The Lady and the Earl

by Clark, Diedre

  What am I going to do? He thought desperately. Was Allana in love with Lucas? Could Connor change that? Love was over thought of. It’s a damn emotion that will only hurt you in the end, he thought bitterly as his mind wandered to a pretty Spanish girl he’d fallen for. Sophia had been her name—at least that was the name he had known her by—and their love had only ended in pain. He forced his mind away from her. He needed to concentrate. Allana was seeing Lucas. Lucas would ruin her.

  The pretty Spanish girl popped into his head again. I have to keep Sophia away from Lucas. No, Allana away from Lucas. He couldn’t think straight. The sherry was boggling his mind. This was about Allana and Lucas, not Sophia and Lucas. What could he do to keep her out of his clutches? Cunningham popped into his mind. Why was he thinking of him? He was thinking of…what was he thinking of? The pretty Spanish girl popped back into his mind, but this time he let his mind focus on her.

  Chapter 6

  Allana trudged up to her room. Why had she allowed Connor to fluster her like that? She had asked a simple, innocent question and let him exaggerate it. She wondered if he suspected anything about her infatuation with the Earl. She certainly hoped not. She didn’t need the entire world to know about it.

  The Earl. Ah, but what a fine man he is. She sighed as Declan Cunningham popped into her head for the hundredth time that evening.

  She was a fool! He didn’t even know her, but how she wished he did! If she allowed herself to meet him, would he recognize her? Would he see that boy by the stream from four years ago, or would he see the lady she had become? It would break her if he shunned her because of that incident. Yet her biggest fear was that he would shun her for who she was now. Yes, she was a lady and knew how to act the part, but beneath the act was the free spirited woman she still was. What would he see if they met? It did not matter, for it would never happen. She was destined never to know the only man she felt she could truly love. Sadness engulfed her body as she entered her bedchambers, closing the large double doors behind her. With slumped shoulders and a depressed heart, she readied herself for bed then climbed into it. And once again, like so many nights over the past four years, she relived the day she met Declan Cunningham, the Earl of Westbrook.

  It was a beautiful day with the sun breaking through the usually clouded sky. Allana was out for her daily ride with her horse Lancelot. The two were quite the pair. He was a large, grand warhorse, bred for battle; and she a wild, free-spirited girl. They were perfect for each other: two misfits whose love for the other made them inseparable. He’d been a gift from a man her father had known so long ago, William Meredith, a man Allana, her father, and Lilly had helped in a time of need. William’s brother had been shot, and Allana’s family had done what they could for him. Because of her brave actions that night, William had presented Allana with a colt he’d purchased just for her. She called the small animal Lancelot, and they had been inseparable since. Now, three years later, Lancelot was the only one not trying to change Allana.

  Allana sighed. She was growing weary of the pressure. All she wanted was to break free from everyone who was trying to force her to be a lady. She was who she was, and no one was going to change that!

  She let out a harrumph with the thought then suddenly realized she didn’t recognize where she was. She’d been so preoccupied by her thoughts she’d let Lancelot follow a small stream leading aimlessly through her father’s land and toward the Earl of Westbrook’s land.

  “That’s where we are,” Allana said to Lancelot as the obvious presented itself. “I thought you had gotten us lost,” she scolded the horse. She looked around and decided it wouldn’t hurt to continue through Cunningham’s land. The area was uninhabited forest rather than farmland anyway. And it was different. She’d been all over her father’s land to the point where she and Lancelot could walk the land over blindfolded and not get lost. She was bored of exploring their land. Different was good.

  She urged Lancelot forward, still following the stream, and imagined herself exploring the wild, untamed wilderness of the Scottish Highlands. It probably wasn’t anything like them, but that didn’t matter to her. It was too beautiful and fascinating to matter. There had to be miles of forest around her, making her feel so isolated and alone. It was definitely the escape she needed.

  She let the stream guide her deep into the heart of the forest. It was so peaceful and lovely there. Spring was in the air, causing fresh blooming flowers and new green leaves to burst into the open. The sound of the stream’s running water along with the breeze rustling the leaves brought a sense of comfort to Allana’s lonely heart. If only she could stay in this grove forever.

  Suddenly, Lancelot stopped. A gloomy, large wall of briers stood in front of them, blocking their path. The stream continued beneath the briers, but this would be the journey’s end for Allana and Lancelot. She glanced around at her surroundings, listening to the grove sing as though welcoming her presence. Birds whistled from above, and water gurgled and splashed from below. Allana’s eyes widened. The stream sounded different on the other side of the briers like it was tumbling off the edge of something and falling into…what?

  There must be a waterfall on the other side of the wall of briers, she thought.

  The sound seemed to beckon to her, begging her to venture forth to see its beauty. She stared at that ugly wall in front of her. It was quite forlorn. But she was always ready for a good adventure if nothing else. Thus, without further hesitation, she tied Lancelot to a large nearby tree and climbed into the flowing water of the stream.

  The brambles pried and tore at her clothes as she climbed through mud and water to get to the other side of the wall of briars. But she was determined to see her waterfall, not caring that those threatening briers were pulling at her hair and scratching her face with each foot she crawled. Before she knew it, she was on the other side, and those cuts and the giant spider crawling on her shoulder were quite worth their trouble.

  The path before her opened into a large, beautiful meadow that was overshadowed by the cliff she now stood on. The stream was tumbling off the twenty-foot rock-face into a small, clear lake below. Allana’s breath caught in her throat as she looked at the splendor before her. It was simply beautiful. The crystal-like lake with its surrounding greenery, tall luminous trees, and black cliff face were like something from a dream. There wasn’t an ugly thing in sight unless she turned around and looked at that wall of briers, but even that held a grand sense about it, for it kept people out. Tears entered her eyes. She had finally found peace within her heart. Here she could always be who she was. This would be her sanctuary from the cruel world around her.

  The spider on her shoulder moved, causing a panicked squeal in return. Allana flicked it away and brushed frantically at the rest of her body. She needed a bath.

  She followed the cliff face down until it came level with the lake. Gradually, the rocky ground turned into luscious, wild grass that bordered a small portion of the lake. The water looked perfect for swimming and cleaning off her muddied form. She waded into the cool water, noticing the lake bottom was covered in small pebbles with a few larger stones that felt smooth under her bare feet. Everything about this place was marvelous. It was as though there was a magical enchantment around it, keeping the beauty of it in and the rest of the world out.

  She spent over an hour swimming and exploring her secret lake before finally deciding she needed to get back to Lancelot. Reluctantly, she climbed out of the lake near the cliff face where large boulders rose out of the water, connecting her to the path that would take her back to the top. At the top, she walked to the edge of the cliff and took another long look at the secluded area. Yes, this would be her very own sanctuary from the rest of the world. She smiled. She would be back. Each day, if possible, and she wouldn’t tell a soul about this place either. With that decided, she tucked her long braid beneath her shirt to keep it from the brambles, climbed back into the stream and made her way under the wall of briers toward Lancel
ot.

  Once again those wicked vines pried and tore at her clothes and skin. Her rinse-off in the lake had been in vain. She would be just as disheveled and muddied once reaching Lancelot as she was before her swim. This would not do. She would have to come back tomorrow with a blade and cut a path through those briers. That way she wouldn’t have to go through this again. Instead, she could walk through and bring Lancelot too. She smiled at her wonderful idea as she continued to crawl through the undesirable muck. When she emerged on the other side very muddy, scratched up, and tousled, she froze as she spotted a tall man holding Lancelot’s reigns, studying her horse carefully.

  “What are you doing? Get away from him!” she yelled. Nobody touched Lancelot except for her. She saw him jump slightly and was pleased to know she’d startled him. He turned on her, and Allana’s world stopped. Her smug smile slipped from her face and her heart raced. He was the most stunning man she had ever seen. He was tall, almost as tall as Connor, with broad shoulders and dark, wavy, layered hair that hung loose around his collar. His face was strong and bold. He had the shadow of a beard forming and long, dark sideburns, which stopped an inch above his jaw line. His presence held an aura of confidence and dignity and demanded respect, causing her to shrink under his towering form. His striking blue eyes were glaring angrily at her, but they were so beautiful against his dark hair. They taunted her soul. What was wrong with her! She had never been affected by a man this way, not even by Lucas Hoffman!

  “What do you think you’re doing, boy?” he demanded. “Do you know you’re trespassing?”

  Allana stared at him dumbfounded. Boy? He thought she was a boy? Then she remembered how she must look. She was in Connor’s old clothes. Her hair was hidden from view. She was covered in mud from crawling through the stream. Of course she looked like a boy. She was absolutely horrified. This handsome man thought she was a boy!

  “Where did you come from, and how did you come by this horse?” he asked her. His voice was deep as it growled at her, yet it had a lull that made her stomach flutter. She was completely smitten!

  Focus, Allana, she scolded herself. Be reasonable!

  “Well?” he demanded.

  “He…he’s mine,” she stuttered. Her knees were shaking uncontrollably and her heart was beating so hard she thought it would burst from her chest.

  Instinct told her to quit staring at him and look away, but she couldn’t seem to bring herself to. Even in his angry state, she felt she could bask in his presence forever. Her eyes followed his strong jaw line down to his mouth where they lingered as she thought of him kissing her. She blushed at the thought, wondering where it had come from. Thoughts like that had never entered her mind before, but then again she’d never met a man who enthralled her like this one. He was not pretty-handsome like Lucas, rather rugged-handsome with that gruff-looking beard and his strong, masculine presence. Not to mention his voice. She couldn’t stop gawking at him. And then she looked into those eyes, those very blue eyes, and completely lost her heart.

  “How is this horse yours?” he asked suspiciously as he took a step toward her.

  She stared at him in confusion. He had said something, but what?

  “You stole him, didn’t you,” he accused.

  That she heard. “No,” she said in a feeble, barely audible squeak. She wanted to argue with him and tell him who she was. She wanted to tell him that Lancelot really did belong to her, but those things she wanted to say wouldn’t come. Her mind was blank, and her tongue was tied. She was completely baffled. What was happening to her?

  She stepped to the side, hoping to get a clear path to Lancelot and simply make a break for it.

  As though reading her thoughts, he moved swiftly toward her, reaching out and grabbing her muddied arm tightly. She stared at him in surprise. He’d been so fast; she couldn’t react.

  “You are coming with me,” he stated, pulling her toward his horse.

  “No, let me go!” she cried out frantically as she struggled against his strong grip. His powerful hold on her mind had finally broken.

  “I’m taking you back to Westbrook until you tell me who you are and whose horse this truly is,” he said as he struggled to pull her along.

  She was putting all her weight into trying to pull her arm free.

  “You’re trying my patience. Stop fighting me, boy. You’re coming with me whether you want to or not.” He grabbed her other arm, facing her to him. “Don’t make me—Ah!” he cried out in pain, releasing his grip on her and falling to his knees in pain.

  Allana had kicked him as hard as she could in the groin, causing him to release her on contact and fall to his knees.

  Finally free, she ran to Lancelot, untied him, and quickly mounted. She took one last look at the man she knew must be the Earl of Westbrook before spurring Lancelot home.

  Chapter 7

  “How are you, Lucas?” Connor asked his friend. Lucas had come by the house for a visit. Lord Archibald Hoffman’s funeral had been two days ago, and Lucas looked ragged and tired. He’d probably been drinking a lot, staying up late into the nights until unconsciousness took him.

  “As well as ever,” Lucas replied. “Do you think I could get a drink?” he asked, laughing lightly. Both men were situated in the two chairs in the sitting room Allana and Connor had occupied five nights before.

  “Yes, of course.” Connor gathered two glasses and poured sherry into both. His stomach turned at the thought of drinking too much of the stuff again. His first night home he’d gotten very drunk from it. His memories of that night were hazy, but he definitely remembered vomiting from his over indulgence and the horrible headache that followed.

  Pushing those thoughts aside, Connor turned his attention back to Lucas. “Now really, how are you doing?”

  Connor was the man people came to if they had problems, especially Lucas. Lucas always came to him to complain about something or boast about his latest conquest, so Connor assumed—or rather hoped—Lucas was here today to vent about his late father.

  “I’m exhausted for one thing. I haven’t slept much lately. But beyond that, I do not know, Connor,” Lucas said truthfully. “I thought I would be glad when he finally died, but I feel,” he paused. “I feel…mournful.” He nodded to himself as if that was indeed the word he was looking for.

  Connor nodded in understanding. He’d known Lucas as far back as he could remember, and it seemed even in their early friendship, Lucas hated his father. “Perhaps that’s because you wish things could have been different between you and your father.”

  “Perhaps, but I cannot change that, and he did not try,” Lucas answered.

  “Then maybe you wish you could have settled things between the two of you before he passed.”

  Lucas laughed. “What? Just forgive and forget?” he sneered.

  Connor shrugged. “I suppose so.”

  Lucas studied him for a minute, mellowing. “I did…at first. I was actually angry when he grew sick.” He paused, draining his glass of sherry.

  “And?” Connor asked even though he knew he didn’t need to. Lucas would tell him whether he wanted to know or not. That’s just the way it was between them.

  “You know how much I hated him?” Lucas questioned.

  Connor nodded.

  “Well, one night—one of his sane nights—he looked at me and said, ‘I am truly sorry, Lucas. I’ve been a terrible father. Can you ever forgive me?’ As though those words on his deathbed were supposed to make up for all of those years of torment. I was scum in that man’s eyes, and suddenly he wanted my forgiveness?” Lucas laughed bitterly.

  “What did you say to him?” Connor asked, taking a sip of sherry and regretting it the instant he did. His stomach churned, about forcing the sip along with his morning meal back up. Maybe he should have found something else to drink.

  “Well, I couldn’t very well tell the old man the truth, could I? So I just stood there, fighting my anger. I was fuming. I hated him more than ever at that
moment. I wanted to take his pillow and suffocate the life from him. I even had a pillow in my hands ready to do the deed,” Lucas finished, staring darkly at the fireplace.

  “What did you do?”

  “What do you think I did? You think I smothered him, don’t you,” Lucas asked with amusement.

  “I hope not, but it had crossed my mind,” Connor replied honestly.

  Lucas laughed. “That is what I like best about you, Connor, your frankness.”

  “I’ve never found any reason to be otherwise with you, Lucas. You always find out the truth of matters, so why hide or avoid it?” Connor replied. He’d never been able to lie to Lucas, and there was only one secret he had ever been able to keep from his friend, a secret Lucas still did not know. “So what happened?”

  “I did not kill him, even though I wanted to. I placed the pillow behind his head and lied to him.”

  “You told him you forgave him,” Connor supplied. “I’m impressed Lucas. You gave him peace before he died. Very noble…almost too noble for you.”

  Lucas laughed. “It was painful, but the man was on his deathbed. Could I truly have sent him to his grave any other way? Not even I am that heartless.”

  “No?”

  “Well, maybe I am. I had a moment of weakness apparently.” Both men laughed at that. Lucas’s laughter was dark though.

  Sometimes Connor felt a coldness from him, a coldness bordering on the brink of malice. Lucas could be just plain cruel. Connor had experienced that side of him firsthand. It was not pretty, and Connor had lost far more than he ever imagined possible.

  “Either way, it was a wise choice. It led to other, more pleasurable activities,” Lucas said smugly.

  “Such as?” Connor asked. I should have kept my mouth shut, he thought as soon as those words were out.

  “I played The Game, Connor. It’s always relaxing to make love to a beautiful woman.”