Keeper of the Swans

by Nancy Butler

  Niall left shortly afterward. As they walked to the inlet, Romulus told him about the death of the swan and his subsequent encounter with Argie Beasle. He asked Niall to relay back any information he might uncover about the poacher’s activities on the river. Romulus reckoned that between his lessons with Allegra and keeping an eye on the river rat, his young friend would be too distracted to get himself into any trouble with nervous fathers of susceptible daughters. At least for the time being.

  After Niall rowed off in the dory, Romulus stood looking out over the water for some time, wrestling with the problem of Allegra’s presence on the island. Dangerous, the boy had called her. And she was that. In more ways than one. Perhaps it was time to shake up his houseguest a bit. See whether he could discover if the high-handed Sir Beveril had anything to do with her precipitate flight from home.

  Chapter 6

  After she had cleaned the trout, Diana wandered onto the front porch. It was too hot to remain inside the house. Not that it was noticeably cooler outside—the breeze had died and the tree leaves hung unmoving, wilting in the unseasonable heat. She sighed as she leaned against the railing, watching the dark clouds that lingered off to the west. After the trouble with the swan poacher, Rom had reverted to his former gruff self. Which was a pity, because he had been particularly attentive to her, there in the intimate confines of the rowboat. But then the swan had died and their easy camaraderie had been swept away.

  If only she had not been born into the gentry, Diana thought wistfully, she might have been able to coax him into courting her. But Romulus knew his place in society—he was a laborer, a hireling of the great lady across the river. His honor would have forbidden any sort of liaison with a lady of quality. Perhaps he was even embarrassed by her obvious attraction to him. But she knew that even if he welcomed her attentions, he would never speak of his regard for her. He held his emotions totally in check—she had seen it last night when he’d been forced to kill the swan. While she had crumpled, he had remained aloof from his pain.

  And yet she suspected Romulus was not indifferent to her. She amused him for one thing. Even when he acted cross, there was always a trace of laughter in his voice. And she was not too green to recognize the hunger that sometimes burned in his eyes—she had seen it last night while they were out on the river and again when he had returned from his patrol. He had only to touch her hand, for a spark of energy to flow between them—an intense quickening that might very well be desire.

  But she knew a man could desire a woman without ever experiencing any of the more tender emotions. Could that be all Romulus felt for her—nothing but lust? Then what of his insistence on sheltering her? Didn’t that prove he was driven by more than the needs of his body?

  It was just another of the baffling complexities she’d had to deal with ever since meeting Romulus Perrin. Sir Beveril, at least, was somewhat less baroque in his inclinations—marry the rich man’s sister, make love to the beautiful widow. Simple and uncomplicated.

  She sat on the top step and took stock of her options. She could continue to let Rom hold her at bay, until she admitted defeat and asked to be rowed back to Mortimer House. She knew she had gained enough fortitude to insist that her betrothal be called off. Before meeting her swankeeper, she had been a leaf in a stream, borne along by the currents, resentful, but unresisting. Now she would set her own course and stand firm in the face of opposition. It wasn’t the Middle Ages—brides were no longer carried protesting to the altar. But the thought of leaving the island put her in a panic. Not yet, her heart pleaded. Please, not yet.

  There was a second option, one she had not yet mustered the courage to pursue. She could tell Romulus what was in her heart. Tell him why she had continued to pretend a loss of memory long after it held any credibility. But she feared any declaration of that sort would merely increase his distance. It was dashed hard loving a man who knew his place, especially when she believed his place was beside her.

  She had no illusions about how society would regard such a mésalliance. Not that she cared a fig for that. But there was her family to consider. Could they ever accept him?

  As she sat fanning herself with one hand, Diana had a gut-wrenching revelation. She had been a naive fool not to have realized it from the start. But she had been so instantly beguiled by the island, and by the man who lived there, that reality had faded quickly away. The fact was, in the eyes of society, she was compromised beyond any means of redemption. One night in Rom’s house would have been enough to tarnish her reputation. She had been there for four days.

  “Oh, lord,” she moaned against her fisted hands. Why had she not seen it? She could never return to her sister’s home now. Even her father might refuse to take her in, though he had little patience with the strictures of society. What a coil she had gotten herself into!

  “You’re looking rather glum.”

  Diana’s eyes darted up. Romulus was standing at the end of the brick path that bisected the herb garden. He’d been such a long time seeing Niall off, she assumed he’d gone back onto the river.

  “It’s the heat,” she sighed. “It wears me down.” As if to prove her point she caught her hair up in one hand and lifted it from her nape.

  She couldn’t see the way his eyes darkened or how his mouth tightened as she arched back against the porch railing, holding the heavy mass of dark curls off her shoulders.

  Sirens, he reckoned, could learn a seductive trick or two from Allegra.

  “I expect it’s more than the heat that has wearied you,” he said as he came forward and settled himself on the step below hers. “Niall,” he said, answering her puzzled look. “It must be up-hill going, teaching a Gypsy boy to read.”

  “No, not at all. He is very bright. A church woman taught him his letters years ago…. I only needed to jog his memory a bit.”

  “At least one of you has a memory that’s joggable,” he couldn’t prevent himself from observing.

  She flashed him a look of annoyance.

  “No, no, stop looking daggers at me, Allegra. I’ll leave off baiting you. I’m just a bit testy—I had a run-in with our swan poacher this morning.”

  She touched his sleeve. “That’s something, then. I hope you put the fear of God into him.”

  Romulus scratched his cheek. “Not so you would notice. Argie Beasle is a stubborn river rat and not easy to intimidate. And, unless I miss my guess, he’s in league with the local publican.”

  Diana gave a little sign of dismay. “Rom, isn’t there a magistrate in the district who could aid you?”

  He shook his head. The last thing he needed was a magistrate poking around in his business.

  “I’ll just increase the time I spend patrolling the river,” he said. “I might be able to enlist Niall to help me…if I can get him away from his latest flirt.” His eyes teased her.

  She looked away from him and said matter-of-factly, “Niall told me how you saved his life. I gather that was the mysterious trade you made with the Gypsies.”

  He nodded as he leaned back against the step, his long legs stretched out before him. “I may yet come to regret it—you’ve got to be careful who you rescue from the river. Not everyone pays you back in kind.”

  “And do you regret saving me?” she inquired. She’d asked it in a playful manner, but when he took his time replying, she turned to him with a look of concern on her face. “Do you?” she asked again, more softly.

  He sucked in one cheek. “Perhaps it’s too soon to tell,” he said. “You’ve certainly made things interesting around here. And I’m not sure I mean that as a compliment.”

  Diana’s lower lip trembled slightly. “I’ve tried not to be a burden to you.”

  He raised his hand, wanting to trace his fingers over her quivering lip. Instead he brushed a catkin from her hair. “Don’t look so out of sorts, my witch.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you did regret rescuing me,” she said in a tremulous voice. “I fear I may yet cause you a dea
l of trouble. It’s only just occurred to me, you see. I was foolish not to have realized it sooner…foolish and thoughtless, I see now that my being on the island places you in a very precarious position.”

  “What is this?” he said, his eyes lighting at the intent, serious set of her small mouth. “Has your past come flying back to you at last? Have I been harboring the wife of a jealous Islamic potentate?”

  “That’s the point I’m trying to make. I’m not anyone’s wife.”

  “And how can you be so sure?”

  “Because of the ball gown in your kitchen.”

  Romulus leaned forward as he tried to follow the convoluted train of her logic. “The ball gown?”

  With conviction she replied, “There is not a married lady in the breadth of England who would allow herself to be tricked out in such an insipid gown. I do know that much.”

  Romulus grinned. “Yes, that ball gown rather does have ‘young miss’ written all over it. But unlike you, Allegra, I realized at once the…what did you call it?…the precariousness of my position. And I think there is only one course to follow.”

  “Oh?” She looked less than relieved. “I suppose that means you are sending me to Treypenny.”

  “That would hardly serve to scotch any gossip,” he pointed out. “Just the opposite, in fact. I can imagine how the villagers would react to the sight of their local madman rowing ashore with a young lady in tow.” He shifted to face her. “No, I’ve given it a lot of thought since you arrived here. And I’ve come to a decision.”

  “And that is…?” she asked cautiously.

  “I intend to row you across to Hamish House and put you in Lady Hamish’s care—

  “No!” She had nearly shouted the word. That was the last place she could afford to go.

  Beveril had been running tame in his aunt’s home for weeks, a fact Diana had formerly attributed to her own allure. Now she knew his prolonged visit had much more to do with the charms of Lady Vivian.

  “I certainly cannot go there,” she added in a more controlled voice.

  “Why?” His tone gave nothing away.

  Her hands fluttered in agitation. “B-b-because she is a stranger to me.”

  “As I am,” he remarked evenly.

  She flashed him a stormy look and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, if that’s what you think you are, then perhaps you should send me away. But whether Lady Hamish takes me in or not, you will still be seen as the man who compromised me.” She added purposefully, “I won’t have your good name sullied, Romulus, not as a result of your kindness to me. And I certainly won’t let anyone force you to marry me.”

  “You relieve my mind immeasurably,” he murmured, looking away so she could not see him smile. “But there is a way to prevent that situation from arising. If I ask it of them, the Gypsies will say that they found you, injured and disoriented.” He chuckled softly as he added, “They don’t lie among themselves, but think nothing of fibbing to a gorgio. I will tell Lady Hamish that I found you with the Gypsies. Your presence in her house will lend countenance to the story, and so you will be returned to your family with your reputation for the most part intact. All you need do is say the word, and I will set things in motion.”

  She grappled with her feelings, knowing the sooner she left the island, the less chance there was that he would be implicated in her disappearance. Yet she sensed he was as loath to let her go as she was to leave.

  “And when would you take me to Hamish House?”

  He looked down at the toes of his boots and replied softly, ‘Tomorrow morning.” She gasped noticeably and his eyes immediately darted back to her face. “It’s the only way, Allegra,” he said, as his golden gaze held her. “There’s no telling how long it will take for your memory to return. And we can’t afford to wait.”

  “But you said it should return within the week.”

  “That’s been my experience,” he said. “But you should have recalled more of your past by now. For instance, what it was you were fleeing from that night.”

  “Why do you persist in this belief that I was running away?” she asked fretfully.

  He responded in a tow voice. “I have every reason to think it. While you were ill you cried out repeatedly in your sleep, ‘Don’t make me go back!’ What else am I supposed to think after hearing that?”

  Diana was about to dismiss those words as nothing more than the result of a fever-induced nightmare, when she realized he had just handed her an excuse to remain on the island.

  “Yes,” she mused, “I cannot precisely recall it, but there is something I dread returning to. And who can say?…Perhaps it was something at Hamish House that frightened me.” That was certainly true. The avaricious, duplicitous Sir Beveril was enough to give anyone nightmares.

  “Think, Allegra,” he entreated her. “I cannot help you to face your fear, if you will not even speak of it.”

  Diana gave a long, drawn out sigh. Guilt was washing over her with every breath. Romulus was still trying to aid her, and meanwhile she piled up the lies, one upon the other. She had a sudden urge to tell him the truth, to reveal her own duplicity. It was apparent he had no illusions about her feigned loss of memory—he seemed more amused than angered by it. Her honesty would at least relieve his worry over her nameless peril. But there was nothing to be served by telling him about Sir Beveril. If what Niall said was true, there was enough hostility between the two men without throwing a runaway debutante into the mix.

  He spoke into the strained silence that had grown between them. “I seriously doubt your fear has anything to do with Lady Hamish. She rarely receives visitors—it’s unlikely you’ve ever met her. I wager it was someone close to you who was threatening you or forcing something on you.”

  “Why would you think that?” she said. “It might have been a stranger.”

  He gave her a tight smile as he shook his head. “You are a young lady of some wealth, by all indications. And such young ladies are kept well away from the more sordid denizens of the world. I doubt you were fleeing from a blackmailer or a vengeful moneylender.”

  She sniffed. “Perhaps I ran away from an overly familiar stable-boy.”

  Romulus surprised her by laughing. “Oh, no, Allegra. I’ve seen how you handle the Gypsy Romeo. There’s not a lovestruck moonling you couldn’t dispatch with a flick of your little finger. It wasn’t a stableboy that set you on the river, my girl. I’d say something of a bit more weight.”

  About sixteen stone, Allegra muttered to herself, thinking of her strapping fiancé.

  She put her hands over her face and said through her fingers. “Does it matter so much why I ran away, Rom? Whatever it was, I will deal with it when I return home.”

  His voice rumbled softly near her ear. “I didn’t want you to have to face it alone.”

  She drew her hands down and gazed at him in wonder. “Thank you,” she said in a husky whisper. “But you have done enough, letting me stay here.” There was a world of sadness in her voice as she added, “There are some things we have to face alone, Rom. You have been my bulwark, here on the island, but out there”—she made a sweeping motion toward the river—“out there, I must learn to fend for myself.”

  Romulus took up her hand and twined his fingers with hers. “No,” he said gently. “Do you think I stop caring about my foundlings, once they are returned to the river? Do you think my responsibility ends when they are no longer in my home?” He drew her hand to his mouth. “Nothing can harm you, Allegra.” His lips touched the base of her wrist. “Not while I have breath in my body. You need only get a message to me, and I will come to you. Any time, any place.”

  Diana’s heart clenched in her breast as she bit back a choking sob. The warm touch of his mouth on her skin had sent a ripple of aching tenderness through her. She knew that those comforting words were the closest thing to a declaration of love she was likely to receive from Romulus. He was letting her go, but not severing the connection between them. She wonder
ed if she could live her life without him, consoled by the knowledge that he was hovering in the distance, like a well-beloved guardian angel. It was not what she wanted, but perhaps it was all she was to be allowed.

  “Thank you, Rom,” she said hoarsely as he laid her hand upon the step. “I could not ask for more.”

  He leaned away from her and plucked up a stem of soapwart that grew beside the stairs. “So are you willing to go to Hamish House tomorrow?” he asked and then added slyly, “Or can you promise me a miracle cure by the beginning of next week? Say…by Monday?”

  A resounding joy swept through Diana at his words. He was leaving the choice up to her! He watched her with a guarded apprehension; it changed to relief when she said, “Yes, I’d prefer to wait until then. For one thing, we haven’t given Wilfred Bailey much time to respond to my note. He might yet send me a reply.”

  “I suppose that is a possibility.” Rom’s tone indicated that he had as much faith in Bailey responding, as of a man riding a rocket to the moon.

  “And I do believe some fragments of my memory have returned. This morning I recollected that I had been a teacher…. It came to me while I was showing Niall his letters.”

  “Hmm?” Romulus mused, stroking the soapwart along her forearm. “Were you a governess, do you think?” He craned his head up toward her, his eyes now lit with amusement. “Perhaps you succumbed to temptation and stole that elegant ball gown…and took to the river to escape your pursuers.”

  Diana shifted away from the soft caress of the wildflower and said stiffly, “I hardly think I am a thief.”

  No, Romulus was tempted to reply, only a less-than-convincing liar. “Sorry,” he said. “I know you don’t have the makings of a thief.” He climbed to his feet and flicked the weed away. “Very well. You have until next week. But Allegra…come Monday, there will be an accounting.”

  * * *

  As she tossed in her bed that night, Diana re-experienced the sensation of Rom’s mouth on her wrist. Over and over, she felt the trace of his lips against her skin, until she was nearly mindless with longing.