Eochaidh - Legend of the Horsemen (Book One) (4 page)

As Meaghan exited the dining room, Fitzhugh motioned
discreetly for her to follow him.
 
Closing the door softly behind herself, she tiptoed down the hall after
the butler.
 
Upon reaching the front
lobby, Fitzhugh turned and bowed slightly.
 
“You have a guest,” he intoned formally. “Lord Montague is waiting for
you in the parlor.”

“Thank you, Fitz,” she said with a grin. “Has he already received
some refreshment?”

“Yes, my lady,” Fitz replied, the narrowing of his face the
only sign that he disapproved. “He has consumed two platefuls of pastries and
three pots of tea while waiting for you these past fifteen minutes.
 
I did suggest that he join the family for
breakfast, but he insisted he had already broken his fast and would merely
need…a snack.”

“Well, it’s a good thing he had already eaten,” Meaghan
whispered. “Monty has been known to completely clean out our larders when he’s
actually hungry.”

Fitz found it once again necessary to cough into his hand as
he nodded to Meaghan. “As you say, miss,” he said. “As you say.”

“Meggie, is that you?” Monty called from the parlor.

She smiled at Fitz. “Please tell my parents that Monty is
here,” she said. “I’m sure they’ll want to see him, too.”

“As you wish,” Fitz said, turning and walking back toward
the dining room.

Meaghan pushed open the parlor door and entered. Her second
cousin, the honorable Lord Montague Strathmore was finishing the last bite of
pastry on the plate.
 
“Hello, Monty,” she
said. “Fitz told me you had dropped by for a snack.”

Looking slightly embarrassed, Monty looked at the now empty
platters and teapot and shrugged. “Can’t help myself,” he said, still chewing
the last bit of food. “I’m a growing boy.”

At a little over six feet tall, Monty was indeed taller than
most men in the area. But at nineteen he hadn’t begun to fill out, so he
resembled a walking broomstick.
 
Shaking
her head, Meaghan sat across from him. “I still don’t understand where you
possibly store all the food you eat,” she teased.

“Mum says I burn it while I eat it,” he replied, touching
his finger to his tongue and then dabbing at the small flakes of pastry still
left on the plate. “Perhaps she’s right.”

He licked the pieces off his finger and grinned at her.

“I dare say she’s right,” Meaghan agreed, and then she
leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiringly. “Is it true your mother will
allow you to go to the Gypsy camp with me?”

Looking cautiously around the room first, he then bent
forward and gave a short shake to his head. “No, actually, she thinks I’m here
with Lord John going over the estate books,” he confessed. “She thinks it’s his
duty to train me to take over for him, which I think is a little morbid, to say
the least,” he sighed deeply. “But, this can be our little secret, can’t it?”

Exhaling impatiently, Meaghan sat back against the chair.
“Well, I think it’s really quite rude of your mother to keep hoping for my
father’s demise,” she said. “I realize she wants you to be earl, and although I
really like you, Monty, I’d rather my father continue living.”

“Of course,” he agreed readily. “He’s the earl, and I pray
he continues to be.”

She studied him for a moment and then smiled. “Excellent,”
she said with a quick nod. “And while I really don’t think we should outright
lie to your mother, perhaps we can come up with a satisfactory solution.”

She placed her head in her hands and concentrated for a few
moments, staring at the wall behind Monty.
 
Finally, she lifted her head, grinned at Monty and nodded. “I do believe
I have found an answer.”

Scooting off the chair, she hurried to the hall and met her
parents coming toward the parlor. “Father, would you be willing to show Monty
what the estate books look like?” she asked, running to them.

“The estate books?” he asked. “Whatever for?”

“His mother desired that you show them to him,” she replied
innocently. “I suppose he’s never seen anything like that before.”

Lord John studied his daughter and then folded his arms
across his chest. “And what aren’t you telling us?” he asked.

“Really, Father,” she exclaimed. “Why must you be so
suspicious?
 
I merely wanted to be polite
and agree to Lady Strathmore’s request.”

He stared at her for a moment more, his expression of
disbelief not changing. “Very well, imp,” he said. “Send him over to my
library, and I will be very happy to show him the books.
 
I might even allow him to touch them.”

Grinning, Meaghan nodded. “He will be ecstatic,” she said,
coming forward and pressing a kiss on her father’s cheek. “Thank you.”

A few minutes later, Monty safely ensconced in her father’s
library, Meaghan hurried down the hall to the stairway.
 
She had just placed her hand on the polished
banister and had lifted one foot toward the gleaming step when her mother’s
voice stopped her. “Meaghan Isolde Herdin.”

When her mother used her middle name, she knew she was in
trouble.
 
Schooling her face to a
pleasant smile, she turned and faced her mother. “Yes, Mother?” she asked,
hoping the innocence she was trying for would be foremost in her appearance.

Her mother moved closer and looked into her daughter’s eyes.
“And what new kind of mischief have you pulled Monty into today?” she asked.

Meaghan sighed. It was useless to try to lie to her mother.
Somehow she always knew.
 
She would have
made a wonderful magistrate, no one could fool her.
 
“Monty’s mother did not give him permission
to go to the Gypsy camp,” she admitted. “She sent him over so Father could show
him the estate books and teach him how to run things. She feels it’s Father’s
duty to prepare Monty for Father’s eventual demise.”

Lady Evaleen’s left eyebrow lifted, and she cocked her head
to the side. “His eventual demise?” she asked coolly, though Meaghan could see
the anger in her eyes. “She actually said that?”

Nodding, Meaghan allowed her anger toward Lady Strathmore to
show. “I told Monty I thought it rude of Lady Strathmore to joyfully anticipate
Father’s death and I decided that if I asked Father to merely show Monty the
books, we were keeping within the letter of the request, if not the spirit.”

Lady Evaleen bit back a smile and nodded serenely. “I see,”
she replied. “And after your father shows Monty the books?”

“We go to the Gypsy camp and enjoy the day,” Meaghan said
with a wicked smile.

“And if Lady Strathmore hears about Monty’s visit to the
camp?”

Meaghan paused for just a moment. She hadn’t really
considered that problem.
 
When an idea
came to her mind, she grinned and looked up at her mother. “Well, of course
Monty has to go to the camp,” she said, her innocent air returning again. “As
the future lord, he must welcome all visitors to the area. Mother, it is
protocol.”

This time, Lady Evaleen did nothing to hide her smile.
“Meaghan, my dear, you are the veriest of rapscallions,” she laughed, coming
forward to embrace her daughter. “And I pray you never change.”

Lady Honora Strathmore was not pleased. This generally meant
most of her servants were huddled in the cellars, kitchens or other far reaches
of the estate, preferring to deal with cold, damp and rodent-infested
surroundings than face one of their lady’s temper tantrums. So while priceless
objets d’art were smashed against walls and fireplaces, most of the household
was too far away to hear what was being screamed in the lady’s chamber.

“I told you I wanted him dead,” the lady spat at the large
man sitting calmly in a chair in the corner of her private chamber.

“And so he will be,” he replied, with a deferential nod of
his head. “But in order not to raise suspicion, we need to be careful and not
rush things.”

“I don’t give a damn about suspicion,” she replied, whipping
a small porcelain shepherdess across the room into the fireplace only a few
feet from his head. “Let the fools be suspicious. It will do them no good.”

He folded his arms across his chest and watched her storm
across the room. She was magnificent. Her dark beauty was like dangerous storm
clouds racing across the plains, destroying anything that stood in its path and
stirring up the sky in majestic shades of purple, blue, grey and black.
 
Her flashing eyes held the cold fury of a
lightning strike, and her alabaster skin reflected the deathly beauty of a
snowstorm. And although he would never let her discern it, his own heart warred
within his chest, equally enticed and terrified by the woman before him.

“Aye, we need not worry about townsfolk,” he agreed. “For
they are naught but sheep and will do what’s best for their own safety.
 
But, we mustn’t arise Lord John’s suspicions,
for ‘tis never a good idea to scare the quarry from the trap.”

She paused at his words, slowly lowering a small ornamental
snuffbox and replacing it on her table. “You speak wisdom,” she finally agreed,
nodding slowly as she continued to dwell on his words. “But I will not be put
off much longer. My son is at the age where he is still malleable. Too many
more years and too much time with Lord John’s family and I fear he will develop
an affection for them.”

Grimacing with a moue of distaste and shuddering delicately,
she glanced at him.
 
“I cannot, for the
life of me, determine how he came to have such weakness,” she confessed. “I,
for one, have never encouraged familial intimacy with their family. I suppose
he must have gotten that weakness from his father.”

The man stood, his bulk dwarfing the delicate woman, but she
was not intimidated in the least. “Do not allow this to
cause
you distress, my lady,” he said. “Stratagems are already in place, and things
have been set in motion. The time is not too far gone that your son will be the
rightful lord.”

Pulling a lace handkerchief from her dress pocket, she lightly
dabbed her forehead and neck and then smiled at the man. “You do give me such
hope,” she said, delicately lowering her eyes for a moment. “I do get so
overset when I think things are not going the way they should.”

He moved closer to her, emboldened by her perceived
fragility. Heart racing, he inhaled her scent and felt himself being slowly
drawn under her spell.
 
Like a moth to
candlelight, he was unable to resist.
 
His hand rose of its own accord and lifted a lock of her blue-black hair
that had curled against her collarbone.
 
He caressed it between his fingers and felt his desire increase. She
turned to him, and her green eyes widened as she met his gaze. Her smile was
soft and seductive, and she gazed at him boldly for a moment and then slowly,
sensually, lowered her eyelids. He felt the punch of attraction rush through
his body, settling in his loins. The desire was overpowering; his reasoning was
gone.
 
All he knew was that he must have
her.

Wrapping one arm around her tiny waist, he pulled her tightly
against him, feeling her body melt against his own. He released the lock of
hair held in his other hand and slowly traced the line of her collarbone,
stopping to feel her rapid pulse. “You want me,” he whispered. “Do not deny
it.”

She merely smiled up at him, rolling her head back slightly
to allow him greater access to the sensitive areas of her neck and exposing
more of her décolletage to his eyes. He inhaled sharply and lowered his head,
brushing his lips against her jawline. “Milady,” he murmured.

He kissed her flesh and tasted her scent on his own lips,
intoxicating and spicy. All he knew was that he needed more. Sliding his other
arm around her waist, he pulled her even closer and tilted her back, exploring
her silky skin. He growled with satisfaction as he continued to savor her soft,
scented flesh, slowly working his way down to the low-cut neckline of her gown.

Suddenly he gasped, loosened his hold from around her waist
and fell to his knees in front of her, grasping his neck in his hands.

“Something wrong, Aloysius?” she asked sweetly, her left
eyebrow
raised
delicately over her eye.

His face had already started to turn from red to purple and
spittle was forming on his lips.
 
His
eyes, a combination of horror and beseeching, met hers.

“Ah, you would like to be able to breathe again, would you?”
she asked calmly. “But have you learned your lesson?”

He nodded, even as he began to fall forward.

“Very well,” she said with an impatient sigh, and she
lightly touched his neck with her fingers.

He gasped unsteadily and then gulped in air, his skin
returning to its normal pallor.

“It would do you well to remember this,” she said coldly. “I
am not some helpless woman you can toy with, Aloysius.”

He nodded, his throat too raw to speak, and crawled away from
her.

She smiled sweetly again. “I see we understand each other
now. Good.
 
Now get out of my chamber and
my home, and do the job I paid you for.”

His limbs shaking with fear and weakness, he used a chair to
pull himself into an upright position. Finally standing, he bowed deferentially
in her direction. “Milady,” he croaked and hurried out of the room.

She nodded back, pleased with his decorum. “Well done,” she
whispered to his back. “I may have to let you live after all.”

“So has the evil deed been done?” Lady Evaleen asked with a
teasing smile as she peeked around the doorway into her husband’s study.

Seated behind a large oak desk, Lord John looked up from his
paperwork and smiled at her. “Ah, you are wondering if I gave Monty access to
the Holy Grail of land management, my estate books, aren’t you?”

Slipping into the room, she perched on the edge of the
leather chair on the other side of his desk. “And did you?” she asked.

“Well, I made him wash his hands twice,” he replied. “And I had
him put on gloves.”

“And then…” she asked, trying to hold back her laughter.

“And then I let him view the books from the other side of
the room,” he said decisively.

Laughing, she sat back in the chair. “Never say that you
actually made that poor boy jump through all those hoops just to please his
mother,” she finally said, wiping tears from her eyes.

Lord John sat back in his chair, pleased that his words
brought so much amusement to his wife. “Of course not,” he confessed. “He sat
next to me, and we went through the account books in as much detail as time
would allow.
 
He is a quick study, and I
would not mind considering him to become my steward when he’s a little older.”

“I doubt his mother would think a job like steward was
keeping with his proper position within the community,” she replied. “I believe
she would like him to be lord.”

Lord John picked up a pencil from his desktop and tapped it
against the side of his head as he reflected on her comment.
 
“The biggest problem I can see with granting
her request,” he said slowly, “is that I would have to be dead.”

He stood and walked around the desk until he was in front of
his wife. “And even though I like the boy, I have already determined that there
are not enough hours in the day or days in the month or months in the years to
adequately express my deep devotion and admiration for you,” he said, as he
knelt before her, took her hand in his, turned it over and kissed her palm.
“And there are simply not enough nights in all of a lifetime to spend with you
locked in my arms.”

Bringing his hand to her lips, she kissed the palm of his
hand and met his gaze. “Why do you consider only a lifetime of nights?” she
whispered with a saucy grin. “I find the afternoon hours quite delightful in
pursuing … marital relations.”

Standing quickly, he pulled his wife up into his arms and
gave her a quick, hard kiss. “I have always said that you are the brains in
this relationship,” he murmured, kissing her again as he yanked on the bell
pull next to his desk.

A moment later, Fitz walked into the study, stepped back
into the hall and coughed discreetly into his hand to allow his lord and lady a
moment to extricate themselves from each other’s arms.

“Oh, good, Fitz,” Lord John said after a long moment, his
voice sounding slightly strained. “It seems that Lady Evaleen and I have to,
er
…”

He paused and glanced at his wife.
 
The sight of her, lips swollen from his
kisses, hair tousled from his hands and skin flushed with passion, caused him
to forget everything. He started to step close to her again and only stopped
when Fitz coughed once again.

“Your lord,” Fitz continued, as if nothing out of the
ordinary had occurred. “The housekeeper has mentioned that the wallpaper and
drapery in your suite seems a little out of date and worn.
 
I know you are very busy, but if you and Lady
Evaleen could take some time today to examine the furnishings in your quarters
and let me know what you think, I would be greatly appreciative.”

Lord John smiled at Fitz. “Why we should do that at once,”
he exclaimed, capturing his bride’s hand and pulling her along with him. “Come
along,
Evie
, we don’t want to make Mrs. Gallagher
wait.”

They hurried out the door and up the stairs to their
quarters.
 
Lord John pulled Lady Evaleen
into his arms as soon as he shut the door behind him.

“But, John,” she insisted, moaning softly as his lips
caressed her neck. “Shouldn’t we at least look at the wallpaper?”

“Darling,” he whispered, trailing kisses from her jawline
slowly across her face toward her lips. “Don’t you remember, we replaced the
wallpaper last fall?”

Her gasp of remembrance was captured by his lips as kissed
her mouth and then lifted her into his arms and hurried across the room to
their bed.

Downstairs, Fitzhugh strolled out of the study. It had taken
him a few moments to remove the indulgent smile from his face and now, with his
composure quite intact, he halted a chambermaid, arms filled with linens, who
had been heading toward the staircase. He recognized her as Daisy Gallagher,
the housekeeper’s daughter. “May I ask where you’re going?” he queried in a
commanding tone.
 

The young maid curtseyed quickly and replied with a shaky
voice. “I was just on my way upstairs, sir, to change the linens on milady’s
and milord’s bed.”

“Well, I’m afraid that chore will have to wait,” he replied.
“My lady has requested fresh strawberries for her dinner. I need you to go into
the village and purchase them in the marketplace.”

“Truly, I can go to the market?” the girl asked, her face
bright with wonder.

“Yes, you may,” he replied. “But you must be quick about it.
Tell your mother that I’ve requested you go and have her give you some coins
from the kitchen budget.”

The chambermaid began to scurry away, then sliding to a
stop, turned and curtseyed again to Fitz. “Thank you, sir,” she gushed. “I’ll
be quick, I promise.”

“See that you are, miss,” he said, biting back another
smile. “See that you are.”