if you’re not living under any kind of
subterfuge, surely they must have been able to track you down if they wanted
you so badly?”

“I haven’t lived in Scotland since I was fifteen, Lily, and I’ve only
returned now, well, two months ago, to resolve the mystery of my—our past.”

“Since you were fifteen?” she asked softly, recalling what he’d said
about running, and never stopping to look back. She hadn’t realised he’d been
running such a long, long time. Her gaze found his again. “Is Castle Forleough
not your home?”

He shrugged. “It belongs to me, but the only place I call home is
Es
Vedra
, an island off the coast of Spain. And that,” he said after a short
pause, “
is
something I’d prefer you didn’t spread around.”

“Of course not.” She was tempted to press further, but she couldn’t
afford the sentimentality. The problem with Greyston was, the more she learned
about him, the more she liked him.

They’d reached the steps to the front door anyway, leaving no more
opportunity for private conversation. The door was unlocked, and Greyston
slipped past Evelyn and Ana to invite them inside a cavernous hall. The stone
walls were unadorned, but a plush maroon carpet padded the floor. Sturdy
brocade armchairs and sofas were loosely arranged around the unlit great
hearth. As they gathered deeper in the hall, a thin, short woman entered
through an inner door. She wore a plaid smock of browns and greens over a white
undershirt and her manner was quiet, even graceful.

“Welcome home, Grey,” she said with a reserved smile, walking right up
to him. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun and shot through with grey,
although her face was unlined. “I’m so pleased you’re back.”

“Jean,” Greyston greeted, folding his arms across his chest. “Is
everything well here? I’m afraid I’ve brought unexpected guests.”

“We were watching the Red Hawk from a window upstairs and saw your
party disembark.” She hesitated, still smiling, then retreated a step, and Lily
wondered if she’d been about to hug him. “I’ve got Paisley making up the spare
rooms.” Her gaze swept across the rest of them. “I assume you’ll be staying the
night?”

“Possibly longer,” Greyston said, and Jean’s smile widened at that as
he went on to introduce them. “Jean is housekeeper at Forleough. Lily, Evelyn,
and Ana.”

Jean’s eyes lingered on Ana. “You’re a celludrone.”

Ana said nothing, simply staring ahead.

“There’s no need for pretence in this household,
Ana,” he said, adding to Jean, “She’s an enhanced celludrone, like Neco.”

“It’s okay,” Lily said when Ana glanced at her. “While we’re in Scotland,
at least.”

“Wasn’t there another young man I saw disembarking with you?” Jean
asked.

“That would be William,” Evelyn offered. “He’s—”