The Knight and the Dove (12 page)

“I know you didn’t, Bracken. Maybe if you try to explain…”

But Bracken was shaking his head. “I think her pride is as great as my own. I will have to give her time.”

Even with the little she had seen of Megan, Louisa was forced to agree. They spoke of sleeping arrangements for the next few moments and then went their separate ways, Louisa to settle herself in a suite of rooms down the corridor from Megan, and Bracken to the keep, hoping to get a glimpse of his bride-to-be without actually searching her out.

S
TONE
L
AKE
C
ASTLE

“What do you mean she’s not here?” Vincent eyed his wife in disbelief, but Annora did not flinch.

“It wasn’t going well, so I sent Megan ahead.”

“To Hawkings Crest?” Vincent’s tone was incredulous.

“Of course to Hawkings Crest!” Annora snapped. “Where did you think?”

“But she wasn’t expected.”

Annora shrugged. “Surely someone was there. Honestly, Vincent, she was being most impossible. You know what she’s like.”

“You fool!” Vincent retorted scathingly, widening his wife’s eyes with shock and then anger. “Anything could have happened. Has the caravan arrived back?”

“I sent no caravan.” Annora kept up a brave front, but in truth she had regretted this action almost immediately.

“What say you?” Vincent’s face had flushed with emotion as he tried telling himself that he had heard her wrong.

Annora raised her chin. “I sent Megan on horseback with three guards. I’m certain she fared well.”

“So the men have returned?”

“No, but—”

Annora was cut off when Vincent grabbed her forearm with a strength she didn’t know he possessed.

“Vincent.” Her tone was wounded. For the first time she was a bit afraid. “You are hurting me.”

“I’ll do more than hurt you if even so much as Megan’s reputation is harmed! Now, sit down, woman, and tell me all!”

Annora now knew real fear. Megan had always been such a head-strong survivor. It had truly never occurred to her that her daughter might fall into harm. Annora’s voice shook, but she did as Vincent bid and relayed every detail, down to the minute, of Megan’s departure. No small thing this, as she had never seen her husband so coldly furious.

Less than 15 minutes later, Vincent and a band of men rode out on horseback for Hawkings Crest. Just behind them rode more men and a large wagon laden with Megan’s new clothing and all of her belongings. When they had all left, Annora made her way to the chapel. She didn’t pray often, but if Megan was actually lost, she now feared for her daughter’s life as well as her own.

Megan stood at the window of her bedchamber, looking into the distance and feeling thoroughly spent with her effort to quell her emotions. Walking into the keep that morning knowing that the servants actually believed her part of a liaison with Arik had been almost unbearable. She had made herself move among them, careful to keep her eyes from lingering too long on any one face, but it had been torture.

Then in the midst of the hurt, Megan had found herself more and more interested in the castle workings. Hawkings Crest was a fine stronghold, but every fortress had areas that needed improvement and Megan could see many at Hawkings Crest. Yet, Bracken had only thought her interfering. His shouting at her had affected her more deeply than she had let on. She hadn’t even enjoyed seeing the looms, even though they were run with tremendous efficiency.

Megan suddenly found herself back in the bushes, hiding out of fear for life, listening and looking on in the dim firelight as her three guards were slain. Tears poured down her cheeks, and a sob sounded in her throat. She turned and lay across the bed, burying her face in the thick furs as harsh weeping overcame her. Megan prayed for strength, but at the moment she felt faithless. In the midst of asking God to bring her father soon, she fell into a restless sleep.

“Have you seen Megan?” The question came softly to Louisa’s and
Lyndon’s ears just moments before Bracken spotted her coming down the stairs. She had not taken the midday meal with them, and it was now evening. He had no desire to treat her as a child, but he would not allow her to go hungry. Bracken left Lyndon and his aunt without comment and met Megan at the bottom of the stairs.

Megan came to a stop on the last step and simply stared at Bracken. He returned the gaze, taking in the lovely blush in her cheeks and her bright, serious eyes. Their height difference was lessened in this stance, and for just a moment no one spoke. Bracken turned in profile to her and offered his arm. Megan took it.

“Did you have a pleasant afternoon, Megan?” Bracken asked as they crossed to the tables.

“Yes, Lord Bracken, thank you.”

“My aunt has arrived. I would like you to meet her.”

“Very well.” Megan sounded disinterested, but inside she was tense. She soon learned there was no need.

As soon as they neared, Louisa turned, a warm smile lighting her handsome features. Megan saw in an instant where Bracken inherited his dark coloring. Louisa’s hair was as dark as her nephew’s, with just a hint of gray at the temples. Her lashes and brows were equally as dark, and the eyes regarding her were a deep brown. The older woman now reached for both of Megan’s hands.

“Megan, this is my Aunt Louisa,” Bracken spoke. “Aunt Louisa, this is my betrothed, Megan, daughter to Vincent of Stone Lake.”

“Hello, Megan,” she said still holding Megan’s work-rough hands in her own soft ones. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”

“Bracken told me you were called away from London ahead of time. I hope my presence has not interfered in any way with your plans.”

“Not in the least, my dear. I’m glad to be of service.”

“Come,” Bracken broke in. “Our food is served.”

They all retired to the tables then, Bracken at the head, Megan to his right, and Aunt Louisa to his left. Lyndon sat by Louisa, and another knight, Kendrick by name, took a place on the bench next to Megan.

Bracken and Megan shared a trencher. Bracken was the consummate gentleman, seeing that all the best cuts of meat went to Megan’s side of the wooden platter. Conversation flowed freely among Bracken and the others, but Megan had little to say. Bracken’s eyes lingered
on her for most of the meal, and by the time they finished, he felt he would do anything to see her smile.

As it was, he was about to get his wish. They had just stood when Clive, another of Bracken’s vassals, announced Vincent’s presence. Megan excused herself and moved with a calm face to the main doors of the castle, Bracken at her heels. She continued to walk sedately until she spotted him coming up the path, whereupon she ran the last six yards and quite literally threw herself into her father’s arms.

Vincent hugged her close. When he released her to put one arm around her shoulders, Bracken, who was now upon them, was able to see her smiling face. It took his breath away.

“More wine,” Bracken instructed a serving woman and then sat quietly as Vincent and his men ate their fill. In order to give them privacy, Megan and Louisa had retired to the south hearth, but there had been little talk until now. Bracken felt the time had come for him to explain. Vincent had not seemed at all upset, but Bracken knew by the way he greeted his daughter that there must be much on his mind.

“I want to tell you of your men, my lord.”

Vincent forestalled him with a hand. “We saw their graves. I thank you for seeing to the burial. Can you tell me what happened?”

Bracken shook his head. “I know little. Megan said they died saving her.”

“She was unharmed?” Vincent’s gaze grew intense.

“It would seem so.”

“And once she arrived here?”

Bracken drew a deep breath. “She was not harmed, but neither was she well taken care of.”

Vincent began to scowl as Bracken filled him in about Megan’s work in the creamery and eating and sleeping in the keep.

“I’m sorry, Lord Vincent, I was not here, but I still take full blame since I did not make provisions for the possibility of an early arrival.”

To Bracken’s amazement, Vincent did not seem distressed. Instead his eyes suddenly lit with good humor.

“You say she slept in a stall?”

“Yes, Lord Vincent.”

Vincent chuckled softly. “I think I want you to call me Vincent, and if I told you some of the situations Megan has gotten herself into over the years, you would understand my pleasure. Hear me now,” Vincent’s voice grew serious, “when I tell you that I would never countenance abuse toward the girl, but Megan is a survivor—always has been. If she had wanted into this castle before you arrived, she would have come.”

Bracken’s dark brows winged upward. It was true. Megan had been standing before him in the war room little more than an hour after he arrived.

“I’m only glad she was unharmed,” Vincent said with quiet conviction.

“Can you tell me why she arrived early?”

Vincent’s brow lowered, and all pleasure left his face. “Megan and her mother do not get on. They quarreled, and my wife took it upon herself to send Megan here. Had I been present, I would have stopped her. Unfortunately, I arrived back late last night and knew nothing of this until this morning.”

“And now that she is here, Vincent, do you wish her to stay?”

Vincent glanced up at Bracken and then down at his trencher to hide the gleam in his eye. This young lord was trying to conceal his interest, but it was there.