The Knight and the Dove (43 page)

Megan spent her first Christmas at Hawkings Crest alone. Bracken had been called to Henry in the middle of December. The king, weary to death of losing men, money, and time, sent Bracken and several other lords north. As emissaries of peace, they rode out with a full battalion of men to the Scottish border.

Still just a bride, Megan stayed at home in the country. Many young women in her situation would have gone to their parents’ home, but even though Megan had heard from both her father and mother, she did not feel welcome at Stone Lake Castle for a prolonged stay. Also, the fact that she didn’t know when Bracken would arrive home caused her to stay put.

This did not bother her. She had many things she wished to do in Bracken’s absence, and the castle spent one of its busiest winters with Megan at the helm. Louisa came for a visit, staying for almost a month. While she was there, a group of knights stopped in long enough to deliver a letter to Megan. They had seen Bracken, and although he didn’t know when he would be able to come home, he had wanted them to bring word to Hawkings Crest.

Megan waited until she could find time to go to her room and be alone to read her letter. It was very short, and Megan could see that he’d ordered a scribe to write it, but it nevertheless touched her heart.

Megan,

I am well. Thinking of you. If you are with child, please take care. Will be home soon. Act in wisdom.

Bracken

Although it was short, the letter meant a great deal to her. She was not with child, and for the first time Megan wondered just how disappointing that might be to her husband. Every man wants sons to continue the line, but not every man receives his wish. Her father was a fine example of that. Vincent’s only brother was dead. Megan assumed some distant cousin would take Stone Lake Castle on her father’s death.

Who would inherit Hawkings Crest if there were never a male heir? One of Bracken’s brothers most likely. Megan would like to present Bracken with a child; indeed, she was sure it would make him quite glad. If only it didn’t require… Megan refused to finish the thought.

You are positively wicked, Megan,
she told herself.
How can you expect Bracken to see you as a godly woman if you act like that? If you can think of nothing better to dwell on, you had best get back to work.

Bracken’s back ached some, but the castle was in sight, and that was all that mattered. A night here at Wyndmere, as a guest of Lord Trygve Osborn, and then tomorrow he could ride for home.

The men had never met before Henry’s call, but they had been together in the north country for over 12 weeks, and there was little they hadn’t shared. Bracken found Tryg, who was ten years older, to be a man of his word, a mighty warrior, and a lover of all that was right. Bracken had come to admire him greatly.

Being to the south now, since they had just reported to Henry in London, and being just a day’s ride from Hawkings Crest, made it difficult to stop over, but Tryg pressed him and Bracken agreed. It would be good to sleep in a bed and sup from a table and trencher.

They rode side by side through the massive gates, their men stretched out behind them. All the keep seemed to cheer over their lord’s arrival. Trygve was the Marquess of Overton, and he had shared with Bracken many times about the loyalty of his servants.

Trygve had also shared about Ann. The men were dismounting in the inner bailey when a woman came running, and Bracken knew it was she. She was tall, slim, and blonde, and in a moment she had thrown her arms around her husband. Trygve swung her around with a great laugh, and when they stopped, he looked down only at her. Bracken watched unashamedly as Ann’s hands tenderly cupped her husband’s face and she reached up on tiptoe to kiss him.

“I missed you so,” she said.

“And I you.”

“I love you, Tryg,” she said, and kissed him again.

Bracken turned away then and did not hear his friend’s reply. He didn’t have to take his imagination far to know that his reception from Megan would be vastly different. She ran Hawkings Crest to perfection, and he knew she would do anything he asked, but she was not an affectionate woman. Indeed, he was finding, quite the opposite.

“Bracken,” Trygve now called to him, his arm still around his wife. “Come, meet my Ann.”

Bracken came forward and was rewarded with her warm smile.

“You have ridden far, Bracken, and I am glad you have taken time to stop before going home.”

“My men and I appreciate your hospitality.”

Ann smiled again. “I will go now and see to your needs.” She smiled at Bracken and then said to her husband, “The children are anxious to see you.”

“We will be right along.” He watched her go and turned back to Bracken with a huge smile. He threw an arm around the younger man’s shoulders and urged him to the house.

“Come, Bracken, come and eat. Before you know it the morning will be upon you, and you can go home to Megan.” Out of pure contentment, Trygve gave a great shout of laughter. “Then it will be your turn to be greeted as I have been.”

Trygve happened to glance at Bracken’s face then, and what he saw stopped him short. It was gone now, but he had very definitely seen a hardness in Bracken’s eyes.

“Did you fight with Megan before you left?”

“No.” Bracken faced him, but his body was a bit stiff.

“What is it then?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. I said you would be greeted as I was, but that’s not so, is it?”

“You overstep yourself, Tryg,” Bracken warned.

“Nay, Bracken, I do not.” The older man was not easily intimidated. “We have shared nearly all and learned much from each other in these last weeks, but each time we spoke of our families I sensed an emptiness in you. Do you love your wife?”

“Yes,” Bracken answered without hesitation.

“Have you told her?”

Bracken frowned. “I protect her and provide for her. I tell her in a thousand ways every day.”

Trygve shook his head. “’Tis not the same, Bracken. A woman needs to hear.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Bracken disdained. “She is not an affectionate woman; it would change nothing.”

“Bracken, you are wrong. Do you court her? Do you romance her?”

This was the second time someone had advised him to do such. His mother’s words seemed so long ago that he had completely forgotten about them. Still…

“You do not know her—” Bracken began, but Trygve lay hold of his broad shoulders.

“I do not need to know her to know
about
her. Ann and I knew each other two hours when we became husband and wife. I found her beautiful, so ’twas no difficult thing. I learned later that it was torture for her. For months she froze at my touch.

“Then she began to grow thin and depressed. It took some time, but I finally understood that it’s different for a woman. I began to bring her flowers, hold her hand, and even kiss her without expectations.

“She began to return my embraces, and even conceived, and now, Bracken, I am greeted as you saw. We have been married ten years, yet I still court and romance her. In return, she longs for my presence.”

Bracken stared at the older man. It had never once occurred to him that Megan was responding to his treatment of her. He thought now about the way she hugged his family and even the children who lived at Hawkings Crest. She was certainly affectionate with them. He was doing something wrong—quite possibly everything.

“I do not wish to pry into the most private part of your life, Bracken, but what I have told you is true.”

Bracken finally nodded but didn’t speak. A part of him still wanted to deny all of this and lay the blame at Megan’s feet.

“Come along,” the older man continued. “We will wash and eat, and you can think on what I’ve said. ’Twill be no embarrassment for me should you want to discuss this again.”

Bracken thanked him sincerely and the men walked toward the high, stone edifice. Wyndmere was a fine home, a showplace, but Bracken took little notice. His heart was completely centered on the little redhead awaiting him at Hawkings Crest.

S
TONE
L
AKE

“Why, Marigold.” Annora’s voice held surprise at the sight of her oldest daughter but no particular pleasure. She hadn’t been home for months, and even though Annora had worried for her, she had also enjoyed a better relationship with Vincent than she’d ever had in her life.

“Hello, Mother.” Marigold’s voice was very sweet, but for the first time Annora did not respond in kind.

“Where have you been?” Annora wished to know.

Marigold hesitated. Her mother was not happy with her, and this was something new. In truth, she was only home because she needed money, but that wasn’t going to work if Annora was vexed with her. A new tactic was needed.

“Why, Mother, did you not receive my letter?”

“No.” Annora’s voice was cold.

Marigold’s sigh was deep. “No one is dependable these days. I wrote telling you I was spending the winter in France. I hope you weren’t worried.”

“Not overly,” Annora said, suddenly realizing it was the truth. Again this perplexed Marigold.

“Oh, Mother,” she remarked, as though she just had a thought. “You’re not still upset about my missing Megan’s wedding, are you?”

“No, Marigold, I’m not.” This, too, was the truth. “Megan has done well for herself. I am quite proud of her.”

Marigold nearly panicked. Her mother had never in her life had a good word for her younger sister. What in the world had gone on? For the first time Marigold saw that she’d been away too long.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked, just managing to keep her voice light.

“Oh, hadn’t you heard?” Annora’s voice was triumphant with genuine pleasure. “Bracken’s been made a duke. Your sister is the Duchess of Briscoe.”

Under the guise of adjusting the hem of her gown, Marigold managed to duck her head and turn away. Her face was a mask of rage. She didn’t speak until she had her voice under control.

“Well, now, isn’t that grand! Maybe I should go and visit to extend my apologies and then my congratulations.”

Marigold turned with a smile, and Annora, still wanting to think the best of this selfish child, was swiftly taken in.