Was the young woman the reason Sean suddenly wanted a divorce? Kate had been afraid to ask him. Perhaps tomorrow she would work up the courage. She stared out the window, into the darkness, wishing suddenly that she was back in the rackety coach ride for the coast again until Sarah came with tea and bread, as promised.
“The kitchen and the servants’ quarters are clean enough,” the maid allowed, with a glance of disapproval around Kate’s quarters. “But I can stay here with you, if you’d feel safer, my lady.”
“No, Sarah. I shall be fine here alone.”
The maid’s relief was palpable at Kate’s answer. Had the girl already heard the rumor about Lady Dilys? Or was there a handsome young man serving Lord Blarney who had caught her eye?
She had her answer when she saw the young man who carried her bags up to her room. Definitely handsome, and with a winningly shy smile, as well. Sarah’s poor heart was doomed. Kate could not think of a word of warning that would help the maid, though, so she said nothing.
As soon as the tray of food had been cleared by Sarah--with the help of a young girl who could easily have been the ghost of Lady Dilys her skin was so pale—Kate ushered both women away for the night. The room seemed suddenly much more likely to appeal to a ghost once they had gone. She contented herself with placing a large chair in front of the door to do the job of the broken hasp.
Only then did she allow herself to ready for a night under this inhospitable roof. She was fortunate that she did not believe in ghosts, despite her sister’s penchant for telling bedtime fairy tales during her childhood.
She was not certain what she had expected. Not this run down abbey. Nor Sean so like himself and yet not. She did not want to admit to herself that he had never loved her, but she supposed she must at least begin to acknowledge that it might be true.
His eyes had kindled with warmth when he’d called her a beautiful woman. No doubt he meant it. But that meant nothing. Especially since there had been that laughing woman, who had come and gone so quickly she might have been just another ghost. Sean had looked at her with affection, and she had obviously returned that affection. Could he truly have taken a mistress?
The thought was shocking, and yet not. Men had needs. She wasn’t a fool, she had heard the gossip about men keeping mistresses, even married men with wives to warm their beds. How could she doubt that Sean had done the same with that laughing woman? Would it be worse to know that the girl was his mistress, or that she was the woman he wished to marry once he had succeeded in divorcing Kate?
She must ask him, no matter how much she feared his answer. Could he truly believe she had fallen in love with his cousin? Or was that just an excuse? She opened her trunk and took out the bundles of letters she had saved over the last five years.
He had written her faithfully every week and she had kept them all, from the shortest, a mere two paragraphs with his scrawled mark, to the longest--five pages. It was one of the first he had written--right after he had decided he would not return to London as she expected.
She unfolded the stiff pages and reread his words, looking for a clue as to whether he had known, even then, that he would not ever return to her. There was no answer to her question in the familiar lines, no matter how many times she read them.
CHAPTER TEN
Prove it? Kate’s threat still echoed in his mind as he sat in his office, waiting for the clock to strike midnight. He thought it an unlikely possibility.
He sighed. Perhaps in six month’s time he’d be free to find a nice Irish lass who wouldn’t look at the abbey as if it were infested with rats--or, at the least would simply get a few good mousers to manage the problem. The thought was singularly unappealing.
But no matter that Kate had come to turn his world upside down, he had work to do tonight. The others would be gathering here soon. He could not be distracted. He would not let Kate distract him, at least not tonight, he decided as his uncle entered the room, earlier than usual though he was dressed for their mission tonight.
The man didn’t even wait to take his seat before he asked, “Well? What does she say? Did she bring money from the duke?”
Money. With his uncle there was no more important subject. “Of course not.”
His uncle leaned toward him, his strong fingers biting into the wood of Sean’s desk. “You should write him, convince him that you must have funds in order to keep the girl comfortable.”
“And what would I want with making her comfortable, I ask you? I want her away from here, as should you.”
“You are a fool, then.” Connor scowled. “You could perhaps convince him to buy the castle for her—“
“The castle is a ruin and I don’t think Jeffreys would sell it, even if the duke so lost his mind as to agree to such a bargain.”
“You must make the most of what providence sends you, Sean. The girl is here, that’s a sign for certain.”
Sean tried to mask his impatience. He owed everything to his uncle, he could not bring himself to be disrespectful, but he would not agree. “No sign, just a mistake. She will be gone before nightfall tomorrow, and we will all sleep better, I promise you.”
“And if she doesn’t choose to leave? Will you take that as a sign, at last? You have yet to make a profit with these agricultural improvements you have implemented.”
“Next year—“
Connor slapped his hands on the desk. “It is always next year with you. Next year we will be doing the same as this year—playing boy’s tricks on the English and eking out a profitless living from the land. Ask the duke.”
“I’ll manage on my own—without taking advantage of my wife.” Any more than he already had done.
“Why? Her fellow English haven’t shown the same scruples against us.”
“Exactly. And that is why.”
“We need the money.”
“And I will get it.” He would. Or die trying. But not from Kate. Not again.
“How?”
“You’ll see. You’re too impatient. Give me some time.” Even to himself, the words sounded thin.
“Five years is not long enough?”
Too long. But he would not say so. Sean shook his head wearily. “I’ll consider your advice, uncle.”
A new threat occurred to him when his uncle beamed at him happily. “Do you want me to talk to her? Sometimes these things are better handled by someone other than the husband?” Kate would surely tell him of the reason behind the divorce action.
“No, uncle. I will speak to her if I decide it is right.” He did not want his uncle to know about Niall’s part in the divorce; he’d be against it, and could perhaps ruin the plans Sean had made. “It is time to focus on our business tonight, and put the question of my wife aside.”
Kate was a stubborn woman--stubborn with a smile and a laugh, that one. She wouldn’t let him know how she felt, but she wouldn’t give in to his blandishments, either.
He’d have to get her out of his life before she found out what was going on and became a danger to his cause--or the danger threatened to sweep her up. He didn’t want her hurt, Sassenach or not.
“You’ve got to show them you’re a leader, lad. The duke’s money would--”
“Tomorrow, Uncle.” He didn’t want to hear about being a leader again. The definition seemed to shift from minute to minute--whatever his uncle wished it to be at the time. “Tonight we need our wits on our task. I don’t want any of our men swinging at the end of a rope. Do you?”
“Only one man I want to swing. Jeffreys. If you won’t ask the duke for help, haven’t I told you what you should do--burn him and his kind out once and for all. Stop playing these games. Take back what is ours.”
“It hasn’t been ours for nearly two hundred years.”
“Thieving Sassenach. Deserves to die.”
“He no more deserves to die for what his father did than I deserve to die for what my father did.” For what had happened to Bridget, however, he would not wish the man well.
>
Connor was not to be appeased. “Your father was a saint…”
“My father was an impractical dreamer who managed to save the king’s life. You are the one who managed to catch the fickle ear of a fickle king once.”
“His bravery got our position back. And it is up to you as his heir to get the castle back. Which you refuse to do.”
“We don’t need a ruin that will take millions to renovate, we need good healthy soil, and good healthy crops, to bring life back into the land. People are starving, I must feed them.”
“Why not do as others do? As he does? Send them away in leaky boats to leave this beautiful land behind forever?”
“I am not him.”
Bridget burst in, frowning at his loud and angry protestation. “Who are you not, brother?” She seemed fierce, though the black of the boy’s garb threatened to swallow all but her pale, ghostly face. As he watched, she moved to the fireplace and rubbed her hands and face with ash. Ready for battle.
“No one.” He would not say that name in front of Bridget and he dared his uncle to with a fierce gaze that promised retribution should the man be so foolish. She might think herself strong, but he would not have her hurt again. Which was one reason why he let her accompany them on their raids—otherwise she would just find a way to follow and he would not be able to protect her at all.
His uncle smiled at her indulgently, overlooking her unorthodox garb, as he had begun to do since Jeffreys’s men had nearly killed her. “Not for you to worry about, lass. Just something your brother and Uncle Connor will handle.”
He wasn’t sure if his sister would be stubborn and insist on prying the name from him, but evidently she had more important matters on her mind. Bridget frowned at him. “Who is the woman?”
The woman. Kate. He briefly considered lying, but Bridget would have the truth from the servants, so there was little point. “She is my wife.”
His sister’s face rarely showed surprise or shock, but her color did raise a little in her cheeks as she asked, “When did you marry?”
“Five years ago.” He tried to keep the tension from his voice, knowing it would only increase her desire to know about Kate. “She’s a bit angry with me, so stay away from her. She’ll be gone soon. She won’t hurt you.”
“She brings trouble, but she won’t hurt me.” Bridget smiled up at Sean. “Perhaps I should bring her to meet the fairies? They might like her. She is pretty. The fairies like pretty things. Maybe they could help with the trouble to come, too?”
Fairies. Sean suppressed a sigh. “She is no thing, she is a person. You have no need to meet her, or she to meet the fairies. She will be gone soon. Do you understand me, Bridget?”
Bridget glanced at him with a meek nod that insured she would be seeking Kate out if he didn’t lock her in one of the abbey dungeons immediately. His sister was a law unto herself. But he supposed she could hold her own with his wife. Two viragos. Both his to take care for, for now.
He thought of Kate, tucked upstairs and away from their secrets. He knew he should be relieved that she was safely shut away. But the temptation to go up to her—abandoning all his other plans for the night like a self-indulgent fool—was difficult to crush.
The letters spread about her on the bed were more confusing than helpful. His words were of love and caring and understanding. Even in the dim light of the candle glow she could read them clearly. But these were words that she found hard to believe came from the man she had spoken to earlier today.
Kate promised herself she would not cry. She would not. She stood up, determined to clear away the letters and sleep. Tomorrow she would face him. She would ask him what she needed to know, and she would not accept any less than the truth from him.
As she moved, she became aware of a noise from down below. She stopped to listen. The sound came again and she realized that she had been aware of for some time, but had not paid close attention until this moment. Perhaps because it had grown louder this time?
She went to the door and pressed her ear against the wood. She heard it more clearly: a bumping, scraping sound, like horse hooves on a stone floor. Did they keep their stables in the great hall? Surely not, or she would have noticed signs when she arrived.
Common sense told her to stay inside the room, behind the door with its broken hasp and bolstering chair. A ghost offered far fewer dangers than whatever might be making those sounds. But something had changed with him, she had seen it in his eyes. He was a different man and she wanted to know why. Perhaps discovering the source of those sounds would answer one question, at the least.
As quietly as possible, she moved the chair away from the door. The darkness in the hallway loomed thickly, but the sounds were clearer. Bumps. Scrapes. Low, unintelligible voices.
She crept down the darkened stairs in bare feet, feeling her way on the crumbling, treacherous steps carefully.
At last she heard voices more clearly. She saw figures, shadowy, dressed in dark hues, their faces streaked with ash.
“Feels good to be doing something useful again. I’ve spent too much time of late playing caretaker to your wife.” Niall’s traitorous voice was cheerful, as always, despite the cloak of darkness and the late hour.
Kate almost spoke up, his words made her so angry. As if she had need of minding like a toddler. Fortunately, she realized that she would find out more—possibly infuriatingly more—if she remained silent than if she revealed her presence to a group of men obviously intent on concealing themselves from sight.
“I didn’t think you minded so much, cousin. You should have told me. I’d have sent someone else.” Sean sounded weary and impatient. Was that because of her arrival, or because of what he contemplated doing in the next few hours, under cover of darkness?
“You’d not have found many willing to lie to the girl. She’s not a fool. I had to dance a quick jig to keep her believing you would come to her eventually.” Niall didn’t think her a fool, but that was little comfort to Kate. His words hurt. He’d not only known what Sean planned, he’d willingly participated in ruining her reputation.
Sean’s philosophical answer did not lift the painful pressure around her heart, either. “She believed it because she wanted to. Women are like that, cousin.”
Niall laughed, but there was a bite of anger that sharpened the sound so that it echoed in the night. “You have a turn at dancing to her tune, then. She’ll have you jigging until your feet wear down—at least until you drive her off.” Kate was suddenly glad she had slapped him so hard when he kissed her under the mistletoe.
To her surprise, Sean’s answer was mild. “It’s not her fault things changed, Niall. You’ve no call to be angry at her.”
“I’m not angry at her. I’m angry at you. You should have brought her here years ago. She’d never have been able to stick it out and we’d have all been happier if she wanted to see the last of you as eagerly as you wish to see the last of her. But, no. You had to keep her hopes up with those damned letters.”
“I did not want to hurt her.”
There was a sincerely in his simple statement that took her breath away. And yet, what he might have done if he had wanted to hurt her? She wasn’t certain she wanted to know. But it seemed likely she might find out in the very near future.
As if he had read her thoughts, Niall said sharply, “Well, you have no choice now, do you?” One shadow, Niall she supposed, put his fist down hard on a nearby table. “I should call you out for wasting my time these last five years.”
A second shadow figure stood taller and Sean’s angry words filled the quiet night. “Perhaps you should.”
A new voice chimed in to say, “She has brought a whirlwind of trouble with her. Will you let it sweep you up like paper poppets?” Kate felt a chill slip up her spine that had nothing to do with the damp stone that surrounded her. The girl. She was dressed as a man, and Kate had not realized she was part of this skulduggery. What did that mean?
“Listen to her, lad
s.” Another voice; his uncle’s? “We have more important things tonight than your petty quarrels. Spill each other’s blood tomorrow.”
Sean, the tension drained from his words laughed softly. “Bridget, my love, you are ever wise.”
One shadow figure embraced another and Kate felt as though someone had taken her heart in his fist and squeezed with every ounce of strength possible.
To her horror, the clock chimed midnight softly and the shadow figures, in unison, swarmed toward her hiding place. She shrank back, grateful that her dress was dark gray and not some bright color that would catch the eye as they rushed past her, close enough to touch.
A cold breeze slapped her cheeks as they opened the door and then it died as the door closed and she found herself alone. Again.
She made her way back up to her miserable room, almost hoping to see Lady Dilys serving a ghostly tea. But the room was empty. She moved the chair back in front of the door and vowed not to leave the room for any reason until daylight.
The bundle of letters were on the bed, still. His letters. His lies. She wanted to cling to his whispered words, “I didn’t want to hurt her.” She believed that he had meant them. That he had not meant to abandon her. So what had happened that had altered everything and stolen all her dreams away from right underneath her nose?
She had tied the letters into packets, by month, pretty colored ribbons to indicate the year. Now she untied the ribbons and scattered the letters on the lumpy bed. She would not sleep tonight. She began sorting through them, looking for a clue as to what had changed her husband into someone who would turn his back on a seat in Parliament and instead use the cover of darkness for undoubtedly illegal deeds.
The letters were as she remembered, full of promises. Promises, words that gave hope of being together soon. Soon. Soon. Five years of soon was much too long. She had been a fool. She would be a fool no longer.
Sean closed his eyes against the light of day. He was getting too old for these nighttime forays that left him no time for sleep. Perhaps, if he had had enough rest he would not be so easily swayed by the emotions the woman across the breakfast table roused in him.
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