“Aye.” Malcolm strode forward importantly. Bowing slightly before Megan, he caught her hand and drew her toward him.
Behind them, Kieran felt a growing sense of unease. There was something vaguely familiar about this Scot, but he could not place him. Still, his sense of unease grew. And at the Scot’s next words, he felt his whole world begin to crumble.
“I am Malcolm MacAlpin, your distant cousin. And you, my beloved Megan, are my betrothed.”
Chapter Nineteen
“B etrothed!” Megan stared at this stranger, then turned to glance at Kieran. “This cannot be. I…” She licked her lips, which had suddenly gone dry. “I would remember.”
Malcolm gave her an indulgent smile. “They tell me you have lost your memory. Do you remember your sisters?”
“Sisters?” She felt a sudden jolt of pain. “I have sisters?”
“You see?” Feigning a look of concern, he dropped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “You cannot even recall the most important people in your life. That fool, Jamie MacDonald, will pay for this. I entrusted you to his care. And he failed me. Failed all of us.”
Regaining his voice, Kieran said, “The lad you speak of told me that Megan was the leader of her people. And that she had chosen him as her second in command.”
Malcolm’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “MacDonald is a pompous fool. He was nothing more than a messenger, but I wrongly allowed him to accompany Megan to the Highlands.”
“You allowed?”
“I am the MacAlpin, leader of our clan. And I allowed Jamie MacDonald to travel with Megan.”
“For what purpose?”
Malcolm eyed Kieran with growing hatred. He was not about to be tripped up by these insolent questions. Sir Cecil and his son had warned him about Kieran O’Mara. “Megan has a sister in the highlands, wed to Brice Campbell.”
Kieran recalled that name from his conversation with Jamie MacDonald. Brice Campbell was the infamous Highland Barbarian, a fierce chieftain loyal to Mary Queen of Scots.
“Megan was on her way for a visit, and I was unable to accompany her.” Pulling her close, Malcolm muttered against her hair, “I have punished myself a hundred times for letting you go without me, my love.”
A shudder passed through Megan, and she struggled against the revulsion she felt at this man’s touch. Pulling back a step, she stared into his eyes, searching for anything that might jolt her memory. But when she looked at him she felt nothing. Nothing but a vague sense of unease.
Enjoying the attention, Malcolm played to his audience. “What rejoicing there will be when I return with my betrothed. We must make plans to return immediately, my love.”
Turning to Kieran, Malcolm said, “If you will allow us to partake of your hospitality this night, Megan and I will leave for Scotland on the morrow.”
Kieran studied the tall, handsome man who stood with his arm possessively around Megan’s shoulders. Was it possible that she had been betrothed to this stranger? All his senses rebelled against such a thought. But his heart responded instantly. Megan would have been a catch for any man. It would have been unlikely that a woman of her obvious charm and talent would have remained unspoken for for so long.
“We were just going to eat,” Sir Cecil said, catching Lady Katherine’s hand and leading her toward the stranger. It pleased him to usurp Kieran’s position. And at the moment, it was obvious that Kieran O’Mara was reeling from this blow. Puffing up his chest Sir Cecil said, “You are more than welcome to partake of our meal.”
“I thank you.” Malcolm acknowledged the introductions of those around him, then followed his host to the table.
As the servants began serving the meal, Terence O’Byrne said, “We were just about to celebrate the wedding of my daughter to Lady Katherine’s son.” Turning to the happy couple he said, “I ask that we all drink to the good fortune of the bride and groom.”
For a moment all eyes turned toward Colin and Cara, who sat together, their hands linked, their gazes locked in love.
Everyone drank, and then Malcolm, warmed by the ale and drunk with the power he wielded over his hated enemy, stood.
“I would also propose a toast,” he said. He bowed to the young woman who sat beside him in a stunned trance. “To my betrothed, Megan MacAlpin. And to our future…together.”
He lifted his goblet and met James’s eyes across the table. With a wicked smile both men drained their goblets.
Kieran stood by the balcony of his sleeping chamber, staring broodingly at the midnight sky. Just a room away lay his beloved, but he could not go to her. Nor had he any right to speak to her of the things he held in his heart.
Betrothed. She was promised to another. The thought gnawed at him, making it impossible to escape into sleep.
What a fool he had been, thinking he could walk away from Killamara with his woman and find happiness. There was no escaping this hellish life. Now he was doomed to lose all that he had spent a lifetime cherishing, and also the woman he had come to love more than himself.
If only they’d had the wisdom of Cara and Colin. The thought of his brother, happily wed to his childhood love, gave his spirits a momentary lift. How changed Colin was since his stay in Fleet. While he was not looking, Kieran thought wryly, his brother had become a man. A fine man, who had the courage of his convictions.
Slamming his fist into the wall, Kieran turned away and stalked across the room. He would do no less than Colin. Though she was betrothed to another, he had to see Megan one last time.
Dry-eyed, Megan sat in the middle of her big bed, staring at the gleaming coals in the fireplace. She felt numbed beyond pain, beyond tears. The thought of leaving Kieran forever caused a tightness around her heart that made it difficult to breathe.
Sisters. Malcolm MacAlpin had said that she had sisters in Scotland. A family. She was about to discover all those people who had once loved her. All the questions, all the fears she had harbored since that terrible day when she had lost her memory, would be resolved.
But it meant that she would have to leave behind these people who had come to mean so much to her. Colin and Cara, little Bridget, Lady Katherine. And most of all, Kieran.
At the sound of the door opening, she looked up. A tall shadow fell across her bed, and for a moment her heart soared at the thought that Kieran had come to her. But as the candlelight drew near, she realized her night visitor was the stranger, Malcolm MacAlpin.
“You are not sleeping?” he asked.
“Nay.” She gave an involuntary shiver and drew the bed linens around her shoulders.
“I thought you might be having doubts about the things I told you this evening.”
“Aye.”
She saw the glint of a knife in his hand and shrank back for a moment. Seeing her reaction, he smiled broadly. Malcolm had never before seen Megan MacAlpin as anything but strong and unafraid. This was a new side to her—one he was enjoying.
“I thought you might like to examine my knife,” he said, handing it to her.
She studied the MacAlpin crest emblazoned on the hilt, then her eyes widened. “It is the same as the one I carried, though mine has been lost.”
“Aye. All MacAlpins carry this crest on their weapons.”
“It is true then.” She ran her finger over the crest and felt the sting of tears. “You truly are the MacAlpin. And we are betrothed.”
He lifted her face and studied the tears that she tried so desperately to hide. “It is as I said.”
“Forgive me, my lord,” she said softly. A tear coursed along her cheek as she added, “I hope you will be patient while I learn all that I have forgotten about…us.”
Malcolm sat on the edge of the bed and lowered his face to hide the smile that sprang to his lips.
“Aye, my lady. I will be patient. And now I bid you good-night.”
This was even better than he had expected. He lifted her hand to his lips. He would drag this proud woman to the depths of hell before he was
finished with her.
Kieran paused outside the door to Megan’s sleeping chamber. The flicker of candlelight told him that she was still awake. As he pushed open the door he was startled to see two figures on the bed. Their voices were soft, muffled, but he recognized Megan’s voice. The other, he realized, belonged to Malcolm MacAlpin.
By the light of the candle he could clearly see that they were engaged in an intimate conversation. When Malcolm lifted Megan’s hand to his lips, Kieran turned on his heel and stormed back to his room. He had no right to intrude on Megan’s life. She had finally found herself. And though it would tear his heart out, he wanted only her happiness.
“Lady Katherine instructed me to pack all these gowns for your trip home, my lady.” The little servant lifted an armload of gowns to the bed.
“Nay, Aileen. Lord Malcolm said we must travel with haste. I will take only the gown I wear and a warm cloak.”
“Oh, my lady.” Aileen burst into tears and turned away. The bundle of gowns fell to the floor and drifted around her feet like so many bright flowers. “How can you leave with this stranger?”
“Hush, now.” Megan swallowed the little knot of fear that threatened to choke her. She must not allow herself to cry or she would end up weeping like a child. “I am going to my home, Aileen. Whenever you become sad, think of that happy thought.”
It was what she had been telling herself all through the sleepless night.
As she lifted the heavy traveling cloak from the bed, she noticed the glint of metal against the bed linens. Malcolm’s knife. He had forgotten it last night. Tucking it into her waistband, she folded the cloak over her arm and headed for the stairs. There would be time enough later to return it to him. A lifetime, she thought with a shiver.
In the hallway she encountered Kieran, just leaving his room. For a moment they stared at each other in awkward silence.
“So, my lady. You are ready for your journey?” He studied her hungrily, trying to burn into his mind everything about her.
“Aye.” How could she say what was in her heart? She fought back the yearning to touch a hand to his cheek.
They both looked up as Malcolm and James strode along the hallway, laughing together.
“Ahh, Megan.”
When Malcolm reached Megan’s side, Kieran took a step back.
Malcolm insolently looked her up and down, then said, “I see you are eager to be off. As am I.”
With a smug smile Malcolm took her arm and led her down the stairs and out into the courtyard, toward the waiting horses.
The entire household had assembled to bid her goodbye.
Lady Katherine, standing between Sir Cecil and the bishop, strode forward to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, my dear, for all you did for me.”
“I did nothing, my lady.”
“You brought my sons home safely. You touched the hearts of my people. And best of all, you made me realize that I was holding my granddaughter too tightly to my heart.”
Megan was shocked at the woman’s admission. “Oh, my lady, you were not…”
“Ahh, but I was.” With a smile, Lady Katherine said softly, “Bridget was bursting to be free. And you unlocked the door, my dear. For that we are both grateful.”
Holding hands, Colin and Cara approached. Timidly, Cara caught Megan’s hand and pressed it between both of hers.
“Thank you, my lady,” she whispered. “For setting Colin’s heart free.”
At her words Megan arched an eyebrow. “I do not understand.”
“It was you,” Colin interrupted, “who made it possible for me to declare my true feelings for Cara.”
“I, Colin? How?”
“You are so filled with love for life, my lady.” At her look of surprise, he bent and kissed her cheek. “I had never met anyone quite like you before, my dear Megan. You are truly the most amazing woman I have ever known. And I realized that I could never return to my quiet life of prayer after the excitement of our journey together.”
Megan caught both their hands and held them. “I am happy for both of you. I pray you find much happiness.”
As they stepped away, Bridget broke away from Mistress Peake, who was holding her hand, and launched herself into Megan’s arms.
“You cannot go, my lady,” she shrieked.
“I must, Bridget.”
“You promised to teach me more about horses. And who will teach me to hold a sword? You cannot leave until our lessons are completed.”
Megan looked beyond the little girl to the man who stood apart from all the others. With unshed tears burning her throat she murmured, “Ask your Uncle Kieran to teach you. It will bring you closer to him. And that will bring you closer to me.”
“Who will hold me when I am afraid? Who will keep my secrets?”
“Oh, Bridget. Sweet, sweet Bridget.” Megan buried her face in the child’s hair and felt the tears start. “If only I could always be here for you.”
“I will never see you again,” the child suddenly screamed, locking her arms around Megan’s neck and holding on firmly. “You are just like my Mama and Papa. You will leave and never return to me.”
Lifting Bridget, Megan carried her to Kieran and handed her to him. “Comfort her,” she whispered. “And let her comfort you.”
Without a word he accepted the little girl and watched as Megan made her way to the waiting horses.
“God go with you on your journey,” the bishop called.
Megan crossed herself as he lifted his hand for a blessing. With tears blurring her vision, she allowed old Padraig to assist her into the saddle.
“Come back to us, my lady,” he whispered.
It was the first time the shy old man had ever spoken to her. He placed his hand over hers and squeezed.
With a clatter of hooves, she nudged her mount into a trot. And as the tears streamed down her cheeks, she turned for a last glimpse of Castle O’Mara and its inhabitants. But there was only one face she could see. Even when the castle was nothing more than a blur of turrets gleaming in the morning mist; even when the horses crested a hill overlooking tiny villages; even when she turned to study the glimmering lake, with swans gliding across its mirrored surface; she did not see the lovely, tranquil setting. She saw only Kieran’s beloved face.
Kieran sat behind the massive desk in the library. Facing him were Colin and Cara, and beside them, Lady Katherine and Bishop O’Mara. On their other side sat Terence O’Byrne and his son, Conor, who were dressed for travel. Hugh Cleary stood alone beside the fireplace.
To the untrained eye, Kieran’s face showed no emotion. But to those who knew and loved him, it was obvious that he was exerting great control over his feelings.
“I have summoned you here,” Kieran began, “as my last official act as lord of Killamara. On the morrow—” his eyes narrowed fractionally “—another will hold the future of this estate and its people in his hands.”
He turned to study his brother. “I envy you, Colin.”
Colin’s eyes widened. “You? Envy me? Why?”
“You have the courage of your convictions.” He turned to Cara, who held tightly to her new husband’s hand. “You are the only hope for the next generation of O’Maras.”
“Do not speak so,” Cara said softly. “You will one day wed, Kieran. And you will have children of your own.”
“Nay. One woman owns my heart. There will never be another.” His words were spoken curtly.
Turning to Colin he said, “It is only right and fitting that O’Mara heirs be bred on the land that was theirs for generations. I cannot give you Castle O’Mara, for that will become part of Sir Cecil’s estate. Therefore, I decree that the land that had once been set aside for Seamus O’Mara—” he inclined his head toward the bishop, who sat with head lowered, hands carefully laced “—including the lovely manor house thereon, and the chapel, shall be yours.”
Colin turned to stare at his uncle. “You had always said that your property would go to the church.”
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“Aye.” The bishop glanced at Kieran, remembering their heated words. “But I have had a change of heart.”
“Does this mean also that you will give us your blessing?” Colin asked boldly.
The bishop met Kieran’s steely look. “Aye.”
As the two kissed his ring and fell to their knees, he lifted his hand in a blessing, then drew them into his arms and hugged them awkwardly.
“Thank you, Kieran,” Terence O’Byrne said, leaning over the desk to extend his hand. “I can leave now, knowing that my daughter’s future is secure.”
“Aye, Terence. And our family will treasure the knowledge that a great orator now shares a family bond as he pleads our cause before the English Queen. Safe journey,” he added to Terence and his son.
“Oh, Seamus.” Tears shimmered in Lady Katherine’s eyes. “Your blessing of their marriage was what I have been praying for. You have made me very happy. As have you, Kieran.” With arms outstretched she walked around the desk and embraced her eldest son.
“I would speak privately to my mother,” Kieran said.
Though the others were surprised by his abrupt announcement, they filed solemnly from the room, leaving mother and son alone. Hugh was the last to leave. He knew that look in Kieran’s eyes. He had seen the same look so many times in Sean O’Mara’s eyes. They were harsh men, bred in a harsh land.
When the door was closed, Kieran pushed away from his mother’s arms and strode to the fireplace. Turning, he said, “I cannot stay for your marriage to Sir Cecil.”
“But why? This is your home.”
“On the morrow this castle and this land will no longer be mine. It will belong to your new husband.”
“Nay, Kieran. We…have an understanding. Things will remain as they were. I have Cecil’s word.”
Kieran had long ago witnessed the lack of value of Sir Cecil’s word. But he could not speak of such things to his mother. He said merely, “I cannot stay and watch you speak your vows. It would bring dishonor to me and to my father’s name.”