Setting the lantern down, she brought the book to its light and took care in turning each fragile page. Maureen’s handwriting, delicate and weak like the women herself, stared back at her. When she came upon the pages she sought, she herself experienced the anguish and torment, the sorrow and despair Maureen was living. Tears blurred the words and fell from her eyes to stain the already yellowed pages.
Maureen’s beautifully sculpted words expressed how much she loved her husband, longed to nurture his seed. She envied Aubrey’s vibrancy and beauty. Her illness kept her a prisoner in her room, and she dreamed—yearned to ride the hills beside Broderick, to dance in his arms at society balls, and be able to make love to him. With each page she turned, pity swelled in her heart for Maureen. She read farther, falling deep into the previous Lady Shannon’s growing ache. It was the same pain consuming her own heart when she readied herself to leave Shannonbrook.
“You could not be the wife you wanted to be in your own marriage, Maureen. But please help me be the wife I choose to be in mine,” she whispered to herself.
****
Braiton took refuge in his study. Brian set a lunch tray on the table beside him and poured a cup of coffee. He glanced at the flames dancing in the fireplace. “’Tis way too quiet here without her, Brian.”
“Without whom, m’lord?”
“Without my lady,” he mused.
“But Lady Shannon is still here, m’lord.”
He stood. “The devil you say, man. She didn’t leave?”
“Nay, m’lord, she decided against it.”
He stunned Brian by wrapping his arms around the other man’s slender frame and twirling him about.
“’Tis grand news you bring me, Brian. And grateful, I am, she’s a spirited lass who pays not a wee bit of attention to anything I say, or my foolish behavior.” He set Brian down. “Is she in her chamber?”
Brian adjusted his jacket. “The last time I saw her, m’lord, she was makin’ her way to the nursery. No doubt to feed the wee one.”
“Aye, ’tis my son’s lunch time as well.” He smiled. “Then I shall catch up to her there,” he said and raced out the door. Bounding up the stairs, a surge of joy coursed through every fiber of his being.
By some miracle, he was given the second chance he prayed for earlier. At that moment, all he knew was he needed her, wanted her, and loved her. To live without her, for whatever time there was left, would be unbearable. ’Twas time she knew the truth, not only about his illness, but of his love for her as well. And he did love her, more then any man could love a women.
“Raven,” he called out, opening the nursery door.
He found Sinead drying the baby. “She’s not here, m’lord.”
He came to stand beside the changing table, looking down with pride upon his son’s face. Naked, the lad kicked and smiled up at him. He stroked the babe’s face. “Through with your afternoon bath, lad?”
Sinead giggled. “’Tis one o’ many, m’lord. He doesn’t stay clean for very long, especially here,” she said, indicating the infant’s tiny bottom and washing the area with a wet cloth.
He chuckled and his son smiled again. “Do you know if my wife is in her chamber, lass?”
“Nay, she’s not there. I believe she went downstairs, m’lord. You might try askin’ Anna. The two o’ them have been together most o’ the mornin’.”
He nodded and kissed his son on the forehead before he hurried to the kitchen. He found Anna chopping mutton for the evening meal.
“Would you know where my lady is, Anna?”
Anna bit her bottom lip. “Aye, m’lord, and I can explain.”
He frowned. “Explain about what, Anna?”
“’Twas all me doin’, m’lord, so if you’re to be angry with anyone, then let it be me.”
“What on earth are you going on about, women? If you know where I can find my wife, then just tell me.”
Before Anna could say another word, Patrick burst into the kitchen from the back entrance. “M’lord, the old mansion is on fire.”
He nodded. “I know, Patrick. ’Twas I who ordered it done.” He turned his attention back to Anna. “Now, dear woman, would you tell me where to find Raven.”
Anna’s eyes welled with tears. “Sweet Mother of God, this is all me fault.”
Patrick put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “What’s your fault, me darlin’?”
“Sendin’ Lady Shannon over to the old mansion,” she said.
****
Raven would have sat the entire day reading Maureen Shannon’s deepest thoughts, if it were not for the smell of smoke. It stung her eyes and caught in her throat. She tucked the diary beneath her arm and reached for the lantern, making her way to the hall. By the time she reached the end, it was completely consumed by smoke. She raised the lantern high, searching with watery, burning eyes for the stairway.
Upon finding the landing, she glanced over the rail. The stairs were engulfed in flames and the floor below a raging inferno. Fear gripped her heart. There was no way for her to get down…no way out.
She was trapped!
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Raven? Raven, can you hear me?” Braiton’s frantic call fueled the panic looming in Raven’s chest.
The smoke, limiting her air, restricted a reply. She cleared her throat and forced the words to come.
“Here, Braiton…I am up here.”
He stood at the end of the foyer, shielding his eyes from the intense heat as he glanced up the stairs. “Lass, you’re standing too close to the edge of the landing.”
“There is no way for me to get down.” The heat was unbearable and she coughed, choking out hoarsely, “Leave before it is too late for you.”
“Nay, lass, I will not leave you here.”
A beam plummeted to the floor, crashing down beside him. Still, he stood steadfast in the midst of the bellowing fire.
“Ugashe, go,” she screamed. “Get out of here, now!”
“Nay, not without you, lass.”
She fell to her knees, cradling the diary to her chest. The book and all that was in it would burn with her. She could not let him send Casey away. She coughed, smoke filling her lungs. “Please promise me you will take care of our son, Braiton.”
“Damn it, Raven, stand up!” he shouted.
The energy drained from her. “It is no use. Hidisho, it is finished. Just ugashe, save yourself.”
“Nay, lass, get to your feet!” he bellowed.
She could not move, the pain in her chest smothered her.
“Stand, damn it! Stand, Raven!” he demanded.
“My chest, the pain…I cannot…I cannot breathe,” she gasped.
“Think of your warrior training, lass. Conquer the pain through thought. Can you do that, Raven? Do you remember?”
She did remember and nodded.
“Then do it, my lady,” he urged. “I know you can. You must.”
His encouragement became her strength to stand.
“That’s the way lass. Now get to the last room on the left. There is a set of double doors there, and beyond it a wee bit of a veranda still stands. Go, Raven, get out on the balcony, and I’ll get you down.”
She walked, legs trembling, the length of the hall and again entered Maureen’s chamber. Stumbling to the exit, she tried the knob.
Locked, the doors are locked!
She scanned the room, now filling with smoke, and spotted a broken fireplace brick. Grasping the block and shielding her eyes with Maureen’s diary, she broke the door’s pane. She used a broken chair leg to smash away at the remaining glass. Never did she think she would come to bless the cumbersome garments she wore, until now. If it were not for all the padding the petticoat and gown afforded, her flesh would have been torn by the jagged shards of glass still protruding from the frame. Squeezing through the opening, she stood rigid against the outer wall, fearing one false move would send her crashing to the ground. She glanced down, it was a long drop.
>
She licked her dry lips and prayed. Whatever Braiton planned, he better do it fast. Smoke billowed through the veranda doors, and she knew the flames now reached the second floor.
Braiton ran to the shed a few feet from the burning mansion.
Patrick joined him there. “What can I do to help, m’lord?”
“I need a long rope, Patrick. A very long one. And leather gloves. Do you think those things would be in this shed?” he said, trying the door.
“Aye, m’lord, they would for sure, but God only knows where the key might be. Perhaps Clancey…”
“You could tire the sun with your talking, man,” he interrupted. “I haven’t the time to hunt for Clancey or the damned key.” He lunged forward with a booted foot and kicked in the door. Fragments of wood flew into the air.
Upon entering the shed, he tossed aside anything in his path, till he found a pair of gloves and a rope. Slipping the gloves onto his hands, he ran with the rope thrown over his shoulders to the large oak tree he climbed as a lad. It weathered well, standing tall and strong. The grab holds he used as a child to assist him to the top, hopefully would again. He prayed he’d remember where all the old crevices were.
With his heart in his throat, he climbed the tree and braced his legs around the highest limb, which brought him just above the veranda where Raven stood trapped. He physically ached with the immense fear for her life. Every nerve in his body tingled and he fought the pain, moving ahead to save her. ’Twas what he knew he had to do because he could never bear it if anything happened to her. She had become each and every breath he took.
Raven’s eyes were squeezed shut, and her back hugged the outer wall.
“Raven,” he called to her. She opened her eyes and glanced down. “Nay, don’t look at the ground, lass. I’m above you, in the tree.”
She raised her gaze to meet his. “Braiton, thank God you are here.”
“I’m going to lower down to you the end of a rope. I want you to tie it around your waist,” he instructed.
“I will not be able to reach it from here, and I am too afraid to move,” she said, standing stiff against the wall. “Inhaling the smoke has made me dizzy.”
He could see his mother’s bedchamber now engulfed in flames. ’Twouldn’t be but a few moments till they reached her. Choking with fright, he swallowed the panic rising in his throat and forced his voice to remain calm. Setting Raven into a worse panic then she already was wouldn’t help the situation a bit.
“Sit down then, and scoot yourself closer to the edge.”
She gave him a taut nod, tucked a book she held beneath her arm, and slid to a sitting position. He lowered the rope and watched her tie it with trembling hands around her waist.
“Do you have the knot secured, Raven?” Hurry love, every moment counts.
She tested the rope. “Yes, it is strong.”
“Now listen carefully, lass. I want you to dangle your legs off the side of the veranda, then ease yourself away from the ledge. If you don’t go off the side gently, I’ll lose my grip and you’ll slam into the tree’s trunk.”
Raven made the mistake of glancing down. Nearer to the edge, the distance down looked even longer. Brawn barked, ran, barked, and ran, back and forth. Molly and Anna cried into their handkerchiefs and Sinead stood holding Casey. Brian, Patrick, Clancey, and Dooley were positioned at the base of the tree. All eyes were frozen on her, their horror stricken faces mirroring her own fear.
She lifted her gaze to focus on her husband, sitting above her in the tree. “I cannot do this Braiton.”
“Aye, you can, Raven. You must,” he snapped with anxiety. “Then I can lower you to the ground.”
“I am afraid the two of us will crash below.”
“My lady, I will not let that happen.” Hoping to somehow shock her into compliance, he hardened his tone. “Saints preserve us, lass, we’re running out of time.”
She took a quick look over her shoulder, the flames danced through the broken doors.
“Please, Raven,” he pleaded. “You can do this, lass, I know you can.”
Panic soaked through to her bones. She took Maureen’s diary from beneath her arm and threw it to the ground. At least he would know the truth. Then she released her grip on the rope and covered her hands over her eyes.
“Nay, don’t you do that! Don’t you dare give up! ’Tis not your right to do to our son. He needs his mother, and I…I need my wife.”
She opened her eyes, raising them to meet his. Tears streaked down his soot-stained face.
His voice broke with emotion. “Nothing makes sense without you, lass. In the eyes of God and all that’s holy, I declare these words for all to hear. I love you, Raven Amelia Shannon. I love you with all my heart! You are shi’aad, my wife. Do you hear me? And you will not leave me to live in this life alone.”
His words echoed through her soul and swelled her heart with happiness. A new determination was born deep inside of her, giving her the courage to ease off the veranda’s ledge, whereby his strong arms lowered her safely to the ground.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
After such a chaotic day, the quiet evening was a welcome relief. Raven sat in the rocking chair, nursing Casey, with Brawn at her feet. Braiton walked into the room and knelt down in front of her, his green eyes watching with admiration their son’s tiny mouth drawing nourishment from her breast.
He reached over and placed a finger in the babe’s hand, and smiled with pride when the child curled his tiny fingers around his.
“He’s a strong one at that.”
She nodded in agreement. “Like his father.”
He watched in silence as she finished the babe’s feeding, then took the child from her and held him close to his heart. He kissed the top of the infant’s soft head before placing him in the cradle. Then he covered his son and stroked his tiny cheek with a thumb. She was overwhelmed by his tenderness, contentment swelling her heart.
He turned to her and extended a hand. “Come,” he whispered. “I have something to show you.”
He led her to his bedchamber, shutting and locking the door behind them. She spotted her wardrobe, dressing table, and in the corner of the room her writing table—a vase filled with a bouquet of fuschia on top. She frowned. “Why are my things in here?”
He moved to embrace her. “A wife belongs with her husband.”
There were no shadows across her heart tonight, and she exhaled with contentment. “Thank you, shikaa for saving my life.”
“’Twas you who saved mine, twice now, I might add,” he said.
She searched his face. “You have read the diary, then?”
He nodded. “The part that mattered, the rest is not my business. ’Tis meant to be only Maureen’s.”
She brought her hands up to cup each side of his face. “You may not have grown beneath her heart, but you grew in it. Maureen loved you very much and for all her intentions and purposes, she was really your mother.”
He traced the curve of her mouth with the tip of a finger. “Aye, that she was, my lady. And that she’ll always be.”
His gentle touch ignited a fire within her. “The past does not matter anymore, Braiton.”
He smiled. “I decided the same last night, ’tis why I rode this morning to Shannon Harbour to stop you from leaving. But The Donahue had already sailed.” He pulled her close. “I don’t have the words to explain the miserable state I was in. When I returned to Shannonbrook, I ordered Clancey to rid me of the old mansion, the eyesore that ’twas. I wanted a clean slate, was sick of the memories haunting my life. Then I came into the study and sat before the fire. ’Twas then I’d decided to sail to England and bring you home.”
She moved her hands to the nape of his neck, playing with the curls there. “Home, such a wonderful word.”
His smile broadened, the cleft in his chin deepening. “Aye, ’tis at that, my lady. And when I learned from Brian you did not leave our home, I went searching for you. ’Twas then I disco
vered you were at the old mansion.” His gaze melted into hers. “I nearly went insane, knowing I ordered the place burnt to the ground.” He captured a lock of her hair and brought it to his lips, inhaling her scent. “I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you, Raven.”
“Did you mean what you said about loving me with all your heart?” she whispered.
He lowered his face to hers. “Every word of it, my love. And right now I am drowning in the depth of your eyes, hoping never to surface again.”
She arched a brow. “Not even for one breath of air?”
“You will be every breath I take, Raven. I cannot—will not live without you or my son.”
His warm lips consumed hers, his tongue probing the soft corners of her mouth. Filled with desire, she explored around his, running her tongue over his teeth and biting his lower lip.
He moaned and slipped the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders. The garment cascaded to the floor, gathering around her ankles. His eyes roamed the length of her, slow and easy, feasting on her nakedness. A mischievous grin curved one side of his mouth.
“I have dreamt of this moment from the first time I set eyes on you in Silver City. I couldn’t get you out of my head then, and I don’t plan on ever having to in the future.” He gathered her into his muscular embrace and carried her over to the bed. The heart wrenching tenderness of his gaze heated her flesh.
“You are mine, to love and cherish forever.” Green orbs twinkled. “I have locked the door and instructed the servants we’re not to be disturbed.”
She smiled. “You are wise, my shikaa.”
He took his time undressing. The prolonged anticipation, almost unbearable, filled her whole being with wanting him. Not once did she cast her gaze away, but instead drank in his every move, every ounce of his flesh.
He lay beside her, his warm, naked body pressed against hers. There was a tingling in the pit of her stomach. Her heart jolted, and her pulse pounded as his searing kisses traveled down her neck, to her breast. His lips covered the peak, his tongue circling and playing, stoking a growing fire within her. The pink button hardened with his attention.
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