“Megan, this is Lyndon, a loyal knight of Hawkings Crest. Lyndon, this is my intended, Lady Megan of Stone Lake.”
“Hello, Sir Lyndon.”
“Hello, my lady. May I say that you grace our hall with your beauty.”
Megan smiled at the handsome, blond knight, her first real smile, and Bracken stared at her until Lyndon spoke.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Bracken, but I think you should know of the gossip in the keep.”
“All right.”
“Lady Megan was not disturbed in any way while working with the servants. I know you will be pleased over this fact, but you will not care for the reason. They did not recognize her as a lady in their midst but believed that Arik had claimed her.”
Megan’s face paled, and her eyes slid shut. She thought she might actually hate her mother at that moment. She was to live here and become the mistress of this castle, yet they all thought she had some sort of relationship with Arik. For a moment Megan felt beyond despair, but a sudden resolve stiffened her spine. She had risen to countless occasions in her life; would she now allow this one to rule her?
Both men had been watching her. Bracken was on the verge of speaking when Megan opened her eyes and said, “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.” She rose gracefully “I feel a need for some air.”
“Where are you going?” Bracken asked but was roundly ignored.
Both men watched Megan walk toward the main entrance, her head high, her face serene. At the door she spoke to a guard. Bracken watched the way the man bowed his head in respect as she walked away. She looked in control, but Bracken was not comfortable. With an easy pace that he didn’t feel within, he followed, Lyndon by his side. He knew no physical harm would come to her, but at the moment he wasn’t certain if she would be attacked verbally or not. Bracken would stand for no such thing.
Megan, no longer in convent dress, her hair shining with cleanliness, drew every eye in the inner bailey. She spoke to several folks as she moved along, to people she recognized and some she didn’t. They all seemed to know her, but she didn’t linger; her goal was the creamery.
Bracken had also come into the courtyard, Lyndon still with him, and in an effort to keep an eye on her and not be too conspicuous, wandered about much as Megan was doing. Things seemed to be going well for the first several minutes, but then he watched as she moved toward the creamery. Bracken’s heart plummeted. Surely she was not going back to work!
“She’s headed for the creamery,” he commented to the man at his side.
“So I see” was all Lyndon said.
They watched her disappear within, and Bracken debated his next move. A moment later the problem was temporarily taken from his hands. Kent appeared at his side to tell him that his men had need of him on the practice field. He walked away with long-legged strides, leaving Lyndon in the courtyard. As much as he trusted Lyndon, Bracken could not stop himself from looking back at the creamery until it was out of view.
“Hello, Eddie,” Megan greeted the man easily as she crossed the threshold. She watched as he removed his cap.
“Hello, my lady.”
Megan let her eyes roam the large, clean room and then began to walk slowly around. The women working within slowed some to watch her but continued with their tasks.
“You run this creamery with excellence, Eddie,” Megan told him sincerely when she stopped at one point.
“Thank you, my lady. I’m glad you approve.”
“Hello, Pen,” Megan said as she continued her stroll. “Watch that edge when you pour.”
“Yes, my lady.” Pen reverently breathed the words. She did tend to be rather clumsy, but right now all she could see and hear was Megan— her dress, hair, her lovely skin, and the husky sound of her cultured voice.
“I’d like to make a suggestion, Eddie.”
“Yes, my lady,” the man said. They were back at the entrance now, and Eddie’s heart sank with dread. Would she now take revenge for the way he had treated her? Eddie saw himself grabbing her arm the first day and had to stifle a groan. However, he was in for a pleasant surprise.
Megan began to make a most logical suggestion concerning the storage of cheese. Her voice was gracious, and her manner unassuming. Eddie felt as if she’d actually left the final choice up to him. She had also waited until the others couldn’t hear. Eddie had not lost face and had gained helpful information in the process. When Megan left the creamery, he wished her a pleasant day with a most sincere heart, his cap still in his beefy hand.
“Oh, Lyndon!” Megan spoke the moment she was outside and spotted the knight; he’d been practically haunting the creamery, listening for raised voices.
“Yes, my lady?”
“Lyndon, where are the cows?”
“The cows, my lady?” Lyndon questioned her with little enthusiasm, thinking he would never forgive Bracken for leaving him there alone.
“Yes. The cows they milk for the creamery,” Megan explained kindly.
“In the stables, my lady.”
“And the stables are…?”
Lyndon stared into her face. How in the world did one deal with such a woman? She had the face of an angelic five-year-old and a back-bone like an iron rod.
“The stables, Lyndon, where are they?” Megan questioned again, her voice not quite so cordial this time.
“Along the north wall of the keep, my lady.”
“Thank you,” Megan beamed at him and promptly turned and started in the wrong direction.
“Lady Megan,” Lyndon called to her. “This way,” he said when she turned. “I’ll show you.”
“Oh, thank you, Lyndon.”
And off they set, Megan as pleased as a lass at play, and Lyndon feeling that he’d rather be forced to wrestle with Arik than have the charge of Bracken’s intended.
“And she insisted on seeing my books!” Barton, Hawkings Crest’s steward, nearly shouted.
“She told me that it’s my fault that two of me birds have sores on their claws. Wants to reconstruct the whole cage, she does!” the falconer added.
“She actually accused me of stealing!” the steward spouted again. “Said she’d finish reading my accounts later.”
Bracken stared at his falconer and steward in disbelief. His stableman and smith were there also, but they had already had their say. He’d only been gone a few hours, but in that time Megan had evidently turned his castle and keep upside down. He glanced up to see her coming sedately into the hall and dismissed the men around him with a curt nod of his head.
“Megan,” he raised his voice only slightly. “I wish to speak with you.”
Megan stopped but did not draw close. “I’m busy right now, Bracken.”
This was too much.
“Megan!” he bellowed, and she redirected her course to stand before him. She did an admirable job of hiding her fear of his anger. Bracken thought she looked utterly serene.
“My steward and smith have both been to see me, as have others. What have you to say for yourself?”
Megan shrugged innocently. “There are several areas that are in need of change, Bracken. I think your steward might be robbing you blind.”
“He’s been with me for years,” Bracken, now red in the face, retorted.
Again Megan shrugged. “Be that as it may…” she let the sentence drop before plunging on, “your birds are not in the best of health. I have a poultice for their feet, but the bars will have to be sanded or the sores will return.”
Bracken barely heard her as he began to shout. “I will not have you upsetting every servant in Hawkings Crest! I forbid you to visit the stables, and as for the other areas—”
“That won’t work at all, Bracken,” she replied, cutting him off in a calm voice. “If I am to be the mistress of this keep, I must stay abreast of its workings. Now, I really must be off, Bracken. I have yet to see the looms.”
With that Megan swung away from him in a cloud of long skirts and red hair. Chest heaving, Bracken s
tood and stared after her until he realized he was being watched. His head moved toward the man who dared, ready to give him the rough edge of his tongue, until he met the amused gaze of his Aunt Louisa.
“She doesn’t have blonde hair after all.” His aunt’s voice was mild.
“How do you know that’s Megan?” Bracken shot at her, his mood still dangerous.
“Because you wouldn’t let anyone else speak to you in such a manner.”
Bracken’s shoulders slumped with defeat. It was true.
“Come, my nephew.” Louisa became all at once brisk. “Let’s go into the war room, and you can tell me all that has transpired.”
Eight
TWENTY MINUTES LATER LOUISA asked her first question, her expression one of stark disbelief.
“She actually worked in the creamery?”
“Don’t look at me that way, Aunt Lou.” Her nephew’s look was helpless.
“Bracken,” Louisa said patiently, truly wanting to understand, “I heard the girl. There is no way a woman with that voice could be mistaken for a serf.”
Bracken shook his head. “Evidently she spoke to no one. She did her work, ate in the courtyard with the other servants, and slept each night in the smithy’s.”
Louisa just stared at him, and Bracken knew he had to tell all.
“There is more.”
Louisa waited.
“She walks in her sleep.”
The woman blinked. “You’re certain of this?”
“I witnessed it myself. I was going to have her live in the tower apartments with you, but now that is out of the question.”
“Yes, I can see that it would be.” Louisa replied thoughtfully, and they both fell silent for a time.
“You say she actually slept in your blacksmith’s shop?” Louisa seemed unable to let the matter drop.
“I’m afraid so.”
“What will her father say?”
Bracken shook his head. “I can’t think that he’ll be overly pleased, but it was hardly my fault; her mother sent her early.”
“Why would she do such a thing?”
“I have not been able to gain more answers. Megan talks in her sleep as well, and mentioned that she’d been sent without her full ward-robe. I would like to know more, but if she knows she spoke to me in her sleep, she will feel shamed.”
Louisa’s eyes softened. “You care for her, don’t you, Bracken.”
“Heaven help me, I do!” the young earl burst out. He came to his feet and began to pace. “I’ve known her 24 hours, and she has interrupted my entire life, but I can’t get her from my mind!”
“What of the blonde woman you met at court?”
“Her older sister, Marigold. I spoke of her with Megan, but I do not think them very close.”
“But you do find Megan attractive.”
A sudden smile parted Bracken’s dark beard, and his voice softened. “Ah, yes. She is as lovely a maid as I’ve ever seen. I do find her most comely.”
Louisa was well pleased, but her practical side came to the fore. “Do you think her capable of managing a fortress as large as Hawkings Crest?”
“Yes,” Bracken admitted grudgingly, thinking about the way she stood up to him. However, the face of his steward flashed into his mind as well.
“Nevertheless, you heard the men. It’s not going to be easy.” Bracken had begun to growl, but he worked at calming himself. Knowing his aunt would grasp his meaning beyond the words, he made one last comment.
“I am beginning to think that marriage to Megan might be more trouble than it is worth.”
“But as you have reminded me, we have little choice in the matter.” Megan’s voice came from the doorway, and Bracken spun in surprise. “I will honor my father’s wishes and those of my king and become your wife,” Megan went on, her tone wooden. “But it is a relief to know, Lord Bracken, just exactly how you feel.”
Megan left as quietly as she’d entered, and Bracken stood as though made of granite. Louisa’s heart ached at the pain she saw in his face.
“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” Bracken’s voice was hushed in the still room, and his eyes never left the closed portal.
“I know you didn’t, Bracken. Maybe if you try to explain…”
But Bracken was shaking his head. “I think her pride is as great as my own. I will have to give her time.”
Even with the little she had seen of Megan, Louisa was forced to agree. They spoke of sleeping arrangements for the next few moments and then went their separate ways, Louisa to settle herself in a suite of rooms down the corridor from Megan, and Bracken to the keep, hoping to get a glimpse of his bride-to-be without actually searching her out.
STONE LAKE CASTLE
“What do you mean she’s not here?” Vincent eyed his wife in disbelief, but Annora did not flinch.
“It wasn’t going well, so I sent Megan ahead.”
“To Hawkings Crest?” Vincent’s tone was incredulous.
“Of course to Hawkings Crest!” Annora snapped. “Where did you think?”
“But she wasn’t expected.”
Annora shrugged. “Surely someone was there. Honestly, Vincent, she was being most impossible. You know what she’s like.”
“You fool!” Vincent retorted scathingly, widening his wife’s eyes with shock and then anger. “Anything could have happened. Has the caravan arrived back?”
“I sent no caravan.” Annora kept up a brave front, but in truth she had regretted this action almost immediately.
“What say you?” Vincent’s face had flushed with emotion as he tried telling himself that he had heard her wrong.
Annora raised her chin. “I sent Megan on horseback with three guards. I’m certain she fared well.”
“So the men have returned?”
“No, but—”
Annora was cut off when Vincent grabbed her forearm with a strength she didn’t know he possessed.
“Vincent.” Her tone was wounded. For the first time she was a bit afraid. “You are hurting me.”
“I’ll do more than hurt you if even so much as Megan’s reputation is harmed! Now, sit down, woman, and tell me all!”
Annora now knew real fear. Megan had always been such a head-strong survivor. It had truly never occurred to her that her daughter might fall into harm. Annora’s voice shook, but she did as Vincent bid and relayed every detail, down to the minute, of Megan’s departure. No small thing this, as she had never seen her husband so coldly furious.
Less than 15 minutes later, Vincent and a band of men rode out on horseback for Hawkings Crest. Just behind them rode more men and a large wagon laden with Megan’s new clothing and all of her belongings. When they had all left, Annora made her way to the chapel. She didn’t pray often, but if Megan was actually lost, she now feared for her daughter’s life as well as her own.
Megan stood at the window of her bedchamber, looking into the distance and feeling thoroughly spent with her effort to quell her emotions. Walking into the keep that morning knowing that the servants actually believed her part of a liaison with Arik had been almost unbearable. She had made herself move among them, careful to keep her eyes from lingering too long on any one face, but it had been torture.
Then in the midst of the hurt, Megan had found herself more and more interested in the castle workings. Hawkings Crest was a fine stronghold, but every fortress had areas that needed improvement and Megan could see many at Hawkings Crest. Yet, Bracken had only thought her interfering. His shouting at her had affected her more deeply than she had let on. She hadn’t even enjoyed seeing the looms, even though they were run with tremendous efficiency.
Megan suddenly found herself back in the bushes, hiding out of fear for life, listening and looking on in the dim firelight as her three guards were slain. Tears poured down her cheeks, and a sob sounded in her throat. She turned and lay across the bed, burying her face in the thick furs as harsh weeping overcame her. Megan prayed for strength, but at the mome
nt she felt faithless. In the midst of asking God to bring her father soon, she fell into a restless sleep.
“Have you seen Megan?” The question came softly to Louisa’s and Lyndon’s ears just moments before Bracken spotted her coming down the stairs. She had not taken the midday meal with them, and it was now evening. He had no desire to treat her as a child, but he would not allow her to go hungry. Bracken left Lyndon and his aunt without comment and met Megan at the bottom of the stairs.
Megan came to a stop on the last step and simply stared at Bracken. He returned the gaze, taking in the lovely blush in her cheeks and her bright, serious eyes. Their height difference was lessened in this stance, and for just a moment no one spoke. Bracken turned in profile to her and offered his arm. Megan took it.
“Did you have a pleasant afternoon, Megan?” Bracken asked as they crossed to the tables.
“Yes, Lord Bracken, thank you.”
“My aunt has arrived. I would like you to meet her.”
“Very well.” Megan sounded disinterested, but inside she was tense. She soon learned there was no need.
As soon as they neared, Louisa turned, a warm smile lighting her handsome features. Megan saw in an instant where Bracken inherited his dark coloring. Louisa’s hair was as dark as her nephew’s, with just a hint of gray at the temples. Her lashes and brows were equally as dark, and the eyes regarding her were a deep brown. The older woman now reached for both of Megan’s hands.
“Megan, this is my Aunt Louisa,” Bracken spoke. “Aunt Louisa, this is my betrothed, Megan, daughter to Vincent of Stone Lake.”
“Hello, Megan,” she said still holding Megan’s work-rough hands in her own soft ones. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”
“Bracken told me you were called away from London ahead of time. I hope my presence has not interfered in any way with your plans.”