One Perfect Flower

by Roberta C. D. DeCaprio

  What sun? This land does not have sun.

  She gathered her full skirt between her legs and straddled the horse this time, glancing above the trees. Many times Braiton praised Ireland’s attributes, talking about his country like it were a beautiful woman. He was fond of the rolling hills, admired the forest shrouded highlands, marveled over the glass lakes, mysterious bogs, semi-tropical bays, rocky cliffs and legendary seas. Right now, all she hoped to find was the sun.

  She rode for quite a while, in circles, no doubt, the stays of her bodice stabbing her ribs. Disgusted and discouraged, she dismounted and stretched her arms high above her head. It was at that moment the fox darted across her path, startling her and the horse, which reared up on hind legs and ran away.

  “Well, the day just keeps getting better,” she grumbled, making her way to the clump of brush where the fox hid. Leaning closer to the shrub, she peered over the wild, green mass and caught sight of the little gray animal. Huge frightened eyes locked with hers, trembling with fear.

  “Run while you can, lupan,” she whispered.

  The fox squirmed, but did not run. Closer she neared, spotting the hind leg caught in a mass of twisted vine. “Easy now, little lupan, I am not going to hurt you,” she said, easing a hand down into the brush. But her cumbersome skirt made it impossible for her to bend low enough to reach the trapped leg. Stepping back, she removed the skirt and petticoat, kicking them aside, then approached the trapped animal again. Clad only in bloomers, she was able to squeeze between the scrub branches and pull apart the coiled vines, freeing the fox.

  “Now run,” she encouraged. “You are free.” The frightened creature did not hesitate to depart its prison, or the death sentence the howling dogs issued.

  “Lose something, my lady?” She spun around to find Braiton holding her skirt and petticoat in a gloved hand. “’Twould be wise to make haste in donning these, lass. Not far behind those barking hounds are the men of the hunting party.”

  He held out the petticoat for her to slip on and assisted her in securing the skirt. “How did you find me?” she said, smoothing the material over the petticoat.

  “When Joleena rejoined the hunting party, alone, I did a wee bit of backtracking,” he explained, fastening the buttons of her skirt. “I found your gloves, then followed your trail. Just now, when I came upon your horse, I knew you couldn’t be far.”

  “And what excuse did she give for showing up without me?”

  “She claimed you needed a wee bit more time to rest.” He chuckled amused and turned her around to face him. “But knowing you to be the hearty outdoorswoman that you are, I believed not a word of it.” His lips curved into a sardonic smile. “’Twasn’t hard to figure she was up to her shenanigans and throwing me the blarney.” He pushed a loose lock of hair aside and finished with a frown. “And you’ve let the fox go.”

  She nodded and cast her gaze to the ground. “He was so scared, Braiton, and there was really no reason for his life to end.”

  “Nay, there was no reason,” Braiton agreed, lifting her chin with a finger, and looking deep into the blue orbs. His pulse raced with the thought of capturing her full, luscious lips with a kiss. The sound of barking dogs, growing louder, hurled him into action. He took her by the hand and led her to his horse.

  “We’d better get ourselves clear from this area. If the others discover you’re the reason they’ve lost that fox, things could get unpleasant.” He swept her into his arms, sat her upon his horse, and climbed up behind her, straddling her with his legs. He reached around her for the reins and broke the horse into a gallop.

  She leaned against him, resting her head upon his shoulder. He inhaled the scent of her, taking pleasure from the warmth of her in his arms.

  “I love to ride,” she commented, fidgeting with the collar of her bodice. “But not while wearing all of these clothes.”

  He smiled to himself, envisioning her riding uninhibited; hair floating behind her, a gentle breeze playing with the curls at her temples. Aye, I can see clearly the bare splendor of her golden thighs spreading to straddle the unsaddled back of the mare, the bewitching light of the moon dancing in the deep blue of her eyes as she rides through the night.

  “Do you not see how wearing all these clothes while riding is foolish,” she said, breaking through his thoughts.

  “Aye, lass,” he said, smiling to himself. “’Tis foolish indeed.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  In spite of her husband’s arms around her, Ireland’s dampness penetrated every bone of Raven’s body. She shivered all the way back to Glenview.

  “Once we’re home, lass, I’ll have Tilly supply you with warmer undergarments,” Braiton said. With fatherly concern he sent her up to the bedchamber and ordered a bath drawn.

  She welcomed the way the warm water relaxed the stiff muscles along her shoulders and down her spine. Inhaling the lilac scent, she dipped a finger into the water, playing with the fragrant film the bath oil left. How nice it would be to just climb into bed after her bath, but that was not going to happen. There would be a concert after dinner. Musicians from France were commissioned to play for the O’Neill guests, and then another dance. She sighed and laid her head back against the tub’s rim, closing her eyes. She was glad they would be leaving Glenview in the morning.

  Joleena O’Neill once again made a fool out of her, and now she was worried she’d disgraced Braiton. Was he, at this very moment, being ridiculed and teased by the other hunters for having to ride off and find her? She groaned with a need to avenge herself, thinking of all the ways she could get even with Joleena. But what could she do to settle the score without bringing further shame upon her husband? She shuddered in disgust and sank lower into the water. Her stubborn Apache pride would be the ruin of her yet.

  When Molly came into her chamber to help her dress and do her hair for the evening concert, she overheard a loud conversation between Joleena and her servant woman taking place in the hallway outside her chamber door. Both Sinead and Tessie, Lady O’Neill's servants, were polite and had a sense of humor. Raven had come to like these women during her stay at Glenview. Perhaps it was because of her fondness for them that the incident disturbed her.

  She was on her way to do something about it, when Molly halted her with a restraining hand upon her shoulder.

  “Let well enough alone, m’lady. ’Tis none of your business what goes on between a servant and their employer in this household.”

  “I will just peer out from the door, Molly,” she promised.

  Joleena, admonishing her handmaiden, Sinead, screeched at the top of her lungs. “You little idiot, why is it you can’t perform the simplest task?”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Joleena,” Sinead said, tears brimming in her large green-gray eyes. “’Twas Lord O’Neill who ordered all hands to the kitchen.”

  Joleena raised her hand and slapped Sinead hard across the face. “How dare you blame your incompetence on my father’s orders. Your duties to me should have been finished hours ago.”

  “Aye, Miss Joleena, I’m truly at fault. Forgive me,” Sinead pleaded.

  “See to it that it never happens again, or else ’twill be a switch to your bared backside I’ll be giving you instead of a mere slap across the face,” Joleena decreed and stalked away.

  Sinead was visibly shaken and remained to compose herself.

  It was then Raven went to her, placing an arm around her shoulders. “Are you all right, Sinead?” Joleena’s blow to her cheek already reddened.

  “Aye, m’lady,” she whispered, casting her gaze to the floor. “’Twas all me fault Miss Joleena is so upset. I’m such a scatterbrain at times.”

  “You are far from a scatterbrain, Sinead, and have been nothing but helpful and polite to me on my visit here.” She wiped a tear from the girl’s cheek with her thumb. “I am so happy to have the chance to know you and will miss you when I leave Glenview.”

  Sinead reached for her hand and held it tight. �
�Aye, m’lady, and I you.”

  “I want to thank you for all you have done for me this last week. You have made me feel at home.”

  Sinead’s face brightened. “’Twas me pleasure, m’lady.”

  “And I would like you to keep in mind Shannonbrook’s doors will always be open to you, should you wish to leave Glenview.”

  Sinead squeezed her hand. “I’ll remember and be thankin’ you, m’lady, for such generosity.”

  She stepped back, not wanting to get the girl in any further trouble. “I have taken enough of your time.” She smiled. “Have a nice evening, Sinead.”

  “I bid you the same, m’lady.” Sinead curtseyed and hurried down the stairs.

  “You are a kind and gentle lass, my lady,” a shaky voice came from the opposite end of the hallway.

  She spun around to find Shamus O’Neill walking toward her, cane in tow, and taking careful steps. She went to him and offered her arm.

  “Let me help you to where you are going, my lord.”

  “As a matter of fact I was coming to find you.” He handed her a book. “I want you to have this, lass.”

  She scanned the binding. “But, my lord, this is your favorite volume of sonnets. Why would you want to give it to me?”

  He sighed. “Because you read them with the passion they were written. ’Tis my appreciation for the afternoons you were so gracious to read aloud. You have given me much pleasure.” Lord O’Neill smiled. “I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself more.”

  She returned the smile. “I have also enjoyed those afternoons, and every time I open this book I will be reminded of them.” She held the book against her heart. “It will be my most treasured possession.”

  The elder man’s watery eyes twinkled mischievously, reminding her for a moment of Rory’s. “Aye, ’tis a good thing indeed I am an old man, or else your husband would have much to fear otherwise.” He gestured toward the stairwell. “Shall I escort you to the ballroom, my lady?”

  She nodded in agreement. “It would be my pleasure.”

  He chuckled. “Nay, the pleasure is mine.”

  The ballroom looked like the opera house, rows of chairs arranged to view the musicians sitting on a dais at the head of the room. Braiton caught her eye when she and Shamus O’Neill entered, making his way to her in a few quick strides.

  He smiled at Shamus. “Good evening to you, my lord. I see you found my wife.”

  “Aye, lad, and now I suppose you want her back,” Shamus teased.

  “Aye, that I would.”

  Shamus nodded. “Very well, then.” He unwound his arm from hers. “Thank you, my dear, for gracing my home with your lovely presence.”

  Her cheeks warmed. “I am honored to have been invited.”

  He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze and walked to his seat.

  Braiton extended his arm and escorted her to a chair, taking a seat beside her. She studied his profile, a well defined nose and strong jaw. The dark mustache framed a full upper lip, and the cleft in his chin dimpled deeper when he smiled. She yearned now to reach over and place the tip of a finger inside the adorable facial hollow. Charming in every way, Braiton Shannon, The Lord of Limerick, caused her heart to race whenever he was around.

  The musicians played an enchanting melody, and clutching the book of sonnets to her heart, she sat back in her chair to enjoy the evening’s entertainment. Each instrument held a unique sound, when put together it was the most beautiful arrangement she had ever heard. The piano’s rich tone was much different from the one she heard the night Braiton came to her rescue in Silver City.

  The green of his eyes captured her then, and still did. She smiled to herself, comparing his bravery to a knight in shining armor. Just as the stories her mother read, Braiton defended her honor from an evil man’s clutches; a hero, saving her from distress. As of late she had been distressed a number of times, Braiton always her salvation. He was good to her, and she owed him much. It broke her heart to realize she would never be able to win his love.

  Jolted from her thoughts when the music stopped, she heard a musician introduce Joleena to play a waltz for the guests. Everyone in the room applauded. During Joleena’s performance, her thoughts drifted again. This time she imagined Braiton dancing with her, holding her close, his eyes only for her. Lowering his head, she envisioned his mouth coming down upon hers, sweet, searing, consuming…

  Again the music stopped and thunderous applause pulled her from the glorious daydream. Joleena curtsied and gazing straight into her eyes, announced, “I’d now like to give Lady Shannon the opportunity to entertain us.”

  She gasped and glanced over at Braiton. His lips were pressed together in a thin line, his jaw set.

  “Would you do us the honor, my lady, on your last night at Glenview?” Joleena pressed with a mocking, sweet tone.

  Again everyone applauded.

  “Good God,” Braiton managed to whisper through grit teeth. “She’s gone to far this time. It all stops now,” he fumed, rising from his chair.

  She placed a restraining hand upon his arm. “It is fine, Braiton.”

  “’Tis not at all fine, Raven.” He frowned. “You don’t know how to—”

  “Yes, I do,” she interjected. “I can do this, my shikaa.”

  “I don’t understand, my lady.”

  “The singing wood,” she said.

  His frown deepened. “The what?”

  “The singing wood,” she repeated, adding the translation. “The violin. I know how to play the violin.”

  She stood, placed the book of sonnets on her chair, squared her shoulders, and made her way to the dais. Joleena cast a smug smile and gestured to the piano. She returned the smile in the same fashion and walked past the large instrument, over to the musician with the violin.

  “May I, sir?”

  He nodded and handed her the violin.

  Moving to center stage she faced the audience. “I will play a lullaby my mother taught me, handed down from her father, and his father before him.”

  Placing the violin beneath her chin, she closed her eyes and stroked the bow over the strings. Everyone was silent as the rich sweetness of her song filled the ballroom. Each note gripped her with the memories of home, transporting her to the little wickiup she shared with her family.

  When the song was done, the room remained silent. The heat rose to sting her cheeks. She humiliated her husband again, along with herself this time.

  But then the room exploded with applause. Guests stood and cheered, “Bravo, bravo,” as they had done for the opera singer. This meant they were pleased. She smiled, curtsied, and returned the violin to the musician, then hurried to reclaim her seat beside Braiton.

  His face was exuberant with pride, smiling from ear to ear. “I had no idea you could play.” He sat and took her hand. “Why have you not allowed me to witness this musical talent of yours before?”

  His touch sent currents of heat coursing through her body. “We do not have a violin.”

  He chuckled. “Well, we shall get one, and you shall play for me again and again.”

  “Then you are pleased?”

  “Aye, lass,” he said, bringing her hand to his mouth and bestowing a light kiss upon her knuckles.

  After the concert, well-wishers came to her and expressed how much they enjoyed her playing. When compliments had ceased, she brought the book of sonnets to her bedchamber, and took the time to freshen up a bit before she returned to the ballroom. The chairs were now placed along the walls, leaving the center of the room clear for dancing. Braiton was engrossed in a conversation with Lord O’Neill, so she made her way to the refreshment table to sample a delicious looking cookie covered in strawberry icing.

  Rory joined her, his topaz hued eyes gleaming with mischief. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

  Remembering the last time she danced with him, she stepped away and pretended to be interested in a crescent shaped chocolate concoction.

  “I’d ra
ther sit this one out, sir.”

  “So, the lovely Lady of Limerick has a sweet tooth,” he teased. Before she could answer, he added, “Sweets for the sweet.”

  “Go away, Rory,” she whispered.

  He gestured in Braiton’s direction. “Even I am not so bold as to make advances toward you, beneath the watchful eyes of your husband.”

  She glanced over to find Braiton observing every move Rory made.

  “’Tis your last night here, my lady. ’Twould be only polite to abide by my wishes, since my family has been so hospitable.”

  “By rights then I should accept a dance with your father, and even your mother, since they were the O’Neills to show me welcome.”

  “I apologize for my sister’s actions. She always was a spoiled brat.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “It seems to run in the family.”

  He chuckled. “And I apologize for my behavior the other evening as well.” He cast a playful pout. “Can you not forgive the past and honor me with just one dance?”

  She sighed. “Very well, but we stay in the ballroom.

  Braiton was so intent on watching Rory glide around the dance floor with Raven, he didn’t notice Joleena beside him until she placed a hand on his arm.

  “I’m truly glad you’ve come, my father is always happy to see you.” Joleena smiled up at him, looking deep into his eyes. “He favors you so.”

  He nodded. “And I him. ’Tis been a grand few days.”

  She cast a glance at the grandfather clock and cleared her throat. “My, ’tis so stuffy in here.” She placed the back of a hand to her forehead. “I feel as though I’m about to faint.”

  “It might help for you to sit, lass.” He escorted her to the nearest chair. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

  She reached for his hand. “Nay, Braiton, a breath of fresh air would be better.” Her lips curved into a weak smile. “Would you be so kind as to walk with me to the veranda?”

  He scanned the room for his wife and spotted her talking to Morgan Wade. Satisfied Raven was in good hands, he extended an elbow to Joleena.