The Knight and the Dove (18 page)

Megan saw instantly that she had lost him, but it was beyond her as to what he might be thinking. She found him studying her mouth once again and wondered if she had food on her lips from lunch. A swift lick with her tongue told her nothing was there, and she felt even more confusion when Bracken’s eyes narrowed. Megan thought he might be growing angry but when he spoke his voice was soft.

“Just handle it, Megan,” Bracken told her, thinking he had to get away. Megan watched in puzzlement as he turned abruptly and moved toward the door.

“So I may dismiss Barton?”

Bracken turned back at the door and told her simply, “No, you may not.”

“Then how am I to—”

Bracken’s raised hand forestalled her. He truly did not wish to fight, but neither could he remain.

“Just do your best, Megan.”

The small redhead stood still long after the portal closed. What in the world was she to do with the man? He was kinder this time than ever before, but he clearly couldn’t wait to be away from her. Megan was still standing in confusion when Aunt Louisa sought her out.

“Megan, there you are. Is everything all right?”

“I don’t know,” Megan admitted, her eyes now on the older woman.

“You spoke with Bracken?”

“Yes, and he was kind, but he looked at me so oddly.”

“Oh?” Louisa’s interest was piqued. “How so?”

“He stared at my mouth as though something were amiss. It’s not the first time, either. And then he seemed in a great hurry to be away.”

Louisa could hardly believe such innocence, but she knew it to be all too real. She debated telling Megan what Bracken’s actions meant but changed her mind. He was going to have to win this woman on his own. Louisa had enjoyed a long talk with Brice and quite agreed with him. It was true that court manners came easier to Stephen, but Brice was right in saying Bracken had no excuse; it was his duty to do all he could to win Megan’s heart.

“What am I to do?”

“Do not let it worry you, dear. Men can, at times, be complex creatures. I’m sure there was nothing wrong.”

Megan nodded. She might have questioned Louisa, but in truth she didn’t even know what to ask. Would it be easier when Bracken and she were husband and wife? Megan could only hope so. The reality of their wedding seemed to press in on her with more insistence every day.

Megan walked into the great hall three days later and knew instantly that something was amiss. There had been two groups of servants speaking quietly among themselves as they worked, but after spotting Megan, all seven women closed their mouths and transferred their gazes to the floor.

Megan would normally have given this little thought, but it had been happening all day. By evening she was fed up.

“Helga,” she spoke to her personal maid, the first woman to have helped her at Hawkings Crest. “What is going on?”

“Going on, my lady?” Helga’s eyes were wide with apprehension, and Megan knew she had come to the right woman.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice changing to that of gentle persuasion. “It seems that there is news afoot—news that concerns me. I would only wish to hear of it.”

Helga relaxed. She should have known her lady would just desire to understand.
After all,
Helga reminded herself,
it is just gossip. Lady Megan would surely not take heed.

“Helga?” Megan brought her back to the matter.

“There are rumors, my lady, that Lord Bracken has gone to see Black Francesca.” Helga barely kept herself from smiling. She knew her lady would laugh any minute at the joke of it all, and then she would be free to join her.

“Black Francesca?” Megan had gone utterly still.

“Yes, my lady.” Helga became concerned for the first time. “All servants gossip, and those at Hawkings Crest are no different.”

Megan nodded, her face still serene but her eyes cold. “I won’t be turning in just now, Helga. I’ll send for you later.”

Helga stood and wrung her hands after Megan left. If the look in her eyes had been any indication, Lord Bracken would be gaining a visit, and soon.

“Did you see her?” Megan asked the moment she stepped into the war room, completely ignoring the men surrounding Bracken.

“See who, Megan?” Bracken asked, but he knew the answer.

“Have you been to visit Black Francesca?”

Bracken was very aware of his men. He knew they would have exited, but Megan stood between the group and the door, arms akimbo, her eyes flashing with rage.

Bracken wanted a wife and a lady to keep his home, but he was not going to let anyone monitor his every move. As much as he cared for Megan and truly thought he was coming to love her, he would not let her rule his life.

“Am I to check with you, Megan, before going to the village?” Bracken’s voice said that her answer was only of mild interest to him.

“You do not answer my question, so I must assume you are guilty.

“Guilty?” Bracken’s chuckle was sincere. “Nay, Megan. I have been to see Francesca, but no guilt rests on my head.”

Megan’s face flushed with temper. She walked until she stood before Bracken, her eyes so angry and hurt that Bracken had to harden his heart to bear it. When she moved, the men filed out so that when she spoke again they were alone.

“I will not marry you.”

Bracken didn’t so much as lift a brow. “We will wed, Megan,” he spoke with surety.

“Never,” she hissed. “I have saved myself for this time, but to you it is no worthy thing. I will not marry a man who would take our vows so lightly.”

Bracken shook his head, thinking that if Megan didn’t find her place she would be miserable.

“We will wed, Megan,” was all he said.

Megan shook her head vehemently, causing red curls to swirl around her shoulders. “I will not stay here, and I will certainly not be joined to you.” There was such loathing in her voice that Bracken grew angry.

“Stop this childishness, Megan. I tell you we will be wed.”

Megan’s laughter was harsh. “I am no child, Bracken, but a woman capable beyond your imagination. It is too bad that you will never understand all that you have lost.”

On this cryptic statement Megan spun and headed to the door. Bracken didn’t move, but his fist clenched in frustration. It had seemed for a few days that things were softening between them, but right now those days seemed weeks past. As hard as that was to bear, Bracken’s greatest hurt was that Megan would think him capable of such an act in the first place.

Thirteen

B
Y MIDMORNING OF THE FOLLOWING DAY,
Megan was miles away from Hawkings Crest. She had learned through her escapes from the abbey that there was no time like the present, and so she had left less than an hour after her confrontation with Bracken. She had left Helga with the strictest of orders for the night, and even the next few days, but Megan sincerely doubted that anyone would truly miss her, at least not for a time.

It had not been all that difficult to escape the castle walls, but that would not have been the case if she had waited until after dark or until the following morning to leave.

Her night had been a long one. Megan was feeling the effects now, but she trudged on just the same. Sometime before dawn she had lain down and slept, but it was nothing whatsoever like a full night in her own bed. She stopped now and tried to gauge her whereabouts but found she was a bit disoriented.

The night her men were attacked suddenly flashed through her mind, but oddly enough she did not feel fearful. In many ways Megan felt safer on her own than she had with her guard; she was free to hide in caves or climb trees for protection. Over the years she had encountered the occasional boar or other fierce creature, but nothing that ever gave her more trouble than she could handle.

As the sun rose high in the sky, Megan’s stomach roared. She found shade at that point and pulled some bread and cheese from the sack on her back. She ate ravenously and then searched for a stream. It took longer than she would have liked and put her somewhat out of the way, but the opportunity to slack her thirst was worth every step.

Megan was just returning to the road when she spotted the peddlers. It took less than a heartbeat’s time to see that it was Elias and his band—the same men who had rescued her weeks before. Megan debated stepping out into the road and asking for help, but before she could decide, they stopped. Megan froze in order to listen and watch from her place in the trees.

“What is it, Elias?” one man asked.

The bearded peddler didn’t answer. His gaze swept the trees opposite Megan before he turned and seemed to stare right at her.

“Who’s there?” Elias called.

Megan didn’t answer.

“Come out,” he continued kindly. “We won’t harm you.”

Megan debated only a moment more before going into action. She drew her ragged cape up over her head, made sure the bag of food on her back was in the proper “hump” position, bent over her walking stick, and moved slowly from the trees.

“It’s an old humpback woman,” Megan heard one say as she squinted up at them. Her mouth turned back into a snarl that beautifully portrayed the dark beans she’d pushed over two teeth. They gave the impression of teeth missing as well as darkening her saliva, making it look as if her whole mouth were rotted.

“I ain’t an old woman,” Megan spat, putting on her best cockney tone and glaring at the men. “Whatcha sellin’?”