by Madelyn Hill
What tugged him further was the blush staining Vivian’s cheeks, as if she’d been kissed and caught. The dancing flames of the fire caressed her, lapped around her shoulders and stroked her hair. He reached out to touch her, then pulled his hand back. He’d be lucky if she ever spoke to him again.
He had almost told her. Then he decided it was better if she hated him. When she left, the shock wouldn’t be as great. At least not as great as a mother throwing her own body off the cliffs or a father going up in flames from an experiment Galen had assisted in creating.
Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair. He was damn tired of choking on self-pity.
“May I join you?” He chuckled at their surprised, guilty faces. “Or did you drink all the wine?”
It blistered him that Alice sat with a self-satisfied grin as she sipped from a tankard. Nessa filled a cup for him, but he didn’t miss the suspicious glare she directed at him. What was it with the women of this castle? They were forever plaguing him with their withering looks.
He tipped his head to her and sat by Bernard, whom he hoped was an ally. “Thank you.”
The man stiffened beside him.
“Would someone care to enlighten me as to what you are doing?” The thick silence almost drowned out the crackle of the peat. Galen leaned forward to pluck an ornament from the table. “My mother’s work?” he directed to no one in particular.
“Aye, she made these before you were born.” Alice took the one he was holding and dangled it from its ribbon. “I remember how much pleasure she wrought from them.”
At least she had found pleasure in something, he thought with sadness. He cocked a brow at his insubordinate maid. “What are you doing, Auld Alice?”
Her brown eyes held a twinkle, one he thought had died with Liam. It struck him as odd that he so missed the meek man. Alice straightened and smoothed a wrinkled hand over her apron. “Why, we’re readying for Christmas.”
The way she spoke, as if they were doing the most ordinary of things, made him set down his tankard. “I’m not daft. I want to ken who said we’d be celebrating Christmas?”
Vivian cleared her throat. “Not to worry, Alice.”
She patted the maid’s arm and looked at him. His nerves pulled taut at the directness of her startling eyes. They questioned and demanded. He almost slid to his knees to ask her forgiveness and confess his sins.
“Please do not blame them. I insisted.” She was curt, but for a tremor of emotion lying beneath her words. “For Alex.”
Galen leapt off the couch. “You’ll stop this now!”
Vivian waved a hand at him and turned toward Alice. Blast if they didn’t ignore him and engage in conversation.
“How do you like the wine, lass?” Alice asked without a care in the world.
They were talking about wine? Fury welled deep in his stomach as he paced to the mulled wine. He’d eased off spirits as of late, but they still lured him as they wrapped around his anger and lack of control.
“Alex will love the tree,” he overheard her say to Alice.
Galen cleared his throat. “I’d like to speak to Miss Stuart alone.”
The servants hesitated. Bernard stood and rested his hand protectively on Vivian’s shoulder. Galen watched the man. ’Twas obvious he held great affection for the lass. He nodded to reassure him all would be well.
Nessa hovered at the threshold, biting her lip as she twisted her apron. Alice pulled her away, whispering too low for Galen to hear. Whatever was said, it soothed the concerned maidservant into compliance. When they were alone, Galen turned his attention to Vivian.
Bollocks, she took his breath away. She watched him, her eyes wide with question, their glistening depths compassionate.
He raked his fingers through his hair. “You are to stop meddling.”
Her gaze never wavered. “Aye, you’ve said that.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of the old settee.
“You’ll be leaving, to be sure.” Even as he said it, he wished it weren’t true. Deep in his heart, he yearned for her.
No matter, it had to be.
She elegantly shrugged her shoulders. Galen pressed on.
“When you leave Wolf’s Castle, you’ll never think of us again.” But his thoughts would be consumed by her for eternity. His thoughts, dreams. “Alex doesn’t need more upheaval.”
Vivian rose from the settee and walked toward him. Her scrutiny made him tense. “And you think sparing him your love will help him?”
Galen inhaled. His senses filled with her essence of lavender, roses, and goodness. He raised his hand and ran a finger along the arch of her brow, down her high cheekbone. She shivered and took a step back.
Resolve and determination danced in her expressive eyes. “You must acknowledge your son.”
“My son?” His mouth fell open.
She cocked her brow, then narrowed her eyes. Anger raised her hackles as she began to yell. “This is not news to you, Laird Maclean. Alex needs his father. He needs you to be there for him.”
It was time. Galen kenned the truth was the way of it, yet he wanted the truth to remain hidden. If he made himself appear less—less foreboding, she may decide to remain on the island. But her eyes, they bewitched him and he found himself saying, “His father is dead.”
Vivian stopped, opened her mouth, then closed it. “Dead?”
“Alex is my brother.”
He watched her digest the information, reading the myriad of emotions crossing her face. Disbelief, astonishment, and then enlightenment.
“Your father and Madge.”
He merely nodded.
Vivian stepped closer and rested her hand on his forearm. “Galen, please forgive me.”
Panic filled her face, pitched her brows upward as her eyes widened. “Madge led me to believe you were the father. And. . . she brought your cloak from your chamber. The other day—”
Galen rubbed his weary eyes. He wanted to throttle Madge. “You believed a maidservant instead of coming to me?”
He looked at her downcast eyes, the color searing her fair skin. No, she’d earn no sympathy from him. He was used to indifference, but she wasn’t like his parents. Or so he had thought.
“Excuse me. I’ve work in the lab.” He strode from the great hall, eager to be far from her. When she called after him, he ignored the pleading in her voice and the disapproving grimace on Alice’s face when he passed her in the hall. She’d tried to stop him, but Galen didn’t acknowledge her.
Alice would have to allow him to make his own decisions. And Vivian was his concern.
For his own salvation, she must leave.
Chapter 21
Madame passed enough coin around to ensure they were serious about crossing after Christmas. The timing didn’t suit him, but Donal understood convincing her of that was futile. Glancing around the small room he held at the inn, he noticed how he was slowly being driven out of the chamber. His crucibles and mineral-filled vessels lay heaped in the corner next to his alchemy charts and diagrams.
He rubbed the back of his neck, tense and sweaty, worried over his lack of commitment. If he truly were a master, part of the brotherhood, he’d allow no distractions from his goals.
“Damn her,” he muttered. Madame had somehow shoved his needs aside while pushing her goals to the forefront.
Donal heard her before he saw her. His heart began to race with anticipation and fear. The commanding gravel of her throaty voice and the click of her ridiculously expensive shoes echoed in the corridor. He still didn’t comprehend why one woman needed so many shoes.
“Donal,” she called as she threw open the door. “We need to prepare.”
“Aye, Madame.” Meekness entered his tone, deviling him, mocking him.
She swept into the room, a few parcels in neatly wrapped boxes cluttered her arms. Without a wrinkle to her brow, her disgust at the state of the room was obvious. “Quickly, quickly, clean up this mess.”
Donal refused to do her
bidding. If it weren’t for him, they wouldn’t be this close to Vivian, this close to greatness. “Do you think you could be getting another room?”
“What?” she whispered as she narrowed her almond-shaped eyes into barely perceptible slits. “Do you expect me to pay for two rooms when one will do?”
He rubbed his brow, regretting his hastily spoken words. “Nay, nay of course you needn’t.”
“’Tis better. Now, open the small package.” She set the rest of the parcels down and sank gracefully into the wing chair the proprietor had brought Donal for his wife’s comfort. “I was able to secure a much needed component. I noticed you didn’t have arsenic on hand.”
He felt the blood drain from his face. Madame laughed, a wicked concoction that sent shivers of terror up his spine. He never thought he’d have to use the horrid poison again.
“He’s large, Laird Maclean. He’ll need a healthy dose. There are a few servants, less than a handful, but they’ll need taking care of.” She tipped her head in his direction. A hundred questions popped into his mind, slipped off his tongue, and disappeared into the air. Her powerful presence filled the room and brought out all the weakness in him. She made him feel impotent. How did a willowy woman, at least a head shorter than himself, scare him out of his boots?
“Don’t forget to grind it with the tea.”
Donal grunted, then shrugged when he realized he did it aloud. “The fisherman will be ready right after Christmas. I’d say we have a wee bit of time on our hands.”
“Well, Donal, that is why I’m leading this little. . .partnership.” She dragged the last word out as if she loathed saying it but wanted him to realize his place in the scheme of things.
“I’ll get right to it.”
“That’s my boy.”
Chapter 22
After Vivian had retired to her chamber, she debated whether to apologize once again or remain in the maid’s displeasure. She decided to apologize. Blast her slippery tongue. If she hadn’t been so persistent, Galen would have never known she’d found Alex.
Even though she’d learned the source of the haunting wails, traveling down the darkened hallways still frightened her.
She rounded a corner and caught her breath.
Flickering candlelight glowed from the nursery. Peeking in, she stilled. Galen stood, hands on waist, staring at the crib.
Alex, bless his heart, gurgled happily as he chewed on a stuffed lamb. Vivian stilled as she watched the intimidating man. She heard him sigh and as if it were against his better judgment, hesitate, and then pick up the now squirming infant. She tried not to chuckle when he kept the babe at arm’s length. Slowly, he seemed to warm to the chubby mass of wiggling limbs. He brought him closer to his body, cradling his head in the crook of his arm.
Alex laughed, adding some pleasing bairn chatter.
“You’re not a bad lad.” Galen turned toward the rocker. As he sat, his gaze found her at the door. Bolting upright, he unsettled the bairn.
While Alex gave a lusty cry, Galen attempted to look as if he hadn’t been caught.
Vivian entered and rescued the baby. “I was looking for Madge.”
“I see.”
“Here you are, lad.” She wiped the tears from his pudgy cheeks and set him on the floor next to a few hand-carved blocks.
“I came to speak with her as well.”
Vivian attempted to hide her bemused smile. Galen was so charmingly uncomfortable, she decided to allow him to see her amusement. “I suppose this is due to our earlier conversation?”
“Aye. She kens her place. She shouldn’t be telling tales to our guest.”
She raised a brow and swept all amusement from her face. “Guest? Is that how you see me?”
He shifted his weight and looked at her. “You can be nothing more.”
“We’re back to that, are we?” She picked up Alex, who had toppled onto the rag rug. “You could look at me as a friend.”
Her heart pounded in her ears. To have a friend would mean so much to her, especially if he were Galen. He was interested in alchemy and appeared to be as lost as she was in regards to family. Both orphans, so to speak.
His blue eyes widened. “I’ve never—”
“And just what are you doing here?” Madge’s voice cut through the air, sharp with anger.
“I was looking for you,” they said in unison.
Suspicion flared in her dark eyes. Vivian stepped forward, hoping to reassure her. Madge reached for her baby and cradled him close.
Vivian stilled. “Madge.”
“You told. I think you’ve done enough.”
Irritated, Vivian snapped, “No need to blame me for your lies.”
Embarrassment deepened Madge’s red cheeks as the maidservant cast her eyes to the ground. “’Tis sorry, I am.”
Galen cleared his throat. Anger claimed Madge’s face once again. “You’ll not be taking me bairn.” She stepped back, still trying to hold the active child.
Vivian stepped between them. “No one will be taking Alex.”
Galen grunted.
Vivian threw a quelling look over her shoulder. “Laird Maclean was just visiting his brother. You can’t blame him for wanting to get to know him, can you?”
The maidservant shrugged her thin shoulders, not quite meeting Vivian’s eyes.
“We’ll be out of your way.” Vivian started out of the chamber. “Laird Maclean,” she said meaningfully.
“Aye?”
“I believe you had some questions about my father’s notes.”
He nodded in understanding and reluctantly complied. “We’ll talk later,” he warned Madge as he passed.
Vivian spotted the frightened look that creased the maid’s small face. Her heart clenched and she wanted to throttle Galen for his threatening tone. She walked toward the library, curious to see if indeed he had been working on the experiment. She heard him, or rather felt him behind her. She marveled at the grace of his step despite his height and brawn. The closeness of his body, the heat of his breath on her neck, filtered through her as she tried to walk without quivering. ‘Twas disconcerting how the man scrambled her insides and quickened her pulse.
She waited for what seemed to be an eternity for him to speak and was still startled when he did.
“She needs to ken her place.”
The brief memory of Madge clutching her child raced through her mind. “She’s a mother protecting her child.”
His lengthy stride brought him to her side. “Madge is greedy.”
“Surely not. She’s frightened and has no other home,” Vivian said. At least she thought Madge feared being turned out. Their conversations of late told her that the maid was threatened by her presence.
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. She’d grown accustomed to the silver streak that ran from his crown along the length of his hair. Yet he still resembled a wolf longing to let out a howl and protect his territory. “She charged after my father at every opportunity. He used her, plain and simple.”
Vivian thought for a moment. She hated to think of it as greed. Mayhap desperation suited her better. Och, she could relate to desperation. How it sunk into the pit of your stomach and lodged itself.
Donal Burke’s attack had started that sickening feeling which culminated when her father died. And now, the rigid wall of Galen’s anger was adding to her discomfort.
“You have to think of Alex. He’s innocent.” Yes, Madge was deceitful, but Vivian had already fallen in love with the lad and refused to see him hurt.
He touched her arm, unconsciously, she was certain. “I can’t allow her to take advantage of the situation.”
She pulled away and crossed her arms before her chest. “What would happen if she did?”
Galen leaned against the wall. The darkness of the corridor didn’t hide his displeasure. But it swallowed her, making her feel vulnerable in his lair. “Can we go to the study?”
He gave a curt nod. “Aye.”
&n
bsp; She hesitated, then continued to the calming room. Warm air caressed her face as Vivian crossed the threshold. White ceramic crucibles lined the oak lab table waiting to be filled. In an orderly fashion, glass stirring sticks lay next to them. Yes, Galen was ready to experiment. But what was he waiting for?
He followed her as the stars follow the moon—she pulled at him and he had no control over the urgings to be near Vivian. All he thought of was the graceful arch of her neck. How he wanted to touch the creamy white skin, tangle his fingers in her mahogany hair to loosen it from whatever kept it tightly in place. She held herself very proper, even after she saw the equipment readied for another bout of experimentation. He grinned, entranced by her resolve and ability to remain vexed at him.
The little hairs near her nape seemed to prickle as he came closer, revealing the excitement she felt.
“Since you are here, would you care to assist?” Galen ventured. “I’d like to try a different method.”
Vivian turned quickly, a scowl creasing her brow. As his gazed remained steady, a reluctant smile tugged at her full lips. “Aye, I’ll help you.”
He was thrilled with her response, but he kept a steady grip on his emotions. Even after their unpleasant confrontation, she was willing to help him. Did this mean she’d forgiven him? Or was she just as curious as he was and needed to decipher the experiment with the same urgency?
Donning a lab apron, Galen handed a smaller version to her. He’d already weighed the ingredients, so he lit the candle below a large beaker. Vivian opened her father’s book and began reciting the procedure once again.
“I’d like to add the heat after we’ve mixed all of the ingredients.”
They waited expectantly. For what he wasn’t sure, but he needed a reaction.
Nothing.
After simmering the mixture for an hour, all that was left was dried white crust at the bottom of the beaker.
“Bollocks,” he exclaimed.
