The Lady

by Anne McCaffrey

  When Michael returned to the yard, he sought Mick immediately. “You’ll have heard that Fitzroy’s cattle got into his barley?”

  Mick’s surprise was as genuine as his delight. “Did they, now? Well, turning the cattle into the barley would be one way to get everyone out of Fitzroy’s yard, wouldn’t it, Captain?” And Mick, with the beginning of a slow and malicious smile, laid a forefinger along his nose and winked broadly.

  Michael pushed his hat back; smoothed his mustache, and indulged himself in a chuckle. So Johnny Cash had planted that cheekpiece, which Mick—no question of it—had slipped to him. Michael gave the old groom full marks.

  “If we get the tack back, I won’t press charges, but he’ll be bound over to keep the peace,” Michael said. “Now, I’ll school Temper first and get it over with. Where’re the girls?”

  “They’re out on the Ride, for they’re to go shopping with their auntie this afternoon.” Mick let out a gusty sigh. “Sure, with all the goings and no comings, there’s been fierce changes here.”

  “Most of them to the good, Mick!” Michael gave the old man a friendly clap on the back.

  32

  ONCE again, Selina felt an incredible sense of relief as she turned the Lancia into the courtyard of Cornanagh on Wednesday morning. She parked the car and emerged, inhaling deeply of the fresh, clean air. Safe at last.

  “Selina!” With cries of joy, Catriona and Patricia flung themselves out of the house and stampeded across the courtyard.

  “Hello, my darlings!” Selina exclaimed, hugging first Catriona and then Patricia. “How are you? I’ve missed you!” Arms about their waists, she allowed herself to be drawn toward the house.

  “We got new dresses to be Eithne’s bridesmaids, and Pip’s going to Madison Avenue and Owen to Texas,” Patricia said.

  “And Johnny Cash got your saddle back, and Mr. Hardcastle’s and Temper’s snaffle bridle and a whole lot of stuff. Oh, there’s so much to tell you!” cried Catriona.

  Michael stood in the doorway, smiling warmly. “In the dining room, Selina,” he said when she turned right to head for the kitchen. He grinned. “Mrs. Comyn doesn’t approve of the master eating in his own kitchen!”

  “Well, I think she’s right,” Patricia said stoutly. “And there’s not enough room now with all of us. And you haven’t met Davis Haggerty, Aunt Eithne’s fiancé.”

  “I was aware of his interest in your aunt long before you were, young miss,” Selina teased.

  In the dining room Selina embraced Eithne and admired her truly stunning diamond solitaire ring. A proud and happy Davis stepped forward to be introduced, and Philip and Owen looked up from their breakfast to say hello. When Mrs. Comyn appeared from the kitchen with a fresh pot of coffee and the cream pitcher, Eithne did the honors.

  “How do you do, Mrs. Healey?” the housekeeper replied politely as she set the coffeepot down by Eithne. “Would you be wishing breakfast?”

  “No, no, thanks. Coffee would be grand.”

  Eithne served Selina coffee, and fresh hot toast was offered. Selina was aware that Michael was watching her as she quietly buttered a slice, letting the conversation flow about her.

  “We’re going to have the grooviest reception, even if it is at short notice,” Patricia told her. “Mrs. Comyn’s a wonder.”

  “Oh, she is, Selina,” Eithne agreed fervently. “She’s just taken over as if she’d always been here. Said that there’s nothing she likes better than preparing for parties, and I think she means it. She’s got Bridie eating out of her hand.” Eithne frowned. “I only hope it can last.”

  “Why should you worry, Mother?” Owen said. “You’ll be in Texas.”

  “Oh, but I would worry. You don’t live in a place for twenty-five years and forget it in a snap,” Eithne replied gently.

  “It’ll last,” Selina said reassuringly.

  The phone rang, and a moment later Mrs. Comyn came in, nodding to Michael.

  “Who is it, Mrs. Comyn?” he asked.

  “I’d say by the accent it’s your man again,” she replied cryptically.

  Michael pressed Selina’s shoulder in passing, with a grin that promised an explanation when he returned.

  “You wouldn’t credit it, Selina,” Philip began when his father had left the room, “but these culchies got Dad on the phone last night with a deal for his lost tack. We’ve already got half of it back, but they’re scared of the Gardái, and Dad’s having the worst trouble arranging a meet.”

  “What’s this?” Selina asked. “I thought the tack was all stolen by Fitzroy.”

  Philip grinned. “It was, but he dumped it. In three places, as near as we can discover, and those guys on the phone right now found some.”

  “I think it’s crazy, the victims having to arrange with the thieves to return the loot,” grumbled Pat.

  “So long as we get it back,” Catriona said fervently.

  “Amen,” Philip replied, and grimaced at Selina. “Mr. Evans loaned Dad an eighteen-inch saddle, but it doesn’t fit me like my own does. And I’ve galls to prove it.” He rubbed his knees.

  “Well, it fits Emmett,” Catriona said, and was surprised when her brother laughed and tugged her hair.

  “We’re making progress,” Michael said, rubbing his hands together as he came back into the room. “They’ve agreed to deliver the tack to Johnny Cash. I’m to leave the ‘finder’s fee’ with him, but if they so much as see a Gardá car or bike, the deal’s off. You know where Johnny’s camped, don’t you, Pip? I’ll give you the cash to take in, with a backhander to Johnny for all his trouble. Now”—he clapped his hands together—”let’s get to work, troop!” He winked at Selina. “Trina, Pat, you’ll hack to the leg pond hill and to the top at a working trot. Off you go, now.” He gave Eithne an unexpected hug and kissed her cheek. “And you are not to worry, Eithne!”

  “Oh, Michael!”

  “You heard him, Eithne,” Davis said, and embraced his surprised fiancée before she could say anything more.

  “Michael,” Selina began as the room cleared, “David neglected to leave me any housekeeping money this time, so I’ll need some of those notes you’re holding for me.”

  “There was rather a lot in those bundles, Selina. I ought to give you a receipt.”

  “Really, Michael!”

  He grinned and led her to the hallway, where he paused, listening. Then, with a sharp nod of his head, he went to the stairs and pressed two portions of the decorative molding. A panel slid back, and he gestured for Selina to enter with him, then closed the hidden entrance. Light filtered into the space from several openings high in the outside wall. Michael flicked a switch on the wall, and a dim bulb illuminated the huge antique safe that stood in the slope of the rising staircase.

  As Selina took in her surroundings, Michael set the combination and opened the heavy door, which gave with a well-oiled snick. He offered her one of the sealed bundles, and she quickly removed two hundred pounds, then handed it back. From his own supply he removed what he needed and closed the heavy door.

  “This couldn’t have been a priest’s hole,” she said softly, glancing about her.

  “No, it sheltered rebellious Irishmen, and -women, or so the family history suggests.”

  “But I thought the Carradynes were Royalists.”

  “Not all.” He winked at her, then opened the panel, listening a moment. Abruptly, he gestured at her to leave and shut the panel behind them. He grinned at their timing, for a moment later Philip came out of his room, and Owen, Eithne, and Davis entered from the courtyard.

  As soon as they were alone again, Selina turned to Michael.

  “David has hired a private detective to follow me. Someone in a gray Ford sedan. He’s been trailing me for days—in fact, he’s probably out there, now, waiting.”

  “What?” Michael’s expression was a combination of outrage, fury, and incredulity.

  “I spotted him the other day, and when I gave the solicitor the registration nu
mber, he had it checked.”

  Michael took hold of her shoulders. “Selina, listen . . . I want you to come here—to Cornanagh—to live. Once Eithne leaves, the mews will be empty, and it’s yours—if you want it.”

  She smiled and patted his hand. “That’s a good thought, Michael, but it might add more problems than it solves. I’m applying for a separation.”

  “Good!” Michael cried, relieved.

  “That’s not to say I’ll get it,” she added, unable to suppress a note of bitterness. “You men really have it all your own way here in Ireland, a fact I never previously appreciated.”

  “Nor I,” Michael replied with dry sympathy. “But Sybil has been a mine of information.” He spotted Mick standing in the yard entrance. “Come on, let’s saddle up. We can talk as we ride.”

  “Out there?” She gestured to the road.

  “No, we’ll keep to the Ride for privacy. Though I don’t like the idea of your being kept under surveillance.”

  “At first I was scared,” Selina admitted. “Then I thought of the funny side—the idea that this poor man has to follow me all over town and sit in that car waiting on my next move. And I decided to make it as difficult for him as possible. The Lancia’s a lot faster and handier than the Ford he’s driving.”

  “You are marvelous, Selina, absolutely marvelous,” Michael said, laughing.

  “Morning, Mick,” Selina said as they crossed the yard.

  “Morning, missus. Get Charlie for Miz Healey, Artie,” the old groom ordered, then turned back to Selina with a warm smile. “Your saddle took no harm a good soaping couldn’t fix, Miz Healey,” he went on, touching his cap brim. “Wish I could say the same for all the tack.”

  “Oh, Michael, was much damaged?”

  “Hardcastle’s saddle was in the puddle at the bottom of the ditch, and two of our hunting Berneys,” Michael admitted. “Fortunately the numnah on yours absorbed much of the dampness, and the saddle dried out in the sun yesterday. The bridles’ll come right, too, but we’re still missing five saddles, the show bridles, all the bits, the spare stirrup leathers, girths, that sort of accessory.”

  “Is that what you’re hoping will be delivered to Johnny Cash today?”

  Mick was growling under his breath as he brought the excited Temper to where Michael could swing up on him. Charlie, ears pricked, walked quietly beside Artie.

  “Hoping is right. It’s amazing how much accumulates over the years. We’ve only one head collar in the place, and that’s been borrowed from Bobbie Evans.” He swung up on Temper, who backed against the weight. “Watch the off side, Mick!” Michael cried. Temper reared, and Michael brought his fist down on the gelding’s poll. Temper landed hard on the cobbles, shaking his head in surprise. “That’s enough of that! Let’s go, Selina.”

  Mick gave her a leg up, and suddenly Selina was acutely aware of the pressure a saddle exerted between her legs. She tried to make herself relax and pressed Charlie’s sides to follow the dancing Temper out of the yard. How was she ever going to explain to Michael why she couldn’t ride all morning?

  Once they turned down the Ride, Michael set Temper into a working trot to take the edge off his freshness. Rising to the trot made it easier for Selina, as Charlie had such a smooth gait. Then, with the inspiration born of necessity, she rose in her stirrups to the hunting position, which eased the pain in her crotch. Michael had his hands too full of Temper to notice.

  Just when Selina wondered if she could last a full round of the Ride at their current pace, Michael pulled up. She reined Charlie in beside him, wincing as she settled back into the saddle.

  “Now, then, missus,” Michael said, “he caused more than the visible bruises, didn’t he?” His expression—suddenly so severe and uncompromising, his eyes almost gray in their bleakness—startled Selina. “Dismount!”

  Surprised, she swung down and was pulled into his arms. She had to fight an initial involuntary panic at the sudden contact. This is Michael! she told herself. This is Michael. His grasp was strong but tender, the difference palpable in the careful way he placed his fingers to avoid the bruises he could see and the way he moved his body to adjust to hers. She had to force herself to relax, but it was suddenly easier to do so as his mustache brushed against her forehead. Then he tucked her cheek against his and just held her, stroking her hair. They stood like that for several moments, quietly and tenderly. And as Selina experienced the essence of the man who embraced her, all her fears, all her tension, melted away.

  “I love you, Selina,” he said, tilting her head up to search her eyes. “I have no right to, but I will protect you any way I can. D’you want me to see if I can get that private detective arrested for loitering? What with the burglary and all, I know Pat Quinn would send him packing if I asked him to.”

  Selina shook her head. “I’ve decided to use it to advantage, Michael,” she said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Besides, I think it would be the height of folly to interfere with David’s little plans. I also can’t stay long today, Captain, sor.” She felt his body tense, and she tightened her arms about him, stroking the firm muscles in his shoulders. “As soon as I get home, I’m phoning Coghlan to tell him to proceed with the separation plans. He wanted me to take time to consider the problem from all angles. Well, I’ve considered—all night!”

  “From what Sybil said about separations, it won’t be easy, dear heart,” he said, his eyes clouding with concern.

  “Then I’ll just pack up and come to Cornanagh!”

  “Good! I’d feel much easier having you near me.”

  “So would I,” she agreed stoutly, “and it’s nice to know I’ve a bolt hole. But the Dalkey house is mine, and I won’t evacuate without a fight.”

  He gave her a little squeeze, pleased with her resolution. Suddenly Charlie gave an impatient tug of the reins, pulling Selina out of Michael’s embrace.

  “Let him go; he’ll graze,” Michael said, helping her disentangle the reins. Then he held her close and kissed her gently, and she responded willingly, pressing her body against his because he was Michael.

  “I love you, Selina,” he said when their lips parted, “and I want to marry you, if that’s ever possible. You should know this, even if you don’t feel the same.”

  “No fear on that score, Michael,” she murmured, reaching up to touch his lips. “I do . . . . I’m only alive here at Cornanagh.”

  A wry smile touched his lips. “I’m only alive when you’re here.”

  Just then Temper pulled him off balance, to reach out for fresher greener grass. When Michael made to release the reins, she laughed.

  “I’d’ve said you were only alive whenever you’re on horseback. I never thought I’d see the day when Michael Carradyne ignored his horses.”

  He grimaced. “And I can’t ignore Temper, damn it. He can’t be allowed to get away with anything. But I haven’t had any time with you at all!” Temper pulled again, and Selina laughed. “Damn! Look, I’ll just jump him down the alley, Selina. Charlie doesn’t need work, so relax for a while.” He pointed to the bank.

  She watched as Michael schooled Temper down the jump alley, and she was able to see how much the gelding was improving. As Michael jumped him back down toward her, Temper’s ears were pricked, and he seemed to flow over the fences, front feet well tucked up.

  “He’s come on enormously, Michael,” she said, reaching up to pat the gelding’s neck. “He really enjoyed that jumping.”

  She had gathered Charlie’s reins to remount, but Michael was beside her in an instant, ready to give her a leg up. Then he rested his hand lightly on her left thigh, his eyes anxious.

  “Really, Michael, I’ll be all right.”

  When he had remounted Temper, he guided the gelding to her side and, stretching out his hand, held hers until they turned off the Ride into the yard.

  “I’ve got to get back, Michael,” she said as Mick and Artie led away the two horses. “I’ve errands I must get done today. But I’ll be
back tomorrow, early. Eithne’s wedding gives me a valid excuse to be here, to help. So I’ll stay longer tomorrow. And ride.”

  “You will be careful, Selina,” Michael said urgently, leaning in the Lancia’s window and gripping her shoulder.

  “Of course,” she said blithely, starting the car.

  For one fleeting moment, she thought she had lost her shadow. Where he had been parked she never found out, but by the time she was driving past the cemetery, she caught a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror. The confidence she’d gained from her time with Michael supported her firmly. She would not yield to David’s little ploys and indignities. She would also not let him contaminate Cornanagh.

  Now that she had cash again, she did some shopping and returned, banners flying, to the house. Kathleen reported no phone messages at all, so Selina went up to her room to make a phone call she had too long deferred.

  “I am filing for a separation from David, Father,” she announced calmly after they had chatted for a few minutes. “He’s gotten far too involved with his affairs in the North. He’s there more than he’s here in Dublin, and it’s no way to conduct a marriage.”

  “Well, no one can predict the course of a marriage, Sellie.”

  The old boy sounds pleased, she thought. Well, he’d predicted this, and he does so enjoy to be right.

  “D’you need money?” he asked brightly.

  Selina chuckled as she thought of the several thousand pounds in notes lodged at Cornanagh. “No, actually, David was unexpectedly generous. I fear he’ll take the house, though.”

  “Hmmm? Will you remove to London?”

  She smiled, thinking of her father’s cozy little male sanctuary. He had bought a flat in Chelsea, which was run by his aged butler and an equally elderly valet, and on her infrequent trips to London she had invariably felt herself to be an intruder. “No, I shall stay here in Ireland, Father. D’you remember my mentioning the Cornanagh stud, the place where I’ve been boarding my hunter? Well, I may go into horses after all.”