Less Than a Treason

by Mary Birk

  Reid and he had participated against each other in several competitions over the years with their falcons. Stone felt no embarrassment in knowing the other man was a better falconer. Terrence Reid had grown up training and working with the predator birds, while he himself had come to it later in life. It was a beautiful thing, how the man seemed to connect with his birds, know what they were thinking, what they would do, and how to direct them. Reid’s flock had branched out to include owls, and now, at least on a temporary basis, the golden eagle.

  Stone hoped he’d have an opportunity to practice with it, though he didn’t know if he was quite ready for an eagle. It took a great deal of arm strength to support a golden eagle. If he were going to learn, though, learning with Reid while the eagle was here at Dunbaryn would be the best opportunity he would ever have. He decided to tell Reid tomorrow he’d like to be included if at all possible. He wasn’t going to let life’s opportunities pass him by anymore. One never knew when those opportunities would be gone.

  He looked around at the birds in the various enclosures and then over at the little workshop, thinking about what had happened earlier. He hadn’t wanted to be drawn into any further conversation about Lady Flora’s arrangements, so he’d left the Falcon House without an opportunity to actually see the birds. Since that confrontation, he’d taken care not to be put in a position where any of Flora’s family could corner him. But he still wanted to see the birds and at this time of night he was sure he wouldn’t run into anyone else.

  Stone walked quietly through the Falcon House. The aviary’s population was almost hauntingly quiescent. They were happily situated inside tonight, definitely at rest, even the owls. He approached the enclosed eyrie with anticipation. Ah, the golden eagle. What a fine bird this was. The eagle studied him, its eyes carefully following Stone as he moved around the circular enclosure.

  The eagle looked a bit haggard. New environment, probably. Stone couldn’t remember when Reid said the eagle had come to Dunbaryn. Perhaps it was still adjusting.

  Suddenly, Stone felt a draft of cold air. Someone else must have come into the Falcon House. It was far too late for Arthur, so it was probably Reid checking the birds. Who else would be here so late? He was surprised Reid wasn’t tucked away in bed with his wife after just reconciling with her this morning. “Reid, is that you?”

  There was no answer.

  He turned around, but no one was there. Maybe he’d imagined the noise and the draft. He turned back around to look at the eagle. A chill went through him, and he smelled the cold outdoor air. He realized the door had definitely been opened. Someone had come in. His heart hammered when the great bird’s head alerted, focusing on a point behind Stone’s back.

  Before Stone could react, an arm came around his neck, and the sharp point of the scratch awl stabbed straight into his throat.

  DECEMBER 27 - SUNDAY

  Chapter 48

  ANNE WOKE, her eyes immediately flying to the bassinet where her baby was sleeping. Was he too still? She jumped up and put her hand on his chest to check his breathing. She exhaled in relief. He was fine. Just snoozing. She snuggled back under the covers, then looked to the other side of the bed. Terrence was sleeping in his clothes on her bed on top of the covers, an extra blanket pulled over him. He must have come in sometime during the night. She guessed he wasn’t going for the separate bedrooms thing.

  She’d decided not to tell him about the six-weeks prohibition just in case she decided she absolutely couldn’t wait. He’d make them wait if he knew. In the meantime, it wouldn’t hurt him one bit to have more of a chance to be sorry for how awful he’d been. Besides, she really was going to try to make it the full six weeks.

  She snuggled against him, and then heard Greta bringing in the tea tray, quietly so as not to wake the baby. Anne looked over and smiled. The woman nodded, put the tray down on the table, and left. Anne got up to pour herself a cup of tea. She eyed the tray. Terrence’s tea things were there as well. Apparently the staff had assumed, correctly, he’d be in here as well. She turned around to take her tea back to bed and caught Terrence watching her.

  She narrowed her eyes. “You must have been sleepwalking. Somehow you ended up in my room.”

  “Indeed.” He looked around, feigning surprise at finding himself in her bed. “I must have been.”

  “Want me to bring your tea to you in my bed?”

  “That would be fair wonderful, lassie.”

  She tried to look exasperated but poured his tea. She scooted back into the warm bed, handing him his cup, then propped herself up on her pillows to drink her own.

  “You were not invited.”

  “You left the door between our rooms unlocked.” He leaned over and kissed her.

  She rolled her eyes and tried to act uninterested. “Mmm.” She took some papers off the table next to the bed and tapped them against his chest.

  He put down his tea and took them from her. “What’s this?”

  “The design I like best for the baby’s room.”

  He silently scrutinized her selection, all the while running his fingers lightly along her arm.

  She stopped his hand with hers. “Don’t you like it?”

  He shifted to face her. “Love it. Looks like it’s for a baby but not too fussy. So it can work for a boy, and if we have a girl later, it would work for her, with some changes on the accessories.”

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Lord Reid.”

  “Come on, that’s what you were thinking too, wasn’t it?” He put an arm around her and kissed her again, being careful of her tea.

  “I was just being practical.”

  He nodded. “I like a practical wife. Especially when it means she’s thinking along the same lines as I am. And especially when the implications are that someday she’s going to let me close enough to get her pregnant again.” His fingers trailed up her leg, stopping just short of her panties, then traced the rim, torturing her, before his fingers slid underneath the fabric.

  “Watch it.” She wiggled away, still balancing her tea. “This one’s only a month old.”

  He lifted the fingers she’d evicted to his lips, kissed them. “You did a nice job on him.”

  “I had some help.” She peered at him over her tea cup. “You do make nice babies.”

  He laughed. “Let me show you I can do it again.”

  “Down, boy.” She put down her cup. “I’m going to go brush my teeth before that child wakes up and wants to eat. Since you’re here anyway, you’re in charge.”

  When she came back, Michael was awake and contentedly having his diaper changed. Terrence actually looked like he knew what he was doing. “When did you learn how to do that?”

  “A few days ago. Meg showed me.”

  She watched him. “Not bad.”

  “Thanks. This next bit you’ll have to do, though. I think he’s ready to eat.”

  She lay down on the bed and took the baby to her. “I love how sweet he looks.”

  Terrence stretched out on the other side of Michael, stroking the baby’s head as he ate. Michael’s eyes started drooping and a little drunken smile played across his lips. Anne heard Terrence catch his breath.

  “Did you see that, girl?”

  She nodded. “They say it’s not a real smile. It’s called a milk smile. But it looks real to me.”

  “Me too.”

  “Breaks your heart, it’s so precious, doesn’t it?”

  “Truly.” His intense eyes sent a wave of heat Anne felt straight through to her core.

  He reached out and with one finger, stroked the top part of the breast that showed through her nightgown as she nursed. “Is it all right if I just touch you? Just for a moment? I won’t try anything else. I know I’m still on probation, but I’ve wanted to do this since that first night you were here.”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He moved his hand up to expose and softly caress her unoccupied breast. She closed her eyes and lay back, letting
the feel of his fingers tracing patterns around her breast make her longing rise up through her. God, this man. Her eyes started to get that heavy, drugged heaviness and her lips felt swollen. He began moving his finger in a circle, driving her unbelievably crazy. He stopped abruptly when a knock sounded on the door. It was all Anne could do not to groan with frustration.

  She managed to compose her voice, though it came out hoarse. “Yes?”

  “It’s Juliette.”

  Terrence lifted her gown over her breast, gave a wry smile. “Come in, Countess.”

  Lady Wynstrathe opened the door. “Good morning, Anne. I’m terribly sorry to disturb you, but Terrence, we can’t seem to locate Jeremy. His bed doesn’t look as if it’s been slept in, and he doesn’t seem to be anywhere in the house. With the weather so dreadful, I’m worried.”

  Terrence frowned. “That is odd.”

  “Do you have any idea where he could have gone?”

  “He was going to go over to see the birds last night, I believe. If you give me a moment, I’ll make sure he didn’t fall into a snow drift or something.”

  “I’ll wait outside in the corridor.” The Countess stepped out, closing the door behind her.

  He got up, and Anne motioned to him to rearrange himself. He smiled as he did so. “I’ll be back soon, girl.”

  She tried to clear her head of the stupid cloudy thing he made happen in her head. She was way too close to trouble. “No, I’ll get dressed and go on down to breakfast. I’ll see you downstairs.”

  “Are you sure?” She could feel his longing for her like it was something tangible, and the feel of it intensified the corresponding ache in her.

  She nodded.

  “All right, my love. Monsignor will be saying Mass at ten. We can go in together.”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled, his eyes fixed on her. “You’ll send off the selections for the nursery?”

  “Yes.”

  He kissed her on the top of her head, slowly slipping his hand around her breast. “Thank you.” Then he left.

  She was undone.

  Chapter 49

  WALKING DOWN the wide hallway with his mother, he looked over at her and thought about what Rick had told him. He was still surprised. Married at fifteen and a mother at sixteen. “How are you doing, Countess? I know this has been hard for you.”

  She nodded, a fleeting sadness in her eyes. “I’m going to miss Flora so much. We were girls together, you know, in school.”

  “Yes.” He knew the story about how she’d met her friend in the French boarding school they’d both attended. He’d always assumed his mother was one of the older girls, and Flora one of the younger girls, and that somehow they’d become friends. He’d never given it much thought, just taking the stories as they were given—as background, not very interesting to a boy growing up.

  “I never expected to lose her so soon. Often we went months without actually seeing each other, but we talked by telephone at least once a week. I won’t say we confided everything in each other, because one doesn’t, you know. There are some things that stay only within one’s own family, or one’s own marriage, but she was my closest friend, and we did share so much about each other’s lives.”

  He sensed there was something else she wanted to say, and was working her way around to it, so he let her talk as they went down the long passageway, her high heels silent on the carpet that ran through the middle of the dark wood floors.

  “We never talked about you and Miranda, even back when the two of you were dating. Our interests were just too divided, and it was safer not to. She was protective of her children, just as I am of mine.” She raised her face to look up the considerable distance separating her face from his. “Your children are always your children, no matter how old they are.”

  “Countess, is there something you want to tell me?”

  “Yes, but I feel uncomfortable telling you as I was meant to keep it confidential.”

  “Something about Flora?”

  She nodded. “I promised her I would keep her secret. But now it seems I should at least tell you, so you can decide whether it’s important, and whether we need to mention it to the police. I’d rather no one knew, if we can avoid it. I don’t want people to think badly of her.”

  “Tell me.”

  “It’s about Flora and George.”

  “That they were fighting? I’ve been told that already.”

  She shook her head. “They weren’t fighting. They were having an affair.”

  Reid stopped walking. “Flora and George?” He shouldn’t have been surprised, remembering George telling him how he regretted being divorced from Flora. The only woman he’d ever loved, he’d said. No wonder George had been so upset by Flora’s death.

  “Yes, chérie. They were together during all those negotiations, and they did start out fighting. But then they ended up in bed.” She raised her eyebrows. “Not an uncommon situation, as I think you know.”

  He felt himself redden. His French mother didn’t shy away from these types of topics, but he was Scottish. At least his mind was. His body was still racked by a physical ache to have Anne, and any thought in that direction was distracting to him. With discipline, he brought his mind back around to Lady Flora.

  “You think this has a bearing on what happened to her?”

  “Yes, of course. She wasn’t despondent; she wouldn’t have killed herself. She was like a girl about him. Completely in love.”

  “What about Rafe?”

  The Countess waved her hand, wrinkling her nose. “She and Rafe slept in separate rooms. It would have been different if they were estranged or fighting, as you and Anne were. But in a normal marriage, it is not a good thing.” She looked up at him a little too innocently. “She and George may have been together a few times while they were here. I gave him a room away from everyone else so it would be easier for them. Your father would not have approved, so I’d rather he didn’t know, or at least, that he didn’t know I knew what they were doing. But, I like George, and he loved Flora, and he made Flora happy. What’s the harm? Rafe didn’t want her anyway. And it’s not good for a woman of any age to be without love.”

  “I won’t mention it to Dad. Was Flora planning to do anything about it? A divorce?”

  “I think so, but she was worried about the effect a divorce would have on Lance. She felt like Rodney and Miranda blamed her for the divorce from George, and I think she was afraid to divorce Rafe for fear Lance would have the same reaction. There’s such a lot of mess from disrupting a family.” She took his arm. “We are so glad you and Anne are doing well.”

  He nodded. “I’ll talk to George, but first, I need to locate Jeremy.”

  *****

  The snow was still being blown about by the wind, but at least it had stopped falling. It was beautiful but beastly cold. Reid didn’t see any tracks leading to or from the Falcon House, but he knew any tracks would have been obliterated in just a few moments by the rapidly drifting snow. The dogs bulleted ahead of him, running and jumping in the mounds of snow.

  The padlock on the door of the Falcon House hung open, the key still in it. Stone must indeed be here. But all night? Reid pushed the door open slowly and went in, closing the door behind him, and leaving the dogs outside to run about. Inside the cavernous building, he could instantly tell something was wrong. The birds were all disturbed, restless, rustling around noisily in their cages. A prickling sensation crawled up his back.

  He moved soundlessly, not wanting to add to the birds' unrest. He thought of the note left on the door yesterday. Was it possible there were intruders here? Had Stone forgotten to lock the door after he left and someone else came in? He listened intently, but all he could hear was the sound of the birds fretting. Normally, in this kind of weather, they would be quiet. Resting until the weather settled down, but not today. Today, a frenetic energy vibrated through the air.

  He quickly walked over to the center of the Falcon House toward the mam
moth cage of the golden eagle. If the birds already accustomed to the Falcon House were distressed, how much more would the golden eagle, a recent arrival, be? The majestic creature had already been morosely unhappy.

  His feet froze where he stood. The door of the eagle’s cage was open and the raptor was gone. Damn and bloody, bloody damn.

  Reid’s eyes scanned the cage to confirm it was empty, then shifted to the area around the cage. His heart thudded in his chest. A few feet in front of the open cage door, Jeremy Stone lay face up, with what looked to be one of the scratch awls used to punch holes in the leather dressings sticking out of his throat. The blood silhouetting the outline of Stone’s body had dried. This had to have happened hours ago. Shite. Reid could tell the man was dead already, but he dropped to his knees and felt for a pulse to be sure. Nothing. Had Jeremy surprised someone trying to steal the eagle? If so, whoever had been here was long gone.

  Generally, at this time of day, Arthur would be here. But as it was Sunday morning. Arthur wouldn’t get here until this afternoon, after church and Sunday dinner. Reid released Jeremy’s hand and stood up. Wishing he’d brought his gun, he slowly checked all over the Raptor House, going into the workshop and the washroom, but there was no sign of anyone else, or of anything else being disturbed.

  The other raptors were still acting uneasy, as if under threat of imminent danger. A dead human body wouldn’t do that to them. Reid’s heart dropped into his stomach, while instinctively, his eyes traveled upward. At the top of the rafters he could just make out the shape of the big majestic creature looming above demoniacally.

  That explained what was making the other birds nervous. The eagle was on the loose. But still here, thank God. The eagle had taken himself out of reach of whoever had opened his cage and was safe. Reid glanced down again at Jeremy Stone. The eagle hadn’t as of yet, treated him as edible prey, but Reid knew that was a real danger. He needed to get the bird down and back in the eyrie. He wouldn’t think about Jeremy Stone until he’d secured the crime scene.