Druid's Daughter (4 page)

“Unless I miss my guess here’s the ringleader,” Lord Lance
said to his men with a grimace. “He’s not fit to touch, but take him in. No,
let’s search him first.”

Cuttering struggled wildly, but handcuffed and held by two
officers he had no chance.

“How nice,” said the Chief Inspector, his tone curt yet
satisfied. “Here’s ten of the fifteen thousand. I imagine he’ll be glad to tell
us about the other five thousand.”

Dellafield’s contented grin made the thug shudder even more.

“Take him in now, men and be very careful he doesn’t get
away. He’ll doubtless try, as he knows he’s going in for a long prison term. Or
worse. I’ll be along presently.”

Dellafield walked quickly to Morgan’s carriage and swung in.
Ambrose welcomed him by holding out his paw to be shaken and Morgan’s face lit
up with pleasure and surprise that Ambrose approved of the tall, upright man.

The Chief Inspector gravely offered his hand to the big dog
and then turned to Morgan.

“It seems Ambrose accepts me as the friend I would like to
be. Truly, Miss McAfee, I am forever in your debt. You can call on me at any
time for any service I might do for you.”

He picked up her hand and kissed it with all the sincerity
and gratitude he felt. Without this girl Jamie might soon be on his way to a
ship taking him to be the sex-slave of some perverted Maharajah. He meant the
kiss to convey a little of how truly grateful he felt. What he’d not counted on
was how touching her sent a thrill shooting up his arm and whispering little
shivers down his spine.

He raised surprised eyes to startled green ones. Evidently
she’d felt that buzzing delight as much as he.

Neither said a word for a moment, until Jamie broke into a
smile when Ambrose reached over and licked his face.

Jamie chuckled and mopped at his wet cheek. “I like this big
dog. May I pet him, ma’am?”

Morgan’s smile shone sweet and unchanging. “Of course you
can. He’s just told you he wants to be your friend and I’m sure he’ll be glad
to know you accept his friendship.”

Jamie immediately knelt to nuzzle Ambrose’s ruff.

The two grownups sat looking at each other, with a bit of
wonder in the gaze of both.

“You have shaken me to the core, Miss Morgan, in more ways
than one. I cannot say I believe in your powers as a psychic and yet I can no
longer completely disbelieve.” He shook his head in perplexity. “Your vision of
the
Blue Doors Tavern
was an inspiration of a kind I don’t understand.
But without it we would never have found Jamie.”

His deep voice rang with such sincerity and gratitude Morgan
felt herself blush.

“And you caught the really bad man. Or I guess Ambrose did,”
Jamie chimed in.

“Why do you say he’s really bad, Jamie?” asked Morgan before
Dellafield could do so.

“He’s mean. He’s the one who snatched my bread and cheese.
Then he’d scold me and hit me for not being grateful for my meal. And he yelled
at everybody.”

The child talked rapidly, undoubtedly pleased to have
someone he loved listen to him.

“He only hit me sometimes, though. Said he didn’t want me
marked up, or else he’d really teach me how to behave in the presence of my
betters. Except I couldn’t believe he was my betters.”

“Nor is he, Jamie. Not in any respect.” Dellafield patted
the child’s head with such affection in the gesture Morgan felt her eyes fill.

“He’s lucky I didn’t know this before they took him away. I
might have forgotten what I strive to teach my men. But he’s on his way to
jail, where he’ll stay for a very long time. And we must get you home, Jamie.”
He ran his hand through the bright curls. “I sent a constable ahead telling
your papa to expect us soon. I think he’ll particularly want to thank Miss
Morgan for leading us to find you.”

The Chief Inspector’s wide smile showed his own still strong
gratitude.

Jamie took his arms from Ambrose’s neck and flew to Morgan
again, crawling onto her lap and hugging her.

“Thank you, thank you, Miss Morgan. Thank you forever.”

Tears were welling in Morgan’s eyes as she hugged the small
boy. The thought of the wicked plans for him seemed too much for her mind to
acknowledge. She thought she knew about evil since she’d long been dedicated to
fighting it in her own way, but such sick malevolence disturbed her deeply.

She hugged the boy, burying her cheek against his curls,
grateful to her Goddess for the opportunity of holding him.

“Jamie, would you let me visit you from time to time? Of
course I’d bring Ambrose, as I think he’s already adopted you as his very
special friend. He belongs to my mother, you know, but helps me from time to
time.”

“Ooh, yes ma’am. You’re both awf’lly nice.”

The little boy’s sunny smile revealed how the horror of his
imprisonment wouldn’t cling to him forever, even though a wary look lurked deep
in his eyes. Morgan and the Chief Inspector exchanged satisfied glances and
once again Morgan thought what a thoroughly good man the Chief Inspector had
proven to be. He might try to hide behind curtness, but she now thought it a
shield held high in an effort to mask a caring nature.

Why did he cover up to this extent? Could she get behind his
stony countenance and find the real Lance Dellafield? The interesting study of
contrasts beckoned to her. Yet he showed no signs of attraction for her beyond
a slight and recent appreciation of her powers. And that strange, buzzing, kiss
on her hand. Perhaps she should concentrate on searching for the genuine Lord
Laniston Dellafield buried somewhere under his official façade.

Morgan smiled and unconsciously smoothed her hair. The
hidden Lord Lance might be rather pleasing to know. She thought the name his
men had given him, Lucky Lance, was a clue to how they both respected and liked
him. And now she could sincerely echo the respect.

Had he felt the tingling she did when he touched her? Even
when he did nothing but hand her out of the carriage, her bones shivered. A
prickly awareness, exhilarating and most peculiar, seemed to heighten all her
senses when he was near.

No, she must ignore her deep desire to decipher this appeal
of his. It would be fatal to care for a man who could never care for her. Life
surely would not hold such an ultimate irony. She must be cautious she never
came even close to making such a dreadful mistake. Lord Lance might be the most
tempting man she’d ever encountered, but that only proved she should be all the
more on her guard.

Not that she’d see him after tonight. She’d doubtless
fulfilled a function he appreciated, but what further use could he have for
her?

Chapter Four

The two adults were silent on the ride to the Commissioner
Randall’s house. Jamie played with Ambrose, to the delight of both boy and dog.
Dellafield folded his arms and leaned back against the squabs of the hackney,
his big body seemingly relaxed. He gave one piercing glance at Morgan and then
with deliberation, closed his eyes.

Morgan kept sneaking a peek at him, but his eyelids never
budged. She thought if she could only look into those beautiful deep eyes she
might discover a great deal. Perhaps he was worried about just that, since he
gave her no opportunity to read any mirrored thoughts.

In a short time the cab drew up in front of the home of the
Commissioner of Scotland Yard. The hired hackney driver had responded with
immediate respect when given the address. The sight of the large colonnaded
home in Grosvernor Square drew a low whistle from him. Morgan too was
impressed, but not by the building. On the steps stood a tall gray-haired man
who must be Commissioner Randall and with him were two women. One was a
cold-eyed spinsterish-looking woman with a rigid bearing. The other was
Morgan’s always surprising and lovely mother, Viviane McAfee.

Almost before the carriage stopped, Commissioner Randall
strode and reached in for his son. He held him for a long moment a little away
from him and then crushed the boy to him as if satisfied there was no
perceptible damage.

“Welcome home, son,” he said huskily and buried his face for
another long moment in Jamie’s curls. He hugged him again and then set the boy
on his feet, still holding his small hand in his big one.

Dellafield helped Morgan down and then watched with a smile
as Ambrose burst from the carriage to run to Morgan’s mother and after an
affectionate greeting from her, settle by her side.

Lady Cynthia sniffed, but turned to Jamie. “It’s good to see
you, Jamie. My, are those the clothes you wore five days ago? Come along now,
you’ll want to bathe and put on fresh garments after so many days in those
filthy ones.”

Jamie clung tightly to his father’s hand. “Please, Papa, I
don’t want to leave you yet. Please.”

“Nor do I want you to, Jamie. Cynthia, I appreciate your
concern, but I’ll see Jamie is freshened when he is ready to do so. He might
even like a little nap. I’ll wager you haven’t been sleeping well, have you, my
son?”

Jamie shook his head, relief lighting his eyes. “Not really,
Papa. But I want to be with you.”

He looked so adoringly at his father Morgan’s throat caught.

“Then let’s all go into the house. You and I will go to your
room and you can sleep a little while. I give you my word I’ll not leave your
bedside ‘til you waken. Say your goodbyes and thank yous, Jamie.”

Jamie quickly hugged Morgan and the Chief Inspector and to
Morgan’s surprise, her mother. He took his aunt’s hand and shook it as her face
tightened. Then he gave Ambrose one last hug.

With a quelling glance at Lady Cynthia who’d opened her
mouth then closed it, and a soft “goodbye” to every one else, Commissioner
Randall led his son away. Morgan stood in shock. Jamie knew her mother well
enough to warrant a hug from an exhausted child?

She shot a sidewise glance at the Chief Inspector, who’d
certainly not missed a thing, yet didn’t seem surprised. In fact he turned to
her with a knowing grin, which under the circumstances made her want to slap
his smiling face.

“Suppose you leave me here, Chief Inspector,” Morgan said.
“I haven’t seen my mother for several days and would be glad of a chance to
have a long chat with her. Perhaps we can walk home together.”

Her mother merely smiled in the wise and loving way usually
warming to Morgan’s affectionate heart.

“Truly my daughter and I are overdue for some time together.
But Ambrose and I must return home more quickly than by walking. Could you
drive us to our place, Chief Inspector Lord Lance?”

For the first time in her life Morgan glared at her mother.
She’d deliberately maneuvered so Morgan would not find time to talk to her.
Viviane McAfee merely smiled sweetly and patted Ambrose on his silky head as
they walked out. Still smiling, she waited for the Chief Inspector to hand her
into the carriage.

Dellafield could not resist grinning as Viviane McAfee began
to talk the minute they were all in the carriage. She completely dominated the
conversation, not at all her habitual method of listening so she could
accurately judge a stranger. Her daughter watched her and could not believe the
chatter. Viviane finally turned to the Chief Inspector and asked him sweetly if
he knew much about witches.

He grinned more widely and said he did not, but somehow he’d
recently conceived quite a desire to do so. Morgan gritted her teeth and
scowled at them both as her mother began to explain and Dellafield settled back
to listen.

“The word witch comes from the word ‘wicca’, which means
wise woman. True witches have always worked for the good of all. The main
foundation of witches’ belief is simple, above all do no harm.” She smiled as
if at a promising pupil. “The dominating rule commanding every action is ‘And you
harm none, do as you will’. One must never do harm to oneself, nor to any
other. Anyone who harms another is not a true witch.”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “All very true, my mother, but I
can’t think a Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard is interested.”

“But I am,” interrupted the Chief Inspector. “I find this
fascinating. As I’ve always found my title ridiculously long. I’d be honored if
both you ladies called me Lance.”

“I don’t think so,” snapped Morgan. When her mother looked
her surprise she added, “But perhaps Lord Lance, if that’s agreeable. Although
you said once you didn’t like your title as well as that of Chief Inspector.”

Her glance, laced with honey, was directed more at her
mother than Lord Lance.

“I’d be honored to have you call me whatever you like,” said
the Chief Inspector.

Morgan admitted to herself he’d outmaneuvered her. She
waited, now smiling sweetly as both her mother and Lord Lance leaned back
against the squabs. Then she added words that should squelch him and alert her
mother.

“You are wasting your time, mother. This particular man will
never understand what it means to be a witch. He even thinks Druids and witches
are one and the same.”

Lord Lance flushed at her implied conviction of his
arrogance. He turned again to Mrs. McAfee.

“Please go on,” he said in a sincere voice. “I would
appreciate anything you could say to enlighten me. I know I’m woefully ignorant
on the subject of Druids.”

Viviane McAfee laughed at them both. “No, I think not. At
least not now, maybe later. Actually witches are much simpler to understand
than Druids, which is why I started with them. Many, many people confuse the
two. But there, my gates are coming near, Lord Lance.”

“I fear I need much enlightenment,” said Lord Lance as he
tapped with his cane on the roof of the cab. “I trust you’ll continue your
teaching another day.”

His driver swung between the black iron gates, while Lance
and Mrs. McAfee smiled at each other in perfect accord.

The dwelling beyond the gates was the most gracious
townhouse Lord Lance had ever seen. It was not large, but every golden brick
seemed to proclaim welcome. Lance could not discern exactly what made it so
pleasing. He turned to Viviane to compliment her on her home and found her
looking at him with a complacent delight.