Druid's Daughter (5 page)

“You do not disappoint me, Lord Lance. I’m glad you
appreciate our London home. I know your father and your mother and you are a
credit to them both. Now if you would just escort us to our doorstep, Ambrose
and I will bid you goodnight.”

A very proper butler threw open the doors, as Viviane McAfee
and Ambrose paced through. She must have signaled somehow for the butler closed
the door behind them.

Lord Lance and Morgan were left standing on the threshold.
Alone. With Morgan still fuming.

“Your mother is most attractive,” said Lord Lance, but
Morgan noticed his eyes suddenly fastened on her agitated breasts. “And
seemingly as much a mind reader as you.”

“Of course she is both those things,” snipped Morgan. “Right
now I think she’s a Judas of the first degree.”

Morgan was bubbling with indignation.

“She left us here alone with unanswered questions filling
your mind. Just the kind of situation where a man grabs a woman merely to calm
his confusion. She’s very wise about people, so she deliberately set us up for
some kind of confrontation. I think it too bad of her.”

“I don’t,” said Lance in a soft voice. “I agree she’s very
wise. She recognizes you and I are attracted to each other.”

Morgan gasped. “I’m not attracted to you, you narrow-minded
member of the aristocracy I dislike. You have no idea of the kind of woman I
am.”

“Don’t I indeed?” murmured Lance in a stronger tone as he
reached out a long powerful arm and grabbed Morgan to him. “Perhaps I’d like to
find out.”

His arms wrapped around her, yet she didn’t feel trapped.
This was the consoling comfort she never realized she’d been seeking. She
raised her face to his in wonder and looked into blue, blue eyes blazing with a
spark of heat in their depths. His lips came down on hers, his eagerness
restrained as if waiting for her response.

She surged against him, contrary to what she’d thought was
her will and lifted her hands to plunge them into his thick dark hair. He
needed no more encouragement and he kissed her deeply as she responded with
innocent ardor. He pressed kisses over her face and then coming back to her
mouth, kissed her again. Then he parted her lips with his tongue. At first he
was gentle, silently asking her to let him inside. She drew back in shock and
leaning a little away, looked at him with eyes flared open.

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning his face against her hair. “I
went too fast.”

He loosened his tight hold on her slightly, but did not
release her.

He drew a very deep breath. “Have you ever been kissed,
Morgan?”

She struggled to get free and he let her go. But not far.
She tried to step away, but that he would not permit. He held her lightly
imprisoned against the door with one arm on each side of her shoulders, making
a cage that did not touch her. A cage only he could open.

“Of course I have.” Her indignation made him smile.

“Not by a friend, my dear. By an amorous man who might like
to do more than mere kissing.”

Morgan turned aside. “I think this is a ridiculous
conversation and I don’t care to answer.”

“You have answered me,” the Chief Inspector said in a soft,
pleased voice. “I’m sorry I rushed you, Morgan. I’ll not make such a mistake
again.”

There was a short pause, while Morgan adjusted her skirts
and her hair and refused to look at him.

Lord Lance stared at her a long time and then spoke in his
usual crisp manner.

“Again you completely surprise me. While we seem to agree on
very little, I would like to get to know you and see if our differences are as
great as you think. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the opera
Saturday night? I believe they’re singing
La Traviata
.”

Morgan’s reactions flitted expressively across her mobile
face.

“I adore the opera,” she said, “and
La Traviata
is
one of my favorites. But you cannot be serious. You are the son of a Duke and a
respected official, a highly respected official of Scotland Yard.” She fastened
her green eyes on him and continued in a serious tone. “I’m a known psychic and
Druid and am thought by many to be at worst a witch and at best slightly
deranged. You cannot wish to be seen in public with me.”

He was silent for some time, trying to read the thoughts
behind her words.

“That is rather my concern than yours, is it not?”

He knew his voice was huffy, but he resented with surprising
force her thinking he cared about such ridiculous things as others’ opinions.

She flushed at his anger.

“But it’s my concern as well. I know in my heart we will
work together again on another criminal activity. I also know it will be best
if we don’t deepen our friendship.” She took a long breath as if it were an
effort to go on. “I realize even this is asking you to believe in me when I
know you do not.”

Lord Lance looked at the beautiful girl before him, her eyes
meeting his with candor. Still he thought he saw a spark of desire she wasn’t
experienced enough to hide. That lack of experience intrigued him beyond words.
He found it hard to believe at her age she’d never been thoroughly kissed. How
old was she, twenty-two or three? Had her reputation frightened away men of the
quality she deserved? Even ignorance of her true value didn’t seem enough
excuse. Had her mother protected her somehow? Or was it just a sweet and
beautiful innocence not common at all in today’s dissolute world?

Blazing hell if he wasn’t beginning to believe in the
possibility of spells! Either that or he was losing his mind.

Maybe both.

He kissed her lightly on the forehead and left her.

Chapter Five

On the ride home Lance suddenly remembered Viviane McAfee’s
words. She knew his parents well enough to consider him a credit to them? This
was definitely something an experienced detective of Scotland Yard should check
out.

With a smile, Lance rapped on the roof of the cab with his
cane and redirected the driver.

Before long the cab drove up to the ducal home on Park Lane.
A large and impressive mansion, it was a place Lance loved. Not for its
architecture, which was too ornate for his tastes, but for the people who lived
there. Only his next older brother resided here now with his parents, but at
one time he and his three brothers filled the home with noise and laughter when
the family was in London. On reflection, Lance was not surprised his parents
might have known Viviane McAfee. They’d always been, to his delight, far less
stuffy than their contemporaries. They’d also encouraged their children to
ferret their own way through issues of the day and not accept even their
parents’ opinions. Mealtimes often featured rousing discussions clarifying
everyone’s mind.

He dismissed the cabbie and strode to the door, where the
butler admitted him with a smile.

“Lord Lance, how nice to see you. You will indeed be
welcomed by the whole household.”

Lance handed over his hat, coat and cane with a grin.

“I don’t come often enough, I know, Bradley. Have you been
well? How is your arthritis?”

“Very well, my lord, thank you.”

The butler’s voice was suddenly eclipsed as his father, a
bear of a man almost as tall as his son, strode forward.

“Lance, it’s high time you came calling on your ancient
parents. What brings you?”

He hugged his son, shook his hand vigorously and led him to
the parlor where the Duchess greeted him with equal delight. As Lance kissed
his rather delicate mother, he again remarked to himself on her fragility. How
on Earth had she produced four strapping sons? And how under heaven could he be
excused for not seeing her more often?

“Madam, I think I’ve been more negligent than I realized if
my father wants to know what motive I have for coming.”

His mother, her voice as light as her graying blond hair,
tugged on his hand so he would sit beside her.

“Well,” she grinned. “Tell us the reason, then.”

Lance threw up his hands.

“I often wish I could hire you two on my staff.”

The Duke went to the door and called for three glasses and a
bottle of brandy. He’d never believed women should be denied the pleasures of
good spirits while men drank alone. His lady wife heartily agreed.

When they were all settled with their glasses in hand, his
father looked expectantly at the son who so much resembled him in appearance.

“Well,” he said. “Who is she?”

Lance could feel himself blushing, for the first time he
could remember since he was a callow teenager.

“Gerald, I’m ashamed of you. Let the boy talk in his own
time.” His mother tapped his father lightly on his nearer arm.

His father now looked almost as abashed as Lance felt,
although the grin stayed on his father’s face. Somehow the atmosphere settled
into easiness again.

“Actually it is a woman,” Lance said. “Or two women. Morgan
McAfee and her mother Viviane.”

“Two excellent women,” his mother said. “Although actually I
do not know the daughter and only met the mother briefly. I imagine Viviane has
raised and trained her daughter well.”

Lance looked his surprise. “Am I hearing things? We are
discussing here a self-proclaimed Druid and her daughter who claims to be a psychic
and wants above all else to have witch’s powers. I’m not only amazed you know
them, but astonished you esteem them.”

The Duchess smiled at the Duke and tapped him lightly on his
arm.

“As for me, I esteem Mrs. McAfee highly. I believe your
father thought favorably of her at one time and she was too wise to allow a
relationship to even begin. Naturally I think her exemplary.”

The Duke’s possessive smile at his wife warmed the room.

“As you well know you are and have always been my only
love.” He turned to his son as he continued. “Your mother was in the country
with you children and I met Viviane while riding in the park here in town. She
knew a great deal about everything and I learned to value her opinions. She’s
unusually interesting to talk to.”

He took another sip of his brandy and seemed lost in
reminiscence for a moment.

“I wanted to be friends, although there was never a
suggestion of anything else with either of us. She’s a highly moral woman, as I
imagine is her daughter. I thought her the second most intriguing and beautiful
woman I’d ever met. Although I never had any desire to be unfaithful to my
wife.”

His wife tapped him lightly on his knee.

“A very astute addition, my lord husband.”

The Duke smiled at his wife.

“She knew this and we could have been friends in other
circumstances. I think your mother and she would have been friends also. At one
point Viviane very gently made me realize our relationship could go no further.
She was concerned about the same issue you are now, I imagine, Lance.”

Lance watched his mother’s hand reach out and grasp his
father’s.

“How very interesting.” Lance’s voice was a low and
enthralled murmur.

His father favored him with a shrewd glance.

“And so how can we help you, Lance? You must know by now
Viviane and her daughter follow the Druid teachings. The name Viviane comes
from the name of one of the most revered and powerful priestesses in Druid
history. No one can really quarrel with the learning Druids impart, nor
diminish the good Viviane does with her medical knowledge. Yet still she is
ostracized to a certain extent.”

Lance lowered his blue, blue eyes. “I didn’t know any of
this. I only know a girl who has helped me immeasurably with what she calls her
psychic powers has caught my interest. In spite of the fact she talks to
stuffed animals.”

His wry grin did not conceal to his parents how important
this conversation was to him.

“Of course,” the Duke said. “Perhaps you’d best study Druid
lore, Lance. Druids believe trees, plants and animals have feelings of their
own. They often talk to them. I can see how the lady might extend the premise
to a stuffed animal. I find the thought charming, myself.”

Lance raised his eyebrows. “Now that does surprise me.”

His father only grinned back at his son. “But many think the
Druid teachings are beyond ridiculous. It’s generally acknowledged to be a good
thing civilization stripped Druids of most of their powers, although I’m not at
all sure that’s true. They might have produced a more peaceful world, as well
as a most interesting one.”

Lance sat looking at his parents with eyes that seemed to
see them for the first time. True, he had always known, growing up in the rigid
world of British aristocracy, that his parents were remarkable for their care
and communication with their sons. Still, the fact his father had been friends
with Viviane McAfee and found Druid lore admirable amazed him.

“I’m astonished,” he said.

His parents looked at each other and as was often the case,
an unspoken communication seemed to take place.

His father cleared his throat. “Make no mistake, Lance. I
realize your questions are tentative. But being interested in a girl like
Morgan McAfee has untold complications. She would not advance your career at
all.”

“I know,” Lance said quietly.

He kissed his mother and shook his father’s hand. On the way
out he turned back.

“Life is interesting, isn’t it? Did you know Commissioner
Randall is quite familiar with Viviane McAfee, to an extent that surprised me?
They seem the best of friends.”

With a smile for them both, he again started out.

“Lance,” his mother’s voice called him back.

He wheeled slowly and faced her.

“Don’t flirt with her, Lance. I know you’re not the type to
trifle, but I would imagine she is unsophisticated and unspoiled and very
tempting. She might not understand a flirtation for what it is.”

Lance looked at his mother, thinking she was wise as usual.
But he’d already given himself the same advice and he wasn’t sure it was
working.