The Knight and the Dove (32 page)

“Don’t bother,” Megan told him. “Just pack your things and get out.”

Again the man looked as if he were on the verge of collapse.

“Lord Bracken will listen to me.”

“He might,” Megan’s tone was maddeningly moderate, “but you will find I am patient. It may take time, but I will prove your true worth.” Megan hesitated as her spirit of fair play came to the fore.

“It’s not as if you haven’t been warned, Barton. We have talked of this many times. My check on the books just this morning showed more entries which I cannot trace.”

“You have been in the books again?” He was clearly outraged. “You had no right!”

“I have every right!” Megan shot back, having taken all she was going to. “And I am also within my rights to repeat myself—pack your bags and leave Hawkings Crest.”

Barton trembled with anger, but he was wise enough to see his own defeat. With a head held high in what he would have called righteous
indignation, Barton swept from the room. Megan felt no sense of elation or satisfaction. With all of Barton’s knowledge of the castle, it would have been wonderful to have him stay, but Megan would never countenance such deceit.

Believing she had done what was necessary, Megan tried to put the incident behind her and move on to another task. She was halfway up the stairs when she remembered Bracken. The thought of him caused her to tuck her lip beneath her teeth. What in the world was he going to say?

“She did
what?”

“Now Bracken,” Lyndon tried to sound reasonable.

“Yes, Bracken,” Louisa put in. “You did say you would listen to her more.”

“I can’t believe this.” Bracken spoke as if he hadn’t heard either one. “All this time I think things are going smoothly and now she does this. Why did she not talk to me?”

“I don’t know, Bracken, but she has been unhappy about Barton for many weeks.”

“In truth, Bracken,” Lyndon added, “she did come to you, just last week, but you put her off.”

Bracken opened his mouth and shut it. This was true. Megan had come to him at the archery butts when he was working with Kent. Bracken had sent her away without ever getting back to her. Nevertheless, he did not care for the way she’d handled this.

“She should have talked to me.”

“Be that as it may, Bracken, it won’t do any good searching her out and blasting her with your temper.” Louisa’s voice was almost angry, and Bracken turned to look at her. He was slightly amused by her fierce frown and thought how often Louisa had championed Megan since she’d come to live at Hawkings Crest.

“Is that what I do? Blast her with my temper?” He was almost laughing now. Louisa was not.

“You know you do, and if it happens this time, I won’t speak to you until the wedding.”

All Bracken’s amusement fled. “Lou, what is really bothering you?”

Tears welled in the woman’s eyes. “She told me that no one has ever shown her the kindness you have. I know you’re upset, but I can’t stand the thought that you’ll hurt her when she’s coming to trust and need you so.”

The words were very sobering to Bracken, and he tenderly laid a hand on his aunt’s shoulder. At the moment he did want to search Megan out and make himself heard, but Louisa was right; he would only frighten and upset her. Yet, every time he thought of Megan going on her own and dismissing Barton, his anger threatened to consume him.

“I will do my best not to fight with Megan, Louisa, but I will talk with her about this.”

Louisa could only nod.

“Have you seen her?” Bracken asked of Lyndon.

“Actually I have. I believe she was headed toward the tower.”

Bracken nodded, thanked them, and moved toward the door of the war room. Louisa and Lyndon shared a glance. They both hoped that the harmony they had known in the past weeks was not about to be destroyed.

Megan had been on a mission of counting bedrooms, but had long since given up. She’d had no idea how vast Hawkings Crest really was.
Why, all of England could come for the wedding,
Megan thought,
and we could make comfortable each and every one.

She was in the tower salon now, checking on something Helga had told her about and feeling well satisfied that there would be room for all guests.

Megan walked the edge of the carpet until she spotted the trouble: It seemed that the hem was fraying. Kneeling at the edge of the rug that lay before the fireplace, Megan saw that Helga’s observation was correct. She would have to order it trimmed. So intent was Megan on her task that she never even heard Bracken enter or noticed as he stood quietly against one wall watching her. She stood, ready to walk directly in front of him, when he spoke.

“Going somewhere, Megan?”

Megan started violently and then grew angry. Her arms akimbo, she faced him squarely.

“Bracken!
Don’t you ever do that again. I never heard a thing.”

Bracken only looked at her and asked himself for the tenth time what he was going to do. He had told Brice many weeks ago that he did not want just a pretty face to decorate his castle, but how far was he willing to let her go?

“What brings you to the tower?” he asked at last.

Megan relaxed upon hearing his calm tone. “I was trying to ascertain whether or not we had enough bedrooms for the wedding guests.” She now smiled in self-mockery. “I now see that I have wasted my time.”

Bracken’s own eyes took in the room. Large and airy, it was but one of many just like it, and that did not include the many bedrooms. Megan was right—the castle was a mammoth dwelling.

“I understand our keep is now short a steward.”

Bracken was not looking at her or even turned in her direction. The statement had come out so abruptly that Megan was taken completely unaware. She tilted her head slightly to glance at his handsome, bearded profile, but he was still inspecting the room.

“Yes,” Megan said.

Bracken then turned to look at her. “That is all? Yes? No explanation?”

“I felt I had no choice,” Megan said shortly.

“You could have consulted me.”

“You would not listen. I assumed you no longer cared.”

“It was never my intent to make light of the situation, Megan; Barton has been with my family for years.”

“I am heartily sick to death of hearing that!” Megan burst out so vehemently that it was Bracken’s turn to be startled.

“It doesn’t seem to make any difference to you that he was
stealing.
Do you hear me, Bracken, he was
stealing
from you! I spoke with him; I gave him a chance; but even knowing that I could read and monitor his actions changed nothing. I was still finding entries that could be nothing short of theft.”

They stood, eyes locked, Megan now red in the face and Bracken’s face looking as though it was made of stone.

“I still say it wasn’t your place.”

“You’re right!” Megan shot back at him. “It was yours.”

She watched his eyes grow hard, and the fight drained out of her. When she continued, her voice was soft.

“If I’ve learned anything about you while living here, Bracken, it’s that you’re no fool. This is why I am confused. Only a fool would allow a man to stay in the name of sentiment when that man was stealing from him. I did this for you. I did this for Hawkings Crest. It would seem I’ve done wrong.”

Megan turned for the door, but Bracken’s voice stopped her.

“Don’t go.”

Megan stopped but did not turn.

“Look at me, Megan.”

She shook her head no. Tears had come to her eyes, tears she hated herself for. She did not want him to see them, but she heard him move and knew that in a moment he would stand before her. When he did stop, Megan turned her face away in an attempt to hide her eyes.

Bracken did not turn her face to his, but he could clearly see the tear that slid down her cheek. He could also see that she was trying to hold others back.

“Mayhap I am thickheaded,” Bracken said reflectively. “You might need to ask me more than once and not give up so easily. Just as you have learned about me, I have also done some learning of my own, and I would say you are not a quitter.”

“No, I’m not,” Megan agreed, and then realized that quit was exactly what she’d done.

“But you did not pursue the matter with me, and now I wish you had.”

Megan nodded; he was quite correct. She chanced a look at him.

“Next time I’ll be a shrew.”

Bracken took on a look of mock horror. “You mean there’s more?”

Megan tried not to smile, but failed. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

Bracken smiled in return, and his voice turned thoughtful. “Just three weeks now, and you will be mistress of this keep.”

Megan nodded, feeling more at peace with the prospect than ever before. “Does that have you worried?”

“No,” he told her. “I think you will do well.”

There wasn’t anything that could have given Megan as much pleasure. She smiled at him, and Bracken thought, not for the first time, that they should talk more. They were both so busy and ofttimes going
in opposite directions, but whenever they had a chance to speak, he could tell that Megan became a little more comfortable with him.

At that point they walked down to the great hall together. As they moved it came to Bracken without warning: He was swiftly coming to prefer Megan’s company over anyone else’s. The thought so surprised him that when Megan said she had to see Helga, he barely heard her. It was a thought he pondered on for the remainder of the day.

Stephen rode toward Hawkings Crest in easy companionship with his cousins, Derek and Richard. Brice would bring their mother to the wedding, as well as escort everyone but Danella, whose baby was very young. Stephen had found himself with a need to be in London and so arranged to ride to Hawkings Crest from there with Louisa’s sons.

Having not seen each other for weeks, they talked of many things, but the subject of Bracken’s betrothed was not raised until they were just a few miles from the castle.

“So, Stephen,” Richard asked. “What can you tell us of Megan?”

“Did your mother not write to you?” he questioned evasively, while trying to keep the smile from his face.

“Yes,” Derek told him. “She dictated a letter, but other than the red hair, she didn’t really describe her at all. What is she like?”