The Knight and the Dove

by Lori Wick

  Fifteen

  BRACKEN HAD BEEN WAITING for over an hour to see Megan when William entered the sunny courtyard of the abbey. He paid the man little heed as he thought about the morning. As anxious as he was to get away, Lord Vincent had been equally anxious to detain him.

  He’d toured Bracken and the men around the Stone Lake castle much like a child showing off a toy. And then there had been the journey to the abbey. Bracken saw now that they had come way out of their way by going to the castle first. Megan certainly would have known this and gained the abbey in less time because of it. Still, this did not answer his question of how she had traveled. That, along with a dozen more queries, convinced him that he’d be talking to Megan for the next two days.

  Of course, their talk would probably have to wait. If he knew his betrothed like he thought he did, he would have to command her to leave the abbey and it would be days before she would speak to him about anything.

  Bracken mentally shook his head as he pictured himself tossing her over his shoulder, mounting his horse, and riding away with her kicking and screaming all the while. Vincent had sent a mount for her, but Bracken knew this was no guarantee that Megan would use it. As comical as the scene would be to his men, Bracken was serious. If he had to take Megan on his own horse to get her home, he would do it.

  “What is it, William? Why have you come?” Bracken heard the sister called Agatha say.

  “I must see her, Sister Agatha. Where is Megan?”

  Suddenly Bracken was all ears.

  “She cannot see you, William.” Sister Agatha’s voice was compassionate but firm.

  “But I must,” the young man’s voice pleaded desperately. “I just know that if I could see her one more time I could convince her that it’s me she needs to marry.”

  Bracken was like a statue, sitting on a stone bench in the shadows outside the Reverend Mother’s office. He watched the earnest face of the younger man and felt something stir within him. How did Megan feel?

  “William,” Sister Agatha went on gently. “What of Rose?”

  “I care for Rose,” William told her, “but it’s Megan whom I love.”

  “She is not for you, William. Give your heart to Rose. I have known Rose since she was but a child. She is the woman for you, William.”

  The younger man’s shoulders slumped with defeat. He knew her words were true. He was thankful that it had been Sister Agatha who had confronted him. He’d known her all his life, and she was always the soul of kindness. He could never feel shame with her.

  “I can see Rose waiting for you, William,” she went on. “Go to her. She will understand and comfort you.”

  William’s sigh was audible, but he did as he was told. Bracken watched with even more questions as the other man turned and walked away.

  “He has been here for some time, Megan. You must not keep him any longer.”

  Megan nodded. She had not deliberately avoided him, but it was almost certain she would be leaving here today, and she had been desperate to see Japheth and Elvina one last time. It had simply taken more of the day than she had anticipated.

  “You’ll stay with me?”

  “Yes,” the Reverend Mother said, “for a time.”

  Megan could do nothing more than agree, and in what seemed like only a second later, Bracken entered the room. The Reverend Mother was seated at her desk, and Megan remained behind the desk as well. She learned nothing from Bracken’s expression; in fact, he barely spared her a glance, but his dress surprised her. She had never seen him so formally attired.

  His hose and trunks were a rich black, and his tunic was dark gray, but the sleeves had been slashed, laced, and lined with black satin. Beneath this lay an off-white shirt, richly embroidered in black, gray, and pink. Bracken’s hair and beard were brushed smooth, but as elegant as he looked, Megan still found his presence too authoritative for her comfort.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Reverend Mother,” Bracken began as he took a seat.

  “It is my pleasure, Lord Bracken. As you can see, Megan is doing well.”

  Bracken’s gaze flicked to her with a feigned lack of interest and then back to the sister. “I have come some distance, Reverend Mother, and I hope we will be able to come to terms.”

  “I understand your meaning, Lord Bracken, but I do not stand in the way of Megan’s joining you. However, I am not her father and cannot and will not force her to go where she does not wish.”

  “It is to Megan that I must speak then?”

  “Yes.”

  Bracken still did not look at Megan. She wasn’t offended by this treatment; she knew she’d brought it upon herself. Bracken thought she had acted like a child and was treating her as such.

  However, she was not going to return with him. She seriously doubted if even her father could make her do so. She knew it was not right to disobey her father, but she was so desperate right then that she wasn’t thinking as she should.

  “May I have a private audience with Megan?”

  The wise Reverend Mother was not surprised by the question, but neither did she think she should give in too easily. If her guess was right, and it normally was, Bracken had been taking Megan for granted, assuming she would always be there and do as she was told. She would never have said such a thing to Megan, but the older woman thought this running away incident might open Lord Bracken’s eyes to a few truths.

  “Yes, you may see Megan alone,” she stated after a long pause.

  Bracken did not miss the way Megan’s alarmed eyes swung to the Reverend Mother, but he still did not look at her.

  “I will leave you now and return shortly. Megan will be safe in your care?”

  Bracken nodded. Under the elderly nun’s gaze he felt much like a young vassal rather than a knight of many years. He stood as the nun made her stately way to the door. He waited until the portal closed before turning back to Megan. Again she could read nothing from his face as he took in her attire. She’d had little choice but to don a habit, wimple and all. Bracken thought it made her look like an angel, but he knew better.

  “Your clothing does not fool me, Megan,” he said calmly. “I know what manner of woman stands beneath.”

  Her chin rose. “You do not know me at all.”

  “I know that you are willful and foolish.” Angry emotion was now evident in Bracken’s voice; indeed, in his very being.

  “You know nothing but your anger,” she told him. “And since I am no better with my own ire, I think we would do nothing more than make each other miserable. That, along with your lack of conscience, and I fear to say I want nothing to do with you.” The last word was spat. There was such loathing in her voice that Bracken immediately calmed and said what he should have said days ago.

  “Since the day I stood over your father’s men in the forest and looked upon that useless waste of life, my men have been inquiring.”

  Megan blinked at this change in subject but did not speak.

  “It was reported to me that men, strangers to the area and traveling with extra horses, had visited Black Francesca. In an effort to vindicate the lives lost while making a noble attempt to bring you to Hawkings Crest, I went to her myself to ask whether she had seen such men.”

  Megan was so crushed she could have cried. All this time she had thought the worst of him.

  “Why did you not tell me?” she whispered, pain written all over her face.

  Bracken sighed. “It was wrong of me, Megan, but you were just as wrong to accuse me without knowing the facts. I do take this arrangement seriously and it angered me to think that you see me in such a light.”

  “I am sorry, Bracken,” Megan told him in sincere repentance.

  “As am I,” he answered.

  “But it changes nothing,” Megan went on, her voice so reconciled that it caused Bracken’s heart to sink with dread, since he was most determined to take her back.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that my father wanted me at Hawki
ngs Crest to give us time to know each other. I think you would be forced to agree that it was sufficient time to see it would never work between us.”

  “And what of the king’s order?” Whenever he wanted to put all arguments aside, he always fell back on this.

  “I will ask my father to speak with Henry and hope that he can be reasoned with. I’m sure you’ll agree, Bracken, that both of us would be miserable.”

  But I wouldn’t be miserable, Bracken reasoned to himself, if only we could continue to talk as we are now.

  Unfortunately, it did not occur to Bracken to share his thoughts. As usual he resorted to force.

  “You may ask your father to speak with Henry but I will ask him not to.”

  Megan’s anger immediately rose to the surface. He hadn’t heard a word she said. “He’ll never listen to you.”

  Bracken shook his head, mocking her slightly. “We will be married, Megan. When will you come to accept the inevitable?”

  “Never,” she nearly hissed. “You can force me to return, but I will fly from you again, make no mistake.”

  I hear your dove has flown. The conversation with Stephen came so swiftly to Bracken’s mind that the air left him in a rush.

  She is a red hawk, with talons to gouge a man.

  But, Bracken, you won’t win her heart with those words.

  Bracken suddenly moved around the desk. He approached Megan so abruptly that she jumped and backed into the wall. Bracken would have given much to have Stephen’s help right then, but he would have to try this on his own.

  “I am most determined to have you as my wife, Megan,” the big man admitted, his voice resolute but also very soft.

  In her surprise, Megan could only stare at him.

  “I am even willing to take you by force, and my men are aware of this. An army of 1000 nuns could not stop me, let alone the few dozen from this abbey.”

  Anger over his temerity covered Megan’s face, but Bracken totally disarmed her with his next words.

  “Come back to me, my dove. Come back to Hawkings Crest where you belong.”

  Bracken found the change in her miraculous. Her eyes softened, and her lovely mouth opened with surprise and pleasure just before her eyes slid shut with the weight of her decision.

  Megan’s eyes had no more closed when they flew open at the pressure of Bracken’s lips on her own. It was a fleeting kiss, but gently given, and it stunned Megan beyond words.

  “Come, my little Megan, come back to me,” Bracken whispered. Her heart turned over.

  “We will quarrel,” she tried one last time, but her voice held no conviction.

  “Then we will work it out.” Bracken’s heart pounded as he silently begged her to say yes. When still she hesitated, he was once again tempted to order her but somehow held his tongue. When he thought he could stand it no more and was indeed on the verge of commanding her, she spoke.

  “A1l right. I’ll return with you.”

  Bracken only nodded, afraid to say anything or to let emotion show on his face for fear of destroying her rather hesitant consent. Thankfully, the Reverend Mother arrived just after that.

  “Megan will return with me,” Bracken told her without preamble, and his opinion of her lifted when she did not look to Megan for confirmation.

  “Very well. It is late in the day now. Will you please consider letting Megan stay with us until morning?”

  It was clearly not what Bracken wanted to hear. “The ride is long; I would wish to begin now.”

  “I understand, but you will have Megan for years. We would beg her company for only one more day.”

  Bracken hesitated, and Megan chimed in.

  “I will stay.”

  Bracken’s eyes swung to her and found an angry frown on her face for his even daring to hesitate in agreeing to the nun’s request. He knew he was going to have to acquiesce on this, but he was not happy about it. As Megan went off with the Reverend Mother, it occurred to him that he had literally talked Megan into returning with him. His only hope at this point was that she would not make him pay for it for the rest of his life.

  “I did not explain myself, Megan,” the Reverend Mother spoke as soon as they were in the corridor, “for fear that you would not stay and later be disappointed, but Father Brent is here. I knew you would wish to see him.”

  Tears sprang to Megan’s eyes, and she hugged the elderly nun.

  “Thank you, Reverend Mother. In truth, I do not think Bracken would have understood.”

  The Reverend Mother stopped abruptly on the path to the chapel, her look serious as she eyed this young woman who was like a daughter to her.

  “You must not bait him, Megan. It is a mistake to constantly bludgeon a man’s pride.”

  Megan was surprised at the vehemency in the nun’s voice. It gave her pause for more reasons than her tone; her words rang true. Megan did pummel Bracken’s pride on a regular basis. Not until that very instant did she think how he might feel to have everyone at Hawkings Crest know she had run from him.

  And now today, before the Reverend Mother could even reason with him, Megan had spoken up and said she was staying until the morrow no matter what. Megan’s conscience pricked her, but only for an instant. Father Brent was here, and she was going to see him.

  “What of Megan? You saw her?” Stephen wished to know as he sat across the table from Bracken in the common room of the pub.

  “Yes. She is well, but the Reverend Mother has asked that she stay until tomorrow. We will leave at first light.”

  Stephen nodded. “So it is to be a willing departure.”

  Bracken shrugged. “In truth, I can answer that only when the time comes. I do not feel the Reverend Mother would deal falsely with me, but I wouldn’t put it past Megan to try something.”

  “So she was not pleased to see you?”

  “No,” Bracken admitted, and Stephen knew the first stirrings of anger toward Megan. Did she not realize how much Bracken cared? Didn’t she care that he had better things to do than chase her across the countryside, sick with fear for her safety?

  When he thought about the way she’d been plunged into this affair, the anger dissolved. It was typical of Henry to use his subjects as political pawns, but it was most unfortunate that Megan had not lost her heart as swiftly as Bracken had. However, Stephen was not pessimistic. He knew that if Megan would only give Bracken a chance, she would find him a man who, although he didn’t know flowery words, would indeed cherish her for all his life.

  Sixteen

  “HOW ARE YOU, MY CHILD?”

  “Oh, Father Brent,” Megan spoke with tears in her eyes, “I’ve missed you.”

  The old man gently touched the top of her head, his heart turning over with love for this girl. He remembered her so clearly at 10, angry and rebellious, and then at 14, kneeling to pray for the first time.

  “I’ve missed you too.”

  “Have you been well?” Megan asked.

  “I am as well as an old man can expect to be,” he told her with a smile. Megan smiled in return.

  “I am only here until the morning.”

  Father Brent knew all about this and only nodded. “Then I’m glad the Lord saw fit to put us together before you depart.”

  “Are you ever near Hawkings Crest, Father Brent?” Megan asked anxiously.

  “It is far for these old legs, child, but please believe that if ever I am in the area I will stop there.”

  “I hope to see you.”

  “The Reverend Mother tells me you are to marry.”

  “Yes.” Megan’s eyes clouded.

  “What is it, child? What is wrong?”

  “It is not what I wish.”

  Father Brent had figured as much by her reaction. “Through the centuries many have married for love, Megan, but probably just as many married for political gain. How does your betrothed feel?”

  Megan’s face now flushed with anger, remembering the way he tried to rush her away. “He seems content enough wit
h the arrangement. If only he would protest, Father might try to reason with King Henry on our behalf.”

  “But you say he seems pleased with the order?”

  “Yes.” Megan nearly choked on the word.

  “If that is the case, can you not give him a chance, child?” Father Brent asked gently, but Megan’s face was still set with outrage.

  “It’s not that easy,” she burst out, already sorry she had agreed to return and at the same time confused about the pleasure of Bracken’s kiss. In the next few minutes she told the old priest everything. She did not spare herself or Bracken but told all she could recall of that which had transpired in the last weeks.

  “And now you’re going to tell me,” Megan concluded, her voice resigned, “that if I don’t make peace with Bracken I’m going to be miserable.”

  “No,” Father Brent said. “I’m not going to say that. This anger you feel—this anger that rides so close beneath the surface that it comes out at a moment’s notice, this anger that you say is directed at your mother and Lord Bracken—is not toward them at all.”

  “Of course it is,” Megan argued, but Father Brent would not let her continue.

  “Is God sovereign, Megan?”

  “Sovereign?” she stumbled over the word.

  “The supreme ruler, in absolute, unlimited control of everything at all times,” he explained.

  “Certainly,” Megan answered as soon as she understood. “He is God.”

  “So whose will is it that King Henry has sent this decree?”

  Megan looked at him but didn’t answer.

  “And whose will was it, hard as it was, that your mother sent you ahead of schedule? God is in control, Megan, and has been all along. The anger that you feel toward all of these people and circumstances is actually directed at your heavenly Father.”