A simple band with the mellow sheen of gold long worn next to someone’s skin. Norah’s throat constricted. Had this belonged to another woman, the way Aidan’s heart had? The way his daughter had? Was it possible that it had belonged to… her? To Delia Kane? The woman who had tried to murder Aidan, steal his child.
I change the rules to suit me, his words echoed through her. I cheat.
Was it possible that he had lied about Delia’s death as well? Norah brought herself up sharply. No, he couldn’t have been lying to her. He looked so solemn, his pain still all too evident in his eyes. Why would he have fabricated such a hideous tale when she’d asked him for nothing save the truth?
What would you have done if you’d known the truth? His hard demand seemed to haunt her from the shadows pooling on the stone walls.
I would never have married you.
Exactly.
She could still see the resolute jut of that hard jaw, the fierce determination in his eyes.
She was still shivering long after the Cadagons had brought her out into the sweet Irish sunshine.
Rathcannon’s gardens were a wonderland, every blossom and vine, every statue and path woven to delight a little girl. Norah wandered through the flower-spangled beauty, running her fingertips over child-sized benches and sculptures fashioned to intrigue the imagination.
A stunning Pegasus spread stone wings in flight, his magnificent equine head tossing, his eyes fixed upon the heavens. Three unobtrusive stone steps led up to where a celestial saddle spanned the mythical creature’s broad back. Fading scuff marks, not worn away by rain or time, made Norah wonder how many times a far younger Cassandra had clambered up upon the delightful beast to go off adventuring.
A dragon with deliciously sharp teeth peeked around a flowering hedge, its fierce stone claws extended as if to devour any child who dared challenge its wrath.
At the far end of the garden, an orangery filled the air with citrus smells, and Norah knew instinctively that it had been put there because a girl with golden curls had a penchant for the sour sweetness of the fruit.
Her throat tightened with the knowledge that Aidan had crafted this garden in a desperate effort to make his daughter want to remain a child forever. To build a world for just the two of them—father and daughter, walled off from hurt and pain and betrayal. Safe from the madness Delia Kane had spun about them both.
There was no real room for anyone else in this ancient castle, no room for anyone else in their hearts. She had been a fool to believe otherwise, even for such a brief time.
Norah rounded a shrub and discovered an elegant stone chair very like a queen’s throne situated beneath the quiet shade of an arch of roses. She sank down into it, exhausted, drained, more confused than ever before.
She had barely finished her vows when Aidan had made it clear that she was still an outsider. He had offered her protection when she desperately wanted acceptance. He had offered her passion when she craved love. His wedding gift to her had not been some cherished family heirloom or even gentle words. Instead, he’d made her feel more isolated than ever. Now he was somewhere in the castle, attempting to reason with his daughter, a quest he had made certain Norah knew she was not welcome to participate in.
She plucked the white rose from her hair, her fingers tearing the delicate petals, her throat aching. Tears splashed her fingers, tears she would never let Aidan or Cassandra see. Tears for something that never really was, would never really be.
“Miss Linton?” the respectful query echoed along the path. Calvy, the footman she had come to like so much, was heading toward her.
She scrubbed at her cheeks with the backs of her hands and climbed to her feet, hurrying over to a patch of shade she hoped would hide the reddened state of her eyes. Who had sent him to find her? she wondered. Aidan, perhaps? Or Cassandra?
“Calvy, I’m over here. By the roses.”
He stepped into her line of sight, and one look at his features let Norah know that he had heard about the fiasco that had been her wedding. She cringed inwardly, infusing her voice with a regal tone she prayed would hide the fact that she felt as if her heart were breaking.
“Does someone require my presence?”
“Yes, miss… I mean, my lady. There is a—an English gentleman here to see you.”
Norah’s heart plunged to her toes. “But—but who on earth could it be?”
Calvy extended a gilt-edged card, a name scrolled across it in elegant print. “I told him ’twas your wedding day, but he insisted. He seemed most distressed.”
“Norah?”
The card dropped from her numb fingers. She didn’t need it to recognize the identity of her visitor. She needed only to hear the impeccable and elegant tones of Lord Philip Montgomery’s voice.
She stumbled back a step, feeling like an awkward girl again, wishing she could spin around and run headlong into the tangle of trees behind her. But it was too late, for Philip had followed the footman and was striding into sight, his brown-gold hair glinting in the sun, his tall-crown beaver hat in his gloved hands.
Norah’s stomach lurched as she attempted to paste a smile on her face.
“Philip!” she said, her tone so bright it hurt her own ears. “What a surprise! Whatever are you doing here?”
“Richard assured me he’d informed you I would pay a visit. He—” Philip stopped, his aristocratic brow creased in puzzlement.
“I—I suppose he did. I just didn’t expect you quite so soon.”
“Not soon enough, by the looks of it.” Philip’s blue eyes traced her features—features she was certain were blotchy and red.
Norah’s cheeks flamed, and she was certain he could tell she had been weeping. Humiliation sickened her.
“Norah, tell me it isn’t too late to—” Philip stopped and seemed to shake himself, as if suddenly aware of the footman still hovering there, watching with mistrustful eyes. “You are dismissed,” Philip bit out in a clipped voice.
Calvy merely stood there stolidly, looking to Norah. “My lady?”
“It’s all right, Calvy. Lord Montgomery and I are old friends.”
The footman still looked distrustful of the Englishman, but he bowed and retreated down the path.
Philip watched him go, his classically handsome features clouded with concern, his shoulders, beneath the impeccable cut of his Weston-tailored coat, set at a curiously challenging angle.
When he turned back to Norah, she was stunned by the expression in the man’s eyes. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
“True? What?”
“I had hoped I could stop you before it was too late! But that servant claims you are already Kane’s wife.”
Norah gaped at him, stunned and confused. Why would it matter to Philip if she had wed Aidan? What could the odd light in his eyes possibly mean? “We were married this morning,” she said, a little unsteadily.
Philip’s mouth twisted, as if she’d suddenly caused him pain. He turned his back toward her, his voice tight. “Norah, you must believe me, I had no idea what madness Richard had stirred up, involving you in such a crazed affair. Sending you off to wed a stranger.”
“But Richard said that he told you.”
“Before you left, he told me that you were marrying a widower in Ireland with whom you’d been corresponding for months. He damned well didn’t tell me it was Aidan Kane! Aidan Kane!” Philip all but spat the name. “Norah, I… when I got Richard’s letter revealing the name of your betrothed, I… it drove me mad.”
Norah felt as if her nerves were raw, frayed first by Cassandra’s rejection, then Aidan’s lies, and now the obvious concern of a man she had once believed herself to be in love with. Had Philip come all this way because he cared for her, at least a little?
There was a time when that knowledge would have been welcome. Now it only cinched Norah’s sadness tighter.
“Philip, I—” She couldn’t squeeze the words through her aching throat.
“I hold myse
lf responsible for this. I should have looked into it further. Pushed Richard to tell me more. I should have come to you and… and told you—”
“I’m not your responsibility, Philip, regardless of our past friendship. And it was my decision to marry Sir Aidan. No one else’s.”
“You were desperate. That bastard of a stepfather, plotting to give your hand to that asinine child! It must have seemed so… so hopeless to you. And what did I do? The fine and noble Lord Philip Montgomery? Did I help you? Did I tell you how I…” He broke off the words, capturing her hands in his own. “Maybe it’s not to late to dissolve this… this travesty you’ve entered into with Kane. It can be annulled. I’m certain Kane cannot have any true affection for you—the man is incapable of realizing what a treasure you are. And you—you are far too fine a woman to fall in love with such a villain.”
Norah looked down to where Philip’s hands clutched her own, the wedding ring Aidan had slipped onto her finger glinting in the sunlight streaming into the garden.
“Philip, I—”
The sound of footsteps made Norah jump, and she tugged against Philip’s hands in alarm, but the aristocrat only drew her into the protective circle of one arm, turning to face whoever approached with a challenging glare.
Norah’s heart fell when her own gaze collided with the tall, muscular form of Aidan, his wedding garb disheveled, his hair tousled by the impatient raking of his fingers. He looked as if he’d fought a dozen battles in the hours since they had left the small stone church. But it seemed he had won the war, for behind him, her steps dragging, came Cassandra, sullen-eyed and somewhat repentant.
The instant Aidan saw her with Philip, Norah saw something flare with white-hot intensity in the Irish knight’s eyes, something that made her struggle free of the Englishman’s grasp, her cheeks flaming as if her new husband had caught her in some flagrant tryst with a lover.
Wanting to drive that expression from Aidan’s eyes, she hastened toward him and linked her arm with the rigid curve of Aidan’s own. “Aidan, I’m so—so glad that you have found us,” she said with a wobbly smile.
“That is a new twist to such… garden visitations at Rathcannon,” he observed, the jeering bitterness in his voice making Norah wince.
She was painfully aware of Cassandra’s eyes regarding the whole scene intently.
“Aidan, this is an old friend of mine from England. Lord Philip Montgomery.”
“Lord Montgomery?” Cassandra repeated the name with such sterling innocence that Norah’s nape prickled with apprehension. “Oh, Papa, this is the dashing hero who rescued our Norah at that dreadful party in London! Norah, isn’t he the one who danced with you?”
Norah wished the garden path would open up and swallow her. “That was only one example of Lord Montgomery’s kindness to me. He—he is on his way to his family’s estates in Sligo.”
“Then he’s going in the wrong direction.” Aidan’s stormy gaze clashed with Philip’s. “Sligo is a good deal farther north. I know you English landlords rarely visit your holdings. But if you’ll follow the coast, I’m certain you’ll stumble across it eventually.”
“Aidan!” Norah gasped. “That was hardly necessary. He merely came to—to wish me joy in our… marriage.” She tried to forget the stricken expression on Philip’s noble face, the sound of his desperate denial.
But she felt as if the whole scene was branded on her face. Aidan flashed his green eyes in her direction, and she saw a muscle in his jaw knot. He looked as sullen as his daughter for a moment, then his shoulders slouched into that position of lazy arrogance she’d grown to know so well. “I suppose I must apologize for being a trifle uncivil, Montgomery, but it is disconcerting to come in search of one’s bride, to find her in the arms of another man.”
“And I suppose I might apologize as well,” Philip allowed with palpable hostility. “But surely you cannot blame me for wanting you to know that Norah is not completely friendless in this godforsaken land.”
Norah worried her lower lip. If they exchanged many more apologies like these, the two men would likely be on a dueling field before nightfall.
“I have made a good many friends since I arrived here,” she interjected hastily. “Mrs. Brindle is delightful, and the Cadagons are absolute treasures. And Cassandra…” She stopped, glancing at the girl she already loved nearly as much as she loved Cassandra’s reckless father. But she much doubted Cassandra would welcome any claims of affection at the moment.
“The Cadagons?” Philip demanded. “Not Lord and Lady Cadagon of Finnsbar?”
Cassandra broke into silvery laughter, batting her long lashes at the nobleman. “No, Lord and Lady Cadagon of Groom’s Cottage. Gibbon rules over our stables, and Mrs. Cadagon is the most delightful housekeeper in all Ireland.”
“You have befriended the household staff?” Philip gaped at Norah with well-bred horror.
“Norah hasn’t been here a month, you know,” Aidan said, more than a little defensively. “Cass and I have kept her quite to ourselves.”
Philip’s lip curled. “I’d wager you would, Kane. A gentleman must protect a lady like Norah from wagging tongues. One wouldn’t want to risk a prospective bride hearing anything unsuitable.”
Norah felt the subtle shift in Aidan, the slight tensing of his arm, the lift of that strong-carved jaw. “Oh, I have no fear of Norah overhearing anything, Lord Montgomery. She has already heard all from my own lips.”
“I don’t believe it. If she had, Norah would never tolerate such—”
“Philip! Please! Aidan has been most—most forthcoming, and surely it is a matter between husband and—and wife,” she stammered, unsettled once again by the trickery he’d used to get her to the altar, unnerved by the knowledge that Philip must be aware of the scandals that had sullied Aidan’s past.
If Philip knew, Norah thought with a chill, then most of London must remember as well. And if that were true, the danger of Cassandra being told of her parents’ sins was greater than Norah had even suspected.
Norah raised a hand to her hair, the last white rose bruising at the touch of her fingers. “Philip, I thank you for your concern. And for your kindness in visiting Rathcannon on my behalf. But I know you must be anxious to reach Sligo. Perhaps I can summon up a bit of tea before you continue on your journey.”
“Oh, but he must stay at least until the ball,” Cassandra piped up, sweeping over to clutch at the handsome nobleman’s sleeve, her eyes all sweet supplication. “We are having the most lovely party to introduce Norah to our neighbors. There is to be music, and dancing, and a delightful supper party.”
“Cassandra, Lord Montgomery is in Ireland on business,” Aidan said in hard accents. “I’m certain he has far more important things to occupy him than our insignificant rustic entertainment.”
“But Papa, Lord Montgomery obviously has such great affection for Norah. And, Your Lordship, you know how painfully shy Norah is at such affairs.”
“Cassandra!” Norah protested, her cheeks afire. “I—I am hardly a bashful girl any longer. There is no need for Lord Montgomery to inconvenience himself further.”
Cassandra turned her brightest smile on the Englishman. “Of course, Norah would never admit it, but you know what I say is true. It would make her so much more comfortable, I’m certain, to have you there. That way if no one asks her to dance, you can rescue her again!”
“And why would my bride need rescuing?” Aidan demanded, in a surly tone. “You think I would leave her hiding behind a pillar?”
Norah glanced at him, unable to stifle an acid thought. Perhaps not a pillar—but he’d certainly left her standing at the church where they were wed.
“Papa,” Cassandra said, drawing out the syllables and making a moue of long-suffering adolescent displeasure, “you can be most careless at affairs like this. Besides, it will be quite a feather in Norah’s cap if she parades an English lord about at her first party as mistress of Rathcannon.”
“You are a mos
t astute young lady,” Philip Montgomery said. “And so considerate, thinking of Norah’s feelings. I shall deem it a privilege to remain.”
“It’s not necessary, Montgomery,” Aidan said stonily. “I can tend to my own wife.”
“Can you? I suppose I shall see for myself.” Philip turned to Norah, those steady eyes holding hers for long moments. “I shall look forward to waltzing with you once more.” He raised her gloved hand to his lips, holding it there for long seconds.
“Norah,” he said, low, husky. “You look… more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you with roses in your hair.” His fingertips brushed the fading bud. “Now if you’ll forgive me, I shall need to procure lodging for the night. I believe I passed an inn some miles back.”
“Don’t be absurd,” Cassandra insisted. “We have dozens and dozens of rooms no one uses! Papa, surely Norah’s friend must stay with us?”
Aidan looked as if he could easily throttle his daughter, but the girl had trapped him.
“Of course, Montgomery may stay if he wishes. But often bachelors of his sort prefer the privacy of an inn to a household running half mad with preparations for this kind of an affair. I’d not blame his lordship a bit if he sought refuge in the inn.”
Philip’s eyes met Aidan’s, and Norah sensed that the Englishman had grown more determined with each barely veiled challenge that had come from Aidan’s mouth.
“You mistake me, sir,” Philip said. “There is nothing I would enjoy more than the opportunity to spend time with a lady I hold so dear. If you will excuse me, I shall go inform my servants that we shall be remaining here for a brief stay.”
With a curt bow, he strode away.
Norah turned back to Aidan and Cassandra, her hands trembling, her stomach lurching at the expression in Aidan’s eyes. It was glittering, hard, cynical. She could see the anger in him, hear it as he turned on his daughter.
Lords of Ireland II Page 94