Briana

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  "My mother has a lovely garden at Ballinarin. She's especially proud

  of her roses. They're considered some of the finest in all of Ireland.

  Villagers come from all around to admire them. And though she has

  several gardeners, she prefers to tend the roses herself."

  She suddenly laughed, remembering an incident from her childhood.

  "Once, when I was a wee lass, I snipped off all the blooms from my

  mother's roses, then proudly raced inside and presented her with my

  lovely gift."

  Keane chuckled. "If I had committed such an offense as a lad, I would

  have tasted the rod. What was the reaction of your parents?"

  She smiled. "As you can imagine, my father was horrified. He

  pounded his fist on the table, and I fully expected that I'd be avoiding

  anything that required sitting down for many days to come. But

  before he could exact punishment for my crime, my mother clapped

  her hands and laughed and said it was the nicest present she'd ever

  been given. And she gathered all the blooms into her apron and

  carried them outside to the fountain, scattering them into the waters

  of the pool."

  ' 'For what purpose?'

  Briana shook her head. "At the time, I hadn't the vaguest idea. I just

  thought all those pretty blossoms looked so perfect, floating in the

  water." She smiled, remembering. "That night, when I was supposed

  to be asleep, I heard laughter from outside. I crept to my balcony,

  where I saw my father and mother seated in the pool, sipping from

  goblets and whispering words that were unintelligible from such a

  distance. But I fell asleep with the sound of their laughter still ringing

  in my ears."

  The image her story had painted in his mind had him looking at her

  with a bemused expression. "What an amazing family yours must be.

  It sounds as though your parents actually enjoy one another."

  "Of course they do. Why are you surprised by that?"

  He shrugged. "I suppose because I have observed so few husbands

  and wives who are truly happy with their state in life."

  "Theirs is a great love, despite their differences in personality and

  temperament." Briana's voice softened. "All who see Gavin and

  Moira O'Neil marvel at the love for one another which shines in their

  eyes."

  Without thinking he linked his fingers with hers and studied her small

  hand. "Did you ever pick your mother's roses again?"

  She laughed, to cover the little tremor that raced along her spine at the

  touch of his hand on hers. "Nay. But there were so many other

  offenses committed, I often couldn't sit down for days at a time."

  "You, lass?"

  She grinned. "From the day I was born, I have been the bane of my

  father's existence. He wanted me to emulate my mother. To be sweet

  and silent, and..." She wrinkled her nose, "...subservient. And all I

  wanted was the freedom my brothers take for granted."

  "Such as?"

  "The freedom to ride a horse bareback, without thought to modestly

  covering my legs. The freedom to wield a weapon. The freedom to

  swim in the river with my brothers and Innis."

  He glanced down at their linked fingers. "Perhaps what you see as

  freedom, they see as duty."

  "Then why must men's duties be so enjoyable, while women's duties

  are so confining?" She turned to him with a frown. "While my

  brothers were tumbling about in a meadow, I was expected to sit at

  my mother's knee and learn needlework. While they were swimming

  on a summer's day, I was assisting my mother in birthing a villager's

  babe. And while they were hunting, I was kneeling in prayer at chapel

  with my mother and Friar Malone."

  He felt a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, but he managed to keep

  his tone even. "It does sound as though your brothers were having a

  great deal more fun at their chores than you, lass."

  "Aye. It's why I constantly ran away and joined them. For which I

  always paid. And paid dearly."

  ' And did you never learn the virtue of obedience?'

  ' Not according to my father. He called me his foolish, headstrong

  female. But, as comfort, my mother used to say it is up to the young to

  make foolish mistakes, so that their elders can cluck their tongues and

  feel superior."

  Keane's voice lowered. "If it is any consolation, Briana, I've also

  made my elders feel very superior indeed."

  He seemed about to say more when he caught sight of Vinson

  hurrying along the garden path. Briana swallowed back her

  disappointment. She'd felt certain that he'd been about to discuss his

  own childhood.

  "My lord." The old man came to a halt when he drew near. "Have you

  forgotten your meeting with the village elders?"

  Keane looked thunderstruck. His time spent with his loy.ely

  companion had wiped every other thought from his mind.

  "Your horse is saddled, my lord. Your valise is packed."

  -Thank you, Vinson. You'll see the lass back to the house?"

  "Aye, my lord."

  Keane turned to Briana and lifted her hand to his lips. "Forgive me,

  my lady. In your pleasant company, I'd forgotten the time."

  As he brushed his lips over her knuckles, he felt the jolt to his heart.

  "I must be gone for several days, to oversee my estate. If you need

  anything at all, you need only ask Vinson and he will see to it."

  "You are most kind."

  He continued to hold her hand between both of his. Then, seeing

  Vinson watching, he lowered her hand and turned away.

  Chapter Seven

  Keane wiped a sleeve across his forehead and urged his mount up a

  wooded hill. As he started down the other side, he could see below

  him the village of Car- rick. It spread out, the valley green and lush,

  the huts and farmhouses clean, if less than prosperous. As he passed

  through the fields he noted the flocks and herds, wishing they looked

  a bit more healthy. The village cemetery caught his eye, and he noted

  the fresh graves. So many. Too many.

  An occasional villager would look up as he rode past. And though the

  men doffed their hats out of respect and the women nodded, there was

  no real display of affection. As he had noted everywhere he rode, his

  reputation had preceded him. Not that he minded. He'd learned to

  deal with it as he'd dealt with everything unpleasant in his life. He put

  it aside and moved on. And if, in some small part of his mind, he felt

  a twinge of pain, it mattered not. Pain, he'd learned, was to be

  endured. As life was to be endured.

  The long, winding path to Carrick House snaked through a delightful

  stretch of woods that was cool and green, with moss-covered timbers

  and shrubs taking root in every available space. When horse and rider

  emerged from the woods, Keane caught his first glimpse of the

  silver-gray facade of Carrick House. For a moment his heart stirred in

  his chest. Odd. He hadn't felt that way in such a long time. In fact,

  he'd been a young lad the last time he'd felt anything at all for his

  boyhood home. It was just as well. He wanted, needed, no

  attachments. It would make it all the less difficult to lea
ve, when his

  business here was concluded.

  His horse splashed gratefully through an age-old lily pond, pausing a

  moment to drink. Then, sensing an end to the journey, exited on the

  far shore and started across the meadow that led to the stables.

  Keane was as eager as his stallion to be home. The journey around his

  property had stretched into more than a week. A week of crude

  taverns and inns, where the food and ale had been barely tolerable,

  and the people only slightly more so.

  He handed his horse over to the stable lad, and made his way to the

  house.

  "Welcome home, my lord." Vinson accepted Keane's cloak and hung

  it on a hook before trailing him upstairs to Keane's room. "Gone a bit

  longer than you'd planned, my lord."

  "Aye." Keane waited while his butler poured him a glass of ale to

  wash away the dust of the road. ' 'Most of the meetings with the

  village elders didn't last very long after they learned that I had no

  intention of throwing good money after bad."

  "They want money, my lord?" Vinson handed him the goblet, then

  took a poker to the smoldering log on the fire.

  ' 'To buy arms to be used against the English. I told them there isn't

  enough money in all of Ireland to defeat the English."

  "You said that, my lord?"

  Keane nodded. "But the meetings the last day or so went much better.

  Probably because I remembered to compliment the village elders on

  the fine job they've done with the fields in my absence."

  Vinson turned. "You did that, my lord?"

  "Aye." Keane smiled at the look of pride on the old man's face.

  Vinson had been his first tutor. And, at times, throughout his lonely

  childhood, his only friend. "I might not have thought of it earlier. But

  since the arrival of Briana O'Neil, I've been reminded how fortunate I

  am to have all this. I find her humble gratitude refreshing. Don't you,

  Vinson?"

  "Oh, aye, my lord. Most refreshing."

  "What has she done in my absence?"

  "You'll be pleased to know that she grows stronger with each day.

  She can take the stairs without help. Fairly flies along the halls. Has

  been known to race from room to room searching for Cora or one of

  the other servants. And her appetite seems to be improving. In fact,

  she has begun taking her midday meal in the kitchens, with the staff."

  Keane's hand paused in midair. "In the kitchens? Why?"

  "I don't know, my lord. She asked Cora where she ate, then offered to

  join her. I think she just likes to be around people."

  Keane sipped, thought. "Was the household staff put off by her

  presence?'

  "Put off, my lord?" Vinson shook his head. "Not at all. Everyone

  enjoys the lass's company. She's quite delightful."

  Delightful. The perfect description of Briana O'Neil. "Do you join

  them as well, Vinson?"

  ' 'Aye, my lord. The first day, I was passing through and heard the

  laughter and decided to join the others. After that, it became a bit

  more routine."

  "I see." Keane stared at the amber liquid in his glass. "What else has

  she done in my absence?"

  ' 'Chatted up Fleming, the gardener, a good bit, my lord. Puttered with

  the roses, with his help, of course. She walked to the stables and

  asked to ride, but Monroe, the stable master refused until he first

  learned how you feel about it."

  "Do you think she's strong enough, Vinson?"

  The old man shrugged. "It's hard to say, my lord. She seems filled

  with energy. Still, Mistress Malloy has insisted that the lass rest every

  afternoon. We thought it best to wait until you return, and you can

  decide what's best for our lass."

  Keane noted the use of the term our lass. When had Briana O'Neil

  ceased being a guest, and become an accepted part of the household?

  "Where is she now?"

  "The last I saw her, she was going up the stairs. Probably to bathe.

  She's put in quite a day. Perhaps a bit taxing for one still recovering

  from such serious wounds. But the lass has spirit. It's her saving

  grace." He moved to the wardrobe and began laying out fresh clothes.

  "Will I tell Mistress Malloy to prepare a late supper?"

  "Aye. And you might ask if Miss O'Neil would care to join me."

  Keane was already setting aside his glass as he strolled toward the

  basin of water. Not that he was eager to see her. But it was nice

  knowing he had someone to talk to after his long absence. "Tell her

  I'll be in the library."

  As the old man turned away Keane called, "And Vinson."

  "Aye, my lord?"

  "There's a cask of wine from our French vineyards in the cellar. Have

  one of the servants open it for you."

  "I thought you'd told me you were saving that for a special occasion."

  "I was." His smile was quick. And dangerous. "I've just decided to

  make tonight special."

  "French wine." Mistress Malloy sniffed and darted a look at Vinson

  while the cask was being tapped. "Our lass isn't much for drinking."

  "A bit of wine won't hurt." Vinson filled a crystal decanter, then

  corked the cask.

  "How can you be certain?"

  He added two sparkling crystal goblets, then lifted the silver tray and

  headed for the door. "Because I'll drop by the library often enough to

  keep an eye on things."

  When he walked away, the housekeeper returned to her duties. She'd

  been able to let down her guard with her lord away all week. Now

  she'd have to get back to the tiresome task of trying to keep one step

  ahead of him. A man with a reputation like Lord Alcott's required

  considerable watching around an innocent like the lass. She shivered

  just thinking about all the scandals. Drink and women and cards and

  all manner of unmentionable behavior. There probably wasn't much

  Keane O'Mara had missed in his youth. But now that she and the

  others had tossed their young lass into the lion's den, they had a duty

  to see that she wasn't devoured before she had a chance to tame him.

  "Oh, Cora." Briana stood on a little stool in the middle of the room,

  while the servant finished turning up the hem of her latest gown. This

  one was the color of heather, with a softly rounded neckline edged in

  lace. Catching sight of her reflection in the looking glass, her voice

  was tinged with awe. "This gown is..."

  "...much too big." Mistress Malloy paused in the doorway, with an

  armload of fresh linen. She felt a little twist of fear. The lass looked

  far too fetching. What man could resist such a vision?

  "Too big?" Cora stopped her work and got to her feet.

  "Aye. Look here." The housekeeper crossed the room and deposited

  the linens on the bed before turning to Briana. "This neckline is too

  low. Why, I can see...too much of the lass's flesh. And this fabric is

  much too soft. Look how it clings to her body."

  Cora considered. "It's too late to change it now. I could add a shawl."

  "Aye." Mistress Malloy nodded vigorously. "A shawl would help."

  But she knew it was pointless. Nothing short of a nun's habit would

  hide the lass's beauty. Not that they wanted to hide her. But th
ey did

  have an obligation to keep her virtue intact. Given Lord Alcott's

  appetite, they were playing a dangerous game. And with an innocent

  who had not a clue.

  "Is this better?" Cora picked up a soft white shawl that might have

  been spun from angel hair, and draped it over Briana's shoulders.

  "Aye. Some." The housekeeper studied her with a critical eye. Even

  with the hair cut shockingly short, Briana O'Neil was a striking lass.

  A man would have to be blind not to notice her beauty. And Lord

  Alcott was far from blind where pretty women were concerned.

  They looked up at a knock on the door. When Mistress Malloy

  opened it, Vinson was waiting.

  "I've come to fetch the lass. Is she ready?"

  "Aye." The housekeeper turned. "Come, lass. The lord is waiting."

  As Briana crossed the room, the butler and housekeeper exchanged a

  look.

  The old man cleared his throat. "You look...splendid, lass."

  "Thank you, Vinson."

  As they started along the hall he noted that she was no longer leaning

  on his arm. He thought wistfully, for just a moment or two, how much

  he missed it.

  "How is Keane? Did he talk to you about his journey? Was he glad to

  be home?"

  "Aye, to everything." So many questions. It was quite plain that she

  could barely contain her excitement. "The lord is fine, lass. He said

  little about his journey, though I'm sure he'll have more to say when

  the two of you are together. And he seemed most happy to be home."

  She, danced along beside him, smiling broadly. "Did you tell him that

  I'm feeling much stronger?"

  "Aye, lass. I told him."

  "What did he say?"

  "He said he'd see for himself soon enough."

  "Do you think he'll allow me to ride?"

  "I don't see why not. But you must be patient, lass."

  "Patient." She gave a little hiss as they reached the door to the library.

  Vinson knocked, opened the door, and called, ' 'My lord, Miss O'Neil

  is here."

  Keane stepped away from his desk and watched as she stepped into

  the room, looking like a vision with her cap of red curls dancing

  around cheeks that were bright with color. He'd been actually pacing

  the room in anticipation.

  "Welcome home, Keane." With no trace of her earlier weakness, she

  hurried forward, her hands outstretched.

  "Thank you." He took her hands in his, and was caught off guard by