"Today. This morrow." He needed to get away. To put some distance
between himself and Briana O'Neil. He may have been undecided
before, but last night had convinced him. If he didn't take drastic steps
to avoid the lass, he might end up doing something they'd both regret.
He had no desire to hurt her. Or to complicate his already complicated
life. "You'll see to it, Vinson?"
Instead of a reply, the old man cleared his throat.
Keane braced himself.
"Mistress Malloy and I have been discussing the lass."
"Aye." Keane waited, tapping his foot.
"We think she needs a bit of prodding."
"Prodding?"
"Aye. A push or two in the right direction."
Keane crossed his arms over his chest. ' 'And which direction might
that be, Vinson?"
"She eats almost nothing from the trays sent to her chambers. But last
night she ate quite a bit of meat and biscuits."
"Her appetite will improve as her strength grows."
"But how can her strength grow if she doesn't eat? Mistress Malloy
and I were thinking that if you were to take your meals with the lass,
you might be able to persuade her, in a nice way of course, to take
more nourishment."
There was no way he could possibly explain to this old man that the
very thing he was suggesting was the thing Keane most needed to
avoid. The more time he spent in Briana's company, the more
complicated all this would become.
"Isn't it enough that her life was spared?" "What good will it do if the
lass never recovers her strength, my lord?"
"It will come back. Slowly. But I don't believe that taking my meals
with Miss O'Neil will do anything to improve her appetite. In fact, it
might have quite the opposite effect."
"If I may say so, my lord, the lass was in high spirits last night. And I
do believe it was due in some small measure to the fact that she was in
the company of a kindred spirit."
Aye. Just what he'd feared. A kindred spirit. With kissing on both
their minds. And he knew what kissing led to, even if she didn't.
Complications.
His tone hardened. "There's the matter of my meeting with the village
elders."
"Aye, my lord. If you'd like, I'll arrange a meeting for midmorning.
After you've had a chance to sup with the lass."
Keane expelled an impatient breath. Stubborn. The old man had been
this way with him since he'd been a lad. And, if anything, Vinson
seemed to be growing more stubborn with every year. It was the
problem with elderly retainers. They felt as if they ruled the manor.
And this one, who had been more a father to him than his own flesh
and blood, was becoming especially vexing.
Still, what was the harm? Didn't he owe it to the lass to help her
recover completely?
He gave a reluctant nod of his head. "All right, Vinson. I'll break my
fast with her this morrow." He waved a hand. "Tell Mistress Malloy
to prepare her morning repast. Then I'll be on my way."
"Very good, my lord." The old man took his leave. Then, smiling
broadly, he hurried off to tell the housekeeper that everything was
going along as planned.
"Good morrow, my lady."
Briana squinted against the bright sunlight as Cora threw open the
heavy draperies and began to move efficiently about the room. She'd
been having the loveliest dream. A dark angel had lifted her onto his
steed and carried her home to Ballinarin. But when it was time to bid
her goodbye, he had gathered her into his arms and proclaimed his
undying love, kissing her until she was breathless.
In fact, she was still breathless. And her heartbeat most unsteady. If
only she could have finished the dream. Would he have stayed with
her?
She roused herself enough to return the servant's greeting. "Good
morrow, Cora. How I wish I had just a little of your energy."
"You shall, my lady. You'll see. But you must be patient a while
longer."
Briana sighed. All her young life she had heard that admonition.
Patience. The lack of it was her downfall. Mother Superior had called
that one day she would acquire a least a small measure of patience.
Cora held up a simple morning gown of pale pink. "Mistress Malloy
chose this for today. Does it meet with your approval?""Oh, Cora. It's
lovely. I do thank you for all the work you're forced to do on my
behalf. But please explain to the housekeeper that it matters not to me
what I wear. For so long now I've worn nothing but the coarse robes
of the convent. I've no need of such finery."
"I don't mind the extra work, my lady. You make it a joy to serve
you." The servant drew back the covers and offered her arm, leading
Briana across the room to a basin of rose-scented water.
While Briana washed, Cora laid out a petticoat and chemise, as well
as dainty kid boots.
"We found these in a trunk and thought they might suit you better
than those slippers, my lady."
Briana nodded in appreciation. "They're lovely, Cora. Thank you. But
why all this fuss?"
"Lord Alcott sent word that you were to join him this morrow to
break your fast."
"He did?" Briana felt a rush of pleasure. Though she knew little about
her host, she had enjoyed his company. Not to mention his kiss. Her
cheeks felt warm at the very thought of it.
"Keane was most reluctant to speak of himself or his family last
night, though I know not why. Perhaps he will speak of them this
morrow."
The little servant's voice lowered. "It is rumored that he has known
much sorrow in his lifetime, my lady. He has only recently returned
from England to claim his inheritance."
"He spoke of England. And France and Spain, as well? But after
traveling afar, I should think he would be delighted to finally return to
his childhood home."
Cora turned. "There is much speculation among the servants."
"Such as?" Briana looked up.
"Whether he will remain in Ireland, or become an absent owner as his
father was. No one knows whether or not he will, of course." Cora
kept her voice just above a whisper. "For Lord Alcott has not chosen
to confide his plans to anyone. But there are those who wager he'll
soon tire of the life of a landowner in this poor country."
"Oh." Briana covered her mouth with her hand. "It would be a sin to
turn his back on a place as lovely as this."
"Aye, my lady. But it's done all the time by titled gentlemen." The
little servant held up a comb, trying to decide if it could be secured in
such short hair, then seemed to change her mind, placing it back atop
a dressing table. Seeing that Briana had finished washing, Cora
approached and began to help her into the gown. "That's why the
household staff has made wagers that the master is merely biding his
time until he leaves here to make his home in some exotic land." Her
voice lowered. "Where he will never again be reminded of his
troubled past."
"His past?"
"Aye. There are stories. Rumors. That he chose a life of debauchery."
She led Briana to a chair and began dressing her hair. As she worked
she added, "Of course, our lord is merely doing what was done to
him."
"And what is that?" Briana studied the servant's reflection in the
mirror.
"After his mother died, and shortly thereafter his grandfather, I'm told
his father had hardly a minute for the young lord. He was sent off to
boarding schools so that his father could entertain with lavish
masques and dinner parties here at Carrick House, until he took
himself off to England, where he lived out his days in the company of
the titled noblemen and their ladies. I suppose it was natural that the
present Lord Alcott would feel like an outsider when he finally
returned to his home."
"But after so many years of wandering, I should think Carrick House
would bring him such joy."
The serving wench shrugged. "Mistress Malloy says there are some
people in this world who simply cannot find happiness anywhere.
Perhaps Lord Alcott is one of them." Cora stood back to admire her
handiwork. Satisfied, she said, "Now, my lady, I'll summon Vinson to
escort you to the great hall."
"Thank you, Cora."
When she was alone, Briana turned to stare out the window at the
green, rolling hills of Carrick. The scene was not as wild and
primitive as Ballinarin. But it was obvious that Keane O'Mara had
inherited something of great value here. How truly sad it would be if
he should turn his back on his birthright.
Her own problems faded into insignificance. If the last three years
away from Ballinarin had seemed interminable to her, what must it
have felt like for a young, lonely lad? The loss of a mother and
grandfather would have left him adrift. But to lose the love of his
father, and to be turned out of the comfort of his home, would have
left him devastated.
Still, the servant had suggested that much of this was Keane's own
choice. If it be true, he had no one to blame but himself. Still, for now,
she would not forget that this man was the one who had saved her life.
For that, she owed him an enormous debt.
* * *
"You did what?" The housekeeper looked aghast as Cora repeated
what she'd told Briana. "You discussed Lord Alcott with the lass?"
With her hands on her hips, the older woman turned to the butler.
"Now what're we to do?"
Vinson sighed. "There's nothing to be done about it now. Besides, it
may not cause any real damage. The lass isn't like most females. She
doesn't strike me as someone who'd be put off by the lord's past. In
fact, Cora, you might have done more good than you know. After all,
if she's as tenderhearted as I suspect, it may be just the thing the lass
needed to hear."
The servant gave a sigh of relief. "I truly didn't mean any harm. It's
just that it's so easy to talk to the lass. There's a real goodness in her
heart and soul. I can see it in her eyes."
Vinson nodded, then motioned for her to leave. When they were
alone he turned to the housekeeper. "There's nothing to do now but go
on as planned."
"Aye." Mistress Malloy nodded. "And hope that scatterbrain Cora
keeps at least a few of the family secrets to herself."
"My lord, the lass is here." At the sound of Vinson's voice, Keane
took a deep breath and turned to face her.
She was leaning slightly on the old man's arm. Keane's frown
deepened. Why did she have to look so young and fresh and lovely?
All night he'd seen her in his dreams. Smiling up at him with such
trust. He could have sworn he'd even tasted her. As sweet as spring
rain. With just a hint of roses. When Vinson stepped away, Keane had
no choice but to cross the room and offer his arm. The mere touch of
her made him bristle. Dear heaven, how was he going to get through
an entire meal?
He forced himself to make pleasant, innocuous conversation. "How
are you feeling this morrow, my lady?"
"A little better," she said as she laid her hand on his sleeve.
He absorbed the touch of her and felt his blood begin to stir. "Are you
still in need of opiates for the pain?"
"At times. But each day the need seems to lessen."
"That pleases me." He led her to the table and settled her in a chair,
then took his place.
Another mistake. His knee brushed hers, and he felt a rush of heat that
had him clenching his hand into a fist.
Mistress Malloy motioned for the servants, who approached the table
with platters of roasted quail, thin slices of beef swimming in gravy,
and a basket of steaming bread. Another servant held a bowl of fruit
conserve, while another offered tea and mead.
Vinson cleared his throat. Keane turned his way. Seeing the old man's
arched brow, Keane was reminded of the reason for this meal. He
served Briana's plate first, making certain that it was heaped with
food. Then he served his own plate.
The old man nodded his approval.
Briana's eyes widened. "I couldn't possibly eat all this, Keane."
His tone was rougher than he'd intended. "You need to eat if you're to
regain your strength. After all, it's the only way you'll endure the
journey to Ballinarin."
At the mention of her home, she felt the momentary thrill of pleasure.
"It sounds as though you're eager to see me gone, my lord."
He frowned at the very thought. "I should think you'd be eager to be
on your way."
"I am. Aye."
"Then I shall be happy to oblige, my lady."
Neither of them smiled as they fell silent.
The housekeeper used that moment to step forward. "Have you tried
the fruit conserve, my lady?"
"Nay. But I will, Mistress Malloy. Thank you." Briana spooned some
onto her plate, then spread a bit on her bread.
Her smile was back. "Oh, that's the finest conserve I've ever tasted."
She turned to Keane. "You must try some."
She spread a little on a piece of bread and held it to his lips. He
opened his mouth and accepted the offering, keeping his gaze fixed
on her. As her fingers brushed his lips, she saw his eyes narrow
slightly. Then, as he tasted, a slow smile spread across his lips.
"You're right, my lady." He addressed his words to the housekeeper.
"You'll tell Cook that she has made another conquest."
Mistress Malloy was grinning from ear to ear. "I will, my lord."
He turned to Briana. ' 'Now, I believe you were going to tell me about
Innis, the lad you call almost a brother."
He could see the joy that came into her eyes. "Aye. Innis. His entire
clan was slaughtered by English soldiers. From that day on he made
his home with us at Ballinarin, until my brother Rory wed AnnaClaire
Thompson. Innis adores them, and they feel the same about him. So,
by happy circumstances, I acquired another brother."
"Is he older or younger?"
"Just four years younger, at ten and four."
He blinked. "You're ten and eight, my lady?"
Out of
the corner of his eye he could see Vinson and Mistress Malloy
exchange a quick look. They appeared to be as surprised as he.
"I thought you much younger, Miss O'Neil."
"Perhaps it is the simplicity of life in the convent," she mused as she
spooned fruit conserve on another piece of warm bread.
But Keane knew it was not the simplicity of the convent, but the
simplicity of the woman beside him. She was absolutely without
pretense. But a woman, nonetheless. A beautiful, simple, and most
desirable woman.
He fell silent, lost in thought. Seeing it, the housekeeper turned to the
butler with a knowing look. Perhaps they had all made a dangerous
miscalculation. A woman as old as this, who was still a maiden,
would be thinking of marriage and permanence and ties that would
bind for a lifetime. Not things Lord Alcott would ever consider.
"Oh, that was heavenly." Briana sat back with a sigh. "But I simply
can't eat another bite."
"Nor I." Keane set aside his napkin. "Do you feel strong enough for a
walk in the garden?"
She nodded. "I'd like that."
She leaned on his arm as he helped her from the table. He felt the
quick rush of heat and struggled to dismiss it. But as they walked
slowly from the room he became aware of the scent of roses that
lingered on her skin, in her hair.
"You must see the rose garden. They're just beginning to bloom."
"I do love roses." She breathed in the fresh air as they stepped outside.
"Oh, Keane, this is lovely."
He nodded, seeing it through her eyes. It was, in fact, the first time
he'd bothered to walk in the garden since his return to Ireland. He
realized now that it had become neglected.
He remembered as a lad playing here while his mother and
grandfather looked on. The jolt was swift and painful.
"Here we are." He led her along a stone-paved path. "We can sit over
here and admire the roses."
He settled her on a garden bench, then took a seat beside her. It was a
lovely, peaceful setting, with rows of hedges between beds of roses.
If the hedges were in need of trim, and the roses in need of pruning,
they detracted little from the view.
In the center of the garden, a fountain spilled into a circular basin.
The sound, the scents, were a soothing balm.
Briana watched the antics of a bird, splashing in the waters of the
fountain, before turning to Keane.