“Lud-a-mercy!” Winnie exclaimed, pressing a freckled hand to her ample bosom. “What’s all this?”
“Our guest was protesting her extended stay, Mrs. Carey,” Morgan answered cheerfully, though not without some effort. His unwilling baggage now pounded mercilessly upon his ribs. “’Tis clear our Katie doesn’t know what’s good for her. We had a wee tiff about it. I won.”
He grinned good-naturedly. Winnie had to chuckle at his boyish air.
“By the rood, what would your father say if he saw you now? Carrying a young lady upstairs, slung over your shoulder like a sack of grain.”
“Probably ‘congratulations.’” Morgan’s dry laughter rumbled through Kate as well. “Pray turn down her covers, Mrs. Carey. I vow our guest is nigh ready to retire. I’ll entreat you to remain with Kate and deal with all those blasted hooks and stays.”
“As you wish, milord.”
The pounding on Morgan’s back ceased.
“Lord?”
A surprised squeak issued from beneath all the layers of material.
“Y-you’re a peer?” Kate sputtered, pushing aside the velvet curtain tumbled about her head. “I don’t believe it.”
“Merely a baron, my dear,” Morgan said. “Our good queen sees fit upon occasion to grace some of her rustic relations with titles, in order to keep the Welsh provincials in line.”
“But you never told me, I never dreamed … ”
Winnie pitied Kate’s present position — not so much her undignified posture over Lord Trelane’s shoulder as the shock in her face. It was awkward enough lying for the Master these past days, and Winnie was relieved the ruse was over. Yet now the unpleasant truth was laid out for all. That was little consolation, even knowing it was for the best.
“Put the girl back in her room, if you would be so kind, milord,” she said. “I shall see to her further care.”
Morgan nodded and grimly resumed his march. He deposited Kate on her bed in her room and turned to leave.
“Morgan … Lord Trelane ... ”
Kate didn’t know if he was still there or not. Her head reeled from the shock of her unpleasant discovery. She gathered her courage and spoke into the silent void.
“Indeed, I do understand now. What would a fine lord want with the likes of me? You might have told me the truth in the beginning, milord. I need not have troubled you with my presence for so long.”
“Damme, Faeilean, that wasn’t the reason.”
She turned her head away, rejecting any answers or explanations. She sensed Morgan chafing with frustration. A moment later, he departed.
After he left, Kate stared into a dark void. It was devoid of light or hope as was her life. Aye, this explained everything now. Explained it only too well.
Chapter Five
“I AM LEAVING, WINNIE. I don’t intend to brook any further argument about it.”
Winnie was lacing a dark green brocade gown for Kate. She did so as slowly as possible, in order to give the Master ample time to return from the fields. What would Lord Trelane say when he learned the girl had wandered off alone, blind, into the wilderness? Winnie already knew. He would be furious with both of them, but she alone would remain to take the brunt of his anger.
“Are you sure ’tis wise, Katie? These hills are full of brigands. A blind traveler doesn’t stand a chance. Especially a maiden without an escort.”
“Just direct me toward the nearest abbey. If I must, I shall crawl along the roadside until some kind wayfarer takes pity enough to guide me the rest of the way. What I won’t do is suffer any further charity from Mor — Lord Trelane.”
Winnie sighed. There was nothing to be done for it Kate had her dander up; like most of the Gaelic, she could be pigheaded beyond reason.
“As for this gown,” Kate continued, “I intend to assure Lord Trelane is recompensed for its loss. Just as soon as I find my family, I shall see he is compensated for every last coin spent on my behalf.”
“What if you don’t find your kin?”
Kate paled and lifted her chin. “Then I must secure some sort of work, of course, and send milord payment as soon as possible. I have only my word to offer, if he can accept the vow of a lowly Irishwoman.”
Winnie did not take the bait. She gave another sigh of surrender. “’Tis raining again, dearie. You’ll need a warm cloak, as well.”
“Is there one here? I shall, of course, pay for it as well.”
“Aye, I’ll fetch it.” Resigned, Winnie went to retrieve the cloak. It had belonged to Lady Elena, too. No other women, save for herself, Cook and a few maid servants, had lived at Falcon’s Lair since Morgan’s mother died.
Winnie fetched the cloak from the wardrobe and stroked the soft, fine black wool cape with its French hood. Cloaks did not go out of fashion as quickly as gowns. She crossed the room and draped it about Kate’s rigid shoulders.
Kate sniffed with faint surprise. “It smells of damask rose.”
“It belonged to Lord Trelane’s mother. ’Twas her favorite scent.”
“His mother? He never mentioned her. Where is she now?”
“Lud, she died, miss. Long ago.”
As Winnie hoped, Kate asked no more questions.
“If you’ll be so kind as to help me downstairs one last time, Winnie, I will be on my way.”
“Best let me fasten the cloak for you, dear. ’Tis chilly outside.”
It didn’t occur to Kate to be suspicious about Winnie’s complacent assistance, not even when she was bid a calm farewell and left outside in the drizzling rain. Winnie kindly turned her in the right direction before she left, yet the moment Kate swiveled about to wave goodbye, she was disoriented. She felt dampness from the soggy earth already seeping up through her thin leather soles. Rain drizzled down her neck. She tugged the hood of the cape up over her hair.
Despite the chill and miserable weather, it felt good to be thumbing her nose at Trelane’s hospitality. Her break for independence restored a little of her dignity as she took a deep breath and set off with determination — and blundered into a bramble bush. The thorny branches pricked her hands and tore the cloak as she struggled to get free.
From the doorstep of Falcon’s Lair, Winnie observed Kate’s progress, if it could be termed thus. She shook her head sadly and watched as Kate plucked the last of the thorns from her palms and set off again.
This time, Kate reached the rocky path leading down to the sea. Her smooth soles slipped in the thick mud. A second later, she tumbled halfway down the hill. Morgan rode over from the wainwright’s cottage just in time to glimpse Kate rolling head over heels down the slope.
“What the devil!” he exclaimed, directing a sharp glance of reprimand at Mrs. Carey before he dug his heels into the gray mare he was riding.
When she ceased tumbling, Kate sat up and spat out wet grass and leaves. A moment later she heard the dull thud of approaching horse’s hooves.
“Are you hurt?” Morgan called out, as he dismounted and hurried to her side.
“Nay,” Kate lied. Her left ankle throbbed, her palms were scraped raw from the desperate attempt to break her fall. She was drenched to the skin and her teeth chattered from the cold. She felt Morgan grasp her arm, but she shrugged off his silent offer of assistance. “I can handle things myself.”
She spoke curtly as she came to her feet. Morgan had no way of knowing she was furious with herself, rather than him. Her humiliation complete, Kate shook the thick mud from her hands and realized there was no recourse but to return to the keep. She had hoped to escape before Morgan’s return. No wonder Winnie seemed unconcerned about letting her leave.
Morgan persisted. “You look unsteady. Here, I’ll help you.” He took her elbow with one hand, slid his other arm around her waist. Kate did not deny the support was welcome as they trudged up the steep incline.
“Now,” Morgan demanded, “just what the devil is going on here? You were to remain inside till you were recovered. Why wasn’t Mrs. Carey with you?
”
“’T’wasn’t her fault,” Kate said. “I ordered her to let me leave the household. She was wise enough not to argue … well, not overmuch.”
Morgan made an exasperated sound. At the top of the hill he did not release her immediately. Instead they stood pressed together, buffeted by the wind from the sea. A few moments later the rain stopped. A mist drifted in and curled about them in the fashion of a cloak. Kate felt its damp kiss upon her face.
“We need to talk, Faeilean.”
“There’s nothing more to be said, milord. I’m leaving. ’Tis my final word. Even you cannot force me to stay.”
“Mayhap I can persuade you instead.”
Morgan’s words rumbled like gentle thunder across the Welsh hills. Kate felt a tingle of anticipation when he tilted her face up to his.
“You’re not wearing the wrap about your eyes,” he said. He sounded uneasy. She knew how much Morgan had worried about her eyesight. She felt an unexpected warmth course through her. Despite her anger at being deceived, she found his concern for her touching.
“Winnie said it might come off today. I insisted upon it.”
“Can you see anything yet?”
She shook her head. “Just shadows and vague shapes. Winnie assures me my sight will return, however. Along with my memory, I trust.”
He was silent a moment. “How long does Mrs. Carey think it will take?”
“The memory, or my eyesight? Both might be days yet or weeks.” Kate shrugged more bravely than she felt. “Or, mayhap never. There is some chance my vision will not be restored. My eyes were sorely burned, Winnie admitted. There might have been some damage from smoke or flying sparks, and saltwater.”
Kate heard Morgan swallow. How repulsed he must be by her sightless eyes, blindly staring up at him! She averted her gaze and sought for a safer topic.
“I hear the sea hissing at us. One might suppose it an angry cat.”
“Yea, we’re close to the cliff’s edge. You might have had a misstep and met with disaster.” Morgan’s arm tightened about her waist. “I vow you’re a match for the sea, Faeilean. You hiss quite well yourself, when provoked.”
Kate chuckled. “I do seem to be rather strong-willed, don’t I?”
“Rather,” he dryly agreed.
“Did I really look like a drowned seagull washed up with the tide?”
“Nay. More a wet kitten, ready to sharpen her claws on the first man she saw.”
“Oh! A helpless kitten, milord?” Kate’s voice held a challenge, and jeweled green eyes swung back to him with unerring accuracy.
Morgan gazed down into her beautiful eyes with a mixture of trepidation and hope. Was it possible the shadows she saw were enough to expose him? He steeled himself for a scream. Her lips parted in a soft chuckle instead.
“Cats have a great deal of independence, you know.”
“As well as nine lives, according to legend. Perhaps I should release you to see if you totter off the cliff, after all.”
The threat was halfhearted and Kate knew it. She laughed again, more freely this time.
“I didn’t manage to land on my feet the first time, so you’d best keep a good grip on me now.”
“You’re not used to it, that’s all. Had you been blind from birth, you should have got along quite well.”
“I daresay you’re right, milord.”
“Pray don’t call me ‘milord’ anymore. ’Tis a dry and irksome title used by old men. I have a Christian name, one you used willingly enough before last night.”
“Morgan.” She repeated his name in a reverent whisper. He felt a corresponding ache in his breast. An ache which was becoming all too familiar.
“’Tis an unusual name for a man.”
“It means ‘white sea’ in the old Cymric language. My father wanted me to have a strong name.”
“I favor it also.” Kate strained in vain for a glimpse of her savior. Despite her lingering hurt and anger, she longed to see Morgan. He had given her back her life, in more ways than one. How desperately she wanted to know him, touch his face again. She had already memorized the contours of his features and knew him to be handsome. Why wasn’t he wed? He was no stripling in short pants.
She decided to ask him in a roundabout way. “Do you live alone, Morgan? Winnie said your mother is gone, and you mentioned your father once, yet I’ve not heard him spoken of around the household.”
“He died five years ago. Aye, I live alone.”
“I’m sorry. How painful it must have been for you.”
Sensing Morgan’s mood had darkened for some reason, she added hastily, “At least you know who your family was. I’ve yet to remember mine. They must be frantic with worry.”
“I’ve sent several of my staff out to question the locals about any recent shipwrecks. We should hear word soon. I’ve also sent a missive to the Earl of Cardiff, requesting his assistance in contacting the Eastland Company. Surely if a ship is missing, they have some record of it.”
Kate nodded. She knew she was foolish to consider striking out on her own, blind and helpless as she was. Her cursed pride made her appear the fool, yet Morgan was kind enough not to remark upon it.
She realized he had gone to great efforts on her behalf. She found she could not resent him for his earlier deceit, anymore than she might despise him for helping her now. It in his nature to be generous and forgiving. Winnie and the other servants all spoke of Morgan with great respect; she owed him as much herself.
“Will you come back with me, Faeilean?”
She nodded at his question and slipped her arm through his. It was not so much surrender as a practical decision, Kate reasoned. He was looking out for her again; if there was anyone she trusted, it was Morgan. He had vowed to find her family for her. She knew he would. She wondered why she didn’t feel as enthusiastic as she should.
They started to walk back to Falcon’s Lair, Morgan leading both her and his mount. Suddenly he stopped and stiffened. Kate heard a bevy of young voices on the road ahead of them. Children. They were laughing and jesting with each other, no doubt deliberately veering through all the mud puddles on their way home. They sounded happy, heading in her and Morgan’s direction.
As the children neared, Kate sensed Morgan’s tense beside her. “What is it?” she asked him. “What’s wrong?”
She heard one of the little girls scream. Soon the rest of the children joined in. Their feet splashed noisily through puddles, as they dashed across the couple’s path and disappeared into a nearby copse, shrieking all the way. They sounded terrified.
Morgan grimaced. The timing for such an incident could not have been worse. One stout lad, older than the rest, decided to linger, in an obvious attempt to provoke him. The boy boldly eyed Morgan, then crossed himself just to be safe. The lad bent, snatched something from the ground, and hurled it at the adults, and ran.
Kate flinched when the stone glanced off her skirts. She recoiled and clutched at Morgan’s arm. “What was that?”
“One of the urchins just threw a rock at us,” he said.
“Why?” She was shocked. “They sounded so happy until they saw us here, then — ”
“Children are unpredictable little beasts sometimes.” Morgan cut her short. “Especially those of peasant stock. I’ve no end of trouble keeping them out of my fields.”
Kate frowned and looked confused. Morgan realized his harsh tone didn’t belong to the man she knew. He was always tender with her.
“Am I all covered with mud?” she asked.
“No. Why?”
“They screamed as if they’d seen the Devil himself crawl from a bog.” Kate shook her head and tried to laugh it off. “I fear there’s no other explanation. My muddy appearance must have frightened them, for some reason.”
“Nonsense,” Morgan said, hurrying her along the path back to the keep. “They’re merely base little wretches without any manners. Now, let’s get you inside. ’Tis starting to rain again.”
&nb
sp; HENRY LAWRENCE FROWNED AS he dismounted from the enclosed coach bearing his royal coat of arms. The Earl of Cardiff gave a dismissing wave to his driver. As the vehicle pulled ahead to the stables, Lawrence studied the ancient stone keep rising before him. He had been to Falcon’s Lair many times before Rhys Trelane’s death.
The two men had been of the same era, and were great friends in their youth. Lawrence had visited less often since Rhys was gone. Young Trelane was not known for his hospitality.
“’Tis understandable, though not excusable,” Lawrence groused under his breath, as he hobbled across the yard. Trelane might favor the life of a recluse, but a baron had social duties, just the same.
Lawrence knew he commanded great respect in both his peers and lessers. His only misfortune was that time had not been kind to his legs. He leaned more heavily on his ivory-handled staff than usual. Nasty spring weather always made his old bones ache.
As always, however, he was impeccably dressed, his tawny velvet breeches and matching doublet slashed and pinked, in tune with the latest court fashions. He was proud of the fact he still had a full head of beautiful white hair, and he took pains to cut an impressive figure. Even here in godforsaken Wales, Lawrence was determined to preserve a shred of his English dignity. And others’ as well, if need be. Such was the reason he was here.
Before he was forced to pound upon the great iron-chased doors, the entrance opened to expose a surprised face.
“Milord Lawrence,” Winnie murmured, curtseying. Her tone was properly deferential. Lawrence studied the housekeeper as she rose. Winnie’s ginger-colored hair, a source of fascination to him when he was much younger, was neatly tucked up under a broad lace cap. A few stray tendrils softened her round face, now liberally streaked with silver. Her complexion was smooth and unblemished as ever. Lawrence knew it must have been seven years or more since he had seen her last.
“By the rood, ’tis Wynne Carey. Nothing changes ’round here,” he said by way of a compliment. “Ne’er the keep, nor the lovely ladies within.”
Winnie blushed girlishly. “Won’t you come in, milord? Lord Trelane is returning from the fields soon.”
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