Keeper of the Swans

by Nancy Butler

  “Can we go back to the camp now, Rom?” she asked.

  “Why, sweetheart? Are you getting sleepy?” He brushed the hair gently back from her face.

  “No,” she said intently. “I want to dance with you. River gods can dance, can’t they?”

  “Only with water witches, my love. And only in Gypsy meadows, under a waning moon.”

  Chapter 10

  Diana and Romulus danced for what seemed like hours. They ate roast pig, and steaming potatoes straight from the fire. Diana drank wine from a goatskin, spilling a good deal more than she managed to get into her mouth, laughing in delight when Romulus kissed the sticky traces from her face. The stately balls and formal cotillions she had attended in London paled beside this Gypsy revel, and she thought she must be a changeling to be entranced by so simple an entertainment. Romulus had called her untamed and unfettered, and Diana felt the truth of those words for the first time.

  She and Romulus had settled their future as they’d walked back across the field to the caravans, and so there was no longer any need for her to keep hidden away. Once they reached the gathering, Rom never left her side and openly declared his affection for her with every look and gesture.

  When the revelers at last began to drift toward their respective homes, Niall took Romulus aside and handed him the reins to his piebald stallion. “Allegra’s too weary from dancing to walk, Rom. Take her to the river on Roibin. You need only slap him on the rump and he’ll come back to me, just like a spaniel.”

  Before Diana could protest, Romulus had swung her up onto the horse’s bare back. Then Niall cupped his hand at Rom’s knee and sent him vaulting up behind her. Diana had never envisioned Romulus on horseback. As he skillfully turned the unruly stallion in a circle and then urged him into a gallop, she realized that she needed to reassess his title. Her river god, it appeared, was part centaur.

  He held her close before him, as the wind whipped at their hair, sending a tangle of black and russet flying behind them. The trip to the river was all too short, and Diana was breathless as Romulus slid off the beast and lifted her down.

  “Kiss me again, Rom,” she pleaded, once he had sent the stallion skittering away.

  “No,” he said, as he traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “The next time I kiss you will be on my island. On the porch where I kissed you in anger. This time I will not, I swear, make the same mistake.”

  “And tomorrow?” she asked, needing to hear him say the words again.

  “Tomorrow,” he said fondly, “we will journey north, to your father’s home. Where I will ask for your hand properly. Though I daresay it will be the first proper thing about this courtship.”

  Diana grinned. “And you’re certain Niall won’t mind keeping an eye on the swans while we are away?”

  Romulus nodded as he tugged the dory up to the slip and tied the bow line of the punt to its stern.

  “What about your skiff?” she asked, anxiously peering downriver. “Is it all right to leave it unattended?”

  “Right as rain,” he said. “I asked Niall to row it over in the morning.”

  “Speaking of rain,” Diana said as he handed her into the boat. “Did you feel a drop?”

  “Probably the dew falling,” he said, looking east to the lightening sky. “It’s nearly dawn.”

  He rowed across to the island, and brought the dory alongside the river slip. Hand in hand they made their weary way up the incline toward the path.

  Romulus was the first one to see the light glowing through the trees ahead of them. He pushed Diana back as he ran forward. “Stay!” he called urgently over his shoulder. “Stay down, by the boats!”

  Diana, as always heedless of his commands, followed on his heels. She was to regret that imprudence for a good long time.

  As she came out of the trees, she saw with a pounding heart that there were five men gathered in the front yard of the house. Lanterns sat at their feet, the wavering yellow light lending their faces an eerie, frightening aspect. They had formed a semicircle around Romulus, who stood facing them, hands fisted, arms curled at his sides. His whole posture was one of barely contained outrage.

  Diana called out, “Romulus!”

  He spun toward her off. “No, Allegra!” he cried. “Go back!”

  She flew toward him, her own temper flaring.

  If these villagers thought they could oust Romulus from his island by sheer force of numbers alone, they had reckoned without her. As she neared Romulus, and the men who loomed before him, she saw her mistake. Though two of the men looked to be villagers, three wore Beveril’s livery of gray and gold. Which was not surprising, since Beveril himself was now stepping down from the front porch of the lodge.

  Her forward motion brought her right up to Romulus. He put one arm behind him, holding her back protectively, though his voice was laced with anger and regret as he muttered, “You’ve washed it now, my witch.”

  She grasped his arm between her trembling hands. Sweet Jesus, she had run right into danger.

  “This is a pleasant domestic scene,” Sir Beveril drawled as he came forward toward them. “The lord and his lady come home for the night.” He leaned closer to Romulus. “Or should I say the base-born knave and the woman he abducted.”

  Romulus threw his head back. “Does it look like I’ve been keeping her here against her will?”

  Beveril sneered. “I can see that you’ve beguiled her—just as you beguiled Lady Vivian.”

  Diana’s heart skipped a beat. What could Beveril mean? Had Romulus been dallying with the beautiful widow before he met her? If it was true, it certainly explained the enmity between the two men, the rancor that now fairly sizzled in the air.

  Romulus gave a harsh laugh. “There has never been anything between Lady Vivian and me.”

  “And what is between you and this chit?” Beveril made a curt motion toward Diana.

  “I am going to marry him,” Diana stated as she tightened her hold on Rom’s arm. There it was, out for all the world to hear.

  “Yes,” Romulus said with narrowed eyes. “She is to be my wife.”

  “Devil take you, she is not. She is promised to me. Do you think Mortimer will stand by while she marries a mongrel like you?” He jabbed the leaded tip of his riding crop into Rom’s chest. “She is still underage, Perrin. And will do as her family bids.”

  Rom’s eyes darted to Diana in mute appeal. She nodded bleakly. “Not twenty-one for another three months,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “Then we will wait,” Romulus bit out. “Until she is free to make her own choices.”

  Beveril sneered openly. “She’ll be my wife by then. And you will be rotting in a jail cell.”

  With an inarticulate cry, Romulus threw himself at Beveril, sending him reeling back toward the porch. Beveril held him off with one arm as he barked to his servants, “Take him, damn you!”

  The three men closed rapidly in on Romulus. Too late, he thrust a hand into his rucksack, groping for his pistol. They knocked his hand away, and grappled with him until he was forced to his knees, his arms twisted behind his back. He uttered a raw cry which was echoed by Diana as she ran toward him. The two villagers stepped forward and blocked her path.

  “Let him go!” Diana pleaded, turning to Beveril. “This is Rom’s island. You have no right to be here!”

  “I have more right than you, my sweet.” As he spoke, he reached out and stroked Diana’s hair.

  Romulus snarled, “Get your festering hands off her!” He was trying to rise up, but the three men forced him back down to the grass.

  “Shut him up,” Sir Beveril said brusquely to one of the villagers.

  Argie Beasle stepped forward and quickly back-handed Rom across the face. “Ain’t so cocky now, are ye, my fine fellow,” he taunted, rocking back on his heels.

  Rom looked past the little poacher, his eyes blazing up at Sir Beveril. “Not man enough to do your own dirty work, eh, Hunnycut?”

  “I wouldn’t sully
myself by laying hands on you,” he muttered.

  “A fine excuse for cowardice.”

  “Again, Beasle!” Sir Beveril ordered.

  As Argie drew his arm back, Diana spun the little river rat around by the shoulder, shoving him with all her strength away from Romulus. He staggered back, and then was about to lash out at her when Beveril barked, “Enough, Beasle! You may hit Perrin as often as you like, but this lady is still my intended.”

  “I am not!” Diana said between her teeth. “I will never marry you. Now order your men to set Romulus free, or I will tell the world what you have done here tonight.”

  “What?” he sniffed. “That I have rowed over to my aunt’s island and apprehended the madman who abducted my fiancée?” He tsked gently. “I have the law on my side, Diana. This vermin—” He nodded abruptly toward Romulus, “—has forfeited all his rights by keeping you here.”

  Diana leaned forward. “Listen to me, Beveril. Romulus has committed no crime. He did not abduct me, nor did he keep me here against my will. He saved my life when I was drowning. He nursed me when I was ill. You should be thanking him that I am still alive.”

  “That will be the day that I thank this river scum for anything. And as for whether or not he has committed a crime, that is for a magistrate to decide. I fancy a few weeks in a jail cell waiting for trial may serve to cool his ardor for you.”

  “No!” Diana cried. “You must not!”

  She knew Romulus would be destroyed if he was ever returned to prison. His spirit would wither away into dust. She flung away from Sir Beveril and ran back to Romulus. The men had dragged him to his feet and bound his hands behind him with a cord. He now stood with his head thrown back, his eyes dark and hollow as they regarded her.

  “What should I do?” she pleaded. “Oh, my love, tell me what I should do.”

  He shook his head. There was a trickle of blood on his mouth from Argie’s blow. “You can’t do anything now, Allegra. It’s over.”

  “No!” she keened, reaching out for him. The men who held him dragged him back, away from her hands. “I’ll go to Lady Hamish,” she said urgently, trying to offer him some hope.

  “My aunt left for London today,” Beveril remarked evenly from behind them. “She has a complaint of the digestion and needed to visit a specialist there. I doubt if she will return before a fortnight has passed.”

  Diana glared at him. “She will not let you put Romulus in jail.”

  Romulus rallied slightly. “She has a point, Hunnycut. Lady Hamish will not like it that you have usurped her power.”

  Beveril snorted. “My aunt has tolerated a great deal from you, Perrin. Your unsavory associations, and your freakish behavior. But I guarantee she will not be so forgiving when she learns of your latest outrage. Not that it matters. You will be long gone from here by the time she returns.”

  Diana’s eyes implored Romulus. Tell me, they begged. How can I help you?

  “Go home, Allegra,” he whispered hoarsely. “Make your peace with your family. Beveril knows there’s nothing I can say in my own defense…. I did keep you here long after I knew where you belonged. God help me, how could I not?”

  Her heart was lurching in her breast. She couldn’t believe Romulus was telling her to go.

  “They can’t harm you,” she cried softly. “You have done nothing wrong.”

  “I forgot my place,” he said bitterly. “In your world that is unforgivable. Go now, Allegra. For once in your blasted life obey me and go home.”

  She turned from him in numb confusion. Beveril was holding out one hand to her.

  The strained silence of that moment was broken by a loud, shattering crash. Argie Beasle had pitched one of the lanterns through the nearest window of the house, into Rom’s bedroom.

  Seven pairs of eyes watched in stunned shock as an orange tongue of flame licked its way up the frame of the window and then quickly spread to the rest of the room.

  Without a second’s hesitation, Diana darted toward the porch.

  “No-o-o!” Romulus bellowed in primal fear when he saw where she was headed. He kicked out at his captors, fighting now like a man possessed. The cord that had bound his wrists had come undone, and he quickly laid about him with his fists. As the men fell back from his fury, he staggered forward toward the house, crying, “Allegra!”

  At Beveril’s command, one of his men ran forward and struck Romulus on the side of the head with the butt of a pistol. He fell heavily to his knees. Again the pistol descended. The last thing he saw before the darkness engulfed him was his water witch disappearing through the front door of the burning building.

  “A-l-l-e-g-r-a!” The anguished cry never left his lips.

  Sir Beveril was hard on Diana’s heels as she crossed the sitting room. He reached for her, but she twisted out of his grasp and ran for the storeroom.

  “Are you insane!” he raged, thrusting aside the tea table as she darted through the storeroom door ahead of him. Already the smoke from the bedroom was billowing in behind him. Beveril batted his way through the door in Diana’s wake.

  She felt his arms close around her. “No!” she choked, striking at him with her fists. “Let me go!”

  “I won’t let you kill yourself over that man, Diana.”

  “I’m not trying to kill myself,” she gasped hoarsely as she broke free. “I am trying to save these birds.”

  She swung the top crate off the stack, but could not manage the second one. She held the cage out to Beveril in mute entreaty, but he attempted to knock it from her hands. She quickly drew it back and cried thunderously, “For the love of God, Beveril, these are your aunt’s swans!”

  His eyes narrowed at first in confusion, and then he nodded, his comprehension. He hoisted the first crate under one arm, and then caught up the top of the second one in his free hand. For the first time Diana was grateful that he was such a large, strapping man.

  “Now get the hell out of here!” he barked.

  She raced through the house toward the front door, coughing and choking in the fog of smoke. Flames were licking into the sitting room from the hallway. In desperation Diana plucked up the largest of Rom’s books and heaved it through the window. She scrambled out over the sill and tumbled onto the lawn, and then watched as Beveril’s men helped him climb out, taking the crates from him to hasten his exit.

  Diana rolled away from the burning house, and then lay still, gasping for air and trying not to swoon. She saw Romulus, lying face down in the grass, and crawled to where he lay. One arm was stretched out, as though he were still reaching toward the house. She tugged him onto his side and tenderly wiped the blood from his mouth with a corner of her skirt. His face was pale, waxen in the light of the fire. She laid her mouth upon his cheek, murmuring of her love and of her grief over the pain she had brought to him.

  Mere hours ago she had lain with him in a Gypsy meadow and kissed him until they were both dizzy with passion. Now…now the world had shattered into small pieces and would never be put right. She felt the tears on her face…and on her neck and on her hands. It was raining. But the house behind her was burning, and all the tears of heaven could not douse the fire. She put her head down and wept in truth. For Rom, for his house, and for herself, who had brought this foul vengeance down upon the man she loved.

  Sir Beveril knelt and stroked her hair.

  “Get away from me,” she snarled, scuttling away from his touch with a loud hiss. “You have done a wicked thing tonight. A truly wicked thing.”

  “Not wicked, Diana, just. The knave was too full of himself, by far. How dared he raise his eyes to a lady of gentle birth. Prison’s too good for him, but it will have to suffice.”

  Diana heaved herself up onto her knees and threw herself against Beveril’s chest, clutching at the lapels of his driving coat. “No,” she breathed, her eyes wide with panic. “You mustn’t! Promise me you’ll not put him in prison. I’ll do anything you want. I swear it.”

  Sir Beveril covered
her hands with his own. “Anything?”

  Diana grit her teeth. Rom’s sanity, his very soul, was at stake. “Yes,” she said hoarsely. “Anything.”

  “You’ll marry me now? Before the week is out?”

  She nodded numbly. “If that is what it takes, then, yes, I will marry you.”

  “Then I promise you Perrin will never see the inside of a jail cell.”

  Argie Beasle had sidled over to them; he stood tapping the flat side of the ax he carried against his bony shin. “I scuttled his boats as you ordered, sir.”

  Beveril rose and thrust the poacher roughly from his path. “I told you to sink the boats, Beasle. The house was not to be touched.”

  Argie shrugged sullenly. “I owed him.”

  Diana rose slowly to her feet. Mindless of the pelting rain, she walked as one dead past the liveried men who stood gaping at the fire. She longed to turn around, to see the last of her blessed haven, but she knew she would crumple, to see it engulfed in flames.

  Kneeling down beside the crates, she swung open both doors. The cygnets clambered out and gathered around her. With a harsh motion she drove them away from her, knowing they would be safer on the river than among these swan-killing ruffians. Peeping in bewilderment, they scattered along the edge of the grass, heading in the direction of the river. Diana watched until they disappeared from sight.

  The smoke was getting worse now, burning her eyes and her throat. Through the billowing haze, she looked for Romulus. He was gone from the front yard, and two of Beveril’s men with him. She hadn’t even been allowed a brief farewell.

  Beveril took her by the wrist then, and hauled her unprotesting from the yard. As they passed the path that diverted off to the river slip, she looked down through the wet foliage. The dory and the punt lay below her, half submerged in the dark water. Argie Beasle had done his work well.

  She now knew where Argie and Wald Chipping had gone in the ferry boat. They hadn’t gone upriver after pheasant or rabbits. No, they had rowed to Hamish House and brought Sir Beveril to Rom’s island. Hoping to find her there alone, no doubt. And when they discovered she was no longer on the island, they had waited. She and Romulus had walked blithely into their trap.