by Lori Wick
Husband and wife were still glaring at each other when Clive appeared in the clearing. Bracken, not knowing if an emergency was afoot, diverted his attention.
“What is it?” Bracken demanded.
The boy answered timidly. “I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord, but Lady Marigold is here.”
“My sister?” Megan’s mouth nearly dropped open.
“Yes, my lady.”
Megan was so surprised that for a moment she didn’t know what to say. In truth, her sister terrified her. Bracken had said a long time ago that he would never let her be hurt, but one look at his still furious face told her she would gain no support there.
Megan knew she would have to face Marigold alone. She squared her shoulders and turned to Clive.
“Please see that Lady Marigold is made comfortable and tell her I’ll be along shortly.”
Bracken had not said anything during any of this, and now Megan was too upset to even look at him. She gathered the piles she had been sorting into the basket and lifted it by the handle. Without a backward glance, she moved toward the castle, Arik falling in behind her.
“Megan!” Marigold exclaimed with every semblance of delight as soon as the young duchess joined her in the great hall.
“Hello, Marigold.”
“That is all? Hello, Marigold?” In a cloud of scent, the older girl then moved forward to give Megan a hug, and although Megan returned the embrace, she was not at all easy.
“My goodness, Megan,” Marigold exclaimed after she’d stepped back to inspect her. “Being a duchess must agree with you. You’re nowhere near as fat as you used to be.”
Megan barely managed a smile. It had always been this way. Marigold complimented her constantly, but in such a backhanded way that Megan always felt as if she’d been slapped.
“Mother wrote that you had not been home lately.” Megan was desperate to change the subject.
“No. I wintered in France. I wrote Mother, but you know how forgetful she is; she probably mislaid the letter.”
Megan didn’t know any such thing; her mother was very organized. But the women had now taken seats near one of the hearths and Megan remained quiet, her mind wandering to the long afternoon that certainly lay ahead.
“I’m sorry to have missed your wedding, Megan. Did Mother explain how ill I was?”
“No. She led me to believe that you simply chose not to come.” Megan’s voice was calm, but she always grew very tired of Marigold’s lying ways and was not going to allow them.
Marigold looked at Megan in surprise. “It would seem that the kitten has grown claws.”
“No, Marigold, I am not being catty,” Megan said gently. “I just wanted you to know that I know you’re lying.”
Marigold threw herself back against the seat.
“Oh, come on, Megan,” she said in disgust, all sweetness gone. “You sound like an old woman.”
“I do not enjoy lies, Marigold, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.”
The older sister eyed her disdainfully. This wasn’t going to be any fun if Megan insisted on being so forthright. As usual, Marigold had another tactic up her sleeve.
“Well, enough talk about us. Where is that delicious duke of yours?”
“Bracken is in the keep. I imagine he will be along shortly but I fear he’s not in a good humor.”
“Lovers’ quarrel?” Marigold’s eyes were huge, her voice sweet as honey. Megan was not fooled.
“No,” she told her shortly, and then asked if Marigold would like a tour.
That took the next two hours. By the time they were finished, Megan felt like a limp rag. Marigold had been ready with a compliment for nearly everything she saw, but each one held an underlying criticism. By the time they parted in order to ready themselves for the evening meal, Megan was shaking all over.
Relaxing some while Helga was doing her hair, Megan tensed all over again when she heard Bracken enter his own room. She need not have worried. He was there for quite some time but did not seek her out. Megan could have wept. What a terrible homecoming. She had missed him so much and worked so hard to please him, and all it had gotten her was his wrath. Now Marigold had come to Hawkings Crest, and Megan felt utterly defeated.
She and Bracken hadn’t even talked! It could be that he would be leaving again soon. If Marigold tarried, they would have no time together at all. On the way downstairs, Megan determined to put her own hurt aside and do what she could to repair the damage. However, one look at Bracken’s stony features told Megan that Bracken was not ready to forgive.
This was proven when the evening meal followed the day’s pattern of being long and difficult. Bracken did not say five words, and Marigold chattered away until Megan had a headache, something Marigold was aware of and enjoyed immensely. Marigold had seen few keeps as grand as Hawkings Crest, and her fury over her sister’s good fortune knew no bounds. She could see that Bracken’s men were all captivated with her, and whenever that happened Marigold was in her element. The only problem was Bracken himself.
Why had she not noticed when Bracken was at Stone Lake Castle that he had grown into a man of tremendous size and fine appearance? Marigold found him very handsome and desirable. Some of his men were as well, but if she was really going to score a conquest here and hurt Megan in the process, it would have to be the lord himself. However, every time she looked at Bracken, Bracken was looking at Megan, who was not even aware of his scrutiny.
That things were not well between them right now was obvious, but Bracken still had no interest in Marigold. It galled that slim blonde to no end to sit with a man who found her fat sister more interesting. She would have to think of something.
She had entertained thoughts of being the duchess herself but it didn’t look as though Bracken would actually send Megan away. This meant that her stay at Hawkings Crest would have to be cut short. Maybe she could think of another way to disrupt things. Then when she left, she would at least know there was disaster in her wake.
For the next two nights, Megan walked in her sleep. She did not get even as far as the passageway. Lyndon woke her the first night, and Bracken the next. It was the only time her husband had spoken to her. Megan was beginning to grow frantic. It would seem that Marigold’s visit was going to stretch on indefinitely, and Megan knew that until she left, things would not be resolved with Bracken.
She began to ask herself questions. What had Bracken seen and experienced while he’d been away to make such a radical change in him? He said the byre angered him, but Megan had the distinct feeling that there was something more. She continued to pray and try to reach out to him, but by Marigold’s fourth night at Hawkings Crest, Megan was exhausted and completely defeated. She knew she was being a poor hostess and, indeed, Bracken frowned at her quite fiercely; nevertheless, she went to bed early and slept through the night without waking or walking.
The next morning Bracken was up early but not out of his room. He sat for many minutes and thought about his actions of the last days. He could honestly say that right now he hated himself. Why was he treating Megan as though she were a disobedient child? Why had he not taken Trygve’s words to heart and come home to woo and court her? Bracken shook his head in disgust. Why had he reacted as he did?
Bracken suddenly stood. He didn’t know if it would ever happen again, but he must go now and try to make repairs. He would start by apologizing for the way he had behaved. Megan was not in her room, so Bracken continued on to her salon. She was there, still in her dressing gown, the Psalms open before her.
“Good morning, Megan,” he said civilly.
“Good morning, Bracken,” Megan replied, trying not to overreact. It was the first time in months that she had heard the normal sound of his voice.
“I have come about last night. I am sorry.”
Megan smiled sweetly. “’Tis all right Bracken. I’m sorry I turned in early, but in truth I was so weary.”
Bracken frowned. “No, Megan. I’m talking ab
out in the night, when you came to me.”
Now it was Megan’s turn to frown. “I did not come to you in the night.”
“Of course you did.”
Megan stiffened and shook her head. “What game is this you play?”
“No game.” Bracken frowned in return. “You came to me in the night. In my anger I sent you away.”
Megan’s eyes could have swallowed her face.
“I would do no such thing.”
Bracken hesitated. This was quite true. He had been very surprised. “Could you have been asleep?”
“You know me well enough to know I would not—awake or asleep.”
Bracken stared at her. “But your voice. I heard you.”
Megan froze and then said flatly, “My sister.”
Bracken shook his head. “The voice, it was yours.”
“Think, Bracken.” Megan sounded impatient. “You have commented yourself on how much we sound alike.”
“But I was so certain ’twas you.”
“Oh, come now, Bracken!” The last fragment of Megan’s tolerance was gone, and she was now in high fury. “Do you mean to tell me you do not know my generous curves from those of my slim sister?”
“I did not touch the woman in my bed!” he thundered. “And how would she get in?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Megan’s voice was cold.
Bracken looked desperate. “We shall ask Lyndon. Come with me so you can hear his reply.”
Megan dutifully followed, her body stiff with outrage.
“Lyndon,” Bracken called to him when they reached the antechamber, but the young knight did not stir. Bracken shook his shoulder.
“Lyndon.”
Still nothing. Bracken placed his torch in the sconce on the wall and carefully turned Lyndon’s head. He lifted his one eyelid and stared for a moment. Lyndon never stirred.
“He’s been drugged.”
Megan’s hand went to her mouth. “Will he be all right?”
“I don’t know. Return to your room whilst I find Arik.”
The next hour was nightmarish for Megan as she sat in her room. Could Marigold really have gone this far? Each time Megan asked the question, her mind gave her an unqualified yes. She made herself dress and ready for the day, and a short time afterward Bracken came for her. Lyndon was sitting up on the edge of his bed.
“Lyndon, are you all right?” Megan asked, her voice tearful.
“Yes, my lady. I’m sorry I let you down.”
“No, Lyndon, it was not your fault.”
“She asked me to have a drink with her.”
“Who?” Bracken wished to know.
“Lady Marigold. I sat with her, but then felt very tired. I dreamt she came to my room but wouldn’t let me kiss her.” Lyndon realized to whom he’d spoken just then and blushed. He turned tortured eyes to Bracken.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right, Lyndon.” Bracken’s voice was compassionate. “Sleep some more. I will wake you later.”
Arik remained with Lyndon while Bracken and Megan went back to Megan’s room. They stood quietly for some time before Megan spoke.
“She must leave,” she said, and then held her breath. She did not know what she would do if Bracken argued otherwise.
“Yes,” Bracken agreed. “Will you tell her, or shall I?”
Megan’s chin raised with determination. “She is my sister; I will do the task.”
Thirty-Two
MEGAN FOUND HER SISTER IN BED. For the sake of privacy she had given her an elegant suite of rooms in the tower, but she now felt not the slightest compunction about walking in uninvited.
When Bracken had questioned her about talking with Marigold, she had not understood that he would not accompany her. Nevertheless, she now stood over her sister like an enraged warrior, waited for her to awaken, and then spoke with calm force.
“You will leave here today, Marigold. Your lies will not work here, nor will your deceit. Bracken is well aware of who came to him in the night, and you will leave Hawkings Crest now.”
Marigold only smiled and stretched like a spoiled cat. “Did Bracken tell you how much he enjoyed himself ?”
Megan didn’t so much as blink. “Get out, Marigold. You have one hour.”
With that she walked away. Arik was waiting for her, something Megan was very pleased about as she was shaking so violently that once on the tower stairs she tripped. Arik’s great arm alone kept her from going headfirst down the full length.
She continued on to the great hall and ordered food for her sister’s entourage. She would never send them away hungry, but this way she would not have to share one more meal in her sister’s company. It was more than an hour before Marigold made her appearance, and Megan could see that she was not ready for travel. Bracken was still nowhere to be seen. Megan once again had to handle the situation on her own.
“Is there something wrong with your hearing, Marigold? I told you to leave.”
The older girl’s look was wounded. “But I didn’t think you really meant it. Why, Megan, we have barely had time to get reacquainted.”
“I will not have you living here trying to seduce my husband. Now leave.”
The hall had strangely emptied, save Arik who stood behind Marigold. Neither girl really took notice of him. Marigold continued her sweet act for several more minutes before the real woman came to the surface. She snarled at Megan in a way that made her feel frightened, but the younger sister held her ground.
“I can see that I will have to order your things packed and have you removed bodily.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Marigold retorted, her lip curling.
“Just watch me,” Megan told her.
Marigold’s small bosom heaved. “You little fool,” she spat. “He asked me to come to him and expects me again tonight. He told me that I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and that you repulse him.”
Megan sadly shook her head. “You’ve told so many lies, Marigold, that you have begun to believe them yourself. I find I am not angry with you—I pity you too much for that.”
Marigold’s open hand struck Megan’s cheek. It was not a hard blow, but Megan hadn’t seen it coming. Her head was tossed to the side. The younger woman was just reaching for her cheek when Marigold let out a bellow that brought Megan’s head around fast. Bracken, as well as much of the castle, came running to see that Arik had come forward and quite literally lifted Marigold by her upper arm. Marigold screamed in agony until the huge man shook her like a rat. When at last she hung limp and silent from his huge fist, he spoke to Megan in that rusty voice.
“Go to your room. I’ll see to this.”
Megan didn’t hesitate. She heard Bracken’s voice somewhere behind her, but she nearly ran from the hall without looking at anyone.
Megan would have given anything not to have it come to this point, but she hadn’t known what else to do. She told herself she was not going to cry, but the effort caused her to stand trembling alone in her room for an hour.
It was at that time that Bracken came. Megan turned from the window to watch him approach, but when he tried to take her into his arms, Megan stumbled away.
“Don’t touch me, Bracken.” The tears would hold no longer. “I can’t stand for you to touch me until I understand what has happened between us.”
“Megan.” Bracken’s voice was pained and he tried again, but still she resisted him.
“No, Bracken, I mean it,” she cried. “You said you would never let me be hurt again, but now something has made you hate me, and until I understand I don’t want you to—”
She stopped when he pursued her into the salon. Megan tried to evade him, but Bracken caught her in his arms in just seconds. Megan cried and shoved against his chest, but to no avail. Bracken lifted her high in his arms, sat in a large chair by the fire and placed Megan in his lap. Megan worked with all of her might to get away from him, but he would have none of it.
She eventua
lly cried against his chest until she lay spent and silent. The past days, the morning’s ordeal with Lyndon and then Marigold, and the torrent of tears, had all worked their way. Megan could not have moved if she tried. Bracken dipped his head to see if she slept, but only found her staring vacantly across the room.
“Your sister is gone,” he began softly, his heart beating under Megan’s ear. “I sent Arik with you and did not accompany you myself because I feared I would strike Marigold. Now I wish that I had. Arik is at this time berating himself for not seeing her intent. He blames himself that you were hurt.”
Bracken dipped his head again. Although Megan had not moved, there was now a tiny spark of life in her eyes.
“I have much to tell you, Megan, but not now, not while you are worn and upset. I want you to go to bed. When you awaken, we’ll talk.”
Bracken dipped his head one last time, and this time Megan looked at him. Bracken held her eyes for the space of several heartbeats before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead. He lifted her then, walked into her bedchamber, placed her on the bed, and bent over her.
“I’ll send Helga to you. When you have rested and feel better— maybe after you have had a hot bath—then send for me. I wish to speak with you.”
Megan managed a small nod, and Bracken stood a moment longer.
“As for the charge that I hate you, Megan, nothing could be further from the truth.”
With that he was gone, and moments later Helga appeared. She helped a silent Megan from her gown and settled her comfortably back in bed. Even after her mistress slept, Helga sat nearby sewing and keeping watch over her charge.
Megan awakened feeling much better and was greatly refreshed after her bath. She did not send for Bracken as he’d directed but sought him out herself. He was at the new byre. When Megan learned of this, she was tempted to return to the castle but made herself carry on. She found Bracken walking through the byre inspecting every square inch. Megan stood for a time and watched him, but as soon as he noticed her, he stopped what he was doing and approached.