by Ruth Langan
When they entered the castle, Bridget rushed into the great room where her grandmother waited impatiently to hear about her day in the village. But when Hugh and Tavis glanced around for Kieran and Megan, they were nowhere to be seen.
With a knowing look Hugh said, “It would seem the lovers prefer their own company, my friend.”
“Aye.” Tavis looked perplexed. “Could it be he truly loves her?”
Hugh glanced at Tavis in surprise. Beads of perspiration beaded his upper lip and forehead. He looked, Hugh thought, like someone who carried a terrible weight upon his shoulders.
“I needed you with me this day.” Kieran’s words were whispered against her throat as Megan lay in his arms.
“You had Tavis.”
“He is a poor substitute for the woman I love.”
She touched a hand to his face and stared deeply into his eyes. “Say that again.”
“That Tavis is a poor substitute?”
“Nay.” She laughed, then grew serious. “The rest.”
“You are the woman I love.” He leaned close, nibbling her lips and sending her heart soaring. “The woman who means more to me than life itself. God in heaven, Megan. I love you so much it frightens me.”
With his lips, his fingertips, he led her on a slow, sensuous journey. Their lovemaking took on a tenderness, a gentleness that neither had experienced before. As if, she thought, steeped in pleasure, they had all the time in the world.
“Why do you suppose your mother agreed to a betrothal between herself and Sir Cecil Kettering?” Megan asked as she lay in Kieran’s arms, her legs tangled with his.
She immediately regretted her words as beside her Kieran went very still.
It was many moments before he spoke. “Long before my mother lost her heart to my father, her betrothal to Sir Cecil was arranged by her family and King Henry.”
“Aye. Colin has told me. But that was many years ago, when they were mere children. What has that to do with now?”
Kieran swung his feet to the floor and looked away, reluctant to reply. “Perhaps they have always carried a secret love for one another in their hearts.” His voice was low, angry. “My father has been dead a long time. Colin and I have been in prison. My mother was left alone, with no one to comfort her.”
“Lady Katherine is a strong woman, Kieran. She would not turn to a man simply for comfort.”
Kieran’s voice turned to ice. “Then perhaps she misses her childhood home. Or the luxuries she has forsaken. For whatever reason, she has pledged herself to a brute. No matter what my feelings for the man, I have no right to interfere. She is free to marry again, if her heart desires.”
“But I have watched them.” Megan touched a hand to his shoulder to stay his departure from the bed. “It is not love I see in their eyes when they look at each other, Kieran.”
He turned on her, pain and anger blazing in his dark eyes. “I will speak no more of this.” Then, seeing the way his words hurt her, he reached a hand to her cheek and felt the anger slowly dissolve. “You can ask me anything else, my little warrior. Anything. But I cannot speak of my mother’s betrothal to Sir Cecil. Do you understand?”
She nodded and drew him to her. To ease his pain she offered her lips to him and felt the passion once more rise. This time their lovemaking was frenzied, as if to hold their troubled words and thoughts at bay.
But later, when she could once more gather her thoughts, she resolved that, though she would speak no more about Lady Katherine and Sir Cecil, she would watch and listen.
As he dressed for the evening meal, Kieran heard Megan’s laughter in the next room as she and her maid talked and laughed with each other. At the sound of a door being opened, he peered through the doorway at the sight of little Bridget rushing into Megan’s arms. Together Megan and Aileen brushed the girl’s thick, tangled tresses. It was obvious, from her giggles, that she thoroughly enjoyed being fussed over.
How he loved the sound of laughter echoing once more through the halls of Castle O’Mara. It had been such a long time. And perhaps, he thought, thinking of his mother’s pending nuptials, the day would soon come when the laughter would die again. This time forever.
He paused before pulling on his tunic. He had mulled over many things this day while he rode the hills of Killamara. Though he had never confided this to his mother in his younger days, Kieran had seen and heard much that disgusted him while in service to the Queen. He had witnessed the underhanded way Sir Cecil had obtained wealth, title, privilege through his influence with Elizabeth. The man was ruthless in obtaining more wealth, more titles than any other man in the kingdom. He had betrayed friend and foe alike to take possession of their holdings.
During his ride, Kieran had come to a decision. He would never be able to accept Sir Cecil as his mother’s husband. It would be like a knife to the heart to see the man assume his father’s place in Killamara. There was but one thing to do. He must leave and make a life for himself somewhere else. Somewhere far away from this place he loved as much as life itself.
He glanced again at the scene in the sitting chamber and felt his heart lift above the pain. Though leaving Killamara would be the hardest thing he had ever done, there was one thing that would make it all bearable. This night, when they returned to their sleeping chamber, he would ask Megan to be his wife. He would take her to Scotland, to seek her people. Even if her memory never returned, they would make a life for themselves. And he would spend a lifetime trying to make her happy.
With a smile he stepped from the room. The sight that greeted him took his breath away. Megan wore a gown of scarlet satin that molded her high, firm breasts and tiny waist, then fell in graceful folds to the tips of her slippers. Her hair had been brushed until it gleamed, then entwined with scarlet ribbons and tiny red roses. It fell over one shoulder, covering her breast, before spilling in soft waves to her waist.
“Oh, my lady,” he breathed. “You are magnificent.”
She walked to him with a look of love and touched a hand to his sleeve. “And you, my lord, are the reason I took such pains with my appearance this night. I wanted you to see only me.”
“You are all I can see, Megan. And all I ever will.”
They swept from the room, with Bridget giggling and trailing behind.
The voices in the great room stopped abruptly as Megan and Kieran entered. James, who had been boasting of his life in England, could not tear his gaze from the woman beside Kieran. She was a rare beauty. And soon, he thought with a cruel smile touching his lips, she would be his for the taking. That knowledge made him more disdainful of those around him.
Kieran glanced around. “Where is my mother?”
“She and my father have not yet come below stairs. Perhaps,” James said with a sly smile, “they could not wait until they speak their vows two days hence.”
Hugh Cleary’s eyes narrowed. “That is crude, James. And unbecoming in the lady’s own household.”
“No more crude than your insistence upon staying under this roof until the wedding.”
“I am here at Lady Katherine’s request.”
“You are here,” James said with a sneer, “because you desire the lady for yourself. And you foolishly hope that, even now, she will change her mind and you will become master of Castle O’Mara and all of Killamara.”
Megan was stunned at James’s outburst. But his words made her think. Glancing at Hugh, she recalled the tenderness with which he always treated Lady Katherine. Of course. It had been there all along, if only one took the time to look. He loved Lady Katherine. And if truth be told, the lady shared his feelings. All Lady Katherine’s features, even her voice, seemed to take on a softness when she spoke to Hugh. Megan berated herself. Why had she not seen it sooner?
The others had grown uncomfortably silent.
“Is that all Lady Katherine means to you and your father?” Hugh demanded sharply. “This fortress? This land?”
James’s features twisted into a look of
vicious hatred, and for a moment he forgot to be careful. “She has much more…”
“James.”
At the sound of Sir Cecil’s harsh tone, his son whirled. With great effort he controlled his emotions until his face took on a bland expression.
“Were you entertaining our guests?”
“Aye, Father.” James glanced at the others, who were staring at him with stunned looks. “We were speaking of your impending vows.”
“Two days.” Sir Cecil turned as Lady Katherine swept into the room, followed by the bishop and his flock of black-robed priests. “If only it could be tonight, my dear.”
Lady Katherine forced herself to show no revulsion as Sir Cecil lifted her hand to his mouth. But when he bent to brush his lips over her cheek, she drew quickly away.
Her reaction was not lost on Megan. But Kieran had already turned away to greet Terence O’Byrne and his son.
Terence glanced around the room, then turned to Kieran with a frown of concern. “Have you seen Cara today?”
“Nay.” Kieran turned to Megan. “Have you seen Cara?”
She shook her head.
“Nor has anyone else,” Terence said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I do not wish to alarm the others, but none of the servants have seen Cara nor Colin since early this morrow.”
“Where were they seen?”
“Heading toward the chapel.”
“You see,” Kieran said, relaxing. “What could possibly happen to them in the house of God?”
Terence let out a sigh. “I suppose I am being a foolish old man. But my daughter has not been herself since her return from the abbey.”
“Perhaps she misses the orderly life of prayer and meditation.”
“Aye. Perhaps. But she left the abbey of her own free will.” Terence accepted a goblet from a servant’s tray and smiled. “She has always been a quiet, thoughtful child. I never know what she is thinking.”
“She is a fine young woman.” Kieran clapped his hand on Conor’s shoulder and said, “I often thought we would become one family. When,” he added with a laugh, “Colin and Cara grew up and wed.”
Conor was strangely silent.
“I had thought so, too,” Terence said. “That would have pleased me.” Draining his goblet, he handed it to a servant and asked, “When does Colin leave for the monastery?”
Kieran shrugged. “He did not say. The bishop leaves in two days.”
“Aye. As soon as the wed—” Seeing the look on Kieran’s face, he left the words unspoken. No one wished to remind him of his mother’s marriage.
“Dinner is ready, my lord,” Mistress Peake said, bowing before Kieran. She deliberately ignored Sir Cecil.
“Thank you.” Offering his arm to Megan, Kieran led the way to the refectory, with the others following.
Behind them, Sir Cecil reminded himself to be patient. In two more days, he would become the lord of this manor. And the housekeeper would have to answer to him.
As they entered, they were surprised to find Colin and Cara awaiting their arrival. The two young people stood very close together in front of the massive fireplace. The first thing everyone noticed was that their hands were linked. Their smiles dazzled.
“Cara.” Terence O’Byrne hurried forward to press his lips to his daughter’s cheek. “I had begun to worry over you. Where have you been?”
“With Colin.” She gave a shy glance at the young man beside her, then cleared her throat. “We have something to tell you, Father.”
Lady Katherine paused beside Terence and looked expectantly toward her young son.
“Colin and I were wed this morrow,” Cara said proudly.
“Wed?” Terence gazed from his daughter to the beaming man beside her.
Bishop O’Mara, hearing Cara’s words, lifted his head, then strode across the room to take charge of this impertinence. “Where were you wed? In a lowly crofter’s cottage, by some itinerant preacher?”
“We were wed in the chapel.”
For a moment the bishop seemed taken aback. Then, regaining his composure, he bellowed, “You would defy me and break your promise to wait a year?”
The others seemed shocked at his words. Lady Katherine, her eyes troubled, asked, “Seamus, what are you saying?”
In angry tones he said, “Colin came to me with a childish notion of leaving the monastery and marrying Cara O’Byrne. The church cannot afford to lose such as he. Besides, I pointed out that he would make a poor husband.” At Lady Katherine’s look of outrage he explained, “He is in frail health, after all. I knew that a year would cool whatever passion they had for each other and bring them around.”
“Bring them around?” Lady Katherine stared at her brother-in-law as if seeing him for the first time. “Knowing how good and noble these young people are, you would ask such a sacrifice from them?”
“As you well know, Katherine, God asks much from those to whom He gave much.”
“God, Seamus? Or you?”
In the silence that followed, the bishop turned to the young couple, who stood with hands linked. “By whose authority did you wed?”
Colin’s voice sounded stronger and more assured than ever. “There is no higher authority than God. Father Malone said the mass and gave the church’s blessings. But he explained that we each wed the other, and that no power on earth is greater than love.” Ignoring the angry stare of the bishop, he turned to Terence. “I love your daughter, sir, more than life itself. And I will do all in my power to make her happy.”
“I know you will, Colin.” Terence accepted Colin’s handshake, then turned to embrace his daughter. “And judging by the way she looks, you have already made her very happy.”
Lady Katherine, still reeling from the shock, hurried forward to embrace her son and new daughter-in-law. “I desire only that you find happiness and fulfillment,” she whispered.
Kieran strode forward and embraced his brother and Cara. And then the entire company seemed to catch the spirit of the moment and joined in the celebration.
Megan embraced Cara and Colin, then studied the look of radiance about them. Their open expression of love had transformed them. There was about them a glow of happiness that set them apart.
She glanced at Kieran and found him staring at her with the strangest look on his face. For a moment she could not move. Then, starting toward him, she gave him a smile so filled with love that it told him all he wanted to know.
The door opened. In the confusion of the moment, no one seemed to notice the stranger who stood between James and Sir Cecil. His gaze slowly swept the room, then settled upon Megan.
“My dear,” Sir Cecil said in silky tones. “I have good news.”
Everyone turned toward him.
“After an extensive search, we have learned your name. And,” he added slyly, “a great deal about you and your people.”
Megan glanced from Sir Cecil to the stranger. Though she did not recognize him, she felt a shiver along her spine.
Malcolm MacAlpin studied Megan’s eyes. It was clear that she had still not regained her memory. There was not the slightest flicker of recognition. Oh, this was the sweetest revenge of all. Had he not vowed she would regret her mistreatment of him? All he had wanted was to be her second in command. Now, thanks to the fates, he could have it all—the leadership of the MacAlpins, the control of Megan’s vast estates and, best of all, revenge upon the woman who had thwarted his manhood. Before he was finished with her, she would kneel, she would grovel, she would plead for her very life. The revenge he planned was worth all the waiting. When he and James were through with her, she would beg to die.
“Your name,” Sir Cecil said, watching her eyes carefully, “is Megan MacAlpin.”
“MacAlpin.” Megan waited, hoping the name would trigger her memory. But she recalled nothing.
Satisfied with her reaction, Sir Cecil glanced at his son and the arrogant Scot who stood beside him. With a smile he said, “It appears the lady still cannot remember
. Perhaps, Sir Malcolm, you should refresh her memory.”
“Aye.” Malcolm strode forward importantly. Bowing slightly before Megan, he caught her hand and drew her toward him.
Behind them, Kieran felt a growing sense of unease. There was something vaguely familiar about this Scot, but he could not place him. Still, his sense of unease grew. And at the Scot’s next words, he felt his whole world begin to crumble.
“I am Malcolm MacAlpin, your distant cousin. And you, my beloved Megan, are my betrothed.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Betrothed!” Megan stared at this stranger, then turned to glance at Kieran. “This cannot be. I…” She licked her lips, which had suddenly gone dry. “I would remember.”
Malcolm gave her an indulgent smile. “They tell me you have lost your memory. Do you remember your sisters?”
“Sisters?” She felt a sudden jolt of pain. “I have sisters?”
“You see?” Feigning a look of concern, he dropped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “You cannot even recall the most important people in your life. That fool, Jamie MacDonald, will pay for this. I entrusted you to his care. And he failed me. Failed all of us.”
Regaining his voice, Kieran said, “The lad you speak of told me that Megan was the leader of her people. And that she had chosen him as her second in command.”
Malcolm’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “MacDonald is a pompous fool. He was nothing more than a messenger, but I wrongly allowed him to accompany Megan to the Highlands.”
“You allowed?”
“I am the MacAlpin, leader of our clan. And I allowed Jamie MacDonald to travel with Megan.”
“For what purpose?”
Malcolm eyed Kieran with growing hatred. He was not about to be tripped up by these insolent questions. Sir Cecil and his son had warned him about Kieran O’Mara. “Megan has a sister in the highlands, wed to Brice Campbell.”
Kieran recalled that name from his conversation with Jamie MacDonald. Brice Campbell was the infamous Highland Barbarian, a fierce chieftain loyal to Mary Queen of Scots.
