Briana

  Ascension." Seeing his questioning look she added, "Our sister cook

  at the convent. She was wider than she was tall. We used to whisper

  that she tasted everything before she served it. And sometimes, we

  thought, she surely must have tasted many times over."

  Keane found himself smiling as he dug into his meal.

  Briana broke open a steaming biscuit. At once a servant approached

  with honey.

  Drizzling it over her biscuit, Briana tasted, closed her eyes and

  sighed. "Surely I've died and gone to heaven."

  Keane arched a brow. "If you can fall into ecstasy over Cook's

  biscuits, I worry what will happen when you taste her brandied

  currant cake." He looked up.

  "Mistress Malloy, will you see that Cook bakes one for our guest?"

  The housekeeper couldn't hide her surprise. In all the time Lord

  Alcott had been back in Carrick House, this was the first time he had

  ever mentioned a favorite food, or requested anything in particular.

  Cook had long puzzled over what to fix for him, since he ate, without

  comment, whatever was placed in front of him.

  "Aye, my lord." She couldn't wait to tell Cook the news. "I'll see that

  she bakes one on the morrow."

  "And salmon," he added. "Our guest seems to have a fondness for it."

  At the housekeeper's steady look he felt compelled to add, "We have

  a duty to see that Miss O'Neil's strength returns."

  "I'll see to it myself." Pleased, Mistress Malloy nudged a servant with

  another tray.

  "Now." Keane returned his attention to the lass beside him. "You

  promised to tell me about your life before the convent."

  He saw her smile bloom. This, then, was something she enjoyed

  talking about.

  "It was a grand life. Such freedom, which I took completely for

  granted. I roamed the hills with my brothers and Innis. I learned to

  hunt with them, to fish with them, even to handle weapons with

  them."

  ' 'Weapons?'

  "Aye. The knife and sword. The crossbow, as well as bow and arrow.

  Each day was a grand adventure."

  She saw the way he was staring at her and added, ' 'On .market day I

  sampled the wares from the booths, or bought lace or frills with my

  mother."

  "Tell me about her."

  She could see her mother in her mind. It was an image that never

  faded or wavered. "She's tall and slender and beautiful. And very

  kind. Though she married into wealth, she never forgets that she came

  to the marriage with no dowry. This then is her payment. She looks

  after the women and children in the villages around Ballinarin. If they

  are ill or in need, they know Moira O'Neil will come calling with

  whatever they need, be it a packet of herbs, or a brace of pheasants, or

  a warm cloak to ward off winter's chill. She loves the people of

  Ballinarin as though they were her children. And in a way, they are.

  She's fond of saying we're all of the same family."

  He loved the way her eyes looked as she spoke of her mother. All soft

  and warm and loving. "She sounds like a saint."

  "Aye. She is that. She would have to be to remain wed to my father."

  "Tell me about him."

  He saw a wariness come into her eyes before she looked down at her

  plate. "Gavin O'Neil is lord of Ballinarin. His word is law. His temper

  is fierce. But all who know him will tell you he's a fair man."

  "Was it your father who sent you to the convent?"

  She nodded. "But as I've learned these last years, under the tutelage of

  Mother Superior, what he did, he did out of love. Because it was

  necessary for my growth and education. I was willful. And far too

  proud and unyielding."

  He would know a little about such things. And how such decisions,

  no matter how noble the intentions, hurt. Without thinking he closed

  his hand over hers.

  Her head jerked up. Her eyes went wide before she managed to

  compose herself.

  For Keane, it was equally shocking. He hadn't meant to touch her. He

  had merely reacted reflexively, hoping to offer her a measure of

  comfort.

  Knowing the servants were watching, he removed his hand and,

  needing to do something, lifted the goblet to his lips.

  At once Vinson was beside him, refilling it.

  Keane glanced at Briana. "You haven't touched your wine."

  "It's been so long, I'm afraid to drink more than a few sips, for fear it'll

  go straight to my head. And then I'd have to be carried to my

  chambers."

  For some strange reason, the very thought had his blood running hot.

  He kept his tone deliberately bland. "That would not be a hardship,

  my lady."

  At the deep timbre of his voice, Briana felt a little thrill. But a quick

  glance assured her he was merely being polite. He had already

  returned his attention to his meal.

  "You've told me nothing of yourself, except that you were educated

  abroad." She lifted her goblet. "Where did you study?"

  "A few years in Paris. A few more in Spain."

  "How wonderful. My brother, Conor, studied there, as well as in

  Rome."

  "Did he like it?"

  She shook her head. "I think he had some marvelous, adventures. But

  he said he was often lonesome for the sights and sounds of Ballinarin.

  Was it the same for you?"

  He nodded. "One doesn't have to be in a convent or a prison to feel

  confinement."

  She thought about it a moment, then said softly, "Mother Superior

  once said we all carry a prison inside our hearts. But we also carry

  freedom. It's up to us to choose which door we open, and which one

  we close."

  When he remained silent, she knew which door, he had chosen to

  open.

  "What did you study, while in France and Spain?"

  He shrugged. "Much as you at the convent, I suppose. History,

  literature, mathematics. My father wanted me to be prepared to take

  over the family estates."

  "And what did you want?"

  He turned to her and saw the understanding in her eyes. "I didn't

  know what I wanted. I only knew I didn't want what my father wanted

  for me. When he told me to go left, I went right. When he told me to

  sleep, I defied him by staying awake all night." His voice lowered.

  "And when he ordered me to join him in England, I went. But I did

  everything I could that was harmful and hurtful."

  "Perhaps your father should have sent you to a monastery."

  Despite his dark mood, he had to smile. "Hearing your tales of the

  convent, I wonder if I would have survived. In my earlier, arrogant

  days, I would have been horrified if I'd been forced to shovel dung in

  a stable."

  "Oh, you'd have survived. And you would have returned, like me,

  humbled and work-worn."

  "Is that how you see yourself?"

  She nodded. ' Or perhaps I should have said chaste and chastened."

  Chaste. His laughter died. If only he could make such a claim. He

  would have been spared untold misery.

  Seeing his sudden grim mood, Briana took a sip of wine before

  setting down her goblet. Though the meal had been excellent, she

  could
feel her strength beginning to ebb.

  The housekeeper approached. "Will there be anything else, my lord?"

  He glanced at Briana, who shook her head.

  "Nothing more, Mistress Malloy." Then, for no reason he could

  fathom, he felt compelled to add, "Everything was perfect. You'll

  give my compliments to Cook."

  "Aye, my lord." Bursting with pride, the housekeeper motioned for

  the servants to leave, then followed them out the door.

  Lost in thought, Keane sipped his wine and stared at the closed door.

  Across the room, Vinson cleared his throat.

  Keane looked up with a frown, wondering what he had forgotten to

  do or say.

  The butler glanced toward Briana, then at Keane. "Perhaps the lass is

  growing weary, my lord."

  Keane turned to her. Seeing her pallor, he shoved back his chair and

  got to his feet. "Forgive me, my lady."

  "There is nothing to forgive." She accepted his hand and stood beside

  him. "I only wish I were stronger. But for now, I must go to my

  chambers and rest,';

  He offered his arm, and she leaned on him as they crossed the room

  and bade good-night to Vinson. The old man held the door and

  watched as they moved slowly down the hall.

  "I detest this weakness." When the words slipped from her mouth, she

  gave a sigh of annoyance. She had thought, after the years of

  coaching by the good sisters, that she could keep such thoughts to

  herself. It would seem that within mere days of freedom, her old

  nature was returning. Or perhaps, it had always been with her,

  awaiting the chance to show itself.

  "I know you are impatient for your strength to return." His voice was

  so close beside her ear she had to struggle not to shiver. "But you

  have been through so much, Miss O'Neil. Be patient just a bit longer."

  "Is patience one of your virtues, my lord?"

  "If only it were."

  By the light of candles burning in sconces along the walls, she turned

  to study his profile. It showed a proud, haughty man. She had a

  feeling there was much more to Keane O'Mara than mere pride and

  arrogance. She sensed an underlying sadness in him, as well. A deep

  and abiding wound that had never healed.

  At the door to her chambers they paused.

  She turned to him, her face tilted. "I never properly thanked you for

  saving my life. Cora told me how you fought for me when she and the

  others had thought me beyond saving."

  "You were the one who fought your way back to life, Briana O'Neil."

  It occurred to him that hers was the loveliest name he'd ever spoken

  aloud. "I knew, the moment I saw you fighting to hang on to the

  smallest thread of life, that you had the heart of a warrior. But I'm

  glad I was here to help."

  Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I can never repay you."

  "You already have." He took her hands in his. "Your presence tonight

  was more than enough payment. You shared your past with me. For a

  little while, you made me forget about my own. I don't remember

  when I've had a more pleasant evening."He lifted her hands to his lips

  and kissed one, then the other. It was the merest brush of his lips to

  her flesh, but he felt the sizzle of excitement and found that he

  couldn't release her just yet.

  Turning her hands over, he pressed kisses to each of her palms. He

  heard her little intake of breath and knew that she had been

  unprepared for this. As had he, if truth be told. But there was a demon

  inside him that had suddenly taken over his control. Without giving a

  thought to what he was doing, he released her hands and lifted his to

  frame her face.

  "Have I shocked you, my lady?"

  "Aye." She started to draw away and found herself backed against the

  door.

  "Forgive me. But I've never before seen a woman with amber eyes.

  They fascinate me." He drew her closer. "You fascinate me, Briana

  O'Neil."

  And then, before he could reconsider, he lowered his head and

  covered her lips with his.

  Briana stood absolutely still. Though her heart was racing like a

  runaway carriage, and her blood was pumping furiously, she didn't

  move. Couldn't.

  The hands framing her face were the gentlest of prisons. But they held

  her all the same. As did the kiss.

  And oh, what a kiss. His mouth moved over hers with-such sure,

  practiced ease. This was a man who'd had a great deal of experience,

  if his lips were any indication. They nuzzled and coaxed and tasted

  until, on a sigh, she returned the kiss. And became lost in it.

  He tasted of wine and tobacco and some other, darker taste that was

  distinctly male. And purely intoxicating.

  Years before, she'd been kissed. By village boys, eager to impress the

  daughter of the O'Neil. By friends of her brothers, who'd taken care

  not to anger the powerful O'Neil men. But none of those chaste kisses

  had caused this strange ripple of feeling that had her feeling as if her

  entire world had suddenly tipped upside down.

  She reached out to steady herself, and her hands made contact with

  his waist. As soon as she touched him, she heard his little moan.

  Whether of pleasure or impatience, she knew not. She responded with

  a sigh of her own.

  Keane could have told himself that this was unplanned, but it would

  have been a lie. He had thought of nothing but this all evening. From

  the first moment she'd walked into the library, he'd wanted to kiss her.

  To feel the heat. The fire. To feel her heart pounding in rhythm to his.

  He knew he'd shocked her by his boldness. It couldn't be helped. Just

  being around her made him want things he had no right to. And her

  sweetness, her innocence, only made him want them more.

  On a moan he took the kiss deeper. His fingers tangled through her

  hair, drawing her head back. He heard her little sigh as she brought

  her hands to his chest. But instead of pushing him away, her hands

  clutched at the front of his tunic.

  Dear heaven, he was starved for the touch, the taste, of one as sweet

  as this. He hadn't known his heart could respond like this. He'd buried

  his feelings deep, consigned to the grave forever. But now, with the

  simplest touch of her, the merest taste, he could feel his heart

  beginning to beat again.

  He knew he had to end this, but not just yet. He wanted, needed one

  more moment, one more taste.

  Her sweetness, her innocence, aroused him as nothing ever had.

  Dangerous, he knew. For he was far from innocent. And the thoughts

  he was entertaining at this moment would shock and scandalize this

  unspoiled, untouched lass.

  Finally, detesting this weakness in himself, he lifted his head and took

  a step back, breaking contact.

  When she put a hand to the door, he covered it with both of his, to still

  her movements. Inside, he knew, Cora would be awaiting her

  mistress. What he wanted to say was for Briana's ears alone.

  "I'm sorry if I've shocked you. But I can't say I'm sorry for the kiss.

  Given the chance, I'd no doubt do it again. So beware, Briana O'Neil.

  For, as I'm cer
tain the servants will tell you, you're in the home of a

  man with no conscience."

  She looked up and met his gaze. For the past three years, the virtue of

  honesty had been preached on a daily basis. She wasn't certain if this

  was the time or place for it, or just how other women would deal with

  this situation. But she wasn't other women. And so she said the only

  thing she could.

  "I can't say I'm sorry either." Her lips curved in a most beguiling

  smile. "And if that be a sin, it was a most enjoyable one, Keane

  O'Mara. One I'd gladly commit again."

  She shoved open the door and walked inside without-^ backward

  glance.

  As the door closed behind her, Keane stood perfectly still. Then, as he

  began to walk along the hall, he threw back his head and roared with

  laughter. Briana O'Neil was the most unexpected surprise. An

  absolute delight.

  He was still laughing when he reached his own chambers.

  It was a sound the servants at Carrick House hadn't heard since his

  return from England.

  Chapter Six

  "Good morrow, my lord." Vinson entered Keane's chambers and

  found him standing on the balcony, naked to the waist, wearing only

  his breeches and boots.

  The look on his face was dark and bleak as he turned to his butler. "I

  learned something last night."

  "Aye, my lord? And what might that be?"

  "Briana O'Neil is not a nun. She took no vows. She was merely a

  student at the convent."

  "Is that so, my lord?"

  "Aye." His scowl deepened as the elderly servant helped him into his

  tunic and removed a waistcoat from the wardrobe.

  After a sleepless night, he'd come to several decisions. As pleasant as

  he found the lass's company, he needed to avoid any further contact

  with her. He had no right to lead the lass on. She was completely open

  and guileless. And he...

  If she were to learn the truth about him, she would run, "Weeping and

  praying, back to the safety of the convent.

  He'd best walk a very wide circle around Briana O'Neil. And see that

  he returned her to her family as he'd found her. Untouched.

  Unspoiled. With her trust—and her heart—intact.

  "Though the village elders have been requesting a meeting, I've been

  putting them off, Vinson. Perhaps it's time I saw to it."

  "Aye, my lord. If you'd like, I'll send a messenger. When would you

  like to meet with them?"