The Knight and the Dove

by Lori Wick

  “Is that what I do? Blast her with my temper?” He was almost laughing now. Louisa was not.

  “You know you do, and if it happens this time, I won’t speak to you until the wedding.”

  All Bracken’s amusement fled. “Lou, what is really bothering you?”

  Tears welled in the woman’s eyes. “She told me that no one has ever shown her the kindness you have. I know you’re upset, but I can’t stand the thought that you’ll hurt her when she’s coming to trust and need you so.”

  The words were very sobering to Bracken, and he tenderly laid a hand on his aunt’s shoulder. At the moment he did want to search Megan out and make himself heard, but Louisa was right; he would only frighten and upset her. Yet, every time he thought of Megan going on her own and dismissing Barton, his anger threatened to consume him.

  “I will do my best not to fight with Megan, Louisa, but I will talk with her about this.”

  Louisa could only nod.

  “Have you seen her?” Bracken asked of Lyndon.

  “Actually I have. I believe she was headed toward the tower.”

  Bracken nodded, thanked them, and moved toward the door of the war room. Louisa and Lyndon shared a glance. They both hoped that the harmony they had known in the past weeks was not about to be destroyed.

  Megan had been on a mission of counting bedrooms, but had long since given up. She’d had no idea how vast Hawkings Crest really was. Why, all of England could come for the wedding, Megan thought, and we could make comfortable each and every one.

  She was in the tower salon now, checking on something Helga had told her about and feeling well satisfied that there would be room for all guests.

  Megan walked the edge of the carpet until she spotted the trouble: It seemed that the hem was fraying. Kneeling at the edge of the rug that lay before the fireplace, Megan saw that Helga’s observation was correct. She would have to order it trimmed. So intent was Megan on her task that she never even heard Bracken enter or noticed as he stood quietly against one wall watching her. She stood, ready to walk directly in front of him, when he spoke.

  “Going somewhere, Megan?”

  Megan started violently and then grew angry. Her arms akimbo, she faced him squarely.

  “Bracken! Don’t you ever do that again. I never heard a thing.”

  Bracken only looked at her and asked himself for the tenth time what he was going to do. He had told Brice many weeks ago that he did not want just a pretty face to decorate his castle, but how far was he willing to let her go?

  “What brings you to the tower?” he asked at last.

  Megan relaxed upon hearing his calm tone. “I was trying to ascertain whether or not we had enough bedrooms for the wedding guests.” She now smiled in self-mockery. “I now see that I have wasted my time.”

  Bracken’s own eyes took in the room. Large and airy, it was but one of many just like it, and that did not include the many bedrooms. Megan was right—the castle was a mammoth dwelling.

  “I understand our keep is now short a steward.”

  Bracken was not looking at her or even turned in her direction. The statement had come out so abruptly that Megan was taken completely unaware. She tilted her head slightly to glance at his handsome, bearded profile, but he was still inspecting the room.

  “Yes,” Megan said.

  Bracken then turned to look at her. “That is all? Yes? No explanation?”

  “I felt I had no choice,” Megan said shortly.

  “You could have consulted me.”

  “You would not listen. I assumed you no longer cared.”

  “It was never my intent to make light of the situation, Megan; Barton has been with my family for years.”

  “I am heartily sick to death of hearing that!” Megan burst out so vehemently that it was Bracken’s turn to be startled.

  “It doesn’t seem to make any difference to you that he was stealing. Do you hear me, Bracken, he was stealing from you! I spoke with him; I gave him a chance; but even knowing that I could read and monitor his actions changed nothing. I was still finding entries that could be nothing short of theft.”

  They stood, eyes locked, Megan now red in the face and Bracken’s face looking as though it was made of stone.

  “I still say it wasn’t your place.”

  “You’re right!” Megan shot back at him. “It was yours.”

  She watched his eyes grow hard, and the fight drained out of her. When she continued, her voice was soft.

  “If I’ve learned anything about you while living here, Bracken, it’s that you’re no fool. This is why I am confused. Only a fool would allow a man to stay in the name of sentiment when that man was stealing from him. I did this for you. I did this for Hawkings Crest. It would seem I’ve done wrong.”

  Megan turned for the door, but Bracken’s voice stopped her.

  “Don’t go.”

  Megan stopped but did not turn.

  “Look at me, Megan.”

  She shook her head no. Tears had come to her eyes, tears she hated herself for. She did not want him to see them, but she heard him move and knew that in a moment he would stand before her. When he did stop, Megan turned her face away in an attempt to hide her eyes.

  Bracken did not turn her face to his, but he could clearly see the tear that slid down her cheek. He could also see that she was trying to hold others back.

  “Mayhap I am thickheaded,” Bracken said reflectively. “You might need to ask me more than once and not give up so easily. Just as you have learned about me, I have also done some learning of my own, and I would say you are not a quitter.”

  “No, I’m not,” Megan agreed, and then realized that quit was exactly what she’d done.

  “But you did not pursue the matter with me, and now I wish you had.”

  Megan nodded; he was quite correct. She chanced a look at him.

  “Next time I’ll be a shrew.”

  Bracken took on a look of mock horror. “You mean there’s more?”

  Megan tried not to smile, but failed. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

  Bracken smiled in return, and his voice turned thoughtful. “Just three weeks now, and you will be mistress of this keep.”

  Megan nodded, feeling more at peace with the prospect than ever before. “Does that have you worried?”

  “No,” he told her. “I think you will do well.”

  There wasn’t anything that could have given Megan as much pleasure. She smiled at him, and Bracken thought, not for the first time, that they should talk more. They were both so busy and ofttimes going in opposite directions, but whenever they had a chance to speak, he could tell that Megan became a little more comfortable with him.

  At that point they walked down to the great hall together. As they moved it came to Bracken without warning: He was swiftly coming to prefer Megan’s company over anyone else’s. The thought so surprised him that when Megan said she had to see Helga, he barely heard her. It was a thought he pondered on for the remainder of the day.

  Stephen rode toward Hawkings Crest in easy companionship with his cousins, Derek and Richard. Brice would bring their mother to the wedding, as well as escort everyone but Danella, whose baby was very young. Stephen had found himself with a need to be in London and so arranged to ride to Hawkings Crest from there with Louisa’s sons.

  Having not seen each other for weeks, they talked of many things, but the subject of Bracken’s betrothed was not raised until they were just a few miles from the castle.

  “So, Stephen,” Richard asked. “What can you tell us of Megan?”

  “Did your mother not write to you?” he questioned evasively, while trying to keep the smile from his face.

  “Yes,” Derek told him. “She dictated a letter, but other than the red hair, she didn’t really describe her at all. What is she like?”

  “Maybe your mother was trying to be kind.”

  The other men were silent for a moment, looking first at each other and th
en at Stephen.

  “Does she have red hair?” Richard, the younger of the two brothers, wished to know

  “Yes, but it’s as bright as a fresh carrot and frizzy around her head like a bird’s nest.” Stephen’s tone was cheerless.

  Both of the other men now had looks of pity on their faces, and Bracken’s brother had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from shouting with laughter.

  “But she’s very sweet,” Derek now volunteered. “Mother said as much.”

  “Yes, she is sweet, and as soon as you get past her face and figure you’ll probably like her immensely.”

  “As bad as all that?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Stephen told them with a sigh that would have worked on any stage.

  ‘What of Bracken? Is he angry over the arrangement?”

  “No. I would say he’s resigned himself.”

  Stephen had to change the subject then, or he would have given himself away. As they finally rode through the gates of Hawkings Crest, he had to restrain himself from rubbing his hands together with anticipation.

  Twenty-Three

  MEGAN STOOD OVER A LONG, LOW TABLE in the kitchen and bent her sharp mind as to why the sauce she was working on still tasted bitter. There were not many people in the room at the moment, and Megan’s attention was on her work, so it was more of an irritant than anything else when she felt a slight tug on her hair. She glanced down to the side to see if one of the children had come in, but when that place was empty she went back to tasting.

  When it happened again, Megan’s head came up and her brow lowered. She had not imagined it. She turned slowly at first and then more swiftly when she spotted the man behind her.

  “Stephen!” Megan tried to look stern.

  “Hello, Meg.” Stephen’s grin was devilish. “You looked in need of a distraction, so I am here.”

  “A nuisance is more like it.” Megan’s eyes sparkled back at him for just an instant.

  Her words did not dim his smile in the least, but it became very tender when Megan continued to watch him. Stephen witnessed the change in her.

  “I take it your family is here?” Megan asked very softly and hesitantly.

  “No.” He shook his head gently.

  Megan’s eyes widened.

  “I came in with Derek and Richard.”

  “Louisa’s sons?”

  “Does she know?”

  “She’s with them now. Come, I’m sure they want to meet you.”

  All hesitancy was gone as she was swiftly flooded with relief. Megan took the arm Stephen offered, and as they walked toward the great hall she began to question him about his recent travels. She noticed that he seemed inordinately pleased about something, but she shrugged it off, supposing he was glad to be back at Hawkings Crest.

  “It’s so good to see you both,” Louisa beamed at her sons. They were in Louisa’s bedchamber, and after she’d hugged them both twice, they settled themselves by the windows.

  “How are things in London?”

  “Fine,” Derek answered her. “Are you missing it?”

  “Yes,” Louisa admitted. “Although I’m having a great time with Bracken and Megan.”

  A look suddenly passed over the faces of both men and Louisa became instantly alert. “That’s an odd look I’m getting,” she commented, attempting to keep her voice light.

  Richard shrugged. “Stephen told us of Megan. He said that she was very sweet, just as you had mentioned in your letter, but as for the other,” Richard hesitated uncomfortably, “I guess Bracken has rather resigned himself.”

  Louisa studied her son’s face as her mind ran with every possibility. To what could he be referring? She was on the verge of asking when she remembered that they had ridden out with Stephen. Never one to stand in the way of a harmless prank, Louisa forced a giggle back down her throat, knowing a laugh right then would give the whole thing away. She then wondered just how bad Stephen had made Megan out to be.

  “Where are my manners?” Louisa said suddenly and with the intent to distract. “You must be hungry. Come below.”

  They continued to speak companionably as they descended the large staircase, the men completely innocent of Stephen’s scheme and Louisa nearly licking her lips in expectation.

  “And who is going to order the wheat?”

  “Barton did that as well?”

  “Yes,” Bracken told her shortly. Whereupon Megan bit her lip and stared at her intended.

  Lord and lady were standing in the great hall. Bracken’s hands were clasped behind his back, and he was slightly bent at the waist, so that he nearly leaned over Megan as he proceeded to quietly destroy her day.

  “My mother’s cook sees to that,” Megan finally commented, and Bracken only continued to spear her with his eyes. She had been under the impression that the matter concerning Barton was settled, but she had been wrong. Clearly Bracken had not fully forgiven her.

  “I’m sorry, Bracken,” she said when he refused to speak.

  “Sorry doesn’t see to the feeding of this keep.”

  Megan looked away from him then. Stephen was standing nearby, but Megan couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “What would you like me to do?” Megan asked after a moment, her eyes on the floor.

  “First of all, don’t act so innocent; it doesn’t work on me.”

  Megan’s gaze shot upward, her mouth opening in surprise and hurt.

  “Secondly,” Bracken went on, “you can find us another steward. Until such a time, you will have to oversee the duties— all of them.”

  The young lord would have gone on then, but Arik entered and approached. Upon Bracken’s order he had been to the village, and Bracken, seeing that he was now ready to report, turned to him. Megan saw her chance for escape and took it.

  Bracken had turned to Arik, and after just a minute he happened to glance back at Megan. He took a second look when he found her gone. He spun in a fast circle as his eyes took in the whole of the great room, but other than Louisa, Derek, and Richard coming down the stairs, nothing had changed. Helga was by the other hearth, women were working at the tables, someone was shooing one of the dogs outside, and in the midst of it Megan had quite literally vanished.

  He looked to Stephen, but his brother would only grin at him without remorse. Bracken’s scowl was fierce, but he eventually looked back to Arik who had waited patiently to finish the report on his findings in the village.

  Moments later they were joined by Louisa and her sons. Arik took his leave, and Bracken, after tamping down his irritation with the small redhead who lived in his castle, greeted his cousins warmly.

  “Come to the war room, and we’ll talk there. I wish to hear of your journey.”

  “I’ll go and order some food,” Louisa put in as the men moved forward in a group. Had anyone been looking, they might have noticed the tense line around Stephen’s mouth, but he came behind his brother and cousins, and all missed it.

  The men were halfway across the floor of the war room when Bracken stopped dead in his tracks. Sitting under a window on the far wall, the account book opened in her lap, was Megan.

  “I was not finished talking with you,” Bracken spouted without preamble, his family forgotten.

  “Well, I was done listening,” Megan exclaimed before she thought.

  “You,” Bracken said, pointing a finger at her, “are the most infuriating woman on the face of the earth.”

  “And you, sir,” Megan shot back, “are rude beyond compare.”

  “Rude?” Bracken was clearly confused. ‘What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about letting me believe that the incident with Barton was behind us and then searching me out to throw it up in my face.”

  “His jobs are not being done.” Bracken’s voice told her that this reason excused his manners.

  “Then you should have spoken to me.”

  “I did.” Bracken’s hands were now outstretched in frustration.

  “You did n
ot. You waited until you were snorting like a wounded bull and then sought me out to take me apart piece by piece.” Tears were evident in Megan’s voice now, and Bracken stood quietly. Neither was aware of his audience.

  Stephen, standing nearest the door, chanced a look at his cousins and could almost read their minds.

  This is the one both Stephen and Mother said was sweet, but to whose looks Bracken has had to resign himself?

  Stephen wanted to chortle with glee, but the timing was all wrong. While he stared at them, Derek and Richard looked to him. Both men told him with one glance that they would get even. Stephen’s only reply was to grin unrepentantly.

  “I did not mean to attack you,” Bracken admitted quietly and started toward her. The men took their cue and departed.

  “I was not aware of all Barton’s responsibilities. It is not the same for the steward at Stone Lake Castle.”

  Suddenly Bracken took Megan’s hand and pulled her to her feet. He stared down into her eyes for a full minute and for the hundredth time asked himself what he was going to do with her. But this time was different; this time he knew the answer. With the words, just love her, ringing in his heart, he said, “We will keep at this, Megan, until we get it right.”

  Megan stared at him in confusion, so he explained gently.

  “I come to you too harshly and you run whenever you are upset. Eventually I will learn to speak to you with kindness, and you will learn to stay still.”

  Megan calmed in the face of his tender logic. She liked the way he stayed with something. Never before would she have considered herself a quitter, but compared to Bracken, who came back repeatedly in an attempt to do better, she was just that.

  “Come and meet my cousins.” Bracken, still holding her hand, turned for the door. Megan stood still and let their arms stretch to the limit.

  “The men with Stephen...they are Louisa’s sons?” She looked and sounded rather aghast.

  “Yes,” Bracken told her calmly. “I’m sure they wish to meet you.”

  “Not after what they just witnessed.” Megan shook her head with shame. “They probably wish they could leave.”