Druid's Daughter

by Jean Hart Stewart

  She struggled to put her private thoughts behind her. Jamie’s safety was much more important than any of her desires.

  “May I go with you?” she asked.

  Dellafield stared at her as if she’d sprouted scales and a tail.

  “Of course not. What an idiotic request. This tavern is in the worst part of town and all its customers would doubtless give one look at you and decide you’d do very well for their next rape victim. You are extraordinarily beautiful, you know.” He turned and started toward the door. “You definitely will not come near that den of murdering thieves.”

  She didn’t even blink at the unexpected compliment.

  “I intend to go. If necessary I will take a common hackney and pay the cabbie well to wait with me outside the tavern. If by any chance at all Jamie is there, he’ll appreciate a female to cuddle and love him.”

  The Chief Inspector looked his horror. “You are beyond insane. I absolutely forbid it.”

  “I’ll take Ambrose,” she said. “No one will come near me, I assure you.”

  Lord Lance stared at her, his aristocratic face as frozen as ice floes on the northern seas.

  “Absolutely not. You have no idea of the kind of stews we will be in. Stay here if you wish and I’ll get word back to you as soon as I can. But do not come near the Blue Doors Tavern. Tonight, or any other night. That’s an order.”

  Dellafield turned to give more directions to his sergeant and then stalked away. Morgan suspected he’d put her out of his mind. Probably just as well since he was being so damnably despotic. Men could be so difficult. She waited ten minutes after he’d disappeared and then mentally called on her mother to send Ambrose.

  Huge, dependable Ambrose. What could go wrong when Ambrose furnished her protection?

  Chapter Three

  Morgan waited until Dellafield strode out of the room. Then she called for a hackney and climbed in. The big dog padded alongside and jumped on the seat beside her. The cabbie started to object at both the dog and the address Morgan gave him. Turning around he found Ambrose with his face quite close, staring directly in his eyes, his fangs just barely showing.

  The cabbie swallowed, quietly clucked to his horses and put the cab in motion toward his passenger’s stated destination, the Blue Doors Tavern. Why any decent woman would want to go there he couldn’t comprehend, but that big dog didn’t make for objections. Not of any kind. Her destination was strictly up to her.

  God help her though, if she didn’t know what that hellhole of a tavern was like.

  * * * * *

  Morgan sat back, knowing with a deep conviction she would be needed at the coming confrontation. She didn’t know how, but all would be revealed. She put her arms around Ambrose, ruffling his thick fur and burying her face in his luxurious pelt. Surely now they were on their way her Goddess would keep Jamie safe for just a little longer.

  “Thank the Goddess you’re here,” she whispered to the dog, who slurped on her cheek in return.

  The Blue Doors was as grubby as a tavern could be. Morgan looked out at the sky where she could usually find peace. Her Druid soul was always attuned to the natural and strength-giving Earth. If it was night and the sky glittered with star-fire, she could find a soothing message in the shining points of light. Today the somber clouds in the sky brought little tranquility. She attempted to center her being into an inner peace, but calmness did not come easily. At last some serenity returned and she leaned back against the cushions to await the raid’s outcome.

  She didn’t have long to wait. She watched the best of Scotland Yard take their place in a ring around the tavern and a large part of them march in. A great deal of noise came from the tavern, as most of the customers seemed to be shouting their objections and their panic. The doors were closed and held tight. Yet somehow one culprit escaped the net. He slunk out a small door with no handle, a door blending almost without notice into the wall of the building. He crept along the side of the tavern, quite evidently meaning to sprint away as soon as he got clear.

  Morgan whispered a few words to Ambrose, who immediately leaped from the hackney cab and cornered the escapee. Ambrose rumbled deep in his throat and the thug whimpered, a high-pitched, terrified sound.

  The seedy man slunk back along the wall of the tavern, obviously horrified by the bare fangs of Ambrose. The dog stood with his front paws on the criminal’s shoulders, breathing into the hapless man’s face. The huge dog’s fur stood out in a big ruff as he snarled at his cowering victim.

  “Keep him right there, Ambrose,” Morgan said with a shudder. “He has a perfectly hideous aura. I don’t think I’ve ever seen worse. Ugh. But I want Lord Lance to talk to him.”

  Hearing the name of the Chief Inspector caused the trembling man to make a thrusting attempt to get past the dog. Ambrose merely put his teeth in the thug’s shirt and dragged him back, rearing up against the man’s body so he was again trapped.

  “For Gawd’s sake, lady. Call your brute off before he kills me.”

  “I don’t think I can let you go,” Morgan said. “In fact I think a gentleman is coming right now who is most desirous of speaking to you.”

  The Chief Inspector appeared, beaming and obviously delighted, his arms wrapped around a small child with golden curls. Not much could be seen of his angelic face as Jamie peered shyly from the comfort of his rescuer’s shoulder.

  Then Dellafield spied Morgan. His initial reaction was sheer incredulity, followed by a blazing anger that would have terrified almost anyone else.

  He started to stalk toward her, but Morgan ignored his fury and walked to him, holding out her arms to Jamie.

  “Will you let me hold you, Jamie? I know you’re a big boy and can take care of yourself, but your Uncle Lance wants to know you’re safe. Will you come to me, brave boy?”

  Jamie smiled a smile of heart-stopping sweetness and held out his arms to Morgan, who quickly took him and cuddled him in her arms.

  “I’m not really so brave,” he said, hiding his face in her shoulder. “I cried after the man took my food away before I could eat it all. But only after he’d left.”

  “There,” she said, smoothing his curls. “We’ll go to the carriage and wait for your Uncle Lance. Nothing is going to hurt you again. Lord Lance simply won’t allow it. He’s going to arrest the bad man Ambrose has pinned against the wall and then you can feel safe again.”

  She walked with him to the carriage, murmuring to him all the while. Lord Lance looked at her in astonishment, his anger at her evaporating as her words got through to him. He spun around and spied the quivering man Ambrose held trapped and in waiting.

  “My God,” he said simply. “Cuttering. I thought you’d gotten away once again even though your men didn’t. So now you like to starve little children. Another black mark among your many.”

  His fists clenched and unclenched and Cuttering cringed back against the wall. Lord Lance exerted his formidable self-control and whistled for two of his men who came running and secured Cuttering with heavy cuffs. Ambrose seemed satisfied and paced proudly to the carriage.

  “Unless I miss my guess here’s the ringleader,” Lord Lance said to his men with a grimace. “He’s not fit to touch, but take him in. No, let’s search him first.”

  Cuttering struggled wildly, but handcuffed and held by two officers he had no chance.

  “How nice,” said the Chief Inspector, his tone curt yet satisfied. “Here’s ten of the fifteen thousand. I imagine he’ll be glad to tell us about the other five thousand.”

  Dellafield’s contented grin made the thug shudder even more.

  “Take him in now, men and be very careful he doesn’t get away. He’ll doubtless try, as he knows he’s going in for a long prison term. Or worse. I’ll be along presently.”

  Dellafield walked quickly to Morgan’s carriage and swung in. Ambrose welcomed him by holding out his paw to be shaken and Morgan’s face lit up with pleasure and surprise that Ambrose approved of the tall, upright ma
n.

  The Chief Inspector gravely offered his hand to the big dog and then turned to Morgan.

  “It seems Ambrose accepts me as the friend I would like to be. Truly, Miss McAfee, I am forever in your debt. You can call on me at any time for any service I might do for you.”

  He picked up her hand and kissed it with all the sincerity and gratitude he felt. Without this girl Jamie might soon be on his way to a ship taking him to be the sex-slave of some perverted Maharajah. He meant the kiss to convey a little of how truly grateful he felt. What he’d not counted on was how touching her sent a thrill shooting up his arm and whispering little shivers down his spine.

  He raised surprised eyes to startled green ones. Evidently she’d felt that buzzing delight as much as he.

  Neither said a word for a moment, until Jamie broke into a smile when Ambrose reached over and licked his face.

  Jamie chuckled and mopped at his wet cheek. “I like this big dog. May I pet him, ma’am?”

  Morgan’s smile shone sweet and unchanging. “Of course you can. He’s just told you he wants to be your friend and I’m sure he’ll be glad to know you accept his friendship.”

  Jamie immediately knelt to nuzzle Ambrose’s ruff.

  The two grownups sat looking at each other, with a bit of wonder in the gaze of both.

  “You have shaken me to the core, Miss Morgan, in more ways than one. I cannot say I believe in your powers as a psychic and yet I can no longer completely disbelieve.” He shook his head in perplexity. “Your vision of the Blue Doors Tavern was an inspiration of a kind I don’t understand. But without it we would never have found Jamie.”

  His deep voice rang with such sincerity and gratitude Morgan felt herself blush.

  “And you caught the really bad man. Or I guess Ambrose did,” Jamie chimed in.

  “Why do you say he’s really bad, Jamie?” asked Morgan before Dellafield could do so.

  “He’s mean. He’s the one who snatched my bread and cheese. Then he’d scold me and hit me for not being grateful for my meal. And he yelled at everybody.”

  The child talked rapidly, undoubtedly pleased to have someone he loved listen to him.

  “He only hit me sometimes, though. Said he didn’t want me marked up, or else he’d really teach me how to behave in the presence of my betters. Except I couldn’t believe he was my betters.”

  “Nor is he, Jamie. Not in any respect.” Dellafield patted the child’s head with such affection in the gesture Morgan felt her eyes fill.

  “He’s lucky I didn’t know this before they took him away. I might have forgotten what I strive to teach my men. But he’s on his way to jail, where he’ll stay for a very long time. And we must get you home, Jamie.” He ran his hand through the bright curls. “I sent a constable ahead telling your papa to expect us soon. I think he’ll particularly want to thank Miss Morgan for leading us to find you.”

  The Chief Inspector’s wide smile showed his own still strong gratitude.

  Jamie took his arms from Ambrose’s neck and flew to Morgan again, crawling onto her lap and hugging her.

  “Thank you, thank you, Miss Morgan. Thank you forever.”

  Tears were welling in Morgan’s eyes as she hugged the small boy. The thought of the wicked plans for him seemed too much for her mind to acknowledge. She thought she knew about evil since she’d long been dedicated to fighting it in her own way, but such sick malevolence disturbed her deeply.

  She hugged the boy, burying her cheek against his curls, grateful to her Goddess for the opportunity of holding him.

  “Jamie, would you let me visit you from time to time? Of course I’d bring Ambrose, as I think he’s already adopted you as his very special friend. He belongs to my mother, you know, but helps me from time to time.”

  “Ooh, yes ma’am. You’re both awf’lly nice.”

  The little boy’s sunny smile revealed how the horror of his imprisonment wouldn’t cling to him forever, even though a wary look lurked deep in his eyes. Morgan and the Chief Inspector exchanged satisfied glances and once again Morgan thought what a thoroughly good man the Chief Inspector had proven to be. He might try to hide behind curtness, but she now thought it a shield held high in an effort to mask a caring nature.

  Why did he cover up to this extent? Could she get behind his stony countenance and find the real Lance Dellafield? The interesting study of contrasts beckoned to her. Yet he showed no signs of attraction for her beyond a slight and recent appreciation of her powers. And that strange, buzzing, kiss on her hand. Perhaps she should concentrate on searching for the genuine Lord Laniston Dellafield buried somewhere under his official façade.

  Morgan smiled and unconsciously smoothed her hair. The hidden Lord Lance might be rather pleasing to know. She thought the name his men had given him, Lucky Lance, was a clue to how they both respected and liked him. And now she could sincerely echo the respect.

  Had he felt the tingling she did when he touched her? Even when he did nothing but hand her out of the carriage, her bones shivered. A prickly awareness, exhilarating and most peculiar, seemed to heighten all her senses when he was near.

  No, she must ignore her deep desire to decipher this appeal of his. It would be fatal to care for a man who could never care for her. Life surely would not hold such an ultimate irony. She must be cautious she never came even close to making such a dreadful mistake. Lord Lance might be the most tempting man she’d ever encountered, but that only proved she should be all the more on her guard.

  Not that she’d see him after tonight. She’d doubtless fulfilled a function he appreciated, but what further use could he have for her?

  Chapter Four

  The two adults were silent on the ride to the Commissioner Randall’s house. Jamie played with Ambrose, to the delight of both boy and dog. Dellafield folded his arms and leaned back against the squabs of the hackney, his big body seemingly relaxed. He gave one piercing glance at Morgan and then with deliberation, closed his eyes.

  Morgan kept sneaking a peek at him, but his eyelids never budged. She thought if she could only look into those beautiful deep eyes she might discover a great deal. Perhaps he was worried about just that, since he gave her no opportunity to read any mirrored thoughts.

  In a short time the cab drew up in front of the home of the Commissioner of Scotland Yard. The hired hackney driver had responded with immediate respect when given the address. The sight of the large colonnaded home in Grosvernor Square drew a low whistle from him. Morgan too was impressed, but not by the building. On the steps stood a tall gray-haired man who must be Commissioner Randall and with him were two women. One was a cold-eyed spinsterish-looking woman with a rigid bearing. The other was Morgan’s always surprising and lovely mother, Viviane McAfee.

  Almost before the carriage stopped, Commissioner Randall strode and reached in for his son. He held him for a long moment a little away from him and then crushed the boy to him as if satisfied there was no perceptible damage.

  “Welcome home, son,” he said huskily and buried his face for another long moment in Jamie’s curls. He hugged him again and then set the boy on his feet, still holding his small hand in his big one.

  Dellafield helped Morgan down and then watched with a smile as Ambrose burst from the carriage to run to Morgan’s mother and after an affectionate greeting from her, settle by her side.

  Lady Cynthia sniffed, but turned to Jamie. “It’s good to see you, Jamie. My, are those the clothes you wore five days ago? Come along now, you’ll want to bathe and put on fresh garments after so many days in those filthy ones.”

  Jamie clung tightly to his father’s hand. “Please, Papa, I don’t want to leave you yet. Please.”

  “Nor do I want you to, Jamie. Cynthia, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll see Jamie is freshened when he is ready to do so. He might even like a little nap. I’ll wager you haven’t been sleeping well, have you, my son?”

  Jamie shook his head, relief lighting his eyes. “Not really, Papa. But
I want to be with you.”

  He looked so adoringly at his father Morgan’s throat caught.

  “Then let’s all go into the house. You and I will go to your room and you can sleep a little while. I give you my word I’ll not leave your bedside ‘til you waken. Say your goodbyes and thank yous, Jamie.”

  Jamie quickly hugged Morgan and the Chief Inspector and to Morgan’s surprise, her mother. He took his aunt’s hand and shook it as her face tightened. Then he gave Ambrose one last hug.

  With a quelling glance at Lady Cynthia who’d opened her mouth then closed it, and a soft “goodbye” to every one else, Commissioner Randall led his son away. Morgan stood in shock. Jamie knew her mother well enough to warrant a hug from an exhausted child?

  She shot a sidewise glance at the Chief Inspector, who’d certainly not missed a thing, yet didn’t seem surprised. In fact he turned to her with a knowing grin, which under the circumstances made her want to slap his smiling face.

  “Suppose you leave me here, Chief Inspector,” Morgan said. “I haven’t seen my mother for several days and would be glad of a chance to have a long chat with her. Perhaps we can walk home together.”

  Her mother merely smiled in the wise and loving way usually warming to Morgan’s affectionate heart.

  “Truly my daughter and I are overdue for some time together. But Ambrose and I must return home more quickly than by walking. Could you drive us to our place, Chief Inspector Lord Lance?”

  For the first time in her life Morgan glared at her mother. She’d deliberately maneuvered so Morgan would not find time to talk to her. Viviane McAfee merely smiled sweetly and patted Ambrose on his silky head as they walked out. Still smiling, she waited for the Chief Inspector to hand her into the carriage.

  Dellafield could not resist grinning as Viviane McAfee began to talk the minute they were all in the carriage. She completely dominated the conversation, not at all her habitual method of listening so she could accurately judge a stranger. Her daughter watched her and could not believe the chatter. Viviane finally turned to the Chief Inspector and asked him sweetly if he knew much about witches.