Druid's Daughter (13 page)

He sensed this was important to her and so kept his grasp
light and his mind attentive.

“Of course I want to hear. Anything about you fascinates
me.”

“Daffodils mean ‘the sun shines when I’m with you’.”

Warm eyes looked at him directly, with no equivocation.

He dropped a kiss on her forehead and tried to grasp her to
him but she used both hands to stave him off. He threw his own up in despair.

“Viviane, Viviane, what can I do to persuade you to come
help me and my son and never go home? You say you love me. Is my job stopping
you? I’m willing to quit if that is what’s needed to persuade you. Is that it?
Shall I resign? I’ll leave the police force tomorrow if that’s what you want.”

She turned and went to the window, looking out at the
passing scene. He followed her. A premature few leaves of autumn were now
spiraling in a desultory manner slowly to the ground. They had not yet begun to
change color. The window was open a little and a soft breeze rustled the
curtains. Smells of roasting chestnuts wafted in from the street vendors.

Her voice was muffled as she placed her hands on the window
ledge and her forehead against the pane of glass.

“I think it’s time I tell you the truth, Devon. I have to
tell you sooner or later. You deserve to know my shortcomings even though they
shame me. Part of the problem is I’m quite simply terrified. I’ve never known a
man except for the brief encounter that produced my darling Morgan. That encounter
was not pleasant and nothing I want to repeat. You’re worldly and experienced.
I know you’d be disappointed if you took me to bed and I couldn’t respond as
you have a right to expect. I couldn’t stand your scorn. I just couldn’t. I’d
rather we stayed the best of friends. That’s what I ask of you now. I hope very
much we can always be friends.”

Devon thought his emotions in the last week had bounced
around like a rubber ball. Yet never in his life had he experienced or even
imagined the flood of tenderness that swamped him at Viviane’s words. The sight
of her, her proud head leaning against the window as she confessed her most
secret fear, nearly unmanned him.

He rushed to her and turned her to face him, taking her in
his arms and holding her cheek against his shoulder with a tender, strong hand.
He brushed a lock of her auburn hair from her forehead and touched her
quivering lips with one gentle finger.

“Viviane, my dearest love. Don’t you know teaching you to
enjoy your body would be the greatest pleasure I could ever imagine? You’ll
have no distaste or displeasure with me. Your warm heart and loving soul
proclaims a passion you’ve never suspected. Let me help you find the joy you
deserve. You can trust me to be both gentle and patient.”

She wrenched free and moved a small distance away.

“Even if that were so, I’m still a Druid. I was trained to
be a Priestess, as you already know. I really can do magic and will if it will
help someone. I also am versed in Druid medicine and am an exceptional healer.
Many people depend on me. I don’t want to change, in fact I don’t think I can.
Have you truly thought how your world will change if you marry a witch? Even a
good witch?”

Before he could frame words of denial she moved farther
away.

“I’ll be here tomorrow to take Jamie to the park.”

She left so swiftly he still hadn’t been able to think what
best to say. Why was he tongue-tied at the very moment he needed all his
persuasive powers? He knew there was a compromise. There had to be. He simply
loved her too much to let her go.

He was a novice at love. Not of sex, of course, but of the
kind of deep love he felt for Viviane that would only increase through the
years. Growing old with Viviane would be a pleasure. This kind of love was
indeed new since it seemed to have thoroughly tied his diplomat’s tongue.

Her nonsense about sexual inexperience didn’t worry him, he
was confident he could take care of that and delight in doing so. Although he’d
love to find that ex-Druid priest and wring his bloody neck. Or preferably more
sensitive parts a little lower down. The bloody bastard had virtually raped
her. Still he must direct his mind to thinking of answers to her other
concerns.

Pacing around the room, he thought it a good sign she’d
talked so frankly to him. He wouldn’t come home early tomorrow, she’d be
expecting that and have her guard up. The day after tomorrow he’d waylay her in
his home and settle all her objections. He’d surprise her before she could get
her defenses in place.

She’d be in his arms and he’d never let her go.

* * * * *

He wrestled with his impatience and waited a day before
going home early. Bounding up the steps the next day shortly after noon he
hurried to the dining room where Viviane and Jamie usually took lunch. Jamie
was there and Morgan. No Viviane.

Suddenly apprehensive, he sat in the chair beside Morgan.

“How nice to see you, Morgan. Is your mother upstairs then?”

Morgan’s green eyes looked back at him with a hint of pity.

“You know she’s not, don’t you? But I will fill in for her
until you can make some other arrangement. We both love Jamie, you know.” She
directed a smile at Jamie, who seemed unnaturally subdued. “Jamie misses my
mother right now, but I hope he’ll come to find me acceptable.”

Jamie slipped from his seat and ran to her.

“Oh, Miss Morgan, you’re wonderful. I’m sorry if I’ve been
most dreadf’lly impolite.” Jamie went to her and hugged her.

“You haven’t been impolite at all, sweet boy. I’m glad you
love my mother so much.”

Devon had had enough.

“Where is she, Morgan?”

Morgan’s mischievous smile twinkled at him.

“I’ve been expecting that question, which I promised not to
answer. Although I didn’t promise not to agree if you guess the truth.”

Devon’s tension loosened a little even as her smile took on
the aspect of a devilish grin. He must call on his intelligence, it seemed.
Unfortunately his intelligence seemed to fly out the window where Viviane was
concerned.

He rose and started to walk around the room, Jamie staring
at him. Morgan sat there waiting, obviously hoping he’d succeed in his quest.

“I don’t think she’d want to go to a strange place to escape
me. I think she’d head for somewhere she could be at peace and think things
over. And where she can be of use. She can’t stand being idle. Your country
place…has she left for your home in the country?”

Morgan beamed. “What an intelligent guess, sir. She is well
loved by the small town where we live. Not only do many of its inhabitants work
for us but she does much doctoring there.”

Devon blinked. Many inhabitants? How big a place did she
own? He was glad he had an excuse to visit, since this was a part of his love’s
life he needed to know and understand.

“Well, missy, will you give me directions or should I get
out my maps of Kent?”

Morgan sat there glowing at his response.

“Of course I’ll direct you and I’ll stay here at your house
with Jamie ’til you return.”

Devon sighed with relief as he kissed and hugged his son.
“You’re a darling girl, Morgan. I’d love to be your papa if I can work things
out. Hush, Jamie,” he said as Jamie came out of his seat and started to
explode. “I’ll do my best to bring Mrs. McAfee back with me but I can’t promise
anything now. Wish me Godspeed and good luck, both of you. I might be gone a
while.”

He gave Jamie an extra hug, kissed Morgan’s cheek and
hurried out of the room even as he called for Millson to come help him pack.

He was determined to lay siege to Viviane at her home until
he’d secured a fiancée.

Chapter Ten

Lance shoved back from his desk with a frown and a sigh. He
disliked himself intensely. He’d tried to become interested in three different
girls, all lovely, all raised in his own milieu. He found every one sweet,
anxious to please him and boring. Not one of them looked him in the eye and
defied him. Not one of them made him laugh or long to kiss her. Not one of them
was Morgan.

He walked over to the table and glanced at the neat piles of
paper and frowned again. He’d caught up as much as he could, another boring
fact. To top it off, depression was his constant companion.

Restless, he rose again and paced to the window and opened
it. In the last few days the early autumn air was touched with a cool hint of
the season to come. The ever present smoky scent of London air seemed muted by
the brisk breeze ruffling his hair as he leaned out. A gray sky echoed his
mood. Damned if he wasn’t getting morose.

He was absorbed in his thoughts and did not at first hear
Shriver’s knock. To his astonishment, his sergeant threw the door open wide.

“Sir,” he blurted. “Miss McAfee is here.”

Shriver saluted Morgan briskly, as he held the door open for
her and then closed it after her. His beautiful Druid was dressed as impeccably
as usual. A blue-green skirt and jacket with a pristine white shirtwaist. The
skirt rustled a little as she walked in, her big eyes locked on his.

An instant delight swelled from his heart to every other
part of his body. In fact his body hardened just at the sight of her. He seemed
to be powerless in his physical response to her. His second reaction was worry
she looked abnormally pale.

He strode to her swiftly and took her hands.

“Morgan, I’m so very glad to see you.”

Her brilliant green eyes seemed larger than usual as she
pinned him with her direct gaze.

“Yes,” was her slow response. “I think you are. I’m
surprised. I didn’t think you wanted to see me again.”

Lance opened his mouth to speak but she stopped him.

“Whatever you feel is immaterial, I think. I only came to
tell you of my vision. A horrible vision.”

She started to shake and Lance quickly pushed her into a
chair.

“What I feel is definitely not immaterial, but I won’t press
the subject now. Morgan, you’re as pale as a sheet of vellum. You’d better
catch your breath and then tell me what brought you here.”

He pressed his fists to his side to keep from drawing her
into his arms. His weeks of striving to forget her were useless and forgotten.
One look and his lust for her pounded in unabated force. In fact desire welled
stronger than ever. She aroused him so easily as to be pathetic. Now he’d
better concentrate on getting his blood back to his brain where it belonged.
His body was even more traitorous than his mind and his mind was bad enough!

“Lance, I…” She swallowed and started again, throwing her
head up and obviously forcing herself. He waited, not wanting to hurry her.
“I’ve had a vision. I saw a fence made of vertical boards, at the end of what
appeared to be an alley. The boards at the end of the alley had once been
painted white, or else white-washed, I’m not sure. Boards on one side of the
alley were a faded green, on the other they’d not been painted and were
weathered to a dirty gray.”

She swallowed again and then drew a deep breath. It was
obvious her vision had upset her to the point of almost desperation.

“On the boards facing me were three notations of verse, all
from the Bible. The vision didn’t last long enough for me to read them all, but
the one in the center was the largest. Romans 2:23. They were all scrawled in
either red paint or blood, I couldn’t tell which. I rather think blood, as
there was a brownish cast where the writing thinned.”

She shuddered again and then sat back in her chair.

“Did you look the verse up?” Lance was intent on her story
and spoke more sharply than usual.

“Of course I did,” she said with a ghost of a smile. “Even
pagans study the Bible. The verse is a most familiar one, ‘the wages of sin is
death’.”

Lance walked to the chair behind his desk, his long stride
effortless as his brain began to function again. He would have to make amends
to Morgan, but not now. He willed his voice to be dispassionate.

“Is there any other detail, no matter how small, you can
remember?”

“Nooo,” she drawled out as she wrinkled her forehead and
tried to remember. A little of the light came back into her eyes as she
exclaimed, “Wait! Yes, I do. I could see the sun setting behind the spire of
St. Paul’s Cathedral, directly over the center verse. The church was quite far
away.”

“You wonderful girl!”

They smiled naturally at each other for the first time since
she’d entered.

Neither one thought it unusual the Chief Inspector of
Scotland Yard took for granted his informant was handing him a valuable clue.

“Now what we need is a detailed street map of London. We
know exactly which direction to pinpoint. We just have to find all the alleys
where you can see St. Paul’s to the west.”

Morgan stopped smiling. “What a horrendous task, Lance.”

“Merely the minutiae of paper work, my dear. Not at all
horrendous. Would you like to stay and watch? I might have more questions to
ask if you could wait.”

She beamed again and Lance thought her smile the most
glorious sight he’d ever seen. He grinned back at her and went to the door to
call Shriver.

* * * * *

Shriver quickly recruited three more officers and sent them
scurrying to buy maps from different shops, while he and Lance bent over the ones
in the office. It soon became apparent more detail was needed, so they kept
working, but without much hope until the first of the officers returned.
Shriver spread a very large map over the center table and all three men bent
over it. The other men returned with more maps, but they all decided the first
one showed the best details.

Morgan watched with fascination. Lance hadn’t needed to
admonish her not to interrupt. Completely absorbed in observing Lance at work,
she admired his concentration. He showed himself as impressive in this as in
every other facet of his personality. Quietly in control, his men trusting in
his judgment and eager to obey. She let go of her determination not to allow
him to ever affect her again and sat in silent respect. He exuded domination
over his mind as well as his body, as he moved around the table, correcting an
angle for one man or making a suggestion to another.