The Knight and the Dove (16 page)

“Your father approved of this?” Bracken, who couldn’t help himself, wondered aloud. The abbey did not alarm him but time alone in the village was another matter. Thinking he may have angered her, Bracken held his breath as Megan turned, but for once she was not offended by his line of questioning.

“My father had very definite ideas about my upbringing. He believed I would be a more compassionate mistress to my servants if I spent time in the village. I was never in any danger, you understand.
Most of the townspeople knew of my parentage. Since it was common knowledge, they never believed we were trying to deceive them, and in truth, after just a short time, it was not something many even thought of.”

Bracken couldn’t imagine allowing his own daughter to work in the village, but without asking he somehow knew that Vincent’s ideas stemmed from his reaction to his wife’s personality. Megan was stern with the servants at Hawkings Crest, but she was never cruel. Bracken now saw that Megan was the woman she was because she had been separated from her mother’s influence. From what little he’d seen and heard, it would at least appear so.

Had they been alone, Bracken might have questioned Megan further. But now was not the time, and he was left to ruminate on what she had said.

Megan was also left with a certain amount of speculation after Bracken made no comment to her story. Through the evening she pondered whether he agreed with her father or thought him a fool.

Two afternoons later Megan was feeling suffocated again. She knew better than to leave on her own, but she could not find Louisa or Bracken. The day had started well, and she did not want to do anything to spoil it, but she
had
to get out. A basket on her arm, she gained the courtyard and with relief spotted Arik.

“Arik,” Megan spoke when she stood before him, having lost all fear of his size and stony face. “Bracken bids me to tell someone when I leave the castle walls.” She paused and stared at his expressionless countenance, knowing full well that he had heard her. “I’m going into the fields to pick herbs.”

Arik didn’t blink, nod his head, or acknowledge her in any way, but after Megan held his eyes for just a moment, she turned away, the basket now swinging from her hand, her bright head shining in the sun.

She wasn’t 15 steps outside the castle gate when she sensed with certainty that Arik had followed her. She didn’t mind. His presence made her feel secure. Megan found the field she sought and happily sank down into the grasses, the morning sun warm on her back. Within
minutes she’d forgotten everything around her. Intent on her task, she neither heard nor saw Bracken’s brother approaching.

Returning from a hunting party in the woods, Brice had just sent his game ahead to the castle when he spotted Megan in the field. Her hair was a halo of red, a delight to any eye, but Brice frowned. Just days ago the entire castle had searched for her, and now here she sat alone outside the walls. Brice had covered half the distance when he spotted Arik.

He drew up short and felt shamed for his angry thoughts. He knew he was too hard on the girl. They were of the same age and would probably get along well, but Brice loved his brother and Megan’s lack of effort in the relationship infuriated him.

He walked on again, but slower, all anger draining from him. He and Stephen would be going home in a few days, and his mother would wish to know how he and Megan got along. Brice was prideful enough to want to report to his mother that he’d done everything within his power to befriend her, not that he believed it would do much good.

“Good morning, Megan,” Brice spoke when he was just five yards away.

“Oh,” Megan’s hand came up. “I didn’t hear you, Brice.”

He was in front of her now and sank to his knees some six feet away. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Megan shook her head and smiled slightly, her eyes on Brice for just an instant before she turned them back to her hands. She was most aware of his feelings toward her.

“’Twas not your fault,” she said graciously. “I was so focused on my work, I didn’t hear a thing.”

Brice watched her work a moment. “What is that?”

“Sorrel. It’s wonderful in soup.”

Brice watched her a moment more.

“Did you not care to send one of the kitchen maids for this work?” It was meant to be a dig, but Megan didn’t take it as such. Brice watched her look off into the distance and smile.

“This isn’t work, Brice. I love it out here. I love the way the air is perfumed with the aroma of pine and wildflowers, and I love the way
the wind moves the trees.” Megan let her gaze roam until it landed back on Brice. His look embarrassed her though, and she swiftly dropped her eyes.

“I don’t know why I prattle on so, Brice. I’m sorry.”

Brice was overcome with shame. She had openly shared with him and he had made her feel a fool. His mind raced for a safe subject.

“My mother uses herbs for healing.” Brice blurted the words, but Megan did not seem to notice.

“Oh, how I would love to speak with her. I know of only a few. Most of these are for the kitchen.”

“She’ll be here for the wedding.”

Stark fear covered Megan’s face for just an instant, but she quickly schooled her features.

“Yes, the wedding. I look forward to meeting her.” Megan’s voice told Brice that he had shaken her. Why? What could she possibly fear? Brice was actually on the verge of asking her when he spotted Bracken approaching.

“Bracken comes,” Brice casually announced, and then watched in amazement at the change that came over Megan.

“Oh, I’m a mess,” she mumbled as she swiftly dusted her hands and came so awkwardly to her feet that she stumbled and fell back down. Brice was reaching to help her, but she regained her balance on her own and managed to put her chin in the air just before Bracken stopped in front of her.

“Aunt Louisa is looking everywhere for you,” he said without preamble.

“I could not find her,” Megan answered with quiet dignity.

“You could have told me.”

“I could not locate you, either.”

“So you just came anyway?”

“No. I told Arik.”

“But he came with you!”

Megan’s hands moved at her side in defeat. All fight was draining from her. Would she ever do what was right? This was as bad as living with her mother; worse, because there was no convent to return to. The thought made Megan tremble all over.

“I did as you asked, Bracken. I did not tell Arik to join me. I never thought—”

“That seems to be your problem,” he cut her off. “You don’t think of anyone but yourself.”

Megan’s eyes flashed with fury. That statement had been completely unfair. Megan turned from Bracken and lifted her basket. She left the men without word, her back straight, the basket handle over one arm. Megan had not gone ten yards when Arik moved to follow her. Bracken watched their progress for just an instant before transferring his gaze to the distance.

He was barely aware of his brother, so when he did look at Brice it made the younger man’s stunned face even harder to bear.

“She’s afraid of you,” Brice accused, and the pain in his voice surprised Bracken. “Stephen said as much, but I didn’t believe him. ’Tis true. She’s terrified of you. She trembled all over.”

Bracken had seen the trembling as well, but opened his mouth anyway to try to justify himself. Brice would allow no such thing; he cut him off with a downward slash of his hand.

“Don’t speak to me right now, Bracken. I can’t bear it. Mother is going to wish to know of your happiness and that of Megan, and I hate,” Brice spat the word, “to tell her what I’ve observed.”

Brice swung away, not toward the keep but back toward the woods. He still had his crossbow with him, and Bracken let him go, knowing he would be safe enough. Bracken took himself back to the keep. The noon meal would be served soon, and when they had eaten he would speak with Megan. He wasn’t entirely certain what he would say, but Brice had been correct—he did frighten her.

Bracken contemplated the reason he teased and antagonized her and could only come up with one lame answer. He desired to see some emotion on her face, even a scowl, rather than the cold, expressionless eyes she often turned to him.

Knowing this did not excuse his behavior; nevertheless, it helped him to know what he should do, and that was apologize. If the opportunity presented itself he would do so over the meal; if not, he would ask Megan to join him in the war room. He was not experienced in court manners or taken to gently wooing ladies, but he
could
tell Megan he was sorry for his actions because he sincerely was.

Bracken, so ready with his plan, fought disappointment when Megan failed to join him at the table. Indeed she did not make an appearance downstairs at all.

Megan, you can’t hide in here all day,
the small redhead said to herself. But even though her stomach growled, she made no move toward the door. If only she didn’t have to face Bracken. She felt as if she must slip into armor every time she met the man, and right now she was too weary to fight.

Megan scowled when her stomach sounded again. She had just decided then and there to head down to the great hall when someone knocked on her door. Thinking it to be Louisa, Megan walked calmly toward the closed portal. She stood in stunned silence when she saw Bracken on the other side.

“May I speak with you, Megan?”

“Yes,” she answered, and was about to move into the hall when Bracken’s attention suddenly moved beyond her.

Without a word he stepped toward her. Megan was forced to retreat, but Bracken took little notice. He came fully into her bedchamber and just stared. The small room had been transformed. Tapestries and hangings were draped all over the walls. Carpets, thick and richly colored, covered the floor. The counterpane on her bed was a myriad of colors as well.

“You spoke the truth to me. You truly did not wish to leave this room.”

“I am more than content in here.” Megan’s voice was soft.

Bracken came and stood before her now. He looked down into her face and thought her skin looked like that of a child’s.

“I regret the way I treated you outside the wall today.”

Megan was so surprised and relieved she hardly knew what to say, but she did manage a small “Thank you, Bracken.”

He loved it when she left the “Lord” off his name, and for the first time he wished to hold her. She was often so stiff and prickly, but standing before him as she was now, her eyes soft and somehow vulnerable, he longed to take her into his arms.