Highland Dragon (The Treasure of Paragon #6) - Genevieve Jack Page 0,53

the cottage was close and warm, and Xavier folded his hands politely.

“Would ye like some tea? Have you come a long way?”

“Aye, vera kind of ye,” Xavier said.

Moments later, cups in hand and gathered around the table, they were joined by a stoic gray-haired man who greeted them politely but only sat reluctantly at his wife’s pleading.

“Are you Ned MacEachern?” Xavier asked. They’d agreed in advance that he’d do the talking, considering Avery had lost Nathaniel’s magic and her accent might cause suspicion.

“Aye. Who’s asking?”

“I’m Oliver and this is Elsbeth from Clan MacTavish,” he said. “We need yer help.”

Ned narrowed his eyes. “MacTavish, you say? I thought I knew every MacTavish from our kirk?”

“We’re not from Cnocmeall but Gleansrath Kirk.”

“Gleansrath. You have come a long way. Whatever can we do for ye?”

“My wife, Elsbeth, and I have recently lost a child.”

“Oh, I am terribly sorry ta hear that. Sometimes the Lord’s will is hard ta understand.”

Xavier shook his head. “’Twas not the Lord’s will. The fairies stole her. Stole her right from our home and took her to the land of light.”

Upon hearing that, Mrs. MacEachern went perfectly still while Ned gasped and crossed himself. “May the Lord protect us all from such a fate. Ye ’ave my sympathy.”

“Yer sympathy is kind, but what we need is yer help.”

The man studied Xavier, then laughed long and hard. “What power do ye think I might have over fairy folk? I canna help ye with that. No one can help ye.”

Mrs. MacEachern reached for her tea and took a long sip, her shifting eyes betraying her. She had a secret. Xavier kept his eyes on her as he asked, “Is it true ye are the great-great-great-grandson of Neil MacEachern?”

“Aye.”

“We have it on good authority that Alasdair once saved his son Neil from the fairies and that son produced a sword that could be used against the wee folk. Please, we need that sword ta get our wee bairn back.”

Ned scoffed and shook his head. “Ye’ve been told wrong. That myth was the raving story of a madman. Even the family dinna believe it.”

“But you have the sword?” Xavier leaned across the table toward the man, willing him to turn the weapon over.

“Your reliable source shoulda told ye that Alasdair was a blacksmith. He made many swords, and aye, some of them are still around. Some may even be in ma possession. But I’m not of the mind to be handin’ them out to any stranger that comes ta ma door.”

“I will pay ye handsomely for it.”

“I dinna have it, I said, and even if I did, I would not give it to ye.”

Xavier’s fists clenched. Perhaps the man needed more incentive to cooperate. He reached for his dirk.

“Mrs. MacEachern,” Avery said in a voice as sweet as honeycomb and sounding almost as local as he did. “I can see ye are well familiar with whit it’s like to love a bairn.” Avery’s voice cracked, and a tear carved its way down her face. She reached out and held the woman’s hand. “I ken it seems that an old sword will be useless against the evil that ravaged our small family. Gwendolyn was our only bairn after so many years of tryin’.”

Avery’s tone was so bereft a lump formed in Xavier’s throat despite his knowing she was making the entire thing up. Even with his abilities to cloak himself in illusion, he wondered if Avery’s talent at deception might be superior.

Mrs. MacEachern tilted her head in sympathy. “Loss is somethin’ I ken well.”

For some reason, that made Ned irate. He stood from his chair and slapped his wife in a way that shocked Xavier to the core. He rose and placed himself between Ned and his wife, fists raised. The look he gave the man made it clear he did not approve. But before the two could come to blows, Avery’s hand landed on his arm, and all the anger seemed to drain out of him.

“Please, we dinna come here to fight,” she said.

Ned eyed them both with disgust. “I gave ye yer answer. Finish yer tea and get outta ma house.” He gave one last look of warning to his poor wife before leaving the cottage in a huff.

“What was that about?” Avery asked breathlessly.

His wife spoke in a voice as soft as a whisper. “I can get ye the sword.”

Avery leaned toward her. “I promise ye, we will return it once we’ve tried… tried everything there is to try to get