The Knight and the Dove (38 page)

Megan’s thoughts were entirely different. She prayed that Bracken’s present belief in God would grow and that he would hunger for something much larger, something so huge that it would swallow him whole and at the same time make him more of a man than he ever dreamed.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, Father, and you?”

“Fine.”

For all Megan’s good intentions of putting the past behind, the morning had not started well. Annora had slept in and broke the fast in
her own room, but Vincent, having met Bracken’s family, asked Megan if he could see her alone.

They decided on a walk outside the castle walls. Even though her father would be with her, Megan told several people where she would be. As had become the norm, Arik was close by.

They had walked along with few words. Vincent did not know what to say to this daughter who had changed so much, and Megan had told herself she was not going to apologize. She had done nothing wrong, nor was she bitter, but Megan also knew that if Vincent’s conscience was bothering him, it would be no help to pretend that nothing had happened.

“I spoke briefly with your mother last night.”

Megan nodded.

“She did not realize she’d struck you so hard.”

Megan did not nod this time, but still said nothing.

“Megan, what has happened to us?”

Megan stopped and faced him. It was an honest question and deserved an answer, but the words were not there. Megan’s hands moved helplessly before she said, “I do not know how to explain, Father, but I do know the changes are good. I do not wish to be as we were,” she admitted.

“It’s Bracken, isn’t it?” Vincent burst out with such vehemence that Megan’s eyes widened. “You can’t believe the things he said to me. If you were not to marry him, Megan, I would make life miserable for him.” He raked a frustrated hand through his graying hair. “If there were only some way that I could get you out of this.”

At one time Megan would have thrilled to his words, but no longer. She had never seen him like this.

“Father, what did he say to you last night?”

“Not last night!” Vincent was still very agitated. “Before you left Stone Lake he told me I didn’t care for you, and that I couldn’t control my wife!”

Megan only stared at him. Vincent froze.

“Megan,” he whispered, his voice raw. “Do you share his feelings?”

Tears filled her eyes. “I do not know how I could think otherwise. You never tried to stop Mother; you just always sent me out of her reach.”

Vincent’s heart literally pained him over Megan’s words. He could hardly breathe with the intensity of it. It was all so true. He had a wonderful relationship with his daughter as long as his wife wasn’t near. And he had a tolerable relationship with his wife as long as he did what she asked and kept Megan clear of her. He had never cared enough about Megan to fight Annora. He thought about his daughter often while she lived at the abbey, but only visited her when he had other business in town.

Weeks earlier, when he’d come to Hawkings Crest to check on her, it was the first time he had gone out of his way on her behalf.

What kind of man was he? There were names for his sort, Vincent realized, and years ago he’d nearly beaten a man for calling him such. He saw now that he should have listened. Much would have been different.

“I hate this strain between us, Father,” Megan now said. “But I do not want to be the recipient of Mother’s cruelty any longer. I have tasted otherwise, and I do not want to return to my old way of life. I don’t know if you can still care for me, but I am afraid that things will have to be on our terms—Bracken’s and mine.”

Megan didn’t know where she found the courage to speak so, but God blessed her honesty. Vincent’s arms came out, and he enfolded Megan gently against him.

“I am so sorry, Meg, so sorry to have let you down.”

Megan did not tell him it was all right, but she hugged him back tightly and prayed silently.

“Your mother has long been in control,” Vincent admitted when they stepped apart. “Now Marigold has hurt her, and I wonder if she’ll be ready to listen to reason.”

“She is so blind to Marigold’s true nature.”

Vincent nodded sadly. How many times as a child had Megan suffered at her older sister’s hands? Marigold would commit some crime and then see to it that Megan took the blame and was beaten by Annora. And all her father ever did was send her away. Vincent’s eyes closed.

“Are you all right, Father?”

“I am not sure. I think I will stay here for a time and then try to talk with your mother.”

Megan nodded. “I do not have high expectations for her, Father,” she admitted. “But things do not have to be strained between us. You can come here as often as you like, with or without Mother. I know Bracken does not trust her, but as long as we’re at Hawkings Crest, I think he will agree.”

Vincent saw then that a miracle had taken place in his daughter’s heart. She was talking submissively about Bracken. He was still choking on the words the young lord had shot at him, but if he put his pride aside, he could see that Bracken was quite possibly the best thing to ever happen to Megan.

Megan did leave him then, but she was not heavy of heart. He needed time alone, and Megan wanted the quiet of her room to pray. Arik escorted her back, and when Bracken spotted them returning he immediately approached.

“Are you well?”

“Yes,” Megan told him.

“And your father?”

“He wanted some time alone. I told him that he and my mother would be welcome at Hawkings Crest, but it would have to be on our terms.”

Bracken smiled. He liked the word “our” on her lips. While he stood quietly, simply watching her, Megan suddenly reached out and smoothed her fingers across his eyebrows.

“What was that for?”

Megan blushed, regretting the action. “They were a mess. Don’t you ever brush them smooth when you see to your hair and beard?”

Bracken’s smile grew, and Megan, wishing to hide her embarrassment, tilted her chin and flounced away. Bracken watched her go. This was going to be some marriage, and with the wedding the following afternoon, he could hardly wait to begin.

Twenty-Seven

T
HE WEDDING WAS SET FOR
3:oo on the afternoon of September 20, 1531. The entire castle was aflutter, but the bride, dressed in a gown of exquisite styling and fabric, was remarkably calm.

Louisa had made the garment using her purchases from the village. Slashing the skirt front and sleeves, she had taken the cream satin and lined it with a deep green satin before lacing it with gold braid. The neckline was fashionably square and trimmed with the same gold braid. Stiffened with flour, Megan’s small headpiece was made from the cream satin as well, and set perfectly atop her head of rich red curls.

Megan was ready by 2:00 and had enjoyed visits from Richard; Derek and Stephen; Louisa, Joyce, and Kristine; her father; and finally Brice. Megan knew her mother would be coming as well, and if anyone could make her nervous, it was Annora.

There was a sudden knock at the door, and Megan held her breath as Helga answered. Annora swept inside, and just as Megan had believed, a dress of light blue velvet hung from her lovely, slim form. Annora stopped cold upon spotting Megan’s dress, and she tried to dismiss Helga with a jerk of her head. That faithful servant looked to Megan, who nodded but asked her to return shortly.

“How dare she,” Annora began, but Megan cut in respectfully.

“This is my home, Mother, and these are my servants. How dare you.” It was all said so softly and without a trace of anger that it totally disarmed Annora.

She stared at Megan for several seconds and then quietly asked, “Where did you find the material?”

“From a woman in the village. She said she bought it from Elias the peddler.”

Annora had nothing to say, and Megan voiced a question that in her mind had to be answered.

“Did you hate me so much, Mother, that you would sell my dress fabric?”

“Oh, Megan.” Annora’s voice sounded desperate. “I did it in a burst of anger. I don’t hate you; I just don’t know how to be a mother to you.”

Megan’s heart was sad, believing Annora hadn’t even tried. Annora would have done anything for Marigold and certainly must have thought she’d been a good mother to her eldest daughter.

“And now it seems,” Annora admitted softly, “that I have not known how to be a mother to Marigold either.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your father and I talked at length yesterday. He told me that from now on things would be different. When I fought him, he told me that some of Marigold’s activities have been reported to him. Do you know of what I speak?”

“No,” Megan told her honestly.

“Well, the details do not matter.” The older woman was obviously embarrassed to repeat them. “It seems she is going through a phase of,” Annora searched for the word, “rebellion.”

Megan stayed quiet for only a moment. “’Tis no stage.”

“Why do you say this?” Annora asked, her eyes begging her younger daughter not to destroy Marigold further.

“I know not of what father speaks, but many was the time I was punished for Marigold’s deeds. She has never cared about anyone but herself. You are the only person she has not fought with for the whole of her life.”

“How can you say this? Marigold is as sweet a girl as God ever created. You are but jealous.” Annora’s eyes begged Megan to admit it this time.

Megan smiled sadly. “I was at one time, but no longer. Now I pity her.”

Annora looked positively crushed, and Megan marveled that she had not grown angry. Megan hated to have these words on her wedding day, but she somehow believed that when her parents left in the
morning, she would never see her mother again. She was nearly certain of it when Annora turned away, defeat enveloping her. However, she surprised Megan when she stopped at the door.

“It was wrong of me to sell the fabric, but I am glad you found it.” Annora finally looked at her. “It’s beautiful on you, Megan.”

She left before Megan could frame a reply. When Bracken and Helga entered the room a minute later, Megan was still standing like a statue.

“Are you all right?” Bracken demanded as he stopped just inches before her.

Megan looked into his eyes. “My mother said I looked beautiful.” Her voice was that of a child’s, breathless with wonder. Bracken smiled tenderly. How long his little Megan had waited for such approval. He had known it all along.