The Knight and the Dove (17 page)

Of their own volition, his eyes dropped to her lips. He was always amazed at their color. He knew that some women used tint to redden their lips, but looking at Megan’s he knew that the dark, dusky red he was seeing was all her own.

Megan noticed his look, but did not understand it. She was even
more naive about men than Bracken was about women. And the fact that she did not find herself comely always played a part. After just a few seconds under Bracken’s scrutiny, Megan began to assume something was wrong with her appearance. Her mouth would have swung open in surprise had she understood that Bracken found her so lovely he wanted to kiss her.

Fortunately for both of them, Megan’s stomach growled and broke the spell. Her manner became all at once brisk as Bracken’s presence in her room reminded her of something that had been on her mind. She turned away from him, slightly embarrassed and asked, “Bracken, are you barring my door at night?”

“No,” Bracken answered cautiously. “Why do you ask?”

“I think I must be walking in my sleep, because I have awakened occasionally in the chair by the fire. If that is true, I can’t think what is keeping me inside—unless the door has been barred from without.”

“Arik sleeps outside your door at night,” Bracken told her softly. Megan turned to face him. “Arik knows that I walk in my sleep?” Bracken nodded, his eyes studying her face, and Megan suddenly remembered the night she woke in the great room.

“How long?” Megan asked, referring to Arik’s sleeping arrangement.

“Since the first night after your father left.”

Megan took a deep breath. “And what of the time after we are wed? Will Arik continue to lie outside the door and give the castle folk even more reason for gossip?” Megan was not angry, just chagrined.

“I have given great thought to that,” Bracken told her. “I think we will bar your door. That way you’ll be forced to exit through my room.”

“And what good will that do?” Megan genuinely wished to know.

“I am a very light sleeper, Megan, and even if you did get past me, Lyndon would inform me.”

Megan nodded. It put a woman in a very vulnerable position to be wandering through a strange castle in her sleep, but try as she might to calm herself before slumber, she was still up and about. Maybe with time her heart would settle in this new place.

“We have no wish to make sport of you, Megan.” Bracken thought he needed to explain, and indeed, Megan was comforted by his words, enough to let the matter drop with a simple thank you.

“Have you eaten?” Bracken asked then, and Megan was again warmed by his sudden show of concern. She shook her head.

“Then come, Megan. Come below and eat.”

He offered his arm, and Megan took it. She did so praying that this new, kinder relationship would swiftly become the standard.

Twelve

B
RICE WAS STANDING ON THE WALL
of the keep, his eyes taking in the countryside, when he realized Bracken’s presence beside him. A glance to his side told him Bracken’s own eyes were also on the scape, but after a moment, he spoke.

“Stephen and I may look alike, Brice, but make no mistake, it is Stephen who is well practiced with the words ladies love.”

Brice nodded, his gaze now back over the land as he answered boldly. “You inherited Hawkings Crest and father’s title when you were still a young man. Your responsibility has been heavy; Stephen’s not near as much at White Hall. But that is still no excuse.

“Chivalry is dying all over England, but every time I see evidence of this fact, I think with pride, ‘Never Bracken. Bracken is a knight of highest honor, never him.’

“But yesterday I was shamed. I have seen with my own eyes that Megan’s fear is not of all men, but of you, and for this there is no excuse. As I watched her tremble I thought of how I would feel if a man treated Danella or Kristine in such a way. I would want to run him through with my sword.”

Brice finally looked at Bracken and found the older man watching him. Bracken’s pride was taking a beating, but Brice was correct. Bracken was supposed to be an example to his brother, and instead he’d incurred his rancor.

There weren’t many men from whom Bracken would take such words, but his brothers were beyond value to him, and for this, Bracken took heed.

“You are right, Brice,” he told him sincerely. “I have now committed
myself to dealing more gently with Megan in the future, but there are times when I know not what to do with the woman.”

Bracken’s chagrined voice brought a smile to Brice’s face. He thumped his older brother on the chest.

“She does have a mind of her own.”

“Is that what you call it?” Bracken’s tone was now dry.

“She’ll surely match you wit for wit.” Brice’s voice was almost proud, a startling turnabout from just days previous, but Bracken’s brows rose as though Brice’s own words proved his case. Brice accurately read his thoughts.

“Come now, Bracken. You surely want more than a pretty face. Even when you are tempted to lock Megan in her room, you’ll have to admit that you do not want it any other way.”

Bracken stared at his younger sibling. It was true. He didn’t want a decoration for his castle, but a woman who could think and do for herself. Bracken felt a new sort of peace with this realization, a peace that would have been destroyed had he been able to see Megan right then.

“What is this entry?”

Bracken’s steward, Barton, whose face was starting to resemble a radish, stared at Megan, whose own countenance was a study in tranquility.

“It’s for wheat.”

“Wheat? For what purpose?”

Barton had to bite his tongue to keep from telling Megan to mind her own business. Instead, he said with false humility, “Why, food for the castle folk, my lady.”

“It costs this much?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Megan studied the small man’s face. He wasn’t much taller than Megan and very thin, and from Megan’s few encounters with him, she had also tagged him a liar. Indeed, Megan would have wagered her life on the fact.

“And how about this?” Megan pointed to another entry and Barton silently cursed this woman who had been raised in a convent and taught to read.

“Miscellaneous.”

Megan’s eyes narrowed, but her voice was still serene. “Twenty pounds of miscellaneous?”

Barton’s look was that of a child’s, but Megan was not taken in.

“Before the sun sets, I wish to see an itemized listing of what you consider to be miscellaneous.”

“Yes, my lady,” Barton spoke from behind gritted teeth.

Megan turned away from him then, the record book still in her hand.

“But, my lady,” Barton called to her, his voice in a panic. “I need the records book.”

Megan stopped and stared at the man. “If the items I seek are recorded in the book, then why did you list them under miscellaneous?”

Barton was so angry that he prayed for Megan’s death. Megan held his gaze before giving final orders and leaving.

“I am not through with the book, so I will keep it, and I will expect that list today.”

“Bracken, may I speak with you?”

Bracken, so delighted that she had sought him out, rose from his chair in the war room with a smile. The smile faltered when she drew close enough for him to see the records book.

“Bracken,” Megan began immediately, “I do not think your steward is being honest with you.”

“Megan,” Bracken replied, remembering what he’d told Brice and working to keep his voice patient, “you really don’t need to disturb yourself with such details. Barton is more than capable—”

“Of stealing you blind,” Megan cut him off. “Look at this entry for yard and cloth. My mother couldn’t spend that amount in five years.”

Bracken sighed, but did not reply. He was always made very comfortable within the walls of his castle and gave little regard as to how that came to be. His greater interest was his training fields and archery range, but he did not think it wise to say this to Megan.

“Can’t you see it?” She persisted.

“In truth, Megan, the account books have never been that important to me. Show me the exact place.”

Megan pointed with one small digit and Bracken bent low to inspect the entry. He turned his head after a moment to find Megan staring, their faces very close together.

“Don’t you check these books periodically, Bracken?”

“No,” he told her, feeling preoccupied with her nearness and the smell of her hair. He was a knight, trained in self-control, so none of his emotions showed on his face.

“What about Aunt Louisa?” Megan brought him back to the matter at hand.

“She can’t read.”

Megan gazed absentmindedly into his dark eyes and then off into the distance, totally preoccupied with the castle accounts.

“There are too many inconsistencies,” Megan muttered, her mind still going over the pages of the book.

“Barton’s been with Hawkings Crest for years. He was my father’s steward.”

“Could your father read?”

“No,” Bracken admitted, and Megan’s brows rose. She obviously believed she’d made her point.

Bracken held onto his control with an effort. He knew that she needed to have a hand in the running of this castle, but why must she turn things into utter chaos? Bracken had no desire to fight with her, and so chose to distract himself by studying the loveliness of her face.