by Anna Gracie
if hiding. The coach rumbled away, leaving the three of them standing
on the gravel drive. Magnus reached behind him to pull the small
person out, but he or she resisted.
Magnus said something. In Italian.
Italian? Tallie's heart was in her mouth.
A thin, sharp, not very clean little face peered out at her, frowning,
then ducked back behind Magnus. Tallie could hardly breathe. The face
peered out at her again, examining her intently. Tallie didn't move.
After a moment he stepped out, a skinny little boy, dressed in clothes
too big for him. A boy with ragged, curly, light brown hair, streaked
with sun. A boy with a scattering of freckles over the bridge of his
nose. A boy about seven years old.
"My dear," said Magnus, "I have brought you your brother. Richard,
this is your sister."
"No Richard--Ricardo," the little boy muttered fiercely, but he did not
take his wary brown eyes off Tallie.
"Of course, Ricardo," said Tallie, smiling through her tears. She held
out her arms. The boy looked up at Magnus, who nodded. The child
shrank back a little. Magnus gave him a gentle push towards Tallie.
The little boy came towards her slowly, suspiciously, glancing
frequently back at Magnus, as if fearing he would disappear. Magnus
nodded encouragingly. The child allowed himself to be embraced,
standing rigid in her arms for a moment or two, like a small, stiff
block of wood. It seemed to Tallie she could feel almost every bone in
his body, even through the layers of ill-fitting clothing. Poor little
lad. As soon as she loosened her hold he wriggled out of it and
scurried back towards Magnus, gripping Magnus's sleeve firmly in his
grubby little hand. It was plain her little brother trusted only one
person. Magnus laid a gentle hand on the child's shoulder.
"He has had a hard time of it, my dear," he said softly.
"You must not take it to heart."
Tallie shook her head, smiling, her heart too full to speak.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, but they were tears of joy, not sorrow.
Magnus, his intense gaze boring into her, stepped forward, took out a
large handkerchief and carefully dried her face, cupping her chin in a
large warm hand. She stood motionless, drinking in the beloved Magnus
smell of him, the tender motion of his hands on her skin, his warm,
ragged breath on her face. She had yearned for this so often during
the last months she was almost afraid it was yet another dream.
Shakily she lifted a hand to his thin, lined cheek and traced the long
groove that bisected it. Whiskers rasped beneath her fingers. He was
real. Magnus had come back to her.
"Oh, Magnus," she whispered tremulously, and lifted her face blindly up
to his. With a hoarse groan he drew her against him and lowered his
mouth to hers.
He kissed her hungrily, as if unable to get enough of her, his tongue
moving ravenously, possessively, slaking a desperate need, arousing
desperate desires. He pressed burning kisses on her mouth, her nose,
her throat, her wet eyelids, her mouth again, holding her hard against
him, smoothing her body against his, remembering, reclaiming.
She kissed him back fervently, feverishly, with equal passion, burning
away the lost months of loneliness, the anger, the distress and the
fear. She only knew he was here, with her, and that the part of her
that had wanted to die was vibrantly, joyously alive. Her arms clasped
him around the neck, pulling him closer, and she pressed herself
against him, hard. She ran one hand through his long thick hair,
glorying in the cool texture of it and the bony, beloved shape of his
skull. She slipped her other hand into the opening of his shirt,
longing to feel his skin against hers once more. There was a sharp
thud.
"What was that?" Magnus pulled back suddenly and looked at her,
shocked.
Tallie smiled mistily. She took his hand and laid it gently on her
stomach.
"That was your son."
He stared at her, then jumped as he felt another little kick.
His eyes fixed on the swell under his hand for a long moment, then his
eyes met hers in a look of dazed wonder. The baby kicked again, and
again Magnus started.
"Does it happen often?" he whispered.
Tallie nodded.
Magnus blinked.
"Does it hurt?"
She shook her head.
"Not at all."
"Oh, Lord," he groaned, and drew her into his arms again and buried his
face in her hair. They stood there a long time in silence, feeling the
baby kick occasionally.
After a few minutes Tallie felt a movement at her elbow. She glanced
down. A small grubby face scowled up at her, then tentatively pushed
closer to Magnus. Gently she reached down to draw him in to their
embrace. His body was stiff and resistant, like a wild animal, and he
gripped hold of Magnus's shirt possessively. Gently she touched his
hair. She felt him flinch, but he didn't move away.
She started to stroke the tangled honey-coloured curls, so like her
own, and he let her, still poised like a wary creature, to flee or to
fight. She continued stroking his hair, lightly at first, then more
confidently as she felt him start to relax. It was the last thing she
would have expected to do with her brother, tame him like a little
wildcat. Her heart bled at the thought of the life he must have led,
the life which made him so wary and mistrustful.
After a time she felt him thrust himself between her and Magnus and she
dropped her hand away in disappointment. It would take time for her to
earn his trust, she told herself. He turned his head to glare at her
again, then looked away. Slowly, without looking at her, he reached
down and took her hand, then placed it back on his head.
Tallie felt a surge of joy as she began stroking him again, and she
felt him lean imperceptibly into her caress. He was hungry for love,
she realised.
He was not the only one.
She looked up at her husband and saw with amazement a sheen of tears in
his sea-grey eyes as he gazed at her.
"Shall we go inside?" he said huskily. She nodded, her heart once
again too full for words. She moved to step away, but he pulled her
back, his good arm holding her hard against his side. A small bony
body burrowed defiantly between them and Magnus smiled and loosened his
hold on her, making room for the little boy.
"I see I'm going to have to learn to share you," he murmured.
Tallie smiled tremulously back. He, too," she said, and then, with
not a sliver of the dying evening light showing between their bodies,
the little family moved slowly towards the house.
"Gino and I took a shorter version of the route we left by," said
Magnus, sipping a glass of burgundy with pleasure.
"Into Holland, then Westphalia and so on, travelling overland, mainly
by night."
Tallie listened in silence, her eyes wide. Travelling across miles and
miles of enemy territory in the middle of a war, and by night. It
sounded
terribly dangerous, yet he spoke of his journey as if it were
nothing.
"Have some more roast beef," she urged him.
His eyes travelled to Tallie's brother, who was ploughing happily
through a second plate heaped with food. He smiled.
"I think young Richard is proving himself the better trencherman
here."
The boy looked up frowning, his mouth full.
"No Richard-- Ricardo!"
Magnus shook his head.
"He will soon accustom himself to his English name."
"Ricardo," came a mutter from the other side of the table.
Tallie intervened.
"And then where did you go?"
"Back through Venice and thence to Piedmonte. Carlotta sends her love,
by the way."
Tallie smiled and nodded, but she was not going to be sidetracked.
"Wasn't it terribly dangerous to travel all that way?"
Magnus shrugged.
"Oh, we ran into a French patrol here and there, but honestly, my dear,
if you'd seen them--more than half of Napoleon's recruits are beardless
boys, dragged off their farms. And the officers are not gentlemen, as
ours are. I was in no great danger."
He was lying, thought Tallie. She had heard Freddie discussing the
war. There might be a lot of young lads in Napoleon's army, but there
were also a lot of strong men. And if his officers were not gently
born, it seemed to her they would be even rougher with an Englishman
caught in the wrong place.
"It took some time, but in the end I found him--and half a dozen other
young orphans." He darted an odd look at her.
"You'll never believe who was keeping an eye on them, making sure the
children didn't starve. That bandit fellow."
"Maguire?" Tallie was astounded. And intrigued.
Magnus nodded.
"Hard to believe, but it's true. In fact he brought me to the little
chap... after he'd bound my wound up."
"Maguire bound your wound?" Tallie squeaked. Then she frowned in dire
suspicion.
"He didn't cause it, did he?"
Magnus shook his head, smiling.
"No, it was a French bullet. The bandit dragged me to safety."
"Oh, I knew he was a noble fellow!" Tallie clasped her hands in
thankfulness.
"Odd you should say that," Magnus drawled.
"He claims to be Irish nobility--well, they all say that, of course.
But still, he's got a look about him. I sent him back to Ireland."
Tallie sat up, alarmed.
"But won't they hang him? He said--' Magnus snorted.
"I'd like to see them try! No, I've appointed him manager of my Irish
properties--for his lifetime."
Tallie's jaw dropped.
"Fellow might be a damned blackguard, but he's got a good heart," said
Magnus gruffly.
"Those children would have perished without him. And he did save my
life."
"Yes, of course, and I think it's a wonderful idea," exclaimed Tallie
warmly.
"And what did you do with the other children?"
Magnus regarded her oddly a moment. Naturally his wife would expect
him to take care of any other orphans he came across.
"They are in the very best of care."
"With whom? Maguire?"
Magnus grinned. It had been a tempting thought, to saddle the
green-eyed rogue with a pack of children, but he hadn't done It.
"No, I thought they were better off in the care of a good woman."
"What good woman?"
"Guess."
Tallie thought for a moment.
"Carlotta! Of course! What a splendid idea, Magnus."
He nodded.
"I left her with five hungry little urchins, cooking up an enormous
batch of pasta and mothering them to her heart's content. I settled
money on her, of course, to help with the cost, although she was damned
stiff-necked about it."
Tallie regarded her husband in amazement. She could still hardly
believe it; not only had her husband not abandoned her, he had risked
his life a hundred times over, so that she could be united with her
brother. Her bastard, half-foreign brother. And he'd given a
childless widow five needy children to care for. He'd even removed
Maguire from his life of crime and given him a position of respect in
his homeland.
The very contemplation of his noble deeds threatened to overwhelm
her.
She watched the small boy as he mopped up gravy with a piece of bread,
then lifted the plate to lick it clean. Out of the corner of her eye
she saw Magnus frown and open his mouth. She laid her hand on his
arm.
"There is plenty of time to teach him his manners." Magnus relaxed.
The door flew open and Harris entered, carrying a trifle--a staggering
confection of cake and cream and jelly that had young Richard-Ricardo's
eyes popping. The very thing to appeal to a young boy, thought Tallie
delightedly, making a mental note to thank Cook for her thoughtfulness
later.
"M'lord's favourite," Harris announced.
"Cook prepared it especially."
Tallie glanced at her husband. He looked almost as pleased as Ricardo,
though he was trying not to show it. She hid a smile. All these
months and she hadn't realised he had a secret sweet tooth.
There was a long break in the conversation as the trifle was treated
with the respect it deserved. Tallie, whose own sweet tooth had
disappeared during her pregnancy, watched her husband and her brother
attack the towering confection with gusto. She was hard put to it to
decide which one of them enjoyed it the most, but she could see which
of the two had never tasted trifle before.
Her little brother was still dressed in his ill-fitting clothes. There
would be time enough tomorrow to find more suitable attire. But he
looked a great deal cleaner in the face and the hands, at any rate.
Tallie smiled as she observed the ecstatic expression that passed over
the thin, vivid face with each sweet, gooey mouthful.
He looked so much like her, she mused. There could be no doubt in the
world that they were brother and sister. It was an utterly wonderful
thought--people would look at them and know they belonged to each
other. But it was such a peculiar feeling, to be looking across a
table at someone and seeing a miniature version of oneself. The same
curly hair in a dozen tawny shades. The same freckled, pointy
nose--only his didn't turn up, like hers. And the same eyes. The same
eyes! The thought hit Tallie like a bombshell. Ricardo and she had
the same eyes. And she had Papa's eyes. And Papa's curly streaky
hair. And Papa's nose. And so did Ricardo.
Ricardo was Papa's son!
Papa had been wrong. Her brother was her true brother. He wasn't a
bastard. Relief and joy poured into her. Bastardy would have made no
difference to her, nor, apparently to Magnus, but it was a huge
handicap in the eyes of the world. It would have affected his
acceptance in society, his chance of making a good marriage, of making
his way in the world. Her little brother had had a difficult enough
beginning; she was glad, so very glad, the rest of his life would not
&nb
sp; be so hard.
She could not keep the wonderful news to herself.
"Magnus!" she said in a low, excited voice.
He turned to her.
"Ricardo looks exactly like me, does he not?"
Magnus glanced from the boy back to her, and nodded.
"But you are prettier."
She blushed with pleasure.
"Thank you, but that is not the point. I am held to be the image of my
father!"
He made the connection instantly.
"So your father was wrong. Delighted to hear it." He reached out and
lifted her hand to kiss it.
"Excellent news for all concern--' He broke off with an oath, staring
at her hand.
"Why the devil have you been chewing at your nails again?"
Tallie flushed with embarrassment. She tried to tug her hand from his
grip.
"I'm sorry."
His eyes scanned her face intently.