Page 14 of Time of the Druid (Stones of Scotland #7)

Chapter 14

I t was hard to hide how disgusted he was by Bedwyn’s company. Even after having the whole night to recover, Matthew still felt sick even looking at his old acquaintance. He’d known Bedwyn had some questionable attitudes toward women, hence the three wives, but seeing it in action was terrible.

Even worse, he now found himself stuck making polite conversation with the man himself, standing in the bright morning sun at the heart of the crannog's courtyard. The air was thick with the smell of roasting meat and damp reed, but the only thing Matthew could focus on was the greasy smile stretched across Bedwyn’s face. The man had cornered him the moment he stepped out of the roundhouse, his voice too loud and his breath still sour from the night before.

Bedwyn leaned in conspiratorially, chuckling as he rattled off the names of old schoolmates and their latest misfortunes, his voice slick with amusement. Matthew managed a polite nod, his face schooled into calm interest, though every word made his skin crawl. It took effort—magic, even—to keep his expression neutral, his posture relaxed. He couldn’t afford to slip. Not now.

He laughed when Bedwyn laughed, murmured a vague comment when required, but inside he was seething. What would this man have done to Norah if Matthew hadn’t intervened? He didn’t want to imagine it. But the charm on his face never wavered.

Still, Matthew would be a fool to look a gift horse in the mouth, and Bedwyn had the potential to be just that—a gift. He was rich and powerful, and his lands bordered the druid forest. If anyone could help Matthew to reach those stones, it was Bedwyn.

“Perhaps we can talk about my plans for the future,” he began. “I have a proposal that could expand the borders of your land.”

Another lie, but one he felt even less guilty about. Bedwyn’s eyes brightened.

“I’m always interested in your ideas, Matthew. What are you thinking?”

Matthew was about to launch into a largely invented story about the treasures up for grabs on the druid lands when a skinny young man appeared at Bedwyn’s elbows.

“Apologies for disturbing you, my lord,” he said meekly. “But the druid envoy has arrived. You said you wanted to be notified right away.”

“Yes, yes,” Bedwyn said, rolling his eyes at Matthew. “I didn’t mean right away. But I suppose I should see to him. Apologies, Matthew. I should see what this man wants. The druids have been kicking up a lot of trouble along my southern border.”

With a sharp nod he strode away, leaving Matthew feeling more than a little concerned. A druid envoy? That wasn’t just bad luck—that was an omen. Whoever this was, they would surely recognise Norah and Matthew on sight. And if they did, everything would unravel. His cover, their safety, the fragile illusion of sanctuary they’d managed to construct here—it would all vanish in an instant.

Matthew lingered, watching Bedwyn retreat with a knot tightening in his gut. It wasn’t just the suddenness of the envoy’s arrival that troubled him, it was the confidence with which Bedwyn strode off to greet him. Too casual, too practiced. Had this meeting been planned for days? Were they already expected?

He hadn’t imagined someone would find them so quickly. He’d underestimated the druids. Again . Something had to be done about this—and fast.

He slinked after Bedwyn, trying his best to stay inconspicuous. A light layer of magic helped with that. When he reached a gap between the houses, he finally got a glimpse of the causeway, and his heart sank even further. That was definitely a druid, unloading an entire cart of provisions as he prepared to cross the causeway. Gifts for Bedwyn, no doubt. If Matthew had before had a chance of swaying Bedwyn to his cause, that chance was now lost—he couldn’t offer a fraction of the wealth they had at their fingertips. Damn the druids. They were always a step ahead, no matter how hard Matthew tried.

Staying in the shadows, he focused on the grey-robed druid as he began the long walk along the causeway. Was it anyone he recognised?

“You don’t want to come here,” he whispered, letting the magic fill his blood, just as it had the night before. “You want to turn around and go home. Bedwyn has nothing for you.”

The man faltered and Matthew smiled wickedly. Good.

“This is a waste of your time,” he whispered. “Leave.”

The druid visibly shook himself, and Matthew felt his magic slip off those grey-robed shoulders. Damn. Not enough. The man strode forward with purpose, clearly well protected against magic like Matthew’s.

“Turn back,” Matthew whispered desperately, but the druid’s stride did not falter. He was nearly on the main platform of the crannog now, and the guards had almost unloaded the entire cart. Matthew had missed his chance to stop this.

And now the druid was close enough for Matthew to see his face—and the blood drained from his own. Caradoc.

Of all the druids who might have come, it had to be him. Sharp-eyed, ruthless, and utterly devoted to the ancient order, Caradoc would recognise Matthew instantly. He would recognise Norah too. There was no bluffing his way out of this. No half-truth clever enough to fool that calculating gaze.

Matthew's heart thudded once, hard. This wasn’t just a complication.There was no way that he and Norah could escape the attention of Caradoc, of all people.

There was nothing for it. Matthew abandoned his post and slipped across the crannog, making sure to stay well ahead of Caradoc. He shoved against the doorway of the tiny guesthouse, but it was locked—smart decision, Norah.

“It’s me,” he called softly. “Let me in.”

A bolt scraped, and then the door swung open, revealing Norah’s wide eyes.

“What is it?” she asked.

He slipped into the tiny house, ducking low to avoid the sagging door lintel, and eased it shut behind him with careful fingers. The room smelled faintly of herbs and damp wool, and was barely wide enough for the three of them to stand comfortably. Shadows pooled in the corners, broken only by a low flicker of firelight.

Matthew pressed his back to the door, holding his breath as if Caradoc might be right outside, listening for any sound. His pulse pounded loud in his ears, and his fingers curled tightly into fists at his sides. Across the room, Jack straightened from where he’d been crouched near a pack, his hand moving subtly toward the hilt of his knife. Norah stood frozen beside the bed, her arms crossed tight over her chest, mouth tight with apprehension.

“Bad news,” Matthew said grimly.

“Bedwyn remembered?” Norah asked, looking horrified.

Matthew noticed that Jack did not look surprised. Norah must have told him the full story.

“No, Bedwyn is as oblivious as ever,” Matthew said. “He really was drunk. It’s something worse, I’m afraid. Caradoc’s here.”

Norah gasped. Jack’s eyes simply narrowed.

“I tried to use my magic to turn him away, but his mind is well protected,” Matthew said. “We need to stay out of his way, but I have no idea how long he intends to stay.”

“What we need is to get the hell out of this place,” Jack said, but Norah shook her head stubbornly.

“This is the best place for us to use as a base,” she said. “I won’t let that slimy Caradoc ruin things. Leave it to me, Matthew. He won’t cause us any more problems.”