"James Duncan! Bring me James Duncan!" He pounded a broken plank against the iron bars until his ears rang. "James Duncan, show yerself! Ye great ruddy coward!"
* * *
Brigid paced the confines of Flanders'bedchamber, her fingers tracing the edge of the dagger he'd given her. After the sentencing, Moray's men had escorted her back to the very space Flanders had once locked her inside, but they hadn’t searched her or the room for weapons.
If she didn’t want to face the horror of the fire, she could end it here, now. But she’d never done a cowardly thing in her life. She doubted she could. Besides, there were still two days left for miracles. And if anyone could produce one, it was Flanders Leesborn.
If he managed to get her out of Todlaw, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been an answer to her prayers. But first, someone would need to free him…
“Please tell me ye’re not plannin’ to use that.”
Brigid spun to face the corner, dagger raised. Where there had been nothing but shadows a moment before, Wickham now stood, watching her with those unsettling eyes that seemed to hold a hundred secrets, one of which must be how to move through walls.
"How did ye do that?"
"The same way I'll take ye away,” he said simply, as if appearing from nowhere was a natural and frequent habit.
Brigid finally thought to lower the dagger.
"I mean ye no harm, lass." He leaned back against the wall, making no move toward her. “I’ve come to help ye, after all.”
“How…how did ye ken I would need help?”
He smiled to one side. “Let’s say I read it…in the margins of a book.”
“The Grandfather’s book!”
“Aye. Considerin’ the year, I grabbed my friend James and rushed to Gallabrae, only to be told ye’d fled to Laird Duncan’s stronghold. I…made some adjustments, and after we got yer sister to safety, we went to Stout Duncan’s, only to realize?—”
“My sister!” She rushed to him, grabbed the front of his shirt, and forced him to bend so she could look into his eyes, to know if he was toying with her.
“Uh…only to realize ye’d gone toYoungDuncan’s keep. Forgive me. I should have led with yer sister, aye?” He smiled into her eyes. “Bella is safe. And happily waitin’ for ye to join her.”
She wasn’t ready to let him go. “Why, oh why did ye not tell me the moment ye arrived? Ye could have spoken in my mind. No one would have heard?—
“Because there are witnesses to yer every move. And Flanders’ as well. People who must believe yer anguish is real. So, in the end, they will not question what they see.”
Her mind raced, trying to make sense of what he was saying. But whatever it was, whatever his odd accent, she did believe he was telling the truth. He’d just proven he could manage miracles, and what was more miraculous than the idea that he’d saved Bella from that fire?
“She’s alive?”
He gave up tryin’ to explain. “She’s alive.”
She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed as hard as she could before turning him loose and stepping back. “Who are ye?”
He chuckled. “Well, in future, I am…The Grandfather.”
"Grandfather!” She dropped into a curtsy, then stood when he laughed again.
“Nae need for that, lass.”
“And what ye did here?” She gestured to the corner in which they stood.
“I can step in and out ofTime…just as easily as ye step in and out of a door. A happy result of a truly horrific curse, and one which allows me to help some of our people out of difficulties, if the circumstances are right.”
“Our people?”
“Muir witches.”
