“Aye,” the Scotsman allowed. “For now.”
Beryl did look up then, in shock at the man’s seemingly reckless nerve, as Hargrave banged his fist on the table.
“Get out of my hall,” he demanded through clenched teeth.
Padraig Boyd stood in the midst of the tables and gawking residents, but rather than appear intimidated or shamed, he wore a slight smile across the wide planes of his face.
His bright gaze found Beryl’s, and he winked at her.
Then he turned and preceded Lucan into the corridor from which they’d emerged.
Chapter 5
Padraig knew he had won that first battle, but his triumphant exit was ruined shortly after gaining the corridor by Lucan Montague’s swift yank on his arm.
“This way,” the knight ordered crisply, walking at once in the opposite direction into a dark tributary of the main passage.
Padraig quashed his newly birthed pride and followed. “Where are we going?”
“The barracks.”
“What for?”
“To meet with your servants.”
“Why?”
“So they might be educated on their expected duties.”
“They doona already ken what they’re about?”
Lucan’s only answer was a curt sigh.
Padraig obviously didn’t understand something that was perhaps very basic, and it was clear that the Englishman was already running out of patience with him this first full day at Darlyrede. Padraig wasn’t used to and didn’t like feeling unsure, ignorant, vulnerable. And so he asked no more questions while he followed Lucan out of the keep proper and into Darlyrede’s wide, busy inner courtyard.
No sooner had the pair of men entered into the low-ceilinged common room attached to the stables than the appointed staff from the hall began to file in, singly and in pairs. Scottish Searrach came alone, and her gaze immediately sought Padraig’s. She looked him over boldly.
She was striking, and Padraig’s interest was stirred. What was she, a Scottish lass with the wild look of the Highlands in her hollowed cheeks, doing here at English Darlyrede?
Lucan drew Padraig’s attention from the woman when he pulled out a rough stool from the end of the common table and gestured to Padraig before sitting in the seat to the right. Padraig eased himself down, feeling all the eyes in the chamber on him now as the servants lined the walls. The burly men appointed by Hargrave were the last to arrive.
Beryl had yet to appear.
Lucan cleared his throat. “In the time until the king’s decision, you have been appointed to serve Master Boyd. I expect that you all will fulfill your roles properly. Your loyalty, until you are informed otherwise, is to him.”
One of the burliest men chuckled. He was ugly and bald and greasy. “My loyalty is to him that pays my wage. And that be Lord Hargrave.”
Lucan paused and pinned the man with a cool stare. “Your loyalty shall be to Master Boyd. And if I receive word otherwise, you will be dismissed from Darlyrede altogether.”
The ugly man’s condescending smile never left his face. “I’d like to see you try, me fair lad.”
The entire chamber seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for Lucan’s response.
Padraig felt like a child, seated at table and yet forced to remain silent while the adults conversed. The more the image turned in his mind, the angrier and more resentful he became. This was not Lucan Montague’s battle.
“I am here on the direct command of the king,” Lucan began in a stern voice.
Padraig gained his feet, but no one paid him any heed as they were too enraptured with the exchange between the rough servant and the fine knight. It was only until Padraig put himself directly in front of the contentious man that the servant took notice of him in an annoyed fashion.
Padraig realized the man wasn’t actually very tall.
“What’s your name?” Padraig asked in a low, curious tone.
The man huffed a laugh and glanced to either side of him at his mates before lifting his chin in an arrogant fashion, so as to look Padraig in the eye.
The man spat a mouthful of warm saliva at Padraig. It struck his throat and slid down thickly.
“That’s my name to you.” His grin was challenging, mocking. “I can say it again, if you wish. Master Boyd.”
The chamber was tomb silent.
Padraig’s mind swirled with indecision. He knew this would be a crucial moment in his future—how the people in the chamber would forever remember his first actions at Darlyrede House, his first actions as the lord of the hold. Although his instinct wanted him to send his forehead into the man’s wide nose, Padraig did not want loyalty through fear of punishment.
But he could not be seen a coward by the rest of the servants, and certainly not by the man’s cronies.
What had his da always said? “Padraig, it is verra fine to have a friend at your side. But it is greater to keep those who are nae your friend in your sight at all times.”
This man was clearly not invested in Padraig’s success.
“Nae need for that,” Padraig said easily. He took out a kerchief from his belt and swiped at his neck. “Let it be noted that I’ve found my chambermaid, Sir Lucan.”
The crowd gathered in the chamber gasped.
“Aye, this man here shall be my own attendant.”
The servant’s eyes widened for a moment, and then his heavy brows dropped. “Not a chance.”
“Verra well,” Padraig acquiesced. “If the job doesnae suit, you can, the lot of you, take yourselves back to Hargrave and tell him you’ve been dismissed.” Padraig’s gaze did not waver.
It was clear that the man was now backed into a corner, and it confirmed Padraig’s suspicions: Vaughn Hargrave had chosen the band of rough, brawny servants to spy on Padraig and cause trouble—perhaps worse. If one of them was refused and they were all sent away, it would diminish the evil man’s assets, and Padraig thought the punishment doled out by Hargrave would likely be worse than any retaliation Padraig could think of in the moment for the man’s insult.
“Your choice,” Padraig urged. “Stay or leave. If
