Alyssa’s voice broke into his tortured memories. “Who, of all God’s creatures, is perfect? I know my father makes mistakes.” She smiled wistfully. “And my hotheaded brother, Dev, makes many of them and then boasts about it afterward. No, I think you have a conscience Tray, and that is what separates you from most other imperfect men.”
He managed a grim smile, studying her. It was incredible to him that this mere slip of a child-woman could look beyond the obvious and see the truth. She was blind, yet there was something in her makeup that gave her insight and maturity far beyond her years. Alyssa possessed a far greater intelligence than he had ever encountered, and he was hungry to talk at length with her on a myriad of topics just to probe her instinctive insights and feelings.
“I’m sure God never made any woman imperfect,” he teased, a slow smile pulling at his mouth.
“Perhaps He blessed the Englishwomen with perfection,” Alyssa tossed back with a lighthearted laugh, “but He created imperfections in the likes of me!”
Tray rejoiced at her pure, silvery laughter. “Never!”
“Oh, yes!”
“How are you imperfect?” he challenged.
“I have a terrible temper when I’m pushed too far. And you’ve already tasted my frankness. Dev accuses me of being the most bullheaded woman whose path he’s ever had the sorry luck to cross. And Gavin groans when I break into tears over the beauty of a sunset or the flight of a gull as it glides against the blue of the sky.”
Tray walked over to her. He knelt down on one knee, gently taking both her hands in his. “If that is imperfection,” he said in a roughened tone, “then I revel in it.” His fingers tightened briefly as he saw the startled quality in her wide, innocent eyes. “From what I’ve witnessed thus far, my lady, you are a woman who knows her own mind. I respect anyone who has an opinion and will stand firm on it. I don’t call that stubbornness. And as for your being hotheaded, I would say that it is the nature of your Irish blood. Can one not admire a hotblooded thoroughbred or, indeed, an even more spirited Arabian stallion, because he is temperamental? No,” he whispered hoarsely, “your temper is your spiritedness, not to be confused with the behavior of a woman who throws tantrums like a spoiled child.”
He reluctantly released Alyssa’s trembling fingers and remained in a kneeling position before her. Huge tears had formed in her eyes and he brushed them away with his hands as they trickled down her rose-hued cheeks. “And as for crying because the beauty of a sunset struck your heart or the grace of a gull freed you for an instant from this prison we call earth, I would have gladly shed tears with you at your side….”
Chapter Seven
Alyssa was roused from her deep and restful sleep by a bustle of activity in the hall. Was it morning yet? Eyes puffy from sleep, she struggled into a sitting position, her auburn hair tumbling across her white flannel nightgown. She heard the door open and then close.
“Maura?”
“No, Tray.”
“Is something wrong?”
He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. “Why would you ask that?” As his gaze caressed her sleepy features he had the wild urge to reach out and tame those rebellious strands of hair away from her face.
“There seems to be more noise than usual out in the hall. Is it morning?”
“Yes. Barely dawn.” Tray hungrily drank in her relaxed features. He had barely slept all night, replaying their words and picturing her animated features during their discussion yesterday. “I wanted to come in and say goodbye before I left, Aly.”
Surprise widened her eyes. “Goodbye? What? I mean, why?”
Tray automatically reached out, his large, calloused hand covering her small, slender one. “A rider came a few hours ago telling me that several of my brood mares at the other estate, which lies south of Shadowhawk, are about to foal.” He gently ran his thumb across her palm, noting that her hands had calluses on them, too. Knowing that she worked just as hard as he did made Tray feel even closer to her.
Alyssa closed her eyes. “Oh, I thought it was something dangerous.”
He smiled and released her hand. “No. I had bred Rasheed to five mares the same week. And now, they are all coming due.” His voice took on a wry quality. “I’m afraid I’ve neglected some of my farming duties since you and Sean have arrived. Normally, I’m down at our other estate a week before the foaling occurs.”
Alyssa’s shoulders relaxed and she twined her fingers in the blanket on her lap. “How long will you be gone?”
“Perhaps a week. It depends entirely upon the brood mares and when they decide to foal. I’ve already talked with Sorche and she has promised to look after you. Sean begged me to allow him to come along, but I told him that you would need his company in my absence.”
She felt a lump rise in her throat. “I’ll miss your reading to me and our talks in the drawing room,” she admitted softly.
“Sorche will read to you in my absence.”
“I’ll miss our walk in the garden that you promised me.”
Tray’s features grew gentle and he picked up her hand, pressing a kiss to her jasmine-scented skin. “May I make amends, my lady, upon my return?”
Alyssa’s lips parted as she felt his masculine mouth graze her flesh with provocative lightness. Her entire hand tingled pleasantly from his kiss. “Yes,” she whispered weakly, aware of her heart pounding in her breast. She felt bereft as Tray released her hand and rose from the bed.
Tray stood there, staring down at her intensely, memorizing her upturned, innocent face. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, little one,” he promised.
* * *
Ten days…Alyssa turned away from the brilliant sunlight, realizing it was late afternoon by the sun that cascaded through the crystal glass of the window. She morosely counted the steps from the window to the chair that sat near the fireplace in her bedchamber. She was restless, like a young horse who had been stall-bound. As she sat, carefully folding her silk skirts round her, Alyssa admitted the truth to herself—she missed Tray.
Sorche worried about her. She had been waking up at night, screaming. Embarrassment had flooded her when Sorche admitted that Tray would often sit at her side, gently stroking her hair and soothing her nightmares away so that she would drift into sleep, free of those haunting memories of the man who had cruelly raped her. And although Maura, who stayed near her while Tray was away, tried to duplicate those methods when the past came to terrorize her, Alyssa could never return to sleep. She pondered Tray’s power over her subconscious. Was he a Druid? She recalled with great fondness how her schoolmasters had plied her with the power of the Druids. Was it his touch? His hand upon her brow, soothing her like a frightened child? She did not know.
Ten days had left her listless. At night, after Sean kissed her on the cheek and hugged her good-night, her mind often returned to the fact that she had lied to Tray. He didn’t know she was a criminal to England, as was Sean. What would he do if he found out he was harboring fugitives? Would Tray turn them over to the English? Would she find herself at Newgate, waiting to be hanged, and Sean sent to a short life in the Welsh coal mines?
She had rehearsed the words to tell him the truth, to apologize for her lies. He would be angry, no doubt. Alyssa tried to think of a way to focus Tray’s anger on herself and not Sean. Tray was not without a heart. Perhaps she could persuade him to free Sean, or at least keep him here at Shadowhawk as a servant.
Alyssa’s mind searched relentlessly for the right time and place to admit her deceit to Tray. They couldn’t live indefinitely at Shadowhawk and not be discovered. Time. She needed more time in order to know Tray better; in order to know how best to approach him and make her confession. If only Tray would return home—to her.
* * *
The sound of horses drawing a coach up the cobbled drive to Shadowhawk awakened her. Although she had no idea of time, Alyssa was vaguely aware of shouts, someone running down the hall toward the foyer and the snort of horses
. She had cried herself to sleep and now her head pounded unrelentingly as a result.
“Lord Trayhern’s home! Welcome, welcome, my lord. We’ve missed your presence.” The booming voice of Craddock carried throughout the house.
Alyssa sat bolt upright, her hair swirling around her shoulders. Anxiously, she reached toward the bottom of the bed, trembling fingers locating her velvet dressing robe. In a haste born of need, she managed to get it on and the sash tied poorly around her waist. The room was cool, which meant the fire was in need of being replenished. She heard further cries and shouts of welcome from the other servants and then Sorche’s voice sounding loudly over all of them. Alyssa forced herself to count the steps from the bed to the fireplace, her left hand outstretched as she crossed the expanse in darkness. Tray was home, Tray was home, her thudding heart said, pounding unevenly in her breast. She felt the smooth, cool marble of the fireplace and leaned down, finding and retrieving a few split logs and throwing them into the coals on the hearth. As the coals hungrily licked at the wood and sparked to new life, they bathed her bedchamber in a warm glow. Alyssa waited.
It was nearly two in the morning and Tray could feel exhaustion pulling at him. What had kept him awake and alert as he sat in the coach speeding toward Shadowhawk was the promise of seeing Alyssa once again. Sweet God, how he had missed her! For the first time, he had taken little joy in helping the foals be born and seeing them stand for the first time. He had often thought of how he would have enjoyed having Alyssa there at his side. It was so easy to share the simple pleasures of life with her.
Tray pulled Sorche aside as they walked toward the west wing, where the main bedchambers were located. “Alyssa? How is she? And Sean?”
Sorche squeezed him affectionately, keeping her hand on his arm. “Sean is wonderful! But Alyssa…”
Tray’s gray eyes grew dark as he stared down at his foster mother. “She’s not well?”
A knowing smile twinkled in Sorche’s eyes. “My son, she has been pining away since the morning you left.” And then she scowled. “Hasn’t hardly eaten a thing! I kept telling her that she’d be carried away in a gust of wind, but she just lost her appetite.”
Tray clenched his fist at his side and said nothing. It wasn’t Sorche’s fault that Alyssa wasn’t eating properly. Damn! Didn’t Aly realize how terribly underweight she was? It wasn’t healthy! “What else?” he asked tightly.
“The poor lamb has been having those dreams every night. At times, I’d wake up and hear her screaming.”
Tray looked down at her sharply. “Didn’t you have Maura stay with her?”
“Of course I did. Maura slept in the chair every night. And when Alyssa would begin screaming, Maura would stroke her head like you did, but it had very little, if any, effect. Alyssa would just curl into a knot, hugging a pillow and sobbing.”
His eyes narrowed. Hellfire and damnation! He knew his leaving wouldn’t do her any good! And God knew, he hadn’t slept well himself, missing those dark nights when he would doze lightly in the chair after Alyssa fell asleep.
“Don’t blame yourself, Mother. You did all that was possible.” He gave her an affectionate smile and leaned down to kiss her brow. “I’ll see Alyssa before retiring. Tell Craddock I won’t be needing his services tonight.”
Sorche nodded and halted. “Don’t be angry with her, Tray.”
He placed his hand on the brass doorknob that led to Alyssa’s bedchamber. “How can you be angry with an Irish fairy?” he posed softly.
Sorche grinned broadly, her eyes twinkling. Irish fairies were revered as magically beautiful creatures who held sway over men with the power of love. “You can’t,” she returned. “Good night.”
Alyssa slowly lifted her chin as a soft knock sounded at the door. She stood frozen beside the mantel, the light from the fire bathing her body. Her lips parted as she breathed out his name like a reverent prayer.
“Tray?”
“Yes,” he murmured, closing the door behind him. Suddenly, all his exhaustion lifted as he came inside the room, drinking in her translucent beauty. Ten days had healed all the bruises that had discolored her face. Hungrily, he took in Alyssa’s clear, flawless emerald eyes, his body tightening with a hotness that took his breath. My God, she was like a lovely wraith wavering before the fire, the dark green velvet of her robe cascading over her slender body, the curved ripeness of her breasts rising and falling quickly beneath the fabric. His gaze swept from her tightly knit fingers resting in front of her, up across her breasts and exposed, slender throat to her magnificently parted lips. Tray groaned inwardly, wanting to taste her softness, the womanliness that he knew still awaited untouched within her, regardless of her cruel experience. The dark wine of her hair shot through with gold lay like a cloak across her proudly drawn shoulders, and he longed to comb his fingers through those shining tresses, burying his face in the feel and scent of their strands.
He fought to control his roiling emotions and walked over to her. Mere inches separated them as he picked up her hand, pressing a warm and moist kiss upon it, inhaling the scent of her body woven with the faint fragrance of jasmine. “In ten days,” he told her in a low, gritty tone, “you’ve grown more beautiful, if that’s possible, Aly.”
She trembled beneath his voice, his touch firm upon her damp, cold fingers. There were a hundred things she wanted to blurt out to him, but all of them were inappropriate to say to a man who was little more than a stranger to her. “The sun left my life when you departed, my lord,” she whispered softly, lowering her lashes, her voice aching with tears.
Tray released her hand and gently cupped her chin, raising her head so that her eyes, when they opened, would be trained on his. The excruciating temptation to drop a kiss upon her lips was almost unbearable, yet he knew she would recoil if he did so. Fighting the dangerous signals of his male body, he grazed her jaw with this thumb. “It was no less dark without your presence, Aly, believe me,” he admitted rawly. He released her from his hold and stepped away to the safety of the other side of the fireplace. He surveyed her flushed features, aware of the darkness lingering beneath her thick lashes.
“Are you going to become like Rasheed and eat poorly each time I leave you behind?” he teased gently.
Aly managed a slight grimace and found the chair, sitting down before her weakened knees gave out beneath her. “I saw you took him along.”
“For the very reason I’ve told you. He goes off his feed, gets moody and kicks his stall to pieces.” A slight smile touched the corners of Tray’s mouth. “Tell me, have you been temperamental and kicked your bedchamber to bits, too?”
Alyssa laughed delightedly. “I’ve not eaten much, to be truthful, my lord. As to my temperament, well, you must ask Sorche and the servants about that.” She raised her hand, gesturing at the room around them. “And, as you can see, I’ve not damaged your property.”
Tray grinned, caught by her expressive face and glowing eyes. Was he seeing rightly? Had Alyssa missed him as much as he had her? He was too exhausted and too happy right now to doubt his feelings. “I see I’ll have to take you along with me next time to keep you out of trouble. We’ve got lambing season coming upon us in another few weeks. I’ll be leaving again soon for the high country to help my shepherds.”
Alyssa gasped, clapping her hands together like a child. “You would take me? I can be of help! I’ve often helped during lambing.”
“If Dr. Birch says that you can travel, little one, you may go with me.” His voice took on a warning. “But you must show me that you’re ready to travel. I have to see you eating heartily and putting back on that weight, Aly. And you have to prove that you can walk and continue to rebuild your strength.”
“Oh, I will! I promise I will, Tray! I love working with animals so much. Please, let me accompany you next time. I promise I won’t get in the way!”
He smiled, reassured that Alyssa was all right. “Not only that, but you must be able to sit astride a horse for hours at a
time.” Her face lit up with so much happiness that it brought unexpected tears to his eyes. Clearing his throat, Tray said, “If the sun deigns to shine this afternoon, we shall test your horsemanship abilities. Good night, Arhiannon.”
Her lips trembled as she whispered, “Good night, Tray…”
* * *
Maura was humming an old Irish lullaby as she deftly wove the thick strands of Alyssa’s hair into one huge braid down the middle of her back. Alyssa didn’t want her hair piled high upon her head, as was the custom among the English. Instead, feathery bangs brushed her arched eyebrows and delectable tendrils wisped around her temples.
Alyssa could barely sit still, having slept long and deeply after Tray had left her bedchamber. Miraculously, none of the ugly, haunting dreams disturbed her sleep. At noon, after completing her toilette, Maura had brought in a light wool riding habit that she said matched the color of Alyssa’s eyes. Alyssa yearned to be in Tray’s bantering company once again. How she had missed his deep, thoughtful voice and his gentle, teasing manner.
“You look lovely, Miss Alyssa,” Maura sighed, standing back and smiling. “Here’s your hat,” she said, pinning it at an angle on her head. “Lord Trayhern said the wind was a mite sharp out there and he felt a wool riding habit, boots and a warm hat were in order.” Handing her forest green kidskin gloves, Maura proudly led Alyssa toward the back door and to the stables, where Lord Trayhern and Stablemaster Thomas were patiently waiting for them.
Alyssa took a deep breath of air, aware of the tangy salt of the sea mixing with the scent of the land that it bordered. The sun was shining brightly and she lifted her face toward it momentarily, bathing in the warmth of its rays.
Lord of Shadowhawk Page 9