by Madelyn Hill
Alice shrugged with such sadness, Galen almost asked her not to tell him.
“He was a man who thought all were after him. After his money, his island. That blasted lab with its secrets.” She paused for a moment, then sagely shook her head. “And when it came to your mam—she was a beauty, to be sure—he couldn’t contain his jealousy. He banished her from all, to control her as much as he could. And when he believed he was cuckolded, he punished her as harshly as he could.”
Galen pinched the bridge of his nose. It was too much. Too much hatred and pain filled the castle—filled his life. His anguish must have been apparent as Alice gripped his hand once again.
“She loved you, lad.”
Mayhap she did, but it was hard to believe. Did a woman who loved her child ignore him? Did a woman who loved her child let him be abused by his father? He found it hard to believe that a person could love and remain so distant. “Why did she stay?”
Alice scoffed. “And where would she go? He’d find her and take her back. Your father was wealthy and verra powerful, even off the island.”
Galen rose from the bed. He paced to the hearth, leaned forward, and placed his hands on the mantel. The very thought of it, the pain inflicted on his mother, wrought sympathy for a woman he thought he’d despised. It would be simple to forgive, ignore the years of neglect, but Galen never seemed to accept the simple way. No, he planned to wallow in his misfortune and he hated himself for it.
“I ken ‘tis hard to hear this, lad,” Alice said softly. “But now you can begin anew, with Vivian.”
He pushed away from the mantel and turned toward her. He had to be strong and remember his past so it wouldn’t hurt Vivian’s future. “Nay. His blood runs through me. I am like him.”
Alice gasped. Face pale and terrified, she sunk to the floor.
He bolted to her and swept her up in his arms. She continued to quake. “I’d never have told you if I thought you’d react this way.”
His heart lurched at the weakness of his dearest maid. Her frailness bit at his soul. “Shhh. Save your breath, Alice.”
Her hand curled around his chin. “You have always made me proud, Galen boy.”
Tears seeped into his vision. Pent up anger, fear, and sadness welled up and ran down his face. He lifted Alice onto his bed. “Let me get you some water.”
She scoffed. “Whiskey ‘twould do just fine.”
He chuckled and swiped his face with his hand. “Not just yet, Auld Alice.”
She wagged a finger at him. “Donna be calling me auld, you wee lad.”
He sat by her, held her hand, and waited until her cheeks began to brighten. She finished her water and he obliged her with a dram of whiskey. Such a feisty woman, probably too stubborn to allow anything less than God to pull her down.
“Och, lad. ‘Twill take more than some words to send me to the grave.” She smiled at him, the expression filled with compassion and years of love. “When you were a bairn, aye, you were so wee. And look at what a strapping lad you’ve become.”
He grinned. “I remember you chasing me through the castle with a spoon in your hand.”
She nodded. “Aye, didn’t I need to thrash your bottom for sneaking me bread.”
They spoke for a few more moments, discussing memories of the past. “You were always there for me, Alice.”
She patted his cheek. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, lad.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “Rest,” he said. “I’ll check on you later.”
As he left the chamber, she called out to him.
“Galen, I just wanted you to understand. I never meant to bring more pain to your heart. Because you have one, lad. A fine one. Your da didn’t.”
Her words brought him a sliver of comfort, and Galen felt himself smile.
Vivian ladled broth into a bowl for Alex. Madge fed him, cooing to him in a tender voice. Madge cast distrusting glances at her.
The maidservant obviously resented her presence and Vivian felt useless. “I’ll be in the library if anyone should ask.”
Madge waved as she continued talking to the bairn.
Vivian rubbed her hands up and down her arms to ward off the chill in the air. With so much commotion, many of the fires were left untended and few torches were lit along the corridors. She entered Galen’s study. Ashes smoldered in the fireplace and a brisk coldness chased any comfort out of the chamber. She tossed the last brick of peat into the fire and watched it ignite.
Ignite?
Startled, she ran over to the work table to shuffle through her father’s notes. Tapping her lip as she searched, she stopped when she found what she was looking for.
The key to solving the experiment.
Chapter 29
Vivian paced her chamber. Galen had left word he was not to be disturbed. Alice was so drawn, Vivian didn’t press the matter.
Her wrapper caught on the edge of a book carelessly left on a low table. History of the World. His favorite. The sweet memories of her father intensified as she fingered the gilt lettering on the cover. A sob escaped her as she flipped through its pages. Near the back of the book, an envelope fell to the floor. Vivian bent to pick it up and saw it was the note she’d hastily shoved between the book’s pages.
She sat in the chair, holding the letter with her name written upon it. As she stared at the parchment, tired beyond measure, she tucked the sheet back into the book and set it on the table.
Tomorrow, she told herself. It would keep until morning.
When she woke, the previous day’s activities seemed more like a dream. Vivian quickly dressed in a simple gown of pink serge and ran a brush through her hair, not bothering to secure it with a kertch, ribbon, or cumbersome chignon.
“Lass, are you ready to break your fast?” Nessa asked.
Famished, she wasted nary a second as she left her room.
“Is Madge in the kitchen?”
“Aye, and the bairn too. Bernard is trying a hand at feeding the poor lad. Not doing too shabby a job of it.”
Vivian laughed. “He’s a dear, no doubt.”
“Alex or Bernard?”
They both chuckled as they entered the kitchen, then stilled at the sight before them.
Galen held Alex, bouncing his brother as he carried him around the welcoming room.
Alice leaned against the table, her wrinkled face in a pleased grin. Bernard followed Galen as he circled the room, a small bowl and spoon in hand.
“He has the look of you, lad.” Alice came forward and brushed a hair from the baby’s brow. “Handsome, is he not?”
Galen laughed. A heart-warming sound filled with happiness. Dear God, the sound was like music to her.
Alice patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll do fine, lad.”
Nessa bustled into the cozy scene and finished setting the table with thick slices of ham and coddled eggs. Madge left the kitchen for the larder.
Galen looked at Vivian, still paused in the doorway, and his smile vanished. Her appetite did much the same.
She sat stiffly at the table, trying to shake away the apprehension his presence caused in her.
Since they’d made love, he seemed leery of her. She hated the distance between them, longed for the closeness they had found together. How to confess her sins? How to tell Galen she’d been seduced by her fiancé and then he’d left her?
“Lass, don’t you agree?”
Vivian focused on Alice. “Sorry?”
“The bairn is as handsome as his brother.”
She averted her eyes, cursing the blush rushing up her cheeks. The room stayed silent, as if all were awaiting her answer. With aplomb, Vivian answered, “Aye, I’m sure Laird Maclean was a handsome bairn.”
She heard Bernard’s stifled chuckle, but Galen’s intrusive gaze seemed to inspect every inch of her. Those piercing blue eyes caused a quiver deep within her.
Ignoring his interest, she looked to Alex, silent and content in Galen’s capable arms.
“Aye.” The thought of spending Christmas with people other than Nessa and Bernard excited her. “Maybe more biscuits as well. I know the recipe by heart.” Not that she’d ever made the recipe alone, but with Alice’s help, she’d do well.
“’Tis settled, then, we’ll wait ‘til after tea.”
Galen rose and handed his brother to Alice as he left the kitchen. His ire was felt by all with his brisk manner and wordless retreat.
“Shall I go after him?” Vivian asked.
“Nay,” Alice said. “He’s a big lad, he is.”
Regardless of what Alice said, Vivian didn’t miss the concern wrinkling the maid’s brow as she watched Galen leave and thought it better to change the subject. “And what will we be having for Christmas Day?”
“Lamb,” Bernard said. “We’ve a whole flock of them fattened and ready.”
She cringed. She’d eaten lamb, even liked it, but the thought of the poor dears just waiting to be Christmas dinner was too much for her.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve work to do.” God kenned how, but she’d forgotten to tell Galen of her discovery in the study the night before. She must share the news with him. Solving the mystery would be a rewarding accomplishment for them both.
Chapter 30
“You must not forget our goal, Burke. Don’t allow your greed to interfere.” Madame lounged on a settee. Donal longed to clutch her elegant neck between his fingers and squeeze.
Each day she harped about the details, details, details. Finishing his work was far more important than her schemes.
His control began to ebb, yet he reined in the anger and feigned compliance. “Aye, Madame. I’ll need just a few more days and then we can venture to that dismal island.”
She grinned, a slow predatory look. “I’ll alert our rower friend to be waiting for the signal.”
Shards of worry raced up his spine. The woman’s illusion of grandeur seemed to be working doubly hard today.
She tapped a long finger against her lips. “Will you be needing anything for your experiments?”
He nodded, trying to ignore the raw femininity she displayed. The low cut neckline of her gown pushed her breasts upward, giving him a view of her ample cleavage. He licked his lips as he inwardly cursed the reaction in his loins.
“Burke? Are you listening to me?”
He blinked at the harshness of her tone. What the devil had she been saying? As her eyes narrowed, he recognized his error in not paying attention. Madame’s features seemed carved from granite.
“Forgive me.” Meekness oozed from him. He despised how she reduced him to a simpering idiot.
Madame rose and swept wrinkles from her gown. She threw him a pointed glare and left the chamber.
The breath he held exploded from between his clenched teeth. Sweat trickled down his back as he tried to compose himself. He must prepare, turn his full attention to alchemy and its beauty.
Calmed, Donal broke out his alchemy equipment. Madame refused to allow him to leave them cluttered on the table. ‘Twas unsightly, she proclaimed.
“Bitch,” he muttered while beginning the same experiment he had started just a few days before. He lit a candle made of pungent clove and cinnamon. He sprinkled dried rose petals and a dash of salt on the roughly-hewn table. Donal left no avenue open. Lastly, he dotted each wrist with essence of lavender oil. The scents mingled, drawing on his senses, bringing them to alertness.
Palms up, he began to chant. “Bring me the power, Lady Lucine. Cast your warmth on my offering.” A welcome surge of excitement hummed through him. “Yes, Lady. I need your help, your guidance.”
Donal closed his eyes as he swayed and chanted. His skin tingled with reverence and heat. Blast it, the ingredients in the stone bowl were flat. He stirred in lead shavings.
Nothing.
Under his breath he chanted in rhythmic Gaelic to woo Lady Lucine. “You, my mother of the moon. Do not fail me. Bring me the power. I am worthy.” Words slipped from him repeatedly. He felt the lightening of his being. The heat of her presence. He inspected the bowl.
Nothing.
Rubbing his weary eyes, Donal sat before the table unsure of what to do. He must hide the impotent mix from Madame lest she think he was incapable of the transformation.
He’d never allow her to know of his failure. For if he did, he’d be dead.
Chapter 31
“Galen, please wait.”
She sighed with relief when he stopped. “I. . .I just want to thank you.”
He cocked a brow. “For what, Vivian?” He leaned his weight on one foot and set his hands on his waist as he casually inspected her.
She fiddled with the material of her skirt and glanced just beyond his shoulder. “For allowing us to celebrate Christmas. It means so much to Alex and the others.”
His silence dragged on. Finally, he spoke with a voice that seemed to come reluctantly. “And you, how much does it mean to you, Vivian?”
She looked to the carpet, to the left and to the right. Anywhere but toward his intense gaze. His crystal blue eyes seemed to read her thoughts and befuddle her all at once.
“Christmas was always a happy time at Westington.”
He nodded. She took it as a dismissal and turned to leave.
Galen grabbed her, spun her around. “Vivian,” he whispered as his mouth ravaged hers with a thorough, plundering kiss.
The hotness of his mouth, the way his tongue parried with hers, sent a tingle of desire from her feet up to her heart.
Too soon he broke away from her, his broad chest heaving with labored breaths. He skimmed her cheek with the back of his hand, his eyes glittering with passion. Then he turned and paced away.
As she watched him leave, her blood pulsed like never before. He’d awakened something within her that could only be sated by him.
Her love for the wolfish laird had expanded past once unattainable barriers. Hopeless love unless she made him see how much he needed her. How much they needed each other.
She wandered toward her chamber, one moment content, the next, startled by a grotesque statue or unidentifiable noise.
Too restless to stay in her chamber, she continued exploring, a pathetic attempt to forget Galen’s hungry lips on her own.
She headed toward Lady Maclean’s chamber. An elegantly carved settee covered in thick burgundy damask drew her attention. Vivian brushed dust from it and sat.
She studied the lady’s picture hung directly above the settee. The expertly painted piece showed an amused woman. When was it painted, she wondered? Before the lady’s arrival on the island, most likely. By the account of things, she’d never had a coquettish smile after she became Lady Maclean.
As Vivian scanned the room, she stopped at the graceful vanity. The crystal trinket box called to her. She lifted the lid and fingered the contents. Baby fine hair, secure in a blue ribbon, felt like raw silk beneath her touch.
Why Lady Maclean kept it still puzzled her. As did Auld Alice’s cryptic remarks about the answer to Galen’s pain being in the passages. Was there a connection between Alice’s remark and this very chamber?
Galen should know about the box, the childhood remnant and memento of a mother’s adoration. Perhaps this would create a fond memory for Galen. She’d give it to him for Christmas. ‘Twas the least she could do.
Searching the drawers of the vanity, she found a discarded scrap of lace. She secured it around the fragile crystal, then tucked it into the safety of her skirt pocket.
As she patted it into place, she noticed a break in the wall. On closer inspection, the crack extended from the floor to the ceiling. With the tip of her finger, Vivian pulled at the opening. Nothing happened until she gripped the edge with both hands. The hidden door groaned open with a stubborn jerkiness.
Dust billowed as stale air rushed at her
face. When the dust settled, she peeked into the darkened dwelling. Her eyes adjusted to the murky passage as she stepped further into it. Her nose filled with the scent of mildew and grime.
She used her hands to feel her way, trying to control the terror mixed with excitement. She didn’t want to consider what she was touching along the way as the thought of hairy spiders and cobwebs might well thwart her progression.
The passage stopped. Vivian pressed on each surrounding wall to find an exit. She heard a click and light drenched the passage as a door swung open.
‘Twas a nursery.
Filth covered each surface and cobwebs weaved over the furniture like fine gauze. An ornately carved cradle still carried a blanket as if the infant was gone for just a moment. A basket of toys sat neglected near the crib and a rocking chair filled the corner.
Vivian envisioned a mother sitting in the comfortable chair, rocking her babe to sleep with a soothing lullaby. She imagined the look of adoring love on the mother’s face as she watched her bairn.
A thud sounded from behind her. Why had she ventured out alone? ‘Twas stupidity on her part.
Vivian clutched her chest as her breathing began to steady.
“She must have visited him,” Vivian said to herself in an attempt to calm her tangled nerves.
The box in her pocket held even more meaning than she originally thought.
“We’ll get you to bed, me laddie,” she heard Nessa say in the hallway.
The chamber wasn’t Alex’s nursery, but his must be near if Nessa was about.
Vivian ducked back into the passage. The light illuminated her path before she shut herself in. Unfortunately, it also allowed her to see the layers of dirt and cobwebs she’d walked through.
She held her breath as she ran through the short corridor back to Lady Maclean’s chamber. After she shut the door to the passage, she shuddered with relief. She quickly wiped the webs from her hair and clothing.