by Lori Wick
Nearly an hour later Bracken stood in the war room waiting for his knights to arrive. He had hardly moved from his place by the fire, his thoughts deep on the mistakes he’d made as well as the anger he felt that Megan would pull such a senseless escapade.
If she were in the room at that moment he would be strongly tempted to upend her over his knee. The sight of her, hair ablaze and eyes flashing, standing in that very room while she confronted him over Black Francesca suddenly swam before his mind’s eye. What would a group of men do if they found a maid so lovely alone in the forest? Bracken’s heart clenched at the thought, even as anger told him she should have known better.
The door opened suddenly, and Bracken turned. It was Stephen and he was alone. He spoke as he came forward, his look serious but his tone light.
“I understand that your dove has flown.”
Bracken snorted in offense and turned from the fire, his gaze fierce.
“Do not be deceived, Stephen. Megan is no dove, but a red hawk with talons to gouge a man!”
“Be that as it may, Bracken,” Stephen went on smoothly, “you’ll not win the girl’s heart with such words.”
“I’m not the least bit interested in her heart,” Bracken stated untruthfully, his voice still harsh.
“Of course you’re not,” Stephen said patronizingly. “That is why you’ve already gone to bed without a single worry. You’ll sleep late in the morning and ride out when you feel like it to fetch her back.”
Bracken let out a great sigh, his anger deserting him in a rush. His hand went to the back of his neck, and he stared at Stephen in torment.
“Why did you not explain to her about Black Francesca, Bracken?” Stephen’s voice was gentle.
“It was a mistake,” Bracken admitted. “I never dreamed she would flee. When I think of where she could be, I—” Bracken couldn’t go on.
“We’ll find her.” Stephen soothed.
“You’ll ride with me?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll bring her back, Stephen.” Bracken repeated himself for the second time that evening, needing to convince himself more than anyone.
“I know you will, but you mustn’t plan on dragging her by the hair. Court her, Bracken. Woo her until it would never occur to her to live any other place than Hawkings Crest.”
Bracken would have loved to ask Stephen just how he should go about doing that, but they were joined by the other men. As Bracken’s men gathered around him, all talk turned to plans for leaving in the morning. He wouldn’t think of Stephen’s words again for many hours, and when he did, Stephen would not be there to aid him.
Fourteen
THE REVEREND MOTHER SMOOTHED Megan’s hair from her forehead and wrestled with her own feelings. She could never tell this dear girl that she must not come to them at the abbey, but neither could she sanction Megan’s running from circumstances she didn’t like or agree with. Bracken’s actions were sorrowful, but Megan, from what the Reverend Mother could see, had little choice but to stay and make the best of things.
Megan was such a mixture of woman and little girl. At the moment she sat on the floor, her head resting on the older woman’s knee, much the way she’d done as a child. One moment she was a woman capable and strong; the next she was a child, needing to be embraced and comforted. The Reverend Mother knew Bracken to be a man of few years, 20-odd, she was sure. Would he ever understand that at times Megan needed a tender father figure, since so many of her childhood years she’d been without one?
“Reverend Mother,” a nun spoke as she came in the door then. She stopped upon seeing Megan. “I’m sorry, Reverend Mother, I forgot to knock.”
“It’s all right, Sister Blanche. What did you need?”
“Sister Mary Margaret is supposed to go to the village today, but she is not feeling well. Whom would you like me to send?”
“Please, send me.” Megan’s voice came softly from the Reverend Mother’s lap. They had already talked for hours, and although there was more to be said the older woman wondered if maybe it wasn’t best to let things lie for the present.
“Please,” Megan begged again, seeing the Reverend Mother’s indecision. The abbess sighed and looked down into Megan’s face.
“All right.” The older woman found the words easy to say after seeing the yearning in Megan’s eyes.
Megan rose and kissed her. So pleased was she that she could return to the village that she nearly skipped from the room, her heart lighter than it had been in days. Just 20 minutes later she was in comfortable abbey clothes and walking down the main street of Stone Lake village.
She was early for lessons with the children, so she sauntered along until a familiar voice called to her from among the village smiths.
“Well, now, if it isn’t little Meggie.”
“Hello, Mr. Black,” Megan said with a wide smile.
“Where ’o ya been keepin’ yourself?”
“Oh, here and there,” Megan told him with a grin.
“Going to teach the children today?”
“Yes. Tell Evan and Nigel to be there.”
“A’ll send ’em on.”
Megan continued on her way, stopping to inspect Mrs. Murch’s yard and even going so far as to tug a few weeds from her vegetables.
The work was light, and she could hear Mrs. Murch through the window. The old woman was snoring in a chair by the fire. Megan worked as soundlessly as she could, making her way to the rear of the small hut. She straightened when she heard footsteps behind her and turned to find William approaching. His look was one of a man in a trance, and Megan sighed very gently.
“Megan,” William breathed, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. “You’ve come back to me.”
“Oh, William,” Megan said with a small shake of her head.
It was enough to draw William from his dreamy state, and he smiled in a way that Megan loved, wide-mouthed and boyish. A few years older, he was the closest thing she’d ever had to a friend. It had never occurred to her to fall in love with him, and even though she never made any bones about the fact that they could never marry, he still persisted.
“Are you married?”
“No.”
“Good. Did you run from him?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he said again, nodding with satisfaction and not caring for the reason as long as she wasn’t hurt.
“Are you well?” he asked now.
“Yes, and you can end this inquisition.”
“Ah, Meg, I love those big words you like to use on a simple farm boy like myself.”
“Well, don’t get too comfortable with them. I’m sure I won’t be staying long.”
“Oh, Meg.” He was genuinely distressed now. “Why must you go away again? I’ve pined for you till I thought I would die.”
“William, William, what am I going to do with you?”
“I’d take a kiss,” he replied before he thought and watched Megan’s eyes flash with temper.
“Do not speak to me in such a way, William Clayborne, or I’ll slap your handsome face until your ears ring in your head!”
His look was very contrite, and Megan softened.
“How is Rose?”
William hung his head. “She’s well. She misses you, although she can’t think why. Says she has me for the first time ever.”
“And well she should,” Megan returned tenderly.
William’s head came up.
“I care for her, Meg, you know I do,” was all he could say before he simply stood still and gazed at her.
It had long been a thorn between them: Rose loving William and William loving Megan and Megan wishing she never had to marry at all. Amazingly enough, there had never been any hard feelings between Rose and Megan. Rose adored Megan, and it didn’t matter in the least that William was in love with her. Rose believed that William would love her someday and make her his wife.
Indeed, Megan had secretly hoped that such a thing would happen af
ter she’d gone. Of course, she hadn’t been away all that long, and now here she was again, making William’s heart yearn for her. Megan wished she’d thought of that before asking to come and teach.
“I must go, William,” she told him now.
“When will I see you?” He asked as he fell into step beside her.
“You won’t. I’m sure my father will come for me any day, and I don’t know where I’ll be after that. I’m almost certain that I won’t be at the abbey.”
“Ah, Meg—” he began.
“Give Rose my love,” Megan interrupted, cutting him off.
“You could give me your love.” It was said so softly that Megan almost missed it. She stopped and turned, tears of helplessness pooling in her eyes.
“No, William, I couldn’t. I’m sure to be in enough trouble with Father as it is. You have always known how I feel. You would make any maid the finest of mates, but I can’t be that girl. I’m not for you, William.”
William stared at her with regret. She was the most wonderful woman he’d ever known, full of fun and caring and willing to give of herself without complaint or thought of payback. She was so lovely that he wanted nothing more than to cherish her for the rest of his days. In truth, Rose was just as lovely, probably more so in a technical sense with her blue-black hair and tall, shapely body, but it was to Megan that he had lost his heart.
“Will I truly not see you again?” William pushed the words past his tight throat.
“I should think not. I’m glad we had a few minutes, though. Go with God, William.”
With that she was gone. William stood, frustration filling him. He had never been able to touch her, not even so much as to hold her hand. It wasn’t fair; by all that was righteous, it wasn’t fair.
“Bracken!” Vincent spoke with obvious pleasure as he gained the great hall and saw his guests. “Come in; rest yourselves. I’ll see that refreshment is brought.”
Vincent spoke to a servant, giving Bracken a chance to adjust to this exuberant welcome.
“This must be your brother,” Vincent went on, referring to Stephen after he returned his attention to his guests.
“Yes, this is Stephen, and this is my other brother, Brice. You also know my knights, Lyndon and Kendrick.”
“Yes, of course. You’re all looking well. What brings you to Stone Lake?”
All the men froze, and Bracken frowned. “Why, to see Megan,” he said hesitantly.
“Megan?” Vincent’s brows rose with curiosity, but he did not seem alarmed.
“Yes. She is here, isn’t she?”
“No.” Vincent replied calmly.
“You mean you haven’t seen her at all?” Bracken’s heart now pounded with fear.
“No, I haven’t. Maybe if you tell me why she left Hawkings Crest, I’ll be able to tell you where she’s gone.”
“We argued,” Bracken said briefly.
Vincent nodded, not at all surprised. “Then she’ll be at the abbey,” he said easily.
Bracken stood immediately, and his men followed suit. “Thank you, sir. We’ll ride—”
“Sit down, Bracken, sit down,” Vincent cut him off. “It’s late enough in the day that your appearance at the abbey will not be welcome.”
“But what if she’s not there? We must leave here at daybreak to continue the search.”
Vincent put his hand up. “I’m sure she is there.”
Bracken sat back down, as did the others. His voice belied the way his heart still raced.
“She’s been gone from Hawkings Crest for three days. How can you be sure of her whereabouts?”
“Because I know Megan. If you’ve quarreled, then she will seek the solace of the abbey.”
Vincent frowned at Bracken’s confused face. “Have you forgotten so soon, Bracken, that Megan and her mother do not get on?”
Bracken’s face cleared, but his voice was somewhat harsh. “No, sir, I had not forgotten. Megan does not seem to get on with most people.” It was an unfair statement and both knew it, but the older man did not comment.
It was still something that Bracken did not understand. Why would anyone choose to be away from home? Why not live in harmony with others? Was it really so difficult? Bracken felt that this was clearly one more example of Megan’s desperate need to grow up.
“I’ll send a servant to the abbey now who can report as to whether or not Megan is there. Sup with us now, and you and your men can go to the abbey in the morning.”
Bracken looked hesitant.
“I feel it is best, Bracken,” Vincent told him, his tone not dictatorial but confident and kind.
“All right,” Bracken agreed after a moment. “If we learn that she is safely there, we’ll wait.”
He’d been so certain that he would see her that very night that his disappointment was keen. Thankfully, Vincent didn’t give him long to think about it. Posthaste he dispatched a servant to the abbey and moments later the men were shown to chambers in order to wash and join the castle folk for dinner.
“Your father sent a messenger, Megan,” the Reverend Mother said to the small redhead after supper.
“He has heard of my presence then. I’m to leave?”
“No. He only sought information as to your whereabouts. He told Sister Agatha that your betrothed is at the castle.”
Megan nodded but did not speak.
“I’m sure Lord Bracken will be here in the morning, Meg.”
Megan’s face turned to panic. “Oh, please don’t make me see him, please, Reverend Mother. Please tell him I’ve left.”
“You know I would never lie for you, Meg.” The older woman’s voice was stern, and Megan felt shamed because she had asked Helga to do just that.
Her shame didn’t last, however. With a note of desperation she said, “Then I’ll really leave here. I can go and live with Japheth and Elvina in the forest. She’s to have her baby soon and I know they would welcome me.”
“What has frightened you, Megan?” the abbess spoke with compassion. “Is it Lord Bracken himself or something else altogether?”
The panic left Megan, and she looked utterly defeated. “I do not know.” Her voice was hushed. “Everything began so badly between us, and lately I am not in control of my anger. It’s all my mother’s fault for sending me on as she did.”
“We heard all about it, Meg, and indeed her actions have been wrong, but you must forgive her. You’ll never know true peace within yourself or with Lord Bracken unless you do.”
The evening was not far spent, and so they talked on for some time, but Megan did not deal with her heart as she should have. She was too busy worrying about the morrow’s confrontation.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Annora.”
“We’re pleased to have you,” Megan’s beautiful mother returned, smiling. “How is Megan?”
Bracken flicked a glance at Vincent, who cleared his throat before speaking.
“Megan is at the abbey. Bracken has come thinking she might be here.”
It took only a moment for the full meaning to sink in and Annora’s face to flush with temper.
“She has run from Hawkings Crest?”
“Yes,” Vincent admitted.
Annora threw her hands in the air, unmindful of the way Vincent, Bracken, and all Bracken’s men looked on.
“When will that spoiled child ever mature? I tell you, Vincent, she has no care for anyone outside of herself. If she were here right now, I’d slap some sense into her.”
The tirade continued for a few moments longer, with Vincent looking uncomfortable and Annora not noticing anyone as she carried on.
Bracken was only half listening. He had not been able to get beyond Annora’s statement that Megan thought of no one but herself. He had shared the very same thought, but it now struck him strongly that it simply wasn’t so. She was foolhardy, but nearly everyone at Hawkings Crest had commented at one time or another about the little caring acts she did for others.
“
Annora,” Vincent spoke and finally got through. “I am hungry, as I’m sure are our guests.”
Annora looked affronted at his words, but after tossing her head in the air she invited Bracken and the other men to come to the tables. The meal of quail was excellent and plentiful, and when Annora calmed down, she proved to be a gracious hostess. Bracken studied her from across the table and wondered how Megan could be so different in appearance and temperament.
Even when Megan was most upset, she did not rant as this woman had done.
He was still pondering this when he heard Megan’s voice behind him. His heart vaulted in his chest as his head snapped back to find her, but instead he encountered a younger version of Annora. He knew in an instant that this was Marigold. He saw that she’d grown older since that day at court, but it was her nonetheless.
“I’m sorry to be so late,” Marigold spoke humbly, soaking in the hungry, male eyes that stared at her. “I was sewing by the fire, and the time just got away from me,” Marigold, who hated needlework of any kind, lied sweetly and stood still to let each man look his fill.
Vincent, who was not taken in in the slightest, opened his mouth to tell Marigold that she would have to find room at another table, but Annora jumped in.
“No matter, Marigold. Whenever you grace our hall with your beauty, we will gladly welcome you. Come, sit by me.”
She too had seen the desirous looks in the men’s eyes and felt more than pleased. Not because any of them could have her, but because Annora simply loved having what she considered the most beautiful daughter in all of England.
Vincent was nowhere near as happy to see her. He knew Marigold was home, but she rarely joined them for any meal. Vincent knew that a servant must have told her of the men’s presence. Marigold seemed to grow more devious with each passing day, and her presence shamed him. It seemed he could exert no control whatsoever where she was concerned.
The only pleasure Vincent derived from the whole evening was the way Bracken looked at Marigold. The other men at the table were making near fools of themselves, but Bracken’s gaze was hooded and cool. It did Vincent’s heart good to see it, and it helped remind him to tell Bracken privately not to bring Megan back to the castle with both Marigold and Annora there. He felt it best that Megan be taken directly back to Hawkings Crest.
