When he turned back, Rogan saw that Lily had witnessed his brother’s irreverent gesture. Her lips compressed in a tight, controlled smile as she lowered her eyes. That simple gesture caused a sweet warmth to spread through him. With an effort, he tore his gaze away and attended his host.
Enguerrand was still disgruntled. However, he offered them sit at his table and ordered refreshments set out. Rogan inclined his head in acceptance of the offer of hospitality, relieved that, for the time being, at least, Enguerrand seemed to have calmed. Catherine, he could see, had not. Pushing aside his interest in the gentler sister, Rogan saw where his duty lay and offered the cold beauty his arm. Her eyes smoldered resentfully and then she blinked. Rogan thought he spied a flash of interest as if she had recognized something she hadn’t noticed before.
Behind him, Rogan heard Andrew say, “I am neither duke nor crusading hero, but a humble priest. However, I have been told I am a pleasant enough fellow. May I?”
Lily must have taken his arm, for he heard a quiet Thank-you in response.
Rogan became uncomfortably aware that he was, of all things, envious of his younger brother.
Chapter Two
Lily Marshand had the most extraordinary sensation, of the world—the dull, familiar, unexciting, predictable world she had always known—having been turned as a whole and set askew so that everything seemed new, interesting, vibrant. Her pulse was still thrumming from when he had touched her, and thoughts raced wildly through her mind so quickly that each one barely had time to register before it was gone.
Rogan St. Cyr. Her mind slid over the name again and again. God’s teeth, he was handsome. That he was a soldier was easy to see, both in his well-muscled frame and the fluid manner in which he moved. Only a warrior had that economy of motion. His hair was thick and a deep russet, like tarnished copper, falling in waves to curl slightly against the nape of his neck. Straight nose, square chin, strong white teeth that gleamed when he smiled. Oh, yes, he was glorious, but not just that. He had been gentle and kind, and when he had looked at her with those strange gray eyes she had seen something incomprehensible, and yet utterly exciting.
She was being wretchedly silly. He probably was like that with everyone. She had, more than likely, imagined the way his wolflike gaze had held hers and how his sensuous mouth had curved ever so slightly when their eyes first met.
Still she was deeply gratified he was not Catherine’s betrothed. Or ex-betrothed, as it now stood.
Belatedly she realized Andrew was speaking to her.
“I am sorry,” she said, blinking away distraction. “What did you say?”
“I was merely commenting that I do not think that Rogan is very pleased with the arrangements,” Andrew said. The mention of Rogan’s name made Lily tense.
“Oh, what arrangements?”
“The seating arrangements. He is with Catherine trying to calm her. Tell me, does he have a chance?”
Lily immediately liked this young man, who looked to be not much older than her ten and nine years. She had hardly noticed him before, being much too overwhelmed with his imposing companion, but he was genuinely warm with laughing eyes and a gentle, oft-smiling mouth. “I must admit, Catherine can be difficult. I am certain your brother will find the right words.” She couldn’t resist a glance in Rogan’s direction. He was speaking to Catherine, and from the look of her, Catherine was indeed thawing.
“On the contrary, my brother is usually a man of very few words.” Andrew leaned forward to see for himself. “Odd, Rogan is not the most accomplished of diplomats. Well, maybe he has never tried before. Or perhaps Catherine is just succumbing to his charm. Women usually do. They find him fascinating for some reason. His looks please them, and there is his prowess on the battlefield—that is fairly legendary, if you will indulge a brother’s pride. But I think the most appealing thing is he seems not to care a whit about them. For some strange reason, it attracts them all the more.”
“Really?” Lily said, hoping her interest appeared casual so Andrew would not count her among those countless besotted.
A half smile playing on his lips, Andrew said, “I hope I am not shocking you.”
“Oh, no!” Lily hurried to assure him. “Not at all.”
“Perhaps these things are not for delicate ears. I forget myself. Maybe we should change the topic.”
“Please don’t,” she exclaimed. Checking herself, she continued, “What I mean is that I rarely get to converse with guests, and I know so little about the wider world. I would be most interested to hear more.”
Andrew broke into a wide smile, “Ah, so you are curious about him, are you?”
Lily sputtered, trying to extricate herself from the trap. “Only inasmuch as he can avoid unpleasantness with Catherine. I mean, she is rather high-strung, and it would be good if your brother can persuade her with this charm of his.”
Nodding, Andrew said, “Quite so.” But Lily sensed he was merely being kind. Her explanation had not fooled him. Andrew gave her a mischievous glance. “Well, it seems Rogan is curious about you. He keeps looking at us, and he is positively glowering. I do believe he is jealous.”
Lily snapped her head around. Rogan was indeed staring at her and was not a bit embarrassed at being caught doing so. Lily blushed and looked away. Casting about for a diversion, and a safe topic upon which to converse, she said, “Why don’t I tell you about the ghost of Charolais. Are you interested in such tales, Father Andrew?”
“Isn’t everyone?” Andrew answered. Lily trembled so much that her hands shook as she took a draught of wine. She concentrated on keeping herself from casting any more self-incriminating looks down to the other end of the table as she began the story.
The afternoon passed into evening civilly enough, considering the circumstances. Lily’s father offered the St. Cyrs lodgings for a few days until matters could be sorted out and, when Rogan accepted, Lily felt a thrill course through her limbs. He would be under the same roof for almost a sennight!
Disappointingly, he was much occupied with Catherine, who was not at all as put out as Lily would have expected. She knew her sister well and had come to fear her sister’s frightful temper. However, Catherine was not displeased with the attentions of the handsome warrior. So much for indignation at having been rejected by her duke. But then, her elder sister had always been fickle.
It was the family’s custom for the women to adjourn early and leave the men to their evening carouses. This Lily did reluctantly, following her sister up the great stairs to their chambers, but not before darting a quick backward glance at the man who had so completely captured her attention.
She was surprised to find his gray eyes on her once again. Pinned by that stare, she avoided colliding with Catherine only barely. Her heart hammered in her chest and her throat was dry. She whirled and sped up the stairs.
It was later in her chamber that Lily sat before her looking glass, dreamily brushing out her hair. She was far gone in fantasy, so much so that she didn’t hear her door open nor the sound of gentle footfalls on the thick carpet of rushes.
“Is it true?” a small voice said into the silence.
Startled, Lily dropped her brush and whipped around. “Oh! Elspeth, you frightened me! I didn’t even hear you come in.”
The child was only ten and two, a beautiful cherub whose angelic face and mop of white-blond curls were an apt reflection of her sweet nature. Her eyes were clouded now, her face troubled. Lily cocked her head in curiosity. “Where have you been?”
Heavy lashes descended over the large blue orbs. “In chapel. I was saying the rosary.” She sighed, a beatific smile curving her tiny bow mouth. “It was so peaceful there, I stayed and kept a vigil, like the monks do over the Holy Sacrament.” This she admitted almost guiltily, as if Lily might disapprove. Lily never did, but Elspeth was a timid creature. “I missed supper. I hope Father was not angry.”
“He didn’t notice, so do not worry.”
The frown returned.
“Is it true about the duke? He is not to marry Catherine?”
Lily sighed and turned again to the mirror. “Yes, I am afraid so.” She made very certain to keep her voice steady. “He sent his brothers to tell Father. Did you see them? One is a priest and the other…” What words could she find to describe Rogan?
Elspeth did not notice her falter. “Yes, I saw them. They were down in the hall when I came up, seated at the hearth.”
Jumping up, Lily asked urgently, “What were they doing? Was anyone with them?”
Elspeth’s puzzled expression was almost comical. “The two were by themselves, talking.”
Pacing, Lily exclaimed, “Oh, I am so restless!” She looked at her sister, deciding whether or not to confide her delirious excitement. She and Elspeth shared everything, but could a child understand the tumult of feeling that had suddenly taken possession of her?
She was saved from making the decision by the appearance of Catherine at the doorway. She was pale, appearing ghoulish in the flickering light cast by the wall sconces. Lines of strain showed around her pursed mouth. “Elspeth,” her clipped voice rang out The youngest Marshand started. “We did not see you at supper.”
“I was praying.” Elspeth’s answer was barely audible.
“And Lily,” Catherine continued, leveling a shriveling gaze at her sister. “You disgraced our family with your dress and your appalling blunder.”
The painful memory of mistaking Lord Rogan for the duke caught Lily off guard, though not for the sake of Catherine’s censure. What had Rogan thought of the mistake? Did he think her a fool?
Catherine said, “You made an utter idiot of yourself.”
Lily felt a deep flush of shame, hating herself for letting Catherine best her. She knew her hateful ploys, but that didn’t make her immune.
“Sister,” Elspeth said, her voice almost a whisper. “I am sorry to hear of your terrible news.”
With no overt movement of a single muscle, Catherine’s face transformed feature by feature into a mask of rage. Elspeth cringed, mewling a small noise that reached Lily’s ear and erased her self-preoccupation with a swell of protective anger. Lily stood and went to Elspeth’s side.
“Yes, little one,” Catherine said, her tone clipped and cool, betraying nothing. “It seems as though I will not be wed as planned.” Again, a shift so subtle it was more felt than seen. When she spoke, her eyes shone like twin blades, fierce and sharp. “But all is not lost. There are ways to turn misfortune to advantage.”
Lily stepped in front of her little sister, seeing one of Catherine’s moods brewing and knowing how Elspeth dreaded them. “Do not sow your mischief, Catherine. Lord Rogan is an honorable man. He has come to make amends.”
Catherine gave her a withering glare. “And he will.”
In a moment, she changed again, shifting her posture and giving Lily an assessing glance. By her expression, she apparently found her subject wanting. “While they are here, Lily, I do not want you embarrassing us any further. You do not seem to be able to conduct yourself properly. I think it would be wise if you kept busy in your chamber, or in the solar with the other ladies, studying your needlework.”
Lily narrowed her eyes and jammed her fist on one hip. “You are not Mother, Catherine. She would never have spoken to us so. She was kind and gentle and would not have liked in the least the way you rule this castle with an iron fist. I will not have you mistreating Elspeth. And I will certainly not hide myself away simply because you dislike me.”
“We shall see,” she said in a brittle voice.
As Catherine turned to leave, Lily crossed her eyes and curled her top lip in an exaggerated sneer, causing Elspeth to clamp a hand over her mouth in order to stifle a gasp.
“And don’t think I do not know you are making faces at me,” Catherine called as she disappeared down the hall.
Collapsing onto her bed, Lily flung her head back. “Lord, she is a trial!”
Elspeth looked warily at the door, as if fearful Catherine would reappear. When she did not, she came to Lily’s side and took her sister’s hand.
“She frightens me.”
Lily turned her head and looked lovingly at the child. “You must not let her, Elspeth.”
Elspeth was still doubtful. “She has such a terrible temper. I fear what she will do now. Catherine hates to be thwarted.” Her gaze darted to the door and she swallowed convulsively. “Remember our rabbits?”
Lily covered her sister’s hand, not able to stifle a shudder herself. When they were children, they had each been given a rabbit for a pet for the feast of Christ’s Mass. Catherine’s had fallen ill and died within days. She had been furious, claiming it was unfair. The next day, the other two rabbits were found dead in their pens.
“Do not think on that,” Lily soothed. “It was never proved that she killed those poor creatures. It could have been anyone. And even if she did do such a thing, she must certainly regret it. She has done nothing else to threaten a soul.”
“Except the servants,” Elspeth shivered. “Dory told me she came upon her talking to Kenneth in the kitchens, and went into a terrible fit of temper.”
Lily cut her off with a calm, steady voice. “Catherine can be harsh, it is true, but there is a difference between anger and harm.”
The denial sounded hollow in her own ears and Elspeth seemed less than convinced. Lily added, “Father will insure all is well.”
“With the aid of our Lord,” Elspeth murmured.
Lily stretched the tension from her muscles. “Of course. I am going for a walk. The night is cool, and I need some air.”
“You cannot! Catherine would be furious.”
“She will not know,” Lily said as she scampered off the bed and flew to the door. “And besides, I refuse to be intimidated by her silly commands. Good night, sweet sister.”
“Lily!” Elspeth whispered urgently, but she was already gone.
“I wish we were camping outside with the rest of the men instead of in this wretched place,” Andrew complained. “I keep expecting Marshand to appear at any moment, screeching his pent-up fury and wielding an ax aimed for our heads!”
Rogan shrugged in studied nonchalance. “No sense sleeping out in the heat when we can enjoy the cool solace of the castle.”
“‘Cool solace’ my arse, you have got your eye on the girl! The little flower, Lily. I saw you staring during supper.”
Rogan looked back blankly. “The girl? Could you mean the very one you tried so hard to charm?”
“I was not trying to seduce her, damn it all. I was trying to be congenial.”
“Admit it, you were enjoying it.”
“Naturally. She is a lovely girl. Enchanting, actually. Are you going to deny that you would have traded places with me?”
A dark look came over Rogan’s handsome features. “I had duty to think of.”
“Is it always duty with you, Rogan?”
Rogan didn’t answer. A pensive silence fell.
“You were successful, I take it,” Andrew said after a space.
“Hmm?”
“I was referring to Catherine. You won her over. I thought by the end of the evening she was going to positively devour you.”
“Aye,” Rogan said with a hint of disgust, “she does have the look of a predator.”
“She terrifies me, I am not ashamed to say. Her beauty is cold. And her eyes…they burn cold. Had you not noticed? Positively chilling. The sooner we are away, the better.”
Rogan rubbed the back of his neck. “There are things to be settled here first.”
“You mean the girl.”
“What girl?”
“Lily, of course. Don’t be so dense.”
Rogan lifted a casual brow. “She seemed pleasant enough. I admit that she did not escape my notice. But you can hardly think that I would be so foolish as to allow a distraction such as her.”
“Why not? Do you never think of what you want? Family obligation can be taken too seriou
sly, you know.”
“Calm yourself, Andrew. You will age before your time,” Rogan said lightly. “It is hardly my habit to sniff around after virgins.”
“You could not keep from staring at her all during dinner.”
“Good God, brother, I am a man, and not a blind one at that. And I am not constrained to chastity as you are. I was merely appreciating the lass, for as I told you, she impressed me favorably.” Rogan sighed. “Yes, it is true. She is tempting.”
“And tempted. You were all she wanted to talk about.” Andrew was not dissuaded by Rogan’s impatient wave of his hand. “And not a half hour ago I saw her duck into the gardens. No doubt she walks among the scented roses—” Andrew’s voice lifted in an overly dramatic way reminiscent of a bard “—dreaming of true love.”
“She’d make a fine companion for Alex,” Rogan muttered. Then he raised his head. “In the garden, you say? How long ago?”
“Not even an hour.”
Rogan stared at his brother for a long time. Then he stood up and stretched. “I fancy myself a stroll in the garden. I have always enjoyed the outdoors just before retiring.” He hesitated, not sure in which direction the gardens lay.
He looked expectantly at Andrew, who held up a pointed finger. “That way,” he said.
Chapter Three
The orchard was cool, washed in the light of a generous moon. Lily breathed in heavily of the scented air. A soft breeze stirred the branches into a crisp chorus of whispers, and the sound soothed her.
She slipped off her shoes and hiked up her skirt, then sat on the edge of the wading pool and dangled her feet into the water. Speculatively she studied the night-shrouded statue in its center. Hermes. Muscular and poised, with winged sandals and crown, he who was the messenger of the pagan gods reigned over the starless night. As a girl, Lily used to stare dreamily at the figure, making up stories in her head with him as her hero, rescuing her as he had Perseus, Odysseus and Aries but with a more romantic turn. Yet tonight, the displaced idol was only carved stone. Another stole her thoughts.
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