by Nora Roberts
Nodding, Lord Falcon patted the chair that Simmons had positioned beside the bed. “Come and sit a while, my dear. Tell me about your father’s work. Did he ever write the book he’d planned, about his study of herbs and plants in the Dark Continent?”
Felicity sat and folded her hands primly in her lap. “I’m afraid not. I helped him with voluminous notes on the subject. He dreamed of the day his writings would be published. But Father was more a dreamer than a doer, I’m afraid. He often said he never would have left the comfort of home and hearth had he not been prodded by his old friend. He claimed that though he was as timid as a churchmouse, you were absolutely fearless.”
Lord Falcon gave a snort of derision. “Fearless? I thought so at the time. Now I wonder if I wasn’t simply foolish. It’s a family curse, I’m afraid. Every male in my family has this need to explore the unknown. And all, with the exception of me, have died young. My father helped chart the Nile and drowned when his boat overturned. His father before him traveled to the Orient and never returned. I grew up accepting this restlessness, this need for adventure, as my fate. When your father and I fell into a cave deep in the heart of the jungle, I feared I was under the family curse as well. Ironic, isn’t it? We emerged unscathed and lived to be old men.” His voice lowered with passion. “But I would willingly give up every year that I have lived if it would remove the curse from my own sons.”
Felicity heard the pain in his voice. “What has happened to your sons, Lord Falcon?”
He looked away, but not before she saw the haunted look in his eyes. “My oldest, Chandler, has been lost in the Amazon and is presumed dead.”
She reached a hand to his. “I’m so sorry.”
He studied the long, tapered fingers, so like another he’d known. “William, my younger son, was thrown from his horse while racing across the moors. He now lies broken and lost to us in body and mind. He is trapped in the bed of his youth, which he may never leave.”
“How terrible.” She glanced at Simmons, who stood stiffly beside the table, waiting to serve their breakfast. “Can nothing be done for him?”
The old man shook his head. “The doctor has done all he can. The rest is up to the fates. But if the Falcon curse is to be believed, the fates will not be kind, and William’s wife will soon be a widow.”
“His wife?”
“You did not meet Honora?” the old man asked.
“It was very late when I arrived last night.” The thought of another young woman was most appealing. Perhaps they could find common ground. Oh, it would be wonderful to have someone she could call friend.
“I fear Honora’s life at Falcon’s Lair is not what she’d hoped. Instead of hosting lavish parties and teas, she must nurse a dying husband and spend long days dispensing medicine with a doctor.”
Lord Falcon signaled for his tray, and Simmons obliged, tucking a napkin into the front of the old man’s nightshirt before pouring tea.
Felicity sipped her tea and studied the man in the bed. It wasn’t only his voice that reminded her of a lion. A mane of silver hair, in need of a trim, fell to his shoulders. His face, though etched with the lines of age, was still handsome. And his eyes. So like the ones she had seen in the darkened moors and again in her room. Shadowy, watchful, they seemed to see more than they cared to reveal. They were watching her now, over the rim of his cup.
“How long can you stay in England, my dear?”
She gave a negligent shrug of her shoulders. “I haven’t really set a time. But I thought a few weeks.”
“Nonsense. That’s not nearly long enough. You’ll need at least a few months to get to know this lovely land and its people.”
“Lord Falcon, I couldn’t possibly stay a few months.”
“Why not?” he demanded.
“Because…” She set the cup down and busied herself sprinkling sugar and cinnamon on a warm biscuit. “Because I do not wish to be a burden. I will accept your kind hospitality, but only for a short while.”
As she lifted the biscuit to her lips, she gave a little sigh. “Oh, this is the best I’ve ever tasted.”
Lord Falcon’s breakfast lay forgotten. His voice warmed. “Rob always said that about Cook’s biscuits.”
“Did he?”
Lord Falcon nodded. “He was more like a brother than a friend. When I look at you, my dear, I see him. Even the inflection in your voice is the same.”
It gave Felicity a strange, comforting feeling to know that she shared something with the father who was now gone.
“Simmons,” the old man suddenly called, “tell Maud Atherton that I desire a special feast for tonight, in honor of our guest.”
“Yes, my lord.” The butler freshened their tea. “I believe Cook has already begun. She ordered a pig slaughtered.”
“Fine. And tell her to bake her special tarts. The ones Rob always liked.”
“Now, my lord?”
“Now. And Simmons—“
The butler paused with his hand on the door.
“Tell her I will be eating in the dining room tonight.”
The elderly servant showed no emotion, but Felicity thought she’d seen a flicker of something in his eyes. “Yes, my lord.” He walked stiffly away.
When the door closed behind him, Lord Falcon leaned closer. “I must tell you that I had a reason for asking Rob to make the arduous journey. But now that he is gone and you are “He shook his head. “I can only hope that you will prove to be your father’s daughter.”
“I’ll certainly try.” She gave him a wide smile and patted his hand. “I’m so pleased that you aren’t angry at my unexpected arrival.”
“Angry?” He grasped her hand, suddenly as eager as a child. “You will stay? You…won’t leave, will you? No matter what?”
“Now why would you ask such a thing?”
“There are few who would have the courage to remain at Falcon’s Lair. For there are things “
When he didn’t elaborate, she prodded, “Things?”
He looked up. “I will not hide the truth from you. I sent for Rob because I needed a friend. One I could trust completely.”
“I don’t under—“
He held a finger to his lips. “I no longer know who is friend and who is foe. Nor will you. You must learn to trust your instincts. But know this. You are never alone. There are many here at Falcon’s Lair who sense…someone or something. A blast of cold air when no window or door has been opened. A chill that raises gooseflesh or causes the hair at the back of one’s neck to rise. Sometimes a sound, like a sob or a moan.” He glanced up sheepishly. “Forgive me, my dear. You must think me an addled old fool for believing that Falcon’s Lair is haunted.”
“Not at all.” She patted his hand. “As a matter of fact, I almost had myself believing that I’d encountered a spirit.”
Blackbird eyes met hers. One bushy white brow lifted slightly.
Felicity blushed furiously and cursed herself for revealing such a thing. “I was very tired when I arrived last night. I thought…he was in my room upstairs. And this morning I thought he stood behind me as I looked out over the land.”
Lord Falcon folded her hand between both of his and lay back against the pillows with a sigh. “I should have known he would seek you out.”
“Who?”
Ignoring her question, he sighed, “Oh, this is indeed a memorable day.” His eyes suddenly snapped open. His tone sharpened. “Did you say ‘bedroom upstairs’? Is that where you slept last night?”
She nodded, puzzled by his sudden agitation. “It has a lovely view of the village in the distance.”
“No. Oh, no. That will not do at all.” He tugged on the bellpull. Almost at once Maud Atherton appeared.
“Yes, m’lord?”
Lord Falcon’s voice frosted over. “Why did you put Miss Andrews on the upper floor?”
The housekeeper shot a stinging glance at Felicity, then lowered her gaze. “It was quite late, and I wasn’t prepared for the young lady
’s arrival. I thought…that is, I did not wish to anger Lady Honora…”
“I want her in the suite beside mine,” he said sternly.
“Yes, m’lord. I’ll see to it at once.”
“See that you do. And Mrs. Atherton,” he called as she started out. “You will instruct the servants to assist Cook in making tonight’s dinner a feast fit for royalty.”
She kept her back ramrod straight as she turned to face him. “Yes, m’lord. We are roasting a succulent young pig. There will be mutton and beef as well. Will you require anything else?”
“Not at the moment.” He returned his attention to Felicity and missed the angry look that darted into the housekeeper’s eyes. But it wasn’t lost on his young guest. She found herself wondering if so much resentment was the result of the additional work the servants were forced to do. Or was there something else?
Whatever the reason, she vowed to give the housekeeper a wide berth and to try to be as light a burden as possible while she sorted out all these strange, unsettling events.
3
Felicity remained beside Lord Falcon’s bed, hoping he would tell her more about the things he feared. But the old lord’s eyes closed. His head sank deeper into the pillows, and soon his breathing became slow and rhythmic.
When Simmons entered the bedroom and saw that his master was asleep, he picked up the tray and whispered, “Lord Falcon may sleep for several hours, miss. Since Mrs. Atherton has said it may take some time to prepare your suite of rooms, you may want to explore the gardens.”
“Thank you, Simmons.” Felicity stood and followed him out of the room. “I believe I’d like to see some of your lovely countryside. I’ll just get my cloak.”
She hurried to her room and stopped in her tracks. Her trunks had been opened and her belongings scattered everywhere. Gowns, undergarments, books and papers. All had been shuffled.
A servant perhaps hungry for valuables? Or…something more sinister? Hadn’t Lord Falcon warned her?
She whirled as the door opened. Bean, the young serving girl, looked around in stunned surprise. “Oh, ma’am. What have ye done?”
Felicity quickly gathered her wits. “Made quite a mess, I’m afraid. I was…looking for my cloak.” She crossed the room and rifled through her gowns until she located it. “Here it is.” She turned. “I’ll just clean up this mess.”
The little maid held out a hand. “Mrs. Atherton would have my head if I let you clean your own room. No, ma’am. I’ll have it set to rights in no time.”
With a sinking heart Felicity turned away. As she strode down the steps of the ancient castle, she felt an icy thread of fear snake along her spine. Once again she had the feeling that she was being watched. But though she turned and studied the windows, she could see no one looking out.
She shook off the dread and moved out at a fast pace until she had passed through the gates marking the entrance to Falcon’s Lair. She would save the garden for another time. Today she needed to put some distance between herself and this strange castle.
Though the sun had broken free of the clouds, there was a bite to the air, and Felicity gathered her cloak around her as she walked. She had gone some distance when a cart came clattering along the lane. As it drew abreast, a boy of about ten years studied her with interest.
“Goin’ to Falcon’s Way, ma’am?” he asked.
“Is that the village in the distance?”
He nodded. “Would you like to ride wi’ me?”
“Thank you.” She climbed in beside him and said, “My name is Felicity Andrews. I’m from America, visiting Lord Falcon.”
“Ye’re stayin’ at Falcon’s Lair?” He shot her a look of astonishment before flicking the reins. The swaybacked mare leaned into the harness, and they started off at a slow, plodding gait.
“Haven’t you ever met a guest of Falcon’s Lair before?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Me mum says there’s evil up there and a curse on all who dwell within.”
“You can’t believe that,” she said with a smile.
But her smile faded when the boy said solemnly, “Can’t argue wi’ truth. Lord Chandler is gone and Lord William more dead than alive. There’s those who say old Lord Falcon will be next. It’s the Falcon curse.” He pulled up beside a row of shops. “I’ll leave ye’ here, miss.”
“Thank you.” Felicity stepped down and walked slowly through the village, smiling at the young mothers who hurried by with babes in their arms and the older women who swept their stoops or sat in the late-morning sunshine, gossiping with their neighbors. She passed by the bakery, the milliner, the apothecary. Though the people nodded as she walked by, she felt their curious stares as well. No one stopped to speak with her. She had the feeling that they already knew where she was staying and had decided to keep their distance, in case she had been tainted by the Falcon curse.
Felicity kept up a brisk pace as she returned to the castle. The sun had taken refuge behind the clouds, and the air had grown colder. Despite the warmth of the hooded cloak, she shivered and wished she hadn’t gone so far.
As she passed through the gates, her footsteps faltered. Though she could see no one, she had the strange feeling that she was not alone.
“What did you think of our village?”
She halted, recognizing Gareth’s voice directly behind her. She would not spin around and let him see her fear. Lifting her chin at a haughty angle, she challenged, “Why didn’t you come along and see for yourself?”
“I cannot go beyond these gates. I am bound to this land,” he said simply.
She did turn then, and the look of pain in his eyes caused her breath to catch in her throat. She instinctively lifted a hand. But before she could touch his arm, he stepped back out of reach.
So, he didn’t like to be touched. She filed the knowledge away in her mind.
“The villagers are fearful,” she said softly.
“It isn’t you they fear.” He gave a shallow laugh. “They have heard of the ghost that haunts Falcon’s Lair. It is only natural for them to fear what they cannot understand.” He studied her a moment, then said, “What about you, little happy face? Why don’t you fear the ghost of Falcon’s Lair?”
“Perhaps I do. Or perhaps I don’t believe in ghosts.”
He studied the glowing cheeks, the wind-tousled hair, and felt a wave of pure desire that left him shaken. It pulsed through him, adding to the aura of heat that seemed to shimmer around him.
His voice lowered. “Oh, I’m real enough. But you needn’t fear me. I will never harm you.”
“What keeps you here?” she asked softly.
“Unfinished business.” His eyes narrowed as he glanced toward the castle.
She followed his gaze but could see nothing out of the ordinary. When she turned back, she saw that he was watching her with a look that made her heart race. It was a hungry, wolfish look that nearly devoured her.
She caught up her skirts, determined to get away from him. But before she could take a step, his hand shot out. Though he didn’t actually touch her, she could have sworn that she felt the curl of his fingers around her wrist, stopping her in midstride. The heat was shocking in its intensity. It raced along her arm and sent the blood pulsing like liquid lava through her veins.
He saw the widening of her eyes. Just a flicker. His admiration for her went up a notch. Though she was afraid, she didn’t panic. And though she stiffened, she didn’t struggle. Didn’t fight. She merely stood toe-to-toe with him and shot him a look that dared him to step over the line.
He’d always loved a dare. It was his weakness—and his downfall. After all, it was a dare all those centuries ago that sent him into this limbo.
He shifted his gaze to her mouth. What would it be like to kiss her? To brush those soft lips with his? It could be an experiment. To see just how far he could push the boundaries. Of course, it was forbidden by the Fates. But then, hadn’t he always broken the rules?
Hers was a mouth
made for kissing. A dangerous temptation. Would she yield or would she fight? Either way, it would prove very satisfying.
Felicity had never felt like this before. Though he made no move to touch her, she was completely helpless to move. She was quite certain that she didn’t want him to kiss her. And yet she knew that if he did, she would not fight him. In fact, she would be lost.
Feelings, strange, compelling feelings, churned through her, leaving her dazed and reeling.
Gareth was annoyed with himself. The power of his mind wasn’t enough. He desired a physical touch. But that would mean losing control. And strength.
With extraordinary effort, he managed to break off the thought, releasing her.
“You must beware, little happy face.” He took a step back and then another, until the rush of heat subsided.
“Of what?” She blinked.
She suddenly found herself alone.
The walk back to the castle required only a few minutes, but to Felicity it seemed an eternity. She was unaware of the wind that sighed through the trees and the clouds that scudded across the sky, blotting out the sun. In her mind she was still looking into Gareth’s eyes, seeing a tormented soul.
As she climbed the steps, she shivered against a sudden chill. Before she could reach for the front door it was opened by a servant.
“Thank you,” she said absently.
The girl nodded and bowed.
Felicity turned, throwing back the hood of her cloak as she did, and collided with a solid wall of chest. The man had to be well over six feet, with strong hands that caught roughly at her shoulders to keep her from tumbling backward.
“I say. Not quite the way I’d hoped to welcome a guest to Falcon’s Lair,” he muttered.
She looked up to see dark eyes glinting with amusement.
“Sorry.” She took several deep breaths to compose herself. “I didn’t see you.”
