by Ruth Langan
“Too sweet? Mistress Peake, it is perfection.”
With a contented smile, the housekeeper ordered the servants to cut the rest of the confection and serve it.
“What think you, Megan?” Colin asked as she tasted it.
“Never have I eaten such a treat. Nor such a meal. You are blessed to have such a fine housekeeper.”
Mistress Peake shot her a look of adoration that was not lost on Kieran.
“It was Mistress Peake who ordered your bath and toilette, as well,” Lady Katherine said.
“Then I am doubly grateful,” Megan said to the housekeeper.
“I thought a hot bath would be much appreciated after the rigors of your journey, my lady.”
“Aye. It was indeed.”
“The servants reported that you lingered overlong in your bath. We all feared you might catch a chill.”
Megan felt Kieran’s gaze on her and grew uncomfortably warm. “You may relieve their minds, Mistress Peake. I was careful not to grow cold.”
“You must be careful, my lady,” James Kettering said solicitously. “Even in summer the air on this island grows quite cool.”
Kieran’s voice was warm with unspoken laughter. “Aye, my lady. You must be careful not to linger overlong in your bath. Unless, of course, you take care to keep warm.”
Feeling her cheeks flame, Megan shot him a look of pure venom. “I shall heed your advice, my lord. From now on I shall take every care. Perhaps one of the servants can remain with me and hold a linen around me for warmth.”
“’Twould be such a waste.” With a chuckle Kieran drained his goblet and leaned back in his chair, feeling oddly contented. For the first time in a year he was replete, refreshed, at peace. He was once more surrounded by family and his dearest friends. And if he should find himself tempted to do battle, the woman beside him would be a most worthy opponent.
Chapter Ten
“That was a fine meal, Mistress Peake.” Kieran set down his empty goblet and waved the serving girl away. “At last I feel as if I am truly home.”
The housekeeper beamed with pride at the lord’s praise.
Kieran scraped his chair back from the table. “We will take our whiskey in the library.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Kieran held his mother’s chair and offered his arm. The others followed.
The library was a room with high beamed ceilings. Shelves filled with books lined three walls of the room. The fourth wall had a massive fireplace made of stone. A desk was piled high with books and ledgers.
Megan breathed in the fragrance of wood smoke, candle wax and leather and felt a wave of longing so acute it startled her. Had there been a room like this in her home? Oh, if only she could recall.
The men milled around, chatting, while the servants offered them goblets and tankards from trays.
Seeing some of the ledgers lying open, Kieran shot a questioning look at his mother.
“Forgive me,” Lady Katherine said softly. “You have been gone a long time, my son. Sir Cecil offered to peruse the ledgers and help me settle some old accounts.”
Megan saw the look that came into Kieran’s eyes before he strode toward the desk. Quickly scanning the open pages he said, “Perhaps on the morrow, Sir Cecil, you can tell me exactly what has been done in my absence.”
“I would be happy to.” The older man took a pinch of snuff, then accepted a goblet from a servant. With a sigh he sank into a chaise in front of the roaring fire and crossed his legs. “This is a most interesting room. I would not have expected such a wealth of knowledge to be found in this poor land.”
Kieran’s eyes blazed. “We may be poor by English standards, but we are not ignorant.”
Though many of the men wore frowns, they tactfully kept silent. They were, after all, guests in Kieran’s home. And this Englishman, though outspoken, was a friend to Lady Katherine.
“I see I have touched a nerve.” Sir Cecil shot an indulgent smile at his hostess. “I suppose we must expect this from one who has only recently tasted freedom.” He turned his gaze on Kieran. “It is not your shame that your land is poor.”
Kieran’s voice was dangerously low. “Nor is it the fault of my people. If we are poor, it is because your Queen will not permit us to use our rich resources to seek wealth for ourselves in the marketplace. Our ancestral lands are being taken from us by your countrymen, Sir Cecil. And those of us who resist are dying in English prisons. Our goods could be sold for twice the price in other countries, if we were allowed to trade fairly.”
“Those are traitorous words,” James Kettering hissed, taking a step toward Kieran.
Sir Cecil lifted a hand to stem his son’s angry words, then turned to Kieran with a sigh. “Are you still hoping to lure me into a political discussion, Kieran?” Emptying his goblet, he held it up while a servant filled it. Swirling the liquid around, he stared deeply into it. “I would spare your poor mother your ravings, if I were you. This good woman has suffered enough, with both you and Colin gone now for over a year, leaving her to manage the estate alone.”
“My suffering was nothing compared to that of my sons.” Lady Katherine took a seat beside Colin and touched a hand to his cheek. “And now my happiness is so great, I fear my heart will burst. Just seeing my sons alive and well has wiped all the pain and fear from my memory.”
“You are most brave.” Sir Cecil gave her a tender smile before turning to Kieran. “On several occasions I sent emissaries across the channel to persuade Lady Katherine to return to England, at least until I could arrange your freedom. But her sense of loyalty would not permit her to leave this place until you returned.”
“Where would she have stayed in England?” Kieran questioned. “Her home is here.”
“Do you forget that her first home was England?”
“I forget nothing.”
Sir Cecil ignored the anger in Kieran’s tone and continued patiently, “I would have opened my home to your mother, Kieran. She still has many friends in England. They would have been overjoyed to see her return to take her rightful place at court.”
“Enough of this talk of England,” Lady Katherine said. She had seen the flare of anger in her son’s eyes and was determined that this night would be one of rejoicing. Lifting a goblet from a servant’s tray she said, “I drink to the miracle that has returned my sons to me.”
They all lifted their goblets to their lips and drank.
Colin’s eyes twinkled. “Then I suggest we drink to the lady who made that miracle happen.” He lifted his goblet and said, “To Megan.”
The smile had not yet returned to Kieran’s lips, but his look softened as he turned to her. “Aye. To our brave Lady Megan,” he said, draining his glass.
The others did the same.
Across the room, Tavis Downey watched and listened. There was a subtle change in his old friend. But he had not as yet figured out what it was. Of course, a year in Fleet Prison would change any man. The rough edges were evident. The fire that burned in Kieran’s veins was even fiercer, if possible. As was the simmering anger. But there was something else. Something…indefinable.
“From what I have heard you are a most fascinating creature.” James Kettering took a seat on the chaise beside Megan and gave her an adoring smile. “You must relate to us your adventures.”
She shifted uncomfortably. “I fear there is nothing to tell, my lord.”
“You are too modest.” When a serving wench offered him more whiskey, he held out his goblet. “Surely you used some trickery to escape the soldiers. Did you weep uncontrollably until they were driven to distraction? Or did you faint, my lady?”
“Weep? Faint? What would those things accomplish?”
His hand paused in midair and he glanced at her in surprise.
“They might have secured your freedom. What other weapons does a woman have, my lady?”
Megan could only stare at him. He thought her incapable of wielding a sword. She glanced at Kieran and sa
w the tight line of his lips. For a moment she thought he shook his head ever so slightly. But when she looked again, he was merely watching her intently. Perhaps she had imagined his disapproval. Still, she thought he would be most reluctant to discuss their adventures in front of Lady Katherine or these strangers.
“Have you ever seen a doe and her fawn surrounded by hounds, my lord?”
James blinked at the sudden harshness of her tone.
“That creature, who seems so docile, so helpless, will lash out with her hooves and even her teeth if necessary, to protect the life of her offspring.”
He allowed his gaze to roam her golden hair, her pale coloring, and said admiringly, “Then I shall think of you whenever I come upon a doe in the forest, my lady. Of course I will still have to send my arrow to her heart, for that is the nature of the hunter.”
Restless and uncomfortable under his scrutiny, Megan scrambled to her feet. “If you do not mind, my lady,” she said, turning to her hostess, “I should like to retire now. It has been a long and arduous journey.”
“But what of the tales of your adventure?” James was offended by Megan’s casual dismissal of him. He was not accustomed to being ignored by women, young or old. His surprise was evident on his face.
Colin had to swallow his laughter. He did not know which amused him more, James’s mouth open in surprise or Kieran’s black look as he had watched the handsome young Englishman sitting beside Megan in an attempt to charm her.
“How could I have forgotten. You must be exhausted, my dear.” Lady Katherine stood and caught Megan by the arm. “Bridget and I will walk with you. It is long past her bedtime.”
The little girl fondly kissed her uncles, then took Lady Katherine’s hand.
“I am certain our men will find something of interest to discuss without us.” She turned and met Kieran’s gaze with a challenge. “Something that will not spark tempers to erupt into a battle beneath our very roof.”
As the two women and the child disappeared through the doorway, Kieran’s gaze lingered on them for several moments before he turned to his guests.
“I hope you are finding these rooms comfortable, my dear.” Lady Katherine paused in the doorway as Megan stepped into the sitting chamber.
“Oh, my lady.” Megan gave a little laugh. “Any room would seem a luxury after what we have come through. I cannot remember the last time I slept in a bed.” She ran her hand lovingly over the smooth bed linens, then stopped abruptly at the sight of the soldier’s garb she had been wearing when she arrived. The rough pants, tunic and cloak had been carefully washed and folded.
She did not need this reminder of her rough treatment at the hands of the soldiers. Megan tentatively touched them, then resolutely picked them up and placed them on top of a small chest, where she hoped she would not have to look at them again.
With Bridget still holding her hand, Lady Katherine crossed the room and took a seat on a chaise pulled up before the fire. “Was it terrible?”
“Aye. At times.” Megan straightened. “But we endured. And we survived.” She turned to her hostess with a wan smile. “And now I am grateful for your hospitality, my lady, until I can return to my home.”
“Can you remember anything of your past, my dear?”
“Nay.”
In agitation Megan walked to the fireplace and stood warming herself. There were so many times in the past few days when she had thought she would never be warm again. She shivered. Instantly Lady Katherine hurried to her side and drew her close.
“Do not try to force the memories, my dear. The best thing you can do now is refresh yourself both in mind and body. In time it will all come back to you.” She smiled and embraced the young woman. “Perhaps when you least expect it.”
“Oh. I pray it is so, my lady.”
Lady Katherine heard the note of despair in Megan’s tone and was touched by it. “We will all pray, my dear. Now—” she gave her a warm hug and walked with Bridget to the door “—you must sleep.”
“Aye, my lady.” Megan smiled at the little girl who clung to her hand. Bridget gave her a shy smile in return. Throughout the long evening, though the child smiled often at Colin, she had spoken not a word.
A servant hurried forward to help Megan undress.
Within minutes her gown had been replaced by a delicate nightgown of pale ivory linen. With her hair unbound and brushed loose, she was helped into bed.
When the bed linens were tucked around her, Megan gave a sigh of contentment. It seemed like an eternity since she had been so comfortable. Sleep came instantly.
The windows had been closed against the pleasant evening air and the draperies drawn. A table set in front of the fireplace held a decanter and two goblets. Sir Cecil Kettering and his son, James, faced each other. Their faces wore identical frowns.
“All our plans were for naught.”
“Nay. We have come too far to be defeated now.”
“Have you a plan?”
“Aye.” The older man’s eyes gleamed in the firelight. “I have not thought it through yet. But I will not let this opportunity slip through my fingers.” He sipped his ale and muttered, “The lass may be the key. We need to learn more about her.”
“But how? She is a woman of mystery.”
He gave an evil, chilling smile. “I always enjoy solving a puzzle. Think of this as merely another hurdle before the final victory.”
“You still believe we can win?”
Sir Cecil drained his goblet and strode across the room. At the door he turned. “There is no doubt. But we must move quickly, before the woman regains her memory. Now bring me her name. And leave the rest to me.”
When he left, James stared at the fire for several minutes, deep in thought. He turned when the one he had been waiting for entered. Seeing the man’s gaze go immediately to the decanter, he filled a goblet and handed it to him. In several gulps it was returned to the table empty. Once again James filled it and handed it to the other.
When the man drank his fill James said, “It is imperative that we learn the woman’s identity.”
“Where will I begin?”
James shrugged. “Locate something of hers that will link her to her past.”
“Now?”
“Tonight. Do you know how to search a chamber without disturbing its occupants?”
“Aye. I have had occasion to deal with a few rogues and thieves in my day. More than a few owe me a favor.”
“Then it is time to collect your debts. Make inquiries. Bring us the woman’s name. We will do the rest.”
Megan awoke from a deep slumber. Something, some sound perhaps, had disturbed her. In the darkness she listened, still fighting the mists of sleep that shrouded her mind.
There it was again. A shuffling sound. Footsteps? Perhaps a servant moving along the hallway outside her room, she thought, and made a move to roll over. There was a slight brushing sound, hardly more than a whisper. But something about it caused her to go perfectly still. It was not in the hallway. It was here in her room. Someone was going through her things.
She was instantly alert, straining to make out a form in the darkness. Why would anyone want to examine her belongings? She had nothing of value.
As she peered into the darkness she could make out the tall figure of a man moving stealthily toward the small chest beside the bed. She slipped from between the bed linens and stood to face her intruder.
“Who are you?” she cried loudly. “What business do you have here?”
The man stiffened in confusion. He had thought her asleep. Her voice did not come from the bed. She was somewhere beside him. He whirled to face her. A cloud obscured the moon, leaving them in inky blackness.
After years of habit, Megan reached a hand to retrieve a dirk from her waistband, then was shocked to discover there was none. She carried no weapon on her person. She had boldly challenged this intruder only to find herself helpless. But it was not her nature to back away from a fight.
&
nbsp; “Answer me. Why are you here?”
In response the man brought his hand savagely across her face. Stunned, Megan dropped to her knees and let out a gasp of pain.
With only faint sparks of starlight to guide her, she saw the glint of a knife in his hand and knew that he meant to defend himself if she attacked.
“Nay.” With a cry of alarm she got to her feet and tried to bar his way as he prepared to run.
His blade slashed through the air, missing her by inches.
“Megan.” From beyond the closed door she heard Kieran’s voice. But before she could cry out, a hand closed over her mouth.
She felt the terror bubble up in her throat when fingers covered her nose and mouth, cutting off her air. She put up a fierce struggle, prying at the hands that held her, until, feeling him weaken, she bit down hard. With a cry of rage the man pulled away.
“Megan. Your door is barred. You must open it.” From the room next door Megan heard Kieran’s angry voice.
When she looked up the intruder was scrambling over the balcony. Struggling to her feet, she closed the distance between them and fumbled to catch his arm.
He let out a low hiss of anger and gave her a shove that sent her crashing into the stone wall behind her. With a cry of pain she crumpled to the floor.
In some distant part of her mind she heard the splinter of wood as the door between the two rooms was forced open. But her only thought was of the man who had entered her room. Crawling to the balcony, she pulled herself up and peered over the edge.
The intruder had already dropped to the courtyard below. Though she could hear his booted feet as he ran in the direction of the stables, she could not make out his form in the darkness.
Wearily she sank down, her fingers curled tightly around the smooth stone of the balcony for support.
“God in heaven. Megan, you are hurt.” Kieran dropped to his knees and touched a hand to the blood that seeped from a cut in her head.
He felt a rush of fury that had his blood pounding in his temples. That this lass should be harmed while under his protection was unthinkable.
“It is nothing.” Dazed, Megan tried to study the man who bent over her. But his image seemed to swim in and out of focus. “Someone was in my chambers.”