As if from a great distance she could hear Keane's voice, shouting,
swearing fiercely. And then rough hands closed around her, lifting
her, holding her.
Just before she slipped into unconsciousness, the hands gentled. She
was being cradled against her father's chest. He was rocking her, and
weeping, and murmuring words that were oddly soothing. But the
voice didn't belong to her father. It was another's voice. Low. Deep.
Tortured.
His name, his face, were lost somewhere in the blackness that had
stolen everything from her mind. Everything but the pain.
"How is she, Mistress Malloy?"
Keane was beside himself. The sight of Briana, so still, so quiet in the
bed, was almost worse than the bloody, broken figure he'd carried
home.
His clothes still bore the stains of her blood. He'd refused to change.
Had refused to even leave her side since he'd stumbled, dazed and
trembling, into Carrick House. He'd carried her up the stairs, while
the housekeeper shouted orders to the servants to fetch water, towels,
opiates and ointments.
They'd had to work around him, since he had insisted upon remaining
by the bedside, his hand constantly stroking her brow whenever she
moaned, or squeezing her hand when she slipped back into
unconsciousness.
"She has sustained several deep cuts and her poor body is badly
bruised. But none of those things is too serious, my lord. Still, I can't
revive her. It appears she's hit her head, as well. There's quite a big
lump there. It could be nothing or it could be..." She saw the hot,
fierce look that came into his eyes and let the words trail off.
She glanced helplessly at Vinson, who stood to one side, watching in
silence.
The old man approached and said softly, "You can do nothing for the
lass, my lord. Perhaps you should see to yourself now. You might
want to take the time to wash away that blood and change into a clean
tunic."
Keane ignored him and knelt on the floor beside the bed. Keeping one
hand holding tightly to Briana's, he lifted his other hand to smooth the
hair from her forehead.
The housekeeper and butler exchanged silent looks. Then, signalling
for the servants to leave, they set about stoking a fire in the lass's
chambers, and seeing that all her bloody clothes were removed from
the lord's sight.
When they exited the room, Keane was still kneeling beside the bed,
murmuring words to the woman who lay ominously silent and
unmoving.
"My lord." Vinson entered Briana's chambers, bearing a tray on
which rested a decanter and goblet. "Since you've taken no
sustenance, I thought a bit of ale might revive you."
"Thank you, Vinson." Keane never took his eyes off Briana as the old
man poured, then pressed a goblet into his hand.
"Has she moved, my lord?"
"Nay." There was a world of pain in that single word. "Neither
moved, nor sighed, nor given any sign that she even knows I am here.
This is all my fault, Vinson."
"Now why do you say that, my lord?" The old man set the tray on a
table and came to stand beside the bed. "The lass ignored the stable
master's warning, and took off at a reckless pace. We've all known,
since she first began to mend, that our lass is more than a bit
headstrong. In the past few days she's been tearing around the castle
like a little whirlwind."
"Aye. That's just it. We've all seen that she was mending nicely. I
knew it. But I made no move to send her home to Ballinarin. I
selfishly wanted to keep her here with me a while longer." Forever, if
truth be told.
"But you couldn't have known the lass would do something like this.
There was no way to prevent this accident."
"Nay." He shook his head. "But I'd rather die than see her harmed."
Keane's eyes were so bleak, they tore at the old man's heart. "Oh,
Vinson, I feel so helpless. What can I do?"
"When all else fails, my lord, one can sometimes find solace in
prayer."
"Of all people, I have no right to petition heaven. Not after what I've
done in my life."
The old man cleared his throat. "If you don't mind my saying, my
lord, the prayers might be even more acceptable, coming from you.
It's said that heaven looks most kindly on a reformed sinner."
When the door closed behind him, Keane sank to his knees beside the
bed, his lips moving in silent prayer.
Chapter Ten
Briana was crawling through a long, dark tunnel. With each forward
movement, there was tremendous pain. Whenever she slipped back
into the darkness, the pain would ease. But, though it seemed easier to
surrender to the darkness and forego the pain, she sensed that she
needed to keep crawling toward the light. She was exhausted, but
knew she couldn't stop. There was something, or someone, waiting
just beyond. Someone worth whatever pain it would take.
Aye. Someone. She couldn't recall his name. But she could see his
face. A darkly handsome man. Her angel.
After one last tremendous effort, she surfaced, and lay, breathing
heavily, bathed in sweat.
She felt something soft against her hand. When she could focus, she
saw that he was here with her, kneeling beside the bed, his head
bowed as if in prayer. A single candle burned on the night table,
casting his face in light and shadow. Her dark angel. Handsome.
Mysterious.
She brushed a hand over his hair, as if to soothe.
At once he lifted his head and stared at her. When he managed to find
his voice he whispered, "Briana. Oh, lass. You've come back to me."
"I feared I'd dreamed you. But I didn't, did I? You're real. And here
with me." She touched a hand to the growth of hair that covered his
cheeks and chin. His eyes, she noted, were red-rimmed and
bloodshot. "I thought I heard you calling me."
"I was. Summoning you from that netherworld that held you in its
grip."
"How long have I been there?"
"Two days and nights. I'd feared you would never return."
She struggled to sort through the bits and pieces of memory. "I took a
horse. 1 wanted to ride with you. Oh." She clapped a hand to her
mouth, seeing in her mind the pile of stones, the horse leaping, and
then feeling herself falling. ' 'There was something I needed to tell
you. Something..." She struggled to hold on to the thought, but it
drifted just out of her grasp, like a wisp of fog.
She sighed. "Father always said I was too reckless."
"It doesn't matter now, lass. Nothing matters now that you're back
with me."
"Aye. But from the looks of you, I've put you through a terrible time."
"I'd go through hell and back for you, Briana O'Neil." And had.
Though she'd never know it. He'd bargained with heaven, promising
his fortune, his health, his very life, in exchange for hers. He would
have bargained his soul, as well, except that he'd already sold it to the
devil years before. "Do you need anything for pain?"
She nodded, and felt her head swim at that s
mall movement. "I'll take
all you have."
He jumped up and returned moments later to hold a glass to her lips.
She sipped, moaned at the pain it caused, then emptied the glass.
"Will you sleep now, lass?"
"Aye. And from the looks of you, you'd better do the same."
Instead of leaving, he crawled in beside her and wrapped his arms
around her, cradling her to his chest. And was asleep instantly.
"It is a miracle."
Mistress Malloy was holding forth in the kitchens. All the servants
had gathered around to hear the tale again.
"Two days and two nights without a movement. But Lord Alcott
wouldn't give up, even when the rest of us had. He'd even resorted to
prayer, according to Cora, who saw him more than once on his knees.
It was Vinson who found him, curled up beside her. The two of them
sleeping as soundly as babes, they were. Lord Alcott hasn't stopped
smiling since. I tell you, he's a changed man."
The others were nodding in agreement.
One of the servants bobbed her head. "He sent me to the village to
invite Friar Murphy to make use of the chapel here on the grounds of
the keep." She laughed. "It was the first time I've ever seen the old
priest struck speechless. But he seemed pleased with the invitation
and said he would agree to meet with Lord Alcott."
Fleming, the gardener, chimed in. "I saw Lord Alcott cutting roses in
the garden. I offered to help him, but he merely asked which ones
were the lass's favorites, then cut them himself. He said he wanted to
brighten her chambers."
"That's nothing," Cora added. "He won't let me do a thing for our lass.
He insists on feeding her himself, cutting her meat, lifting a spoonful
of broth to her lips. He helps her to sit up, to lie down. If it were left
up to Lord Alcott, our lass would never again lift a hand for herself."
"All right now." Vinson, overhearing their remarks, strode into their
midst. "Is no one seeing to the chores around here anymore?"
The crowd of servants scattered.
When they were alone, Mistress Malloy dusted an imaginary spot
with the hem of her apron. "What do you make of it, Vinson?"
He shrugged. "I think we have what we wished for. Now we'd better
hope it's good. For us and, more importantly, for the lass. For it's
surely done a world of good for Lord Alcott."
"What are you doing?" Briana's lids fluttered, and she saw someone
at the window, drawing the draperies against the afternoon sunlight.
Keane turned. "I didn't want anything to disturb your sleep."
"Oh. Nay. Open them wide. I want to see the sunshine."
He started toward her. "But you should be sleeping."
"If you had your way, I'd sleep away my life."
He sat on the edge of her bed, studying her carefully. "Mistress
Malloy says sleep is healing."
"Then we'll send Mistress Malloy off to her bed.
But I want to see the sun, Keane. And I want to leave this bed."
He caught her hands in his, lifting each of them to his lips. "Then you
shall have your wish."
She felt dizzy with heat at the touch of his lips. And knew, from the
way his eyes narrowed, that he felt it as well. But just when she
thought he might draw her into his arms and kiss her lips, he suddenly
pushed himself away from her.
He crossed the room and tore open the draperies, allowing sunshine
to spill into the room. Then he returned to her side and said, "Shall I
carry you to the window?"
"Can't I walk?"
"Not yet. But I'll carry you if you wish."
"Oh, yes. Please." She was hungry for the touch of him.
She tossed aside the bed linens, and he lifted her in his arms, cradling
her against his chest. It was the most natural thing in the world to
wrap her arms around his neck as he carried her to the window.
"You still weigh little more than a bird. I worry that you're so thin."
"Stop worrying." She traced a fingertip over the little furrow between
his brows. "You worry far too much about me. Besides, if Mistress
Malloy has her way, I'll soon be as round as an old sow."
"I'd not worry about that," he muttered, and turned away to avoid her
touch. For there was a fire building inside him. A fire he was
determined to put out before it could flame any higher.
He had, after all, bargained with heaven. And he'd been granted his
miracle. Now it was up to him to keep his part of it.They stared down
at the rolling green hills and colorful valleys of Carrick.
"You've such a lovely home, Keane."
He turned his head so that their lips were almost brushing. "I've just
begun to appreciate it, thanks to you."
She saw his gaze drop to her mouth and felt a thrill of anticipation.
Her arms tightened around his neck, and her eyes closed as she waited
for his kiss.
Keane tore his gaze from her and looked toward the window, willing
himself to be strong enough to resist what she seemed so eager to
give.
"My lord." Cora skidded to a halt in the doorway.
Briana's eyes snapped open. She nearly groaned in frustration.
"What is it?" Keane turned slightly.
"Mistress Malloy wants to know if our lass will be taking her meal
below stairs with you."
"Certainly not."
"Oh, please, Keane," Briana whispered. "I do so want to leave this
room."
"I'll not have you risking your health."
"How can it hurt?"
"You could take a chill. Or tax your strength."
"I won't, Keane. I promise I'll tell you the moment I'm feeling chilled
or weary."
He "knew it was impossible to deny her. Still, he tried to consider
every argument for keeping her here to himself. Safe. All he wanted,
all he cared about now, was that she be kept safe. Still, how could he
dismiss the pleading in her eyes?
At length he turned to the servant. "Aye, Cora. Tell Mistress Malloy
that the lass will join me for a midday meal in the library. And after
you've told her, find a suitable robe so your mistress doesn't catch a
chill."
"Aye, my lord." With a delighted laugh, the servant raced off to
inform the housekeeper. It was good news indeed. For it meant that
Briana O'Neil had taken another step back from that dark place they
had all feared.
"A little more broth, lass?"
Briana shook her head. "It was most tasty, Mistress Malloy. But I
couldn't manage another sip."
"Perhaps a sip of wine then? It's said to stimulate the appetite."
"I couldn't. But thank you."
"Tea, my lady?" a servant asked.
"Nay, thank you. No more." Briana glanced around the table. Besides
Keane, who sat beside her, there were half a dozen servants hovering,
eager to do her bidding. And Vinson, positioned by the door, looked
as though he'd turn somersaults in the air if she but asked.
"You must all stop this at once."
She could almost hear the astonished gasp from the assembled.
"Whatever do you mean, lass?" Keane placed a hand over hers.
"This...treating me like some helpless infant. I'm not ill. Or frail. I'm
&
nbsp; just a little weak from my fall."
"Of course you're weak." Keane patted her hand. "You were at death's
door, Briana. You frightened us half to death."
"That's just it. Now, you're doing the same to me. Frightening me
with all this attention. I need...to be treated as I was before."
Keane motioned to the servants, and they took two steps away from
the table. "All right, my lady. But you must promise me that you will
ask for help when you feel weak."
She gave him a bright smile. "Agreed." As she got to her feet, she felt
her head swim. She quickly gripped the edge of the table to keep from
falling.
At once the servants surged forward.
Keane scooped her into his arms, a frown darkening his brow. "Cora,
prepare the lass's bed."
As he strode from the room he muttered, "Now we'll do things my
way. And you'll not leave your bed again until I say you will."
"Please, Keane. You can't keep me confined to my room." Briana sat
in her bed, surrounded by plump pillows.
As he had every morning for a week, Keane himself carried in her
tray and proceeded to sprinkle sugar and cinnamon and sweet
thickened cream over a bowl of porridge. "Try this," he murmured in
his most persuasive tone. "I've embellished Mistress Malloy's
recipe."
He dipped the spoon into the confection, and lifted it to her mouth.
She tasted, swallowed, nodded her approval. "It's very good, Keane.
But porridge isn't enough. Even your excellent recipe. What I need is
fresh air. And sunshine. Please."
"One more bite, lass. And then I'll consider your request."
With a sigh she obliged him, taking a spoonful of porridge and
swallowing it down.
"Well?" She drew the single word out like a plea.
He couldn't hold back his smile any longer. "All right. I'll indulge
your request for sunshine and fresh air. Would you like to walk in the
garden?"
"You'll let me walk?" She was already tossing aside the bed linens
and swinging her legs to the floor when he caught her hand in his,
stilling her motions.
"A figure of speech. I'll do the walking. You'll be enjoying the
sunshine and fresh air in my arms. And then, if the air isn't too chilly,
on a bench."
"Keane." She nearly stomped her foot in frustration. "I'm not a child."
His eyes were warm with admiration as he looked her up and down.
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