Druid's Daughter (11 page)

“I know, my son.” He buried his face for a long moment in
Jamie’s curls. “Would you like to discuss later about how to avoid something
like this in the future? I’m sure we can work something out, you and I. For
now, I’m grateful you’re home and well.”

He turned with as much of a smile as he could manage to
Viviane.

“I’ll express my gratitude to you later, my dear. Shall we
all go in now? I don’t think you need any punishment, Jamie, but I do think we
all need dinner. If you can persuade Mrs. McAfee to stay for something to eat
I’ll forgive you for anything.”

“Not fair, Devon,” Viviane murmured. In her normal tone she
said of course she’d be glad to stay and swept into the hall.

The men followed her, Devon with a grin and Millson
struggling against one. Jamie held his father’s hand, looking up at him. Seeing
his bewildered small face, Devon mentally cursed Cynthia. He’d never been fond
of her, but when Marian had died it seemed simplest to allow her sister to move
in and take care of Jamie. In spite of his dislike for Cynthia he’d never
imagined her capable of neglect and treachery. She’d be gone as soon as he
could speak with her. He wished he never had to see her again, but he would
once more and with finality.

They were all still in the hall and Millson spoke.

“Shall I tell Cook we have one more for dinner, sir?”

Devon hoped he didn’t look as grim as he felt. “No, Millson,
but would you inform her Lady Cynthia will be eating her meals in her room
tonight and from now on.”

The look of total relief suffusing Jamie’s face made his
father even angrier. And even more guilty. Jamie had been compelled to coerce
his father’s action in a way possibly disastrous to them all.

By God, he’d not see Cynthia’s sour face across the table
from him ever again. Why he’d put up with her so long he didn’t know. Yes, he
did know. His wife had adored him and after a brief infatuation, he’d thought
her a silly creature. He’d let Cynthia take over as silent penance for the love
he could not give his wife.

He saw Vivian looking at him with a penetrating gaze, as if
she could divine his thoughts. She doubtless could.

He smiled at her and offered his arm to his love and led her
into the parlor.

He quietly asked Millson to fetch wine for the grownups and
a little, well watered, for Jamie. When the wine was poured, Devon lifted his
glass and spoke to the two persons he loved.

As his son’s eyes widened he said in his most solemn manner,
“This is one of the most propitious occasions of my life. My son is returned to
me once again and this time I will make sure he’s content to stay. I propose
happiness for us all.”

When he saw the grown-ups drink Jamie took a sip and
wrinkled his nose.

His father smiled at him and raised his glass again in a
silent toast to Viviane. She looked torn between amusement and something like
dismay. He smiled beatifically and held her gaze.

No matter the reluctance with which she returned his ardent
glance. He knew now how to break down her defenses. It was simple. His conceit
must have kept him focused on his own desperate yearnings. Like any skillful
card player he would now focus on his opponent’s weakness.

Jamie. Jamie would help him achieve what they both wanted.
Jamie was his winning card.

As Millson appeared to summon them to dinner, he took Jamie
by the hand and placed Viviane’s on the curve of his other arm.

“Shall we go in to dinner, my dears?”

Viviane gave a small snort and Jamie looked at him with love
in his big brown eyes. He smiled at them, not caring if the depth of his
emotion was evident. The three of them belonged together. He’d made many
mistakes in his life, but this time he intended to see everything went the way
it should. Nothing else would ever matter to him as much as these two precious
people.

He must lay his plans with meticulous care. There was no
room for error in his planned pursuit of the elusive Viviane McAfee.

Chapter Nine

Once again Lance called for Shriver. Seated at the table of
his office in Scotland Yard, he was surrounded by the paperwork accumulated
from the investigation of the Light Skirt Murders.

“Do you have information as to how the newspapers started
calling this the Case of the Light Skirt Murders? It’s a little too close to
the truth to suit me.”

Shriver shook his head. “No covering up the fact that
they’re prostitutes, Sir. In fact we haven’t tried to do that.”

“Just so long as the press doesn’t find out about the ‘W’s.
It’s the best clue we have.”

“Not likely, Sir. Our men are well primed to keep that fact
to themselves.”

Lance nodded and picked up his stack of papers again.
Suddenly he smiled. He’d gone stale on the case and would drive out and call on
Morgan. Unsuitable for him and not at all understandable, still she fascinated
him.

Although he longed with all his heart to kiss her breathless
and teach her a little about the art of passion, he couldn’t afford to even
consider such a foolish act. The only true conclusion with a girl as innocent
as Morgan was to marry her, an entanglement he wasn’t prepared to even
consider.

When he eventually married, he’d choose a girl from a
suitable and aristocratic family who knew how to move in his circles. Also one
who wouldn’t care to delve deep into his private memories. One who would leave
him heartfree. Morgan would move right into his soul and have him jabbering his
secrets to her within a month of a wedding ceremony! No, a week.

He’d treasure a marriage like his parents had, but for him
such rare intimacy was impossible.

Still he enjoyed Morgan’s company. She’d become almost a
palpable presence in his mind. She relaxed and invigorated him at the same
time.

Maybe it was time to see her once again. Perhaps then he
could banish her from his thoughts.

He wouldn’t touch her. He’d just talk to her.

* * * * *

He found her home and reading in the parlor. His first
reaction was sheer relief, of a surprising intensity. He’d tried two other
times to see her, only to be told she was not at home. The second reaction was
curiosity as to her reading tastes.

She rose to greet him, her book in the left hand as she
extended her right.

“My lord Lance, you’re welcome. I fear I’m a bit untidy. I
started reading earlier this morning and have taken time for nothing else.”

Her smile showed she was pleased to see him and nothing else
mattered to Lance. Actually he thought she looked perfectly charming. Her
morning gown of light green with darker green accents in the sash made her look
like a flower of spring. Her emerald eyes were sparkling and he dared to hope
the brilliance was due at least partly to his arrival. Her hair had slipped a
little from its coil and several reddish brown strands strayed around her
blooming cheeks.

She blew a wisp of hair away. He dug his hands into his
pockets. It was all he could do not to reach out and push back another soft
strand drifting across her silken skin.

She motioned him to a nearby chair and resumed her own, the
book still dangling from her fingers.

Lance strove to speak lightly.

“May I ask what you’re reading that has you enthralled?”

“Victor Hugo’s treatise on the battle of Waterloo. A short
book, but one with a very different viewpoint from our British one, I can tell
you. Quite a revelation, in fact.”

Lance took the book from her hand and leafed through it.

“In French, I see.”

Her nose tipped up in the way he found so charming.

“I read a good deal, my lord. In several languages.”

He laughed at her effort at hauteur and flicked his finger
on her cheek.

“Come now. I do not mean any of my comments to be
disparaging. I’m not surprised, although you must have gone to an exceptional
school. You are more learned in many ways than the young ladies I know.”

“I went to no school, my lord. My mother hired tutors and
directed my education herself.”

This was by far the most informative personal remark she’d
made and it explained a good deal. With her mother’s knowledge pushing her
daughter’s intellect no wonder this girl was special in so many ways. As well
as her lack of some feminine pursuits such as flirting. And her innocence.

He turned to her with a genuine smile.

“I came to ask you to have lunch with me. Might I hope
you’ll accept? I promise to be my least cantankerous self.”

Instead of smiling back as he’d expected, she solemnly
looked at him for one of the longer moments he could remember. Longer even than
her usual scrutiny.

Her face cleared like a surge of sunshine.

“Yes, I see you truly want my company. May I have my choice
of where we eat?”

She dimpled and watched him gravely. Quite surprised, he
could only nod yes. The little minx. What did she have in mind? He was sure of
only one thing, none of the overpriced restaurants currently favored by society
would be in the running. Not with his thoroughly enchanting Druid.

“I’m delighted to take you anywhere you wish to go, my dear.
I hope I don’t have to guess, however, as your captivating mind is always a
mystery to me.”

She gave a triumphant crow of delight.

“Hyde Park,” she announced. “I want to go for a ride in Hyde
Park.”

“But there are no restaurants there.”

“We don’t need one.” Her smile displayed her sheer pleasure
in the suggestion. “There are plenty of vendors on the outskirts. We can pick
up some pasties and oranges and picnic in the Park. I’ll even bring a blanket
to sit on.”

Looking at her glowing face he regretted his absolute
decision not to touch her. Everything about her came close to being
irresistible. Her beauty was only part of her appeal, although her sparkling
emerald eyes would bewitch a better man than he. Her hair fascinated him. A
tawny shade he couldn’t name, he found himself watching for its changing
highlights. He badly wanted to hold her close to him, just for a second and
taste those full rosy lips.

Instead he answered her with a grin.

“You’re a baggage! It’s a wonderful idea, but we probably
won’t find any Banbury tarts. Can we also stop for lemonade?”

“Of course! I’ll bring some water in case we can’t find the
lemonade. Isn’t this a wonderful idea?”

She danced from the room, her exceptional grace evident in
every movement.

Lance watched her go, amused and enthralled. If he didn’t
want to act on his amorous thoughts, he’d better start controlling them. They
really had no place in a Chief Inspector’s mind. Not one who was determined to
let his interest in Miss Morgan McAfee go no further.

One who didn’t dare let his interest go any further.

* * * * *

Morgan smiled delightedly at Lance as they sat on a blanket
under a shade tree in Hyde Park. The sky was a delphinium blue and a soft
breeze caressed their cheeks. It was one of those special days when a golden
autumn sun seemed to bathe the whole world with added beauty. They had just
passed a bed of lavender and the spicy scent hung in the air. Morgan was
peeling an orange and giving Lance every other fragrant segment.

“I didn’t think to look for sweets. But this is simply
wonderful. What a special day nature has given us. It’s easy to forget winter
will soon be upon us when the breeze is this balmy. I find it felicitous we are
under an oak tree. Oaks have many important meanings to the Druids.”

“And you honor those beliefs?”

From the sudden drop in his voice as well as his piercing
glance, Morgan realized her answer was important. She phrased her words with
obvious care.

“I cannot be other than I am, Lance. I know the manner of
life of the Druids has no place in life today. I’m not stupid, I see the faults
in the Druid philosophy guaranteeing they can’t survive in the modern world.
Still I honor their primary principle that all religions should be tolerated
and I know their wise women could help with the terrible problems of sickness.
The Druid beliefs that all gods are acceptable could transform this world of
ours if everyone respected those beliefs.” She paused to breathe a small sigh.
“Not likely at all.”

Lance was chewing on a leaf of grass, leaning back on the
blanket and gazing up at the sky. He’d stretched out, his arms flung behind his
head. Morgan thought she’d never seen such a perfect male. He’d taken off his
jacket and his shirt was stretched tight across his corded chest. She watched
as his muscles flexed as he shifted position. She forced herself to look away.
He tempted her to touch him with every breath he inhaled.

His body was magnificent. He could easily pose for a statue
by Michelangelo, had he been born in another day. Perhaps he had been born once
at that time. Had she known him in his then life? Was this one of the reasons
he fascinated her so?

They finished their picnic lunch, accompanied by remarks
from Lance about the low standard of service.

He tilted his chin up high and looked down his nose in
imitation of a snobbish aristocrat.

“Do you realize not even one waiter has asked what we
desire? And the chairs are not comfortable at all. I hope madam doesn’t feel
she ever wants to come back to this establishment.”

Morgan thought him funny and very dear, as she took up the
game.

“But m’seiu, we have given you our best service. Please tell
me there is anything at all we can do for you to make up for our regrettable
negligence.”

She thought her take-off on a waiter’s pretended French
accent to be rather well done, but she found herself looking at Lance and
wondering why he wasn’t amused. To her astonishment he reached over and yanked
her on top of him. The feel of his prone body touching hers from shoulder to
toe struck her like a flame set to tinder. She felt fashioned of fire as she
gasped and began to draw shallow breaths. Then she froze into perfect stillness
as he reached up and drew her lips down to his.