Megan found herself staring into deep blue eyes set in an exquisite face. Thick black hair had been fixed in a coronet of curls around a face that showed neither a wrinkle nor a line. Her somber black gown was of finest watered silk.
Megan became even more aware of her own shabby state in the company of this elegant woman.
A girl of about six, her feet bare, her dress stained with the juice of blackberries, pushed her way through the crowd of servants to stare at the strangers in their midst. A wild tangle of red curls fell nearly to her ankles.
“God in heaven. Bridget,” Lady Katherine called, “were you off in the bog again?” Her face filled with pain as she drew the girl close in a fierce embrace. “My darling, you know it is forbidden to you. You could have been sucked down into the mire and never found.” When the child made no response, Lady Katherine whispered, “Forgive my outburst. My heart, I fear, has been too battered of late.” Catching the girl’s hand she said, “Come and greet your uncles.”
Seeing the bearded strangers, the girl hung back.
“Is it truly Bridget?” Kieran opened his arms. “You’ve grown so much, lass, I would not know you.”
Still the girl pulled away, feeling suddenly shy.
Megan whispered, “It is your beard, my lord. The poor child probably does not know you.”
The child glanced at Megan, then at the man who faced her.
“Aye.” Kieran knelt on the cobblestones and opened his arms to the girl. “I am your Uncle Kieran, and this is your Uncle Colin. Have you forgotten us already?”
A shy smile touched the girl’s lips. “You look like the drawings of ancient warriors Grandmother made for me.”
Kieran touched a hand to his beard. “At this moment I feel like an ancient warrior, lass. Do I frighten you?”
There was a defiance in the lass that touched something deep inside Megan.
As she watched, the girl put on a brave smile. “Nay. I am not afraid of you. I am afraid of nothing.”
“That’s my lass. Then come give me a kiss.”
With a laugh the girl launched herself into his outstretched arms. He swung her around and around, then gave her over to Colin, who was impatiently awaiting his turn. The girl buried a hand in his beard and tugged it. “You cannot be my Uncle Colin.”
“Well I am. And you,” he said, tugging gently on a stray lock of fiery hair, “are the most beautiful girl child ever born in Killamara.”
“Oh, you are Uncle Colin.”
“How did I convince you?”
“You always call me the most beautiful girl child ever born in Killamara.”
“You see. Now you know I have to be your uncle.”
The lass giggled and buried her face in his neck.
“Come,” Lady Katherine said, linking her arms through those of her sons. “We will prepare a feast to welcome you home. And you will tell me everything.”
From her position behind them, Megan saw Kieran and Colin exchange meaningful glances. They intended, she realized, to spare their mother most of the horrors of their adventure.
They entered a great room where servants bustled around, stoking the fire, arrange a settle in front of the fireplace, plumping pillows. As they worked, the servants cast sidelong glances at the two men who had returned from the dead. Both men looked more like wild savages than men of noble birth.
The plump woman whose shrieks had first greeted their arrival took a tray from a servant’s hands and bowed grandly before Kieran and Colin. “Welcome home, my lords.”
“Ahh, Mistress Peake.” Kieran bent low, for the woman barely reached his midsection, and planted a kiss on her cheek. “How I have missed your smiling face.”
The housekeeper blushed with pleasure.
“Not to mention your biscuits and fruit conserve,” Colin cut in neatly. He lifted her hands to his lips and murmured, “How many nights I lay awake in Fleet and dreamed of your partridges roasting over the fire. And the thought of your sweets nearly drove me mad with desire.”
Mistress Peake’s jowels quivered. “You always did carry on so about my food, my lord Colin.”
“You spoiled me, Mistress Peake. I always knew that after you, no other woman would ever be able to please me. Except of course, this beautiful creature.” Colin planted a kiss on little Bridget’s nose and the girl collapsed in giggles.
Megan studied the housekeeper, whose gray hair fell in damp little wisps around her pudgy cheeks. Though she joined in their laughter, the woman’s eyes filled with tears.
“I have missed your teasing,” she said as she quickly brushed away her tears with the back of her hand then filled several goblets. “I will make you a feast this night that will make you forget every minute of your time away from Killamara, my lords.”
She turned to Lady Katherine. Her voice took on a crisp, unpleasant tone. “Sir Cecil and his son have just returned from hunting and, when given the news, asked if they might join you, my lady.”
Kieran’s head came up sharply. “Sir Cecil and James Kettering? They are here?”
Ignoring the sharpness in his tone, Lady Katherine turned to the housekeeper. “Tell Sir Cecil and his son to join us, Mistress Peake.”
“Aye, my lady.”
When the housekeeper had left the room, Lady Katherine turned to her son. “Sir Cecil and James arrived only a day ago. They had heard the rumors and were concerned that I was alone during this trying time.”
While Colin and Lady Katherine took up their goblets and sat together on the settle, Kieran lifted his goblet and stood beside the fireplace, his hand resting on the mantel.
Megan saw the frown that creased his brow before he turned to stare broodingly into the flames.
A moment later the door opened and two men entered.
“Kieran. Colin.” The older of the two men hesitated for a moment, then strode forward and clasped a hand on Kieran’s shoulder. He crossed to Colin and gave him a warm greeting. “We are still shocked at the news that you are alive.” The man turned to Lady Katherine and lifted her hands to his lips. “As I am certain you are, my lady.”
“Aye, Cecil.” Her eyes misted and she blinked rapidly. “This is the happiest day of my life.”
“And mine, my dear.” He turned to glance at the younger man who had paused just inside the doorway. “Come, James. Why do you tarry?”
“Kieran,” the young man said, continuing to pause in the doorway, “I cannot believe it is truly you. Am I looking at a ghost?”
“By all accounts I should be dead.” Kieran extended his hand, and the young man crossed the room to grasp it.
“Elizabeth’s court has been dull since you departed,” James said. “Even the Queen herself misses your bold and lively debate on every issue that deals with the rebellious Irish chieftains.”
“Is there no one left to fight the cause?” Kieran asked.
“Nay. No one with your gift of persuasion.”
When James Kettering turned, he gave Colin a long look before crossing to him. Bridget still clung to Colin’s neck. Since his arrival the girl had been unwilling to leave him for even a moment.
“Colin,” James said with a smile, “I have not seen you in many years. According to your proud mother, the monks at Donegal Monastery consider you a prize.”
Monastery? Megan glanced at the young man who had shared their adventure. An education at a monastery explained his formal manner of speech. But was he a priest? She tried to recall how many times she had muttered oaths in his presence. She must have been quite a shock to him. She stood very still, wondering how many other surprises would be revealed this night.
“It is good to be home,” Colin said, accepting the young man’s outstretched hand.
“Are you saying you do not miss the luxuries of Fleet Prison?”
“Oh, aye. I miss them terribly.”
The two shared a strained laugh.
“There is someone here you must both meet.” Lady Katherine led the father and son to Megan and
said, “Lady Megan, this is one of my oldest friends, Sir Cecil Kettering, ambassador to Queen Elizabeth.”
Megan was taken aback by his title. Ambassador to the very one who had imprisoned Kieran and Colin.
Sir Cecil was tall and slender, with pale blue eyes and gray, thinning hair. His features were finely chiseled, and Megan thought that most women would consider him extremely handsome.
“My lady.” He lifted her hand to his lips in a courtly gesture, then said, “Welcome, my lady. May I present to you my son, James, Earl of Warfield.”
“Lady Megan.” James caught her hand and held it a few minutes longer than was necessary before lifting it to his lips. “I do not know where you have been hiding, lovely lady, but I find this bleak land suddenly far more…inviting.”
James was a younger, paler version of his father. His eyes were as light as a summer sky; his brown hair was carefully brushed over his forehead. He cut a fine figure in his beautifully tailored silk tunic over black breeches. He was, Megan thought, like his father, a man who knew that women would find him most attractive.
“Lady Megan helped my two sons escape,” Lady Katherine added with a touch of pride.
“How fascinating.” Sir Cecil studied the young woman with interest. “Yours is not an Irish brogue. Where is your home, my lady?”
“Scotland.”
“Ahh.” His eyes narrowed. “And what is your clan?”
Megan swallowed. She had been dreading this moment. “I fear I do not recall.”
Sir Cecil lifted an eyebrow. “Do you jest with me, my lady?” He cast a knowing smile at the others.
“She speaks the truth,” Kieran said as he crossed to her. He seemed unaware of his suddenly protective demeanor. But it was not lost on the others. “Megan was wounded in battle. Her memory has been lost to her.”
Lady Katherine studied her with a look of motherly concern. Sir Cecil and his son exchanged surprised glances.
“A woman of mystery. How intriguing.” James touched a hand to the mane of hair that fell enticingly over her shoulder. “And so fetching in peasant’s garb. I wager you would be ravishing in something more feminine.”
For some reason Kieran could not explain, he found James’s intimate demeanor offensive. He was not jealous, he told himself. He was merely looking out for this innocent. At the hands of a rake like James, she would be helpless. He had watched James cut a wide swath through the young women at court. No one, not even Elizabeth, was immune to his charms.
While Kieran watched, Sir Cecil placed an arm around Megan. “How terrible, my dear, to not know one’s own family. Can you remember nothing?”
“Nay.”
“A pity. It is most fortunate that you have all of us to lean upon in this trying time.”
Without realizing it she straightened her spine and lifted her chin defiantly. “It will return to me. Until then, I am not some helpless female.”
His eyes crinkled with laughter. “I can see that.” With an admiring look he added, “What you need is rest, and Mistress Peake’s fine cooking.”
“That is what we all need.” Kieran drained his goblet. “If you will excuse us, we will refresh ourselves before we sup. Mother, would you show the Lady Megan to her rooms? I would like her to have the chambers overlooking the garden.”
“As you wish, Kieran.” His mother shot him a disapproving look at his abruptness, then just as quickly swallowed her anger. Theirs had been a long and torturous journey. They all had a right to be short-tempered. She turned to Megan. “Follow me, my dear.”
Wearily Megan followed Lady Katherine and the others up the broad stairs to the second floor.
“These will be yours while you are here,” Lady Katherine said, leading Megan into a large sitting chamber with doors at either end. “If there is anything at all that you desire, you need only ask.”
A cozy fire burned in the fireplace. A chaise and several chairs had been positioned in front of the fire. On a table rested a tray with a decanter and crystal goblets. Lady Katherine strode across the room and opened a door. Beyond Megan could see a large bed hung with delicate linens. Servants scurried around the room setting everything in order.
“Rest now, my dear. The servants will see to your every need.”
“Thank you, Lady Katherine. You are most kind.”
Megan was unaware of the weariness that was etched on her lovely features. But it was not lost on Lady Katherine. With quick, impatient gestures she ushered the others from the room.
When she was alone, Megan dropped down onto the bed. There was no time to remove her torn, faded clothes or to pull back the bed coverings. Within minutes she was sound asleep.
Chapter Nine
“M y lady.”
Megan was awakened from the sweetest dream. In it she had been a lass lying in a big feather bed with two other lasses near in age to her. They had been giggling about something, but now that she was awake she could no longer remember what it was. In the dream the lasses with her had seemed very important to her. As she opened her eyes and stared at the servant, she wondered idly who they were and what they had meant in her life.
“Lady Katherine instructed us to assist you in your bath and toilette, my lady.”
Megan sat up. Across the room, set upon a sheepskin in front of the fireplace, was a tub filled with steaming water. While she watched, a succession of servants entered the room carrying gowns, petticoats, shawls, slippers. All were arrayed across the foot of the bed, awaiting her approval.
“Would you like to begin with a bath, my lady?”
“Aye.” With a little laugh of delight Megan scampered from the bed and hurried to the tub. A servant removed her shabby clothes and helped her into the perfumed water. When she sat down, another servant began washing her hair.
Megan leaned her head back and gave a sigh of pure pleasure. How long it had been since she had enjoyed such luxury. When her hair was washed and dried with towels, the servant ran a comb through the tangles until it fell in silken waves down her back.
Another servant entered and poured a kettle of hot water into the tub, sending a fresh cloud of steam billowing toward the ceiling.
Megan closed her eyes and felt all of her tensions dissolve.
“Would you care to choose your gown now, my lady?”
“Nay.” With her head back and her eyes closed, Megan waved a hand toward the door. “Leave me for a few minutes longer. I cannot bear to give up this comfort yet.”
The servant gave a knowing smile and signaled to the others to leave. “Aye, my lady. You need only call when you desire our services.”
“Thank you.”
When the room was empty, Megan snuggled deeper into the warmth of the water and listened to the snap and hiss of the fire. Surely this was what heaven would someday be. When all the battles were won, this would be the reward of the faithful.
She heard the door open and waved the servant away. “Not just yet. I need another moment to revel in this luxury.”
“Take all the time you wish, my lady.” Kieran’s voice was tinged with warmth. “I, too, desire many more moments to bask in a view such as this.”
“Kieran.” Caught by surprise, Megan started to stand, then, realizing her mistake, sank deeper into the water.
When she turned, she gave a little gasp and studied him with grave interest. “If I did not know your voice, I would think you a stranger.”
A very handsome stranger, she realized. Gone was the heavy dark beard. Now his face was clean-shaven, revealing craggy, rugged features. Gone, too, was the shaggy hair. It had been trimmed to just above his collar. His brow was smooth, unwrinkled. His eyes seemed even more piercing and compelling. There was about him a look that both frightened and excited her. He was indeed a most handsome man. And a dangerous one.
“You must leave. I have no clothes.”
“So I have noticed, my lady.” He walked closer. “But if your Creator had wanted your perfect body hidden by garments, you would have
been born in them.”
She could not see the humor of the situation. She felt her cheeks growing hot until they were burning. “You cannot stay in a lady’s room when she is bathing. It is sinful.”
“Aye. And I am a shameless sinner.” He knelt beside the tub and brushed a lock of hair from her eye.
She slapped his hand away. “How dare you touch me while I am…” She swallowed and tried for a more commanding tone. “Leave my room immediately or I will be forced to…”
He grinned and touched his lips to a droplet of water that clung to her cheek. “To what, my lady?”
Heat raced along her spine. She could not think. Her mind refused to function.
He brought his lips along her face to trace one wet eyebrow.
She struggled to speak over the constriction in her throat. Her voice was little more than a whisper. “You must go, Kieran. The servants…”
“The servants will not return until you summon them.” Picking up a soapy cloth he began to move it along the slope of her shoulder.
His touch left her paralyzed. She sat motionless while his cloth-draped hand moved slowly, seductively along her arm.
The sight of her took Kieran’s breath away. Her hair fell in shiny waves down her back, then fanned out enticingly across the water. Her lovely face was beaded with moisture. The slender column of her throat invited his kiss. He could make out the shape of her breasts shimmering just beneath the water.
“God in heaven, Megan.” He felt his throat go dry. “You are so beautiful.”
He placed his hands on either side of her head, tangling his fingers in her damp hair. He saw the way her lashes lowered, veiling her eyes, and felt a rush of tenderness at the flush that colored her cheeks. Then she lifted her gaze to him, and he felt himself being swallowed up in a look so innocent and yet so alluring he knew he was lost.
He lowered his face until his lips brushed hers. The jolt between them was instantaneous.
Megan felt her heart stop. When at last it started beating again, its rhythm was so erratic she was certain Kieran could hear it. Shock and surprise jolted through her, leaving her senses reeling.