A Warrior's Taking

by Margo Maguire

  None of the rich brown trim had been added yet, and Sarah was glad the stitching remained loose. Changes could still be made.

  Certain that Mr. Ridley would not venture into the kitchen, she returned and stood on a step stool as Maud directed.

  “You’ll have to raise the neckline, Maud,” Sarah said as the woman knelt to pin up the hem. “’Tis indecent this way.”

  “I’ll do no such thing, my girl. This is the fashion, and you’ll be quite the drab if we raise it.”

  “Oh, but I—”

  “You have a lovely figure. And these colors complement your hair and skin. You’ll look just right.”

  Sarah turned, finding herself in a position to glance out the window toward the castle ruins.

  “Why do you suppose he wants that stone so badly?” asked Maud.

  “He?”

  Maud laughed. “You know very well who I mean.”

  Sarah pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Maud, sometimes when he’s near, I feel as though I could crawl out of my skin. He is…”

  Maud took a pin from her mouth. “He is quite different from Squire Crowell, is he not?”

  Sarah agreed. She could hardly recall what it was about the squire that had ever appealed to her. When she thought about his pale good looks and soft hands, she knew she would never feel the deep pull of attraction that came over her when Brendan Locke was near.

  She could no longer think of those pretty hands caressing her and making her heart flutter with desire. Nor could she imagine the sound of her name whispered in passion from his lips. With Squire Crowell, Sarah could never bear the kind of intimacies she’d shared with Brendan.

  “The man is maddening,” she said, remembering how he’d disregarded her wishes and placed her onto his horse. “He cares naught for convention. He can be rude and thickheaded. But—”

  “He fascinates you.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I don’t understand it.”

  “Has he…made any advances?”

  She nodded and pressed her palm to the center of her chest.

  “Has Mr. Locke said anything of his intentions?”

  “No,” Sarah replied, tamping down a wave of misery at the thought of his leaving. “He’ll return to Scotland, and I’ll remain here with the girls.”

  “But you said Mr. Ridley intended to send them to Loncrief.”

  “Maud, I can’t let them go there. You know about that place.”

  Maud’s brow crinkled. “What can you do about it, Sarah? If the master decides—”

  “I’ve taken rooms in town. Somehow, I’m going to convince Mr. Ridley to let me keep them with me. I can provide for them, and I’m sure he won’t mind saving the money he would otherwise have to spend on them.”

  With Maud’s worried frown, Sarah had the first inklings that she might fail to convince the new master. Maud clucked her tongue. “I don’t know…”

  Brogan saw no source for the blood on the ground near the children’s table. He shoveled dirt over it, obscuring the sight. It was an ominous sign, but without knowing what had happened to cause it, he could do naught but caution Sarah and the lasses to stay away from the ruins. It could not be long before he figured out where the stone was hidden.

  It was not in the caves, or any of the castle walls, for Brogan had searched every inch and found naught. Neither of the dragheens had been able to tell him anything of use in his search.

  Magic would not expose the stone, for it would be much too well-protected to be discovered so easily. He was certain Lord Dubhán would never have hidden it in the trees or under the ground, or any other place that might be temporary or obviously changeable.

  There was only one other possibility before he attempted the near-impossible task of trying to work out the crìoch-fàile.

  He headed toward the house, but one sight of Sarah through the window in the kitchen made him forget his purpose. She’d worn her hair the way he liked it, with loose curls softly edging her face, the mass of it tied at her nape.

  Neither she nor Maud saw his approach, for they were engaged in some kind of work on Sarah’s new gown. Sarah stood in profile, and Brogan’s body tightened at the sight of her elegant form in the new dress.

  The color suited her as he’d known it would, and Maud had created a gown that displayed her feminine curves to such advantage that every man at the Pruitt soiree would fall over his feet noticing her.

  And lusting for her.

  Growling low, under his breath, Brogan reminded himself that that had been the point. He wanted Crowell to take notice of Sarah and see her as a likely mate. ’Twas the only way to assure that she would enjoy some marital satisfaction, for the squire was the man she loved before he’d come to Ravenfield and interfered.

  He hardly remembered she was Tuath when he gazed at her through the glass. Her neck was long and delicate, her chin delicately cleft. Her shoulders and arms had strength, yet they were soft and feminine, and had held him with a spontaneous, innocent passion unlike anything he’d ever known.

  He could not keep from wanting her.

  He closed his eyes and relived those all-too-brief passionate moments with her, aware that he should not entertain such arousing thoughts. The taste of her nipples was going to haunt him forever, as would the sensuous sounds she made when he touched her.

  He’d broken the Druzai law he revered in the short time he’d been here, yet he could not regret touching Sarah.

  She would always have the ability to arouse him, no matter what her clothes, or how she wore her hair. There was much to admire in a woman who had managed so well on her own in this harsh world, and he could not help but compare her to the indolent Druzai women of his acquaintance. The women of his kind had every whim answered with the flick of a finger, the whisper of a thought.

  Sarah could not be more different.

  Brogan took a deep, shuddering breath and went into the house.

  “Why, Mr. Locke, come in,” said Maud. She gestured with her open hand toward Sarah. “What do you think of our Miss Granger?”

  Sarah stood on a stool, putting her at eye level with him. She did not look in his direction, but clasped her hands tightly in front of her, giving away the nervousness she felt.

  For a moment, Brogan thought his throat would not work. He swallowed, and then managed to speak, though there were no words that could convey his appreciation for her beauty, her fortitude, the depth of her compassion for the children in her care. “She is verra lovely, indeed.”

  “Oh!” cried Maud, taking pins from her mouth and dropping them on the table. “Sarah, stay right there…Er, I’ll be back shortly.” The woman quickly disappeared from the kitchen, leaving Sarah alone with him.

  The last place either of them ought to be.

  He wanted to touch her, but knew he could not. His quest for the stone had already taken much too long, and he could waste no time once he found it.

  He could not kiss her again, nor could he sample the delights hidden beneath the wonderful gown Maud was making for her.

  Even if Brogan could take her back to Coruain, he understood her well enough to know she would not leave Meglet and Jane to the mercy of Charles Ridley. She was a woman who understood responsibility.

  And she would appreciate what Brogan had to do.

  “Sarah.” He moved to the opposite side of the table to put some distance between them. He had to concentrate on finding the stone.

  He dreaded the prospect of sitting down with his drawing of all the crìoch-fàile and trying to solve what might or might not even be a puzzle. “You know the library well,” he said. Mayhap there was some recorded folklore regarding the earliest lords of Ravenfield and their treasures. “Have you ever seen a book—a very old book—about Ravenfield? Mayhap some old records or a history?”

  She bit her lower lip, as was her wont when she was pensive, and he berated himself for making things more complicated for her. She held herself aloof, obviously sensing his desire to keep a distan
ce between them.

  “If you tell me about the stone, I might know where to find it.”

  “Ah, lass…’Tis an old, dull stone, dark red in color.”

  “Large or small?”

  “’Twould easily fit in the palm of Jane’s hand.”

  “And is it v-valuable?”

  “No, Sarah.” If he were to explain its significance, she would never believe him. “I wouldna take anything of value from Ravenfield. The stone is an artifact of interest to my family. My father…” He shoved his fingers through his hair, at a loss for words.

  Her expression softened. “It was of importance to your father? Is that why you came here?”

  “Aye.” He did not enjoy lying to her, but no other explanation would do.

  “I have never seen such a stone,” she said, picking a nonexistent bit of lint from her skirt. “But you might ask M-Mr. Ridley to look at the books in the library. That’s where you’ll find him.”

  He would rather stay and loosen the stiffness from her shoulders. ’Twould be so easy to kiss her…as she stood on the stool, he would not even need to lean down to meet her mouth. He could slide his hands ’round her waist and pull her close, and press his erection against her, make her come to climax with barely a touch.

  He let out a harsh breath. “Ainchis, moileen.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “You canna know what you do to me,” he said.

  Her mouth began to quiver, and she put the fingers of one hand against it. “You must go, Brendan…Mr. Locke.”

  “Aye. Well I know it.”

  Chapter 13

  Two of Ridley’s business associates, Edmund Harris and Joshua Howard, arrived from London. ’Twas noontime, and Brendan Locke had visited the library and left again, without returning to the kitchen.

  Sarah felt weightless with dismay, as though there were too much air in her lungs, putting an uncomfortable pressure on her heart. If only she could exhale, she might feel grounded again. Her heart might beat normally once more.

  Brendan would soon be leaving. She’d known it the moment she’d told him to leave the kitchen to pursue his search of a book in the library. She could feel it.

  The bell on the library desk rang, and Maud put down her sewing. “Go and get the girls for lunch while I see what the master wants. Everything is ready.”

  The girls were not in the garden, so Sarah walked over to the ruins where Jane liked to have her tea parties. She walked through the stone arch and stopped short when she saw Jane and Margaret sitting at the small table, with Brendan beside them, perched on a large rock that he must have dragged close to the table. A thick, leather-bound book lay discarded upon the stone wall.

  Margaret was pouring.

  That odd weightlessness in Sarah’s chest intensified.

  “Miss Granger!” Jane cried, and they all looked up at her.

  “Luncheon is ready, children.”

  “Oh, but we’ve just started our tea,” Margaret said.

  “Lasses, you must do as Miss Granger bids.”

  “Will you come with us, Mr. Locke?” asked Jane, taking hold of his big hand. “Maud will have made plenty.”

  He looked up at Sarah, his eyes hooded, expressionless. And Sarah could not resist asking him to share their table. “Of course you must come.”

  They returned to the kitchen together and took their seats around the table. Maud had not yet returned, and Sarah went to the door to see if their housekeeper was anywhere in sight. She was not, so Sarah assumed she was still in the library.

  “There has been much to do since Mr. Ridley’s associates arrived,” Sarah said as she began to serve the meal. “I’m sure she’ll join us shortly.”

  “Miss Granger made me the prettiest ball gown,” Jane said to Brendan.

  “’Tis not a ball gown,” Margaret corrected her sister, “but a party frock.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Jane said dreamily. “Just like the princess in Miss Granger’s story.”

  “Will you take us to Mrs. Pruitt’s house, Mr. Locke?” Margaret asked in a pleading voice. “Please?”

  Maud pushed open the door and sat down heavily in the chair beside Margaret. She looked ill.

  “Maud?” Sarah asked. “What is it?”

  “I’ve been sacked,” she replied, and Sarah’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Margaret started to cry, but Maud hugged her to her breast.

  “Sacked?”

  At the desolate expression on Sarah’s face, Brogan was ready to charge into the library to challenge Ridley when Jane asked, “What does that mean?”

  “Given my leave,” Maud replied, gathering Jane into her arms. The color returned to her face, and she smiled sadly. “For the first time in my life, I’m not wanted.”

  Brogan relaxed now that he understood the word.

  “The master will be hiring a whole new staff, and they’ll need a different kind of cook,” said Maud.

  “What kind?” asked Jane. “Won’t they eat food like we do?”

  “Oh yes, of course they will,” Maud replied. “But much more than I’m accustomed to cooking. So now ’tis time for me to go down to my sister’s.”

  “No!” cried Margaret, turning to plead with Sarah. “Can you persuade Mr. Ridley to keep Maud? What will we ever do without Maud!”

  Sarah took Margaret onto her lap, and Brogan could see that she was trying to mask her own distress from the children. “We must think of Maud in this, love. She has been wanting to retire to Ulverston for months. She only stayed on to help us over the winter.”

  Margaret pressed her face to Sarah’s breast and sniffled. “Will someone else come to cook for us?”

  Maud exchanged a glance with Sarah, then gave the lass a tremulous smile. “Of course. Tomorrow.”

  The child began weeping anew. “You’re leaving us tomorrow?”

  “Have no worry, my sweet,” said Maud. “I’ll stay long enough to see you off to your party.”

  Margaret looked at him then. “Mr. Locke? Will you take us?”

  “Margaret—”

  “Aye, lass,” he said, cutting Sarah off. “I’ll escort you.”

  Silence met his statement. He should never have committed to staying another day, not when it was possible that this very day he might find the one key clue and locate the stone. But when Jane suddenly threw her arms ’round his neck and Meglet pushed away from Sarah to hug his waist, he could not regret it.

  His heart swelled with an unfamiliar sensation at the affection and gratitude of these wee lasses, and he closed his eyes to relish it for a moment. For ’twas something he was unlikely to experience again, once he returned to Coruain.

  Sarah blinked, unable to believe her ears. Only a few days before, he’d said he could not stay. Or would not…Sarah could not remember which. She hardly dared hope she and the girls had engaged his affections, and she guarded against reading more into his decision than he intended.

  Loncrief still hung over their heads, and Sarah still had to approach Mr. Ridley about it.

  Their joy over Mr. Locke’s decision to escort them was dampened by the knowledge that Maud would soon be leaving. They finished the meal and Brendan stood, saying that he would return for them the following evening, with a carriage.

  “Oh, and doona go near the ruins or the castle when I leave,” he said, picking up the book and heading for the door.

  “Why? What—?”

  “There are signs that someone besides me has been poking ’round.”

  “Who?” Margaret demanded.

  “Weel, that I doona know. But whoever it is willna bother you if you stay clear of the site.”

  Sarah looked out the window as Brendan left, but saw nothing that concerned her.

  “Will you be giving Mr. Ridley his luncheon, Maud?” Jane asked.

  “A bit later, my sweet,” said Maud as she got up to clear the table. “He will not hesitate to ring when he wants it.”

  Sarah and the girls went up
to the nursery for their afternoon lessons, and Maud soon served Mr. Ridley and the other men. The voices of the new master and his guests wafted up from the dining room to the nursery, making the girls nervous and jumpy. The girls had mixed emotions. They should have been happy and excited about tomorrow’s soiree, but they were upset about Maud going away and unnerved by the presence of a stern stranger in the house.

  Sarah had known of Maud’s plan to leave as soon as Mr. Ridley had a replacement for her. But it did not ease the loss of her dear friend, the woman who had welcomed her to Ravenfield six years earlier, when she was so deeply in need of affection and a home.

  “Miss Granger, are you sad that Maud is leaving?”

  “Of course I am, love,” Sarah replied. “But we must remember that Maud is going to live with her sister. And she has wanted to go there for a very long time.”

  “She only stayed because Papa died,” Margaret informed her sister.

  “She stayed because she loves you,” Sarah corrected. “And she knew you needed her.”

  “Did you need her, too, Miss Granger?” Jane asked.

  Sarah nodded. “Maud has been my very best friend, ever since I came to Ravenfield.”

  She felt lost and alone, and yearned for the man who had held her and comforted her more than once when she’d been upset. He’d shown her the kind of passion she would ever long for, and made her feel like the most appealing woman in the world. Yet the attraction had its limits. He might stay to escort them to Pruitt Hall, but he’d indicated no further change of plans.

  Sarah sent the girls out to play in the garden after lessons, and returned to the main floor of the house, bolstering herself to speak to Mr. Ridley.

  Straightening her collar and cuffs, she smoothed her hair back before knocking on the library door. When the man called for her to enter, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

  Ridley sat behind the desk as the two other men stood facing him, poring over the charts and maps on the desk. There was a haze of cigar smoke hanging over them, and Sarah suppressed the urge to cough. The three men looked at her, unnerving her with their intent gazes.