by Lucy Gillen
CHAPTER TWO
'IT was sooner than she expected when Rowan met the landlord who had so aroused Sean Maxwell's ire. She s-ha.d been given the afternoon off on her second day in Bogmoor to give her an opportunity to see somegthing of the village, Mrs. O'Neil said, although there I, was little enough of it to see. . There was just the one street, narrow and dusty in the summer sun and still picturesque, despite Sean Maxwell's opinion. Small white stone cottages and a small shop and post office, looking like a collection of [toys. There were other dwellings in the vicinity, some more cottages and some larger houses, but they were dotted about over the landscape, tucked away behind green hills or beside the narrow road along which she -had arrived. She found the lush green countryside every bit as lovely as she had been led to expect and she enjoyed the novelty of complete quiet in contrast to the bustle ' and noise of town life to which she had been accustomed. There was a quiet stillness about it, broken, only by the songs of birds and somewhere the soft chuckle . of water. A river flowed around the foot of a hill, lost from view most often behind screening trees and 'bushes or a rise in the ground. ' Rowan had no particular destination in mind when "she set out, indeed she had no idea of the landscape at all and proposed just walking as her fancy took her. There were endless fields and sloping meadows where 'die grazing cattle merely cast her a brief glance of 21 bovine curiosity before deciding to ignore her, a fact which she recognised gratefully. It was almost by instinct that she headed for the distant river she had noticed and the walk across the meadows with frequent glimpses of the shining water encouraged her even when she began to realise that she had come further than she had initially intended. She stood at the brink of the clear, browny-tinged water which flowed only inches from her feet with a lush sweep of green hill behind her, hiding the way she had come. It was, she decided as she stood there, almost too good to be true and she offered silent thanks to old Abel Rigg, her godfather, for getting her there. 'Good afternoon.' Rowan spun round in wide-eyed surprise and met the steady gaze of a pair of grey eyes, cool and speculative as they surveyed her from the advantage of the hill. 'Good afternoon.' She felt suddenly rather small and insignificant standing there, like a schoolgirl caught stealing. 'I hope I'm not trespassing.' 'You are, as a matter of fact,' he told her, with a disconcerting lack of tact. 'You're English?' She nodded, as if answering an accusation. 'Yes I suppose I am.' Either her choice of phrase or her nervousness at being caught seemed to amuse him, for he smiled a tight-lipped effort that was scarcely encouraging, but nevertheless a smile. 'I don't think you have to apologise for anything,' he remarked, 'but I thought you couldn't be connected with any of the locals, you're too ' He used his hands to express his meaning and made it so lucid that Rowan flushed. He was tall, even without the advantage of the hill, and his hai-r was almost black, straight and thick above a face with rather uneven features. It was not a badas looking face. Rowan thought, but there was a certain hint of harshness and perhaps arrogance about it. He was quite heavily built too, broad-shouldered and strong-looking, altogether rather overpowering, and she felt again that slight tremor of guilt as she attempted to keep things in perspective. 'I'm staying with Mrs. O'Neil,' she said, feeling that perhaps introductions were in order. 'My name's Blair, Rowan Blair.' One dark brow arched in comment and Rowan waited for the almost inevitable reaction to her name. 'Rowan?' he remarked. 'Very unusual.' Whether it im-plied approval or not she could not decide, but there was one thing she was sure of, he was quite the most disconcerting man she had ever met, and she was undeniably curious about him. 'I'm sorry I trespassed,' she said, 'but I only arrived in Bogmoor yesterday and I'm not yet familiar with what belongs to whom.' He still eyed her with an expression that was half insolent, half flattering. "If you take it that ninety per cent of it belongs to me,' he told her, 'you won't go far wrong. I heard Laura O'Neil was expecting someone, a companion or something.' His rather scathing tone did not endear him to Rowan and she instinctively tilted her chin when she answered. 'You were well informed,' she said shortly. 'I hope to stay as Mrs. O'Neil's companion.' He arched that expressive brow again. 'Hmm. I'm Michael Doran.' 'Oh ' Rowan had never been very good at concealing her feelings and she knew he read them now with unerring accuracy. 'You've heard of me,' he said, not without irony. T expected you would before long, though they've wasted rlittle enough time. God knows.' There was an edge of 23 bitterness on his voice and Rowan wondered at it, surprised that the man she had heard described should care about opinions of him. 'Your name was mentioned in conversation,' Rowan told him, but did not add in what connectionthat he would know, she thought, since he was obviously aware of his reputation. 'Not very kindly, I'll bet,' he guessed, accurately again, then creased his rather striking face into a hundred tiny lines when he smiled at her. 'I'm the wicked lord of the manor. Miss Blair, and you'd do well to keep clear of me as you've no doubt been told already.' 'Something of the sort,' Rowan admitted frankly, 'but I prefer to make up my own mind about people, Mr. Doran.' She thought he looked mildly surprised at that, then his gaze went to her red-gold head and he smiled again. 'You're the kind of girl who always makes her own decisions,' he told her, 'I can see that. Stubborn and independent and not at all my idea of a lady's companion, Where did Laura O'Neil find youf He gave the impression that she might have been bought at a market. Rowan thought wildly his arrogance was quite breathtaking. 'Actually,' she explained with as much dignity as she could muster, 'Mrs. O'Neil is a friend of my godfather.' 'Oh, I see.' He nodded, as if his uncanny knack of guessing the right answers had already told him the truth of it. 'Well, I hope you're going to stay, you're very beautiful.' He looked at her enquiringly. 'You are going to stay, aren't you?' 'I hope so,' Rowan replied, feeling oddly at a loss now that she knew who he was. Sean Maxwell hated him and even Laura O'Neil, tolerant as she was, had been prepared to admit that he might have good cause, 24 although she had declared Doran charming. Charming he could be too. Rowan thought ruefully, probably dangerously so when he put his mind to it, and he was undoubtedly the type of man who used his charm to get his own way when all else failed. She glanced hastily at her watch and shook her head. ' I didn't realise I'd been gone so long,' she said, preparing to leave. 'I must go back or Mrs. O'Neil will think I've got myself lost.' She'll more likely think you've run foul of me ' Michael Doran told her, his grey eyes looking darkly amused at the idea. ' -Oh, of course she won't,' Rowan denied. -Although I dtd trespass on your land. I'm sorry, Mr. Doran I'll try not to let it happen again.' He eyed her steadily for a moment while she felt the colour flow swiftly into her cheeks under the scrutiny Come as often as you like,' he told her, 'only I'll tell McConnell you're exempt from his shotgun.' 'Shotgun!' Rowan looked startled. 'McConnell's my keeper,' he informed her. 'There's more poachers per square yard in Bogmoor than any other place in Ireland and he lets go with his shotgun if he -spots a trespasser. You're lucky I came across you before he did.' She had a vague idea he might be exaggerating the danger, but she looked around her warily, the tranqmhty of the scene taking on a more sinister air suddenly, especially when she thought of her walk back But but suppose he kills someone?' she ventured It s dangerous to just shoot at people indiscriminately IIK.C m.3.t Oh, he won't kill,' he declared matter-of-factly, 'just put the fear of God into them.' 'It's still not right,' Rowan declared firmly. 'Not shooting at people.' " 25 She saw the grey eyes darken at her criticism and his mouth tighten into a thin line. 'They have the solution in their own hands,' he told her shortly. 'Stay off my land.' 'I'll remember that,' Rowan retorted, her chin lifted defiantly, and he laughed, a short deep sound that startled her. 'I've told you, you're welcome to come whenever you want to,' he told her, 'I don't imagine you'll be doing any poaching, will you?' Rowan was silent for a moment, remembering Sean Maxwell's assertion that Michael Doran would not miss a pretty girl like her because he had an eye for them, and the memory only added to her discomfiture. 'I don't think I want to be exempt from your feudal laws, Mr. Doran, thank you,' she said, stiff with dign
ity and hating the way he watched her. He eyed her for a moment in silence, then shrugged. 'Suit yourself. I'll walk with you as far as the road,' he told her. 'You'll come to no harm then.' Rowan walked beside him up the lush green hill and across the meadows where the cattle grazed peacefully, scarcely noticing their progress. At the roadside he opened the gate for her and caught her unwares with a smile as she passed him, carefully closing the gate after her. 'You still have my permission to walk anywhere you like,' he told her as she turned to look at him before walking off down the road. 'I'll let McConnell know and you'll be safe enough, he can't fail to spot that red head of yours even at a hundred yards.' 'Thank you.' She felt horribly uneasy because she knew he was watching her walk away and she could picture the speculative arrogance of his expression without turning round. She was not quite sure how she had visualised a6 Michael Doran from what she had heard of him. Perhaps as some kind of monster, despite Mrs. O'Neil's description of him as charming and quite presentable. Her own impression had been far more disconcerting than anything she had heard or imagined. Ruthless,. almost certainly, arrogant too, but for all that dangerously attractive. Michael Doran, she thought, could prove quite formidable. She began to think that she must have walked even further than she realised, or else it was a much longer journey via the road, for the walk seemed interminable as she went on. The sun seemed inescapable as it shone in her eyes and half blinded her and she could have wished for a pair of dark glasses. There was little traffic on the road it seemed and she was just beginning to feel the edge of irritability on her mood when she heard a car behind her, then a short blast on a horn that almost startled her into the ditch. 'Can I give you a lift?' She turned to see Sean Maxwell smiling at her from the driving seat of a small and rather decrepit car, and he opened the passenger door, waiting for her to join him. His black hair was dishevelled from driving the open car and.she thought how good-looking he was. 'It'll not collapse under you,' he assured her when she hesitated, 'although it might look as if it will.' 'I wasn't dubious about that,' Rowan said with a smile. 'I just wondered if it was worthwhile riding when I'm so nearly back.' 'It's worth it,' he assured her solemnly, and she smiled and climbed in beside him. 'Have you been far?' he asked as they set off, rather noisily, down the narrow road. He spared a glance for her flushed cheeks and untidy head and smiled. 'You look as if you've been walking hard.' 'I have,' she admitted. 'I went quite a long way, 27 down to the river, in fact. I'm afraid I've been trespassing, although it was quite unintentional.' 'Trespassing?' He eyed her briefly as they took yet another sharp bend. 'Oh, the river. Good lord, I didn't realise you'd stray on to Doran's land. We should have warned you about that. I hope you didn't get McConnell's shotgun blasting off at you.' 'I didn't,' Rowan said, wondering if she should enlighten him as to her favoured position. 'As a matter of fact I met Mr. Doran himself and he he told me I could walk across there whenever I liked.' She laughed to dispel any wrong impression he might get. 'I suppose he knew I wouldn't be doing any poaching,' she added. She thought he looked faintly annoyed at the idea of her privilege and a small crease appeared briefly between his black brows as he considered it. 'I expected he'd soon find you,' he remarked. 'He has a nose for pretty girls, God help them.' It was a pleasant surprise at dinner, that evening to find that Sean Maxwell took most of his meals with them, but she frowned when he mentioned her meeting with Michael Doran, and implied that her pretty face had had the usual effect on him, and relieved when Laura protested. 'I know you claim he's a villain,' she said, 'but he's also a very lonely man.' 'Well, it could be that one is father to the other,' Sean suggested wryly. 'And he shouldn't be all that lonely when he has his mistresses there. His loneliness has been quite effectively relieved in the past few years, I should think.' His hostess frowned. 'That's more hearsay, Sean, and you shouldn't repeat it,' she rebuked him, while Rowan feigned preoccupation with her dessert. She was remembering the strong, dark features of Michael Doran and his arrogant self-confidence and she S8 'old herself that she could well imagine him with a succession of mistresses.. It would suit his feudal image. 'I can imagine it's possible," she ventured, and hastily lowered her gaze again when three pairs of eyes turned on her in surprise. 'I mean,' she amended hurriedly, 'he seems to have all the necessary attributes of the old lords of the manor and they they had mistresses, didn't they? So I've read. I wouldn't really know, of course.' It was Mary Donovan, who also had her meals with the household, who answered her. 'A fine lord of the manor he is,' she declared. 'Sure he never does a t'ing for anny of his tenants, so I heard, an' him livin' like a squire in t'at great house up there.' She seemed not to notice the amusing side of her denigration and neither did Sean, but Laura O'Neil's mouth softened into a half smile and she cauglit Rowan's eye with a twinkle in her own. 'Well, he is a squire, Mary,' she chided her housekeeper gently, 'so I suppose he's entitled to live like one.' 'Not at the expense of his tenants he isn't,' Sean denied sharply. 'Oh, Sean dear,' Laura pointed out, reasonably it seemed, 'did you ever know a tenant who was satisfied with his lot in comparison with his landlord's? It's human nature to complain in those circumstances.' 'As for his women,' Mary Donovan went on deter-' minedly and not to be sidetracked, 'sure everyone knows how he had young Maggie Brady up there, an' her no more than a little bit of a girl at the time.' Rowan thought Laura looked a bit uneasy at that, but she did no more than shake her head while Sean Maxwell took up the cudgels again. 'That's the one thing Brady and I see eye to eye about,' he said. 'It was a terrible thing to take that young girl up there 29 like he did and then throw her out when he grew tired of her.' Rowan, unsure what her own feelings were in the matter, merely listened and tried to form a more complete picture of Michael Doran. Obviously he was a completely selfish and immoral creature, belonging more to the old days than to the modem world, where tenants and mistresses alike received a much better deal than they had once done. They had almost finished their meal when a fifth person joined them, and Rowan would have recognised Rupert Brady without being told who he was, for he was everything the popular conception of a poet should be. He even dressed to suit the part in black trousers and a shabby black shirt with a brilliant red choker tied carelessly under the collar. He had what appeared to be an abnormally large head, although that could have been the effect of the thick black hair, which he wore long and unkempt and curling about his ears and neck so that it was virtually impossible to tell where it ended and the black, curly full beard began. His eyes were as dark as his hair and there was a hint of wildness in them as he looked round at the four of them gathered at the table. 'The vultures gather for the feast,' he declared, his voice deep and sonorous as if he was making a pronouncement of extreme gravity, and Rowan saw Sean's brows draw together in a frown that needed no interpretation. 'You're too late for dinner, Brady,' he informed the newcomer, "and I for one object to being called a vulture.' The dark eyes came to rest on Rowan and she instinctively smiled, though the gaze was rather disconcerting. He eyed her steadily for several unnerving second's before he spoke. 'Such beauty as may blind the eye of a man,' he said gravely, 'and turn die eyes of women, sharp with envy, to their gods that they may too be gifted so.' 'Rupert ' Laura held out a hand to him. 'Come in, come and meet Rowan.' He walked. Rowan noticed, with a slight limp and his short, slight body seemed bowed a little as if the weight of that great head was too much for it to bear. Obediently he came and stood between Laura O'Neil and Rowan, his eyes still watching Rowan with that disturbing intensity, while Laura introduced them. 'Rowan.' He echoed her name softly and she realised with a start that for all his other shortcomings, his voice was quite beautiful. 'Mr. Brady.' She offered a hand in greeting which he not only took but turned palm upwards while he studied the lines on it. 'You've known hard times,' he told her, as if there was only the two of them in the room and all the time in the world. 'Give me your other hand.' Without hesitation Rowan gave him her left hand while Sean snorted impatiently, 'For God's sake, Brady, spare us your party piece ' He might just as well no
t have spoken for all the notice Rupert Brady took as he pored over Rowan's hands, and it was Laura's gentle reproach that silenced him. 'Let Rowan have her hand read if she wishes, Sean. You know Rupert is really quite clever at it.' Rowan herself had no objection to palmistry, in fact it gave her an odd feeling of excitement as the strange little man studied her palms, holding her hands in his with a touch as light as a child's. 'I see love,' he told her after much serious study. 'A false love and then a true one. You will make a sad mistake the first time you love, but in time, when you see more clearly, you will choose right and have a long and good life.' The wild dark 3i eyes looked up at her slowly and she saw understanding in their depths. 'You will give pleasure and comfort to one who needs it. Rowan Blair, and he will bless you for, it before he goes.' 'Before -' Rowan began, but the big dark head shook discouragement. 'Ask no questions,' he told her, 'for there are no answers.' He released her hands slowly and Rowan was aware of an unsteady beat in her heart and a brief sudden feeling of unutterable sadness before he turned away.'Rupert, that wasn't a very cheerful future you forecast tor poor Rowan,' Laura chided him, 'although you did promise her a good life eventually.' 'I can only interpret what I see,' Rupert declared touchily, as if he suspected criticism. 'Rubbishi' Sean retorted. 'No one actually believes that nonsense, surely. Laura, you can't honestly say that you really take it seriously.' 'In a way I do,' Laura said defensively. 'I'm not prepared to dismiss anything out of hand like that, Sean. Remember there are more things in heaven and earth than this world dreams on.' 'And that,' Sean told her sharply, 'was invented by another play-actor.' Rupert Brady turned his disturbing eyes on Rowan again. 'You believe it, don't you?' he asked, and Rowan felt bound to nod agreement, for no matter how seriously or not she felt about other forecasters of the future, she had the strangest feeling that this odd little man had really seen her future written in her hand. Rowan found that so little was expected of her in the way of what she would have termed companion duties that she had more than enough time on her hands and she was actually encouraged by Laura O'Neil to spend at least half her time out of doors. 'There's no sense in wasting this lovely fine weather,' Laura told her. 'Far more sensible to get out of doors and enjoy the sun.' 'But I'm supposed to be your companion,' Rowan protested, 'and that means keeping you company, not wandering off on long walks or sitting out in the sun doing nothing.' 'It means exactly what I want it to mean,' Laura insisted. 'You're company enough, my dear, just having you here makes an enormous difference.' She smiled knowingly. 'And Sean likes having you here too.' 'Mr. Maxwell?' It was not the first time Laura had made some barely concealed implication about Sean Maxwell and it was obvious that what she said was true. Scan did like having her there he had made his pleasure evident, although he had not embarrassed her with it. 'Sean,' Laura insisted. 'I think you've known each other quite long enough now to stop being so formal, especially in this day and age. You like him, don't you?' she added. 'Yes, of course I like him,' Rowan agreed, 'he's very attractive.' 'Very,' Laura agreed, 'and it's high time he was married.' Such blatant and premature match-making at first startled Rowan, then made her burst into laughter. 'Oh, Mrs. O'Neil, how could you? I've only known Mr. Maxwell a few days and I certainly haven't thought of him in that way at all, any more than he has of me, I'm sure.' 'Don't be too sure,' Laura told her. 'I've never known him to take such an interest in any girl since well, for a long time now, not that there's a great deal of opportunity in Bogmoor, of course.' Rowan looked at her curiously. 'There was some33 one once?' she asked, and Laura nodded. 'Oh yes, there was someone once. Some years ago now, before Brendan Maxwell died. And that's just one more thing that makes Sean hate Michael Doran so much.' Rowan stared unbelievingly. 'You you mean he was responsible for his father's death?' 'Oh, good gracious no,' Laura hastened to assure her. 'It was the drink that killed poor Brendan, there was never any doubt it would, of course. No, it was because of Barbara that Sean felt so bitter.' 'Mr. Doran took her away from Sean?' Rowan guessed again, and again Laura shook her head. 'Not really,' she denied. 'Although he did indirectly, I suppose. You see everyone, including Sean, believed that the Maxwell family were quite well-to-do. Old Brendan lived very well and drank like a fish. It was only when Liam Doran died, Michael's father that is, that they discovered Brendan had died badly in debt to him for thousands of pounds and Michael Doran foreclosed the mortgage on Thornhill, as he was quite en-titled to, of course.' 'I see.' Rowan pulled a face over this newly discovered villainy. 'He really is a wicked lord of the manor, isn't he? Poor Seani' 'Poor Sean indeed,' Laura agreed with on'e of her deep sighs. 'He lost his home and his fiancee as well. Barbara Clooney had no intention of marrying a pauper and she broke off the engagement and went to England. I have heard that she found herself a title as well as a fortune.' 'Well, I suppose one can't truthfully blame Mr. Doran for that,' Rowan demurred. 'She must have been horrible mercenary.' 'I suppose she was,' Laura allowed, 'but Sean loved her and on top of losing his home he felt it very badly.' 34 She sighed again and shook her head as she looked up. fAh well, that's all water under the bridge now, and here comes another of my lost lambs, although I suspect Rupert is less of a lost lamb than he appears.' Rowan smiled as the odd little poet joined them in the sitting-room, his manner restless as usual, the great head bowed over Laura briefly before he sat down beside Rowan. 'I was seeking inspiration,' he said. 'I need seek no further.' Never since she had first met him several days ago had Rowan heard him speak in other than that same rather exaggerated way that made everything he said sound like a quotation. 'Are you busy?' she asked, wondering how he would answer, or even if he would deign to answer at all. Rupert, she had learned, was an independent spirit. 'I am always busy,' he told her solemnly. 'Will you sit with me for a while in the garden. Rowan, oh, most beautiful of creatures? It will help me to -complete something rather special.' Rowan looked rather startled for a second. 'Sit with you?' she echoed. He nodded. 'That's all, just a few moments of your time, or is that too much to ask?' 'Well no.' She looked at Laura uncertainly and found only encouragement in her smile. 'By all means go with Rupert if you'd like to. Rowan, but don't forget to come home for lunch the two of you, will you?' 'Lunchi' Rupert put infinite scorn into the word. 'Who cares for lunch when the muse is calling?' 'I know, Rupert dear,' Laura chided gently, 'but Rowan isn't called by the muse and she gets hungry.' Rowan smiled, shaking her head. 'There's plenty of time till lunch-time, Mrs. O'Neil, I'll see that we're back in plenty of time.' The morning was fresh and dear and the sun 35 promised greater warmth as the oddly assorted pair walked down the garden to the stream at the bottom, clear and soft between its high banks. Despite his limp he set a good pace and he seemed almost impatient to reach the rather dilapidated stone seat that stood just above the water and in the shade of an old willow. 'It's lovely here,' Rowan ventured as they sat down. It was the first time she had ever been alone with the strange little man and she was rather unsure of him. 'Is this one of your sources of inspiration, Mr. Brady?' There was silence for a moment, then he turned his wild, dark eyes on her curiously. 'Unless you have any great dislike of Rupert,' he told her, 'I'd as soon you didn't call me Mr. Brady.' 'I don't dislike it at all,' Rowan said, half laughing and somewhat relieved. 'It suits you.' 'I'm not sure I like that,' he declared, then laughed. 'You think I'm crazy, don't you, Rowan?' It was close enough to the truth to be discomfiting and Rowan looked down at her hands lying in her lap. 'I don't think I do,' she demurred. 7 think you do,' he insisted, and laughed again in such a way that she looked up at him. 'I'm not, you know,' he told her. 'I know exactly what I'm doing and I seldom misjudge a word or an action no matter how bizarre it may seem to other people.' 'I see.' 'I think you do,' he agreed surprisingly. 'And you probably agree with Maxwell that I'm on to a good thing here with Laura, do you?' The demand was such that it had to be answered, but Rowan sought for something that would not sound too brutally frank. 'Don't be afraid to say so,' he told her, and it sounded so like a challenge-that Rowan took it as such. 'D
o you?' he insisted. Rowan lifted her chin. 'I don't know for sure,' she 36 said. 'Are you?' For a moment he was silent and she wondered if he had taken offence at her frankness, then he threw back his great head and laughed, a great roaring sound that set his slight body shaking with it. 'Oh, I like you,' he declared when at last he had breath enough. 'I like you, Rowan Blair. You're not only beautiful, you're like a breath of fresh air through this mausoleum of a village.' It took Rowan a second or two to make up her mind and when she did she smiled at him, meeting the wildlooking eyes straight on. T like you, too,' she told him, and he took her hands in his, gently as he had when he foretold her future. 'Then spare me some of your time occasionally,' he said quietly in his remarkably beautiful voice. 'Just sometimes, Rowan. Talk to me and let me forget everything else.' I- 37
