Fire Raven (36 page)

A pair of young lovers, hand in hand, passed Kat on Bishopsgate; the girl was laughing, her fine dark hair blowing in the breeze. Her red-haired swain dangled a blue ribbon and a bunch of daisies before her eyes until, mischievously, she snatched them from his fist and ran. He gave merry chase, shouting her name so that it echoed off the alley stones:

“Ahh, Kaitlin, sweet Kaitlin, wait!”

His thick Irish brogue sent a cold shiver through Kat. Suddenly, she found herself weeping and didn’t know why.

M
ORGAN ARRIVED BACK AT
Hartshorn only to discover his wife missing. He felt a rising frustration as he questioned his apathetic servants. None knew where Kat had gone; only the stableman had bothered to notice that she left several hours ago. Kat must have run away after he had rejected her.

Cursing himself for a fool, Morgan called for his roan to be saddled. He downed a quick mug of ale and a handful of biscuits before he went in search of her. He decided to head to Whitehall first. If Kat believed herself well and truly spurned, it was logical she would turn to her sister for consolation.

He took care to don his bandage again in public, though it proved a waste of effort Merry Tanner was nowhere to be found. Her tiring woman, Jane, was diplomatically evasive about where his new sister-in-law might be. Morgan realized the servant assumed him to be one of the queen’s spies. None of his wheedling arguments — not a whole crown — could serve to pierce the woman’s reserve. She denied any knowledge of her mistress’s whereabouts.

“You’re a good girl, Jane,” he said before he left, and, with a gesture of defeat, he pressed the crown into her palm before he left. “A loyal servant is worth ten of these. I shall see you are properly rewarded one day soon.” Jane dropped him a dutiful curtsey, eyes wide with curiosity and some trepidation. Morgan realized his bandage must be disconcerting to others by daylight and suddenly hated it with a passion. Jesu, he was so weary of the charade.

Softening a little, Jane blurted, “Captain Navarre inquired earlier after Mistress Kat, sir. Mayhap he has found her by now.”

Navarre. The name set his teeth on edge. Morgan realized the French captain was a logical choice. If Kat had not gone to her sister, perhaps she had turned to a trusted friend for advice or consolation. He tried not to think of the latter possibility, when he scratched at Navarre’s door in the barracks.

Morgan warned himself not to be surprised by whatever he found. He deserved the worst. A sleepy Navarre answered the door. The handsome captain did the wrong thing when he recognized Morgan: He smiled.

Morgan caught a glimpse of the bed over Navarre’s shoulder. He saw a fan of dark hair across the pillows.

“You bastard.” Reason went out the window, as Morgan’s fist connected with Lucien’s jaw. The naked Frenchman stumbled backwards into the room with the force of the blow.

“
Mon Dieu
!” The woman in the bed screamed, shrill as a fishwife, and pulled the covers over her head.

Morgan stepped into the room, over Lucien’s faint protests, and went to the bed. He whipped the covers back; he froze, staring down at the bawd with Kat’s dark hair, but a coarser face. She whimpered beneath his cold assessment.

With an oath, Morgan tossed the blankets back over the wench’s trembling form. He spun on his heel to leave, just as Navarre came around.

Gingerly touching his bruised jaw, Lucien shook his golden head free of stars. He stared up at Morgan. “I demand to know the meaning of this intrusion,
monsieur
.”

Without answering the captain, Morgan demanded in turn, “Have you seen Kat?”

“I’ve a mind not to tell you anything, after what you’ve done here,” Navarre said. He came to his feet a little unsteadily, and met Morgan’s gaze. Then he reached for a murrey silk dressing gown and drew it over his broad shoulders. He sighed as he belted the robe. “Katherine has never come to me.”

“Never?” Morgan heard himself demand, sounding suspiciously close to a jealous husband.

Lucien’s blue eyes twinkled. “You are a possessive man, Trelane. I thought as much the night of the masque.
Non
, Katherine has never been my lover, though I will not deny I wished otherwise. She is a priceless pearl and you cast her foolishly aside.”

Morgan’s jaw tightened. “I did nothing of the sort.”

“Then why are you looking for her here?”

“My wife is missing. I thought perhaps — ”

“Your wife!” Lucien’s exclamation was one of shock and envy. He chuckled. “So you thought the worst, eh, Trelane?” For some reason his piercing blue gaze suddenly softened on Morgan.

“Yea, she is my wife. I see you … admire Kat. And she speaks of you fondly.”

Lucien knew what it cost the other man to admit that. “You are a fool,” he said, shaking his head. “
Oui
, I admire your wife greatly. Especially her courage. But I knew Katherine loved another from the moment I declared my own intentions. She was too kind to hurt me, but I saw from the beginning I had no chance. We are great friends;
ha las
, I still find rejection hard to accept. If she came to me now, I would not turn her away.”

Morgan stiffened. The handsome captain was honest, too honest. He quelled the urge to strike the man again.
Damme
! He
was
jealous.

The woman in the bed had gathered her wits by then and spoke querulously in French. Lucien turned and curtly addressed her complaints. When he turned back to the door, Trelane was gone.

“W
HERE’S
U
NCLE
K
IT
?” Kat demanded, the moment Merry stepped into Ambergate’s parlor.

“Dear Kat! Where have you been? Everyone has been looking for you. Uncle Kit called at Hartshorn some time ago and was told you were out. He went in search of Lord Trelane instead. Isobel had just taken Maggie to the dressmakers, and not a moment too soon. We have all received a royal summons for this evening. You realize what this means?”

Kat sighed and reached down to massage her aching feet. “I’m too tired to worry about it. I walked about London most of the morning, Merry. I had some thinking to do.”

“Goodness, it must have been rather heavy thinking. I cannot blame you for dreading the queen’s reaction to the news of your wedding. I understand Bess is in a fearful froth. Uncle Kit intends to try and placate her, once he tracks down your wayward husband.”

Kat shook her head. “The queen is the least of my concerns, Merry.”

Her sister looked shocked. “It bodes ill to be cavalier where Bess is concerned. Come, dearest, sit down, and I’ll send for a pot of hot, strong tea and some of Cook’s delicious biscuits. We must discuss a strategy for this evening. Certainly, we must plan on a suitable costume. Mayhap you can wear my yellow damask? You are not fond of it, I know, and such a shade makes brunettes look sallow, but I’ve learned ’tis wise to feign ill health when one requires Her Grace’s sympathies.”

“Nay, Merry. I can’t stay.” Kat took a deep breath. “I’ve made up my mind; I’m leaving for Wales straightaway.”

Merry’s jaw dropped. “Wales? Are you mad?”

“Mayhap.”

“Lord Trelane — ”

“Morgan must do as he sees fit,” Kat said wearily. “I’ve no more stomach for these charades.”

“Your husband was here early this morn,” Merry said. “He and Uncle Kit spoke at great length here in the parlor. Alack, I couldn’t hear what they were saying, though ’twas not for lack of skill nor trying.”

“No doubt ’twas about dissolution of our marriage. Morgan vowed he would seek an annulment. He was furious, Merry, absolutely furious that we all tricked him. It appears the queen shall have her champion in this cause, after all.”

“Then why go to Wales, where you are not wanted? Stay here at Ambergate, where you are safe and loved.”

Kat set her jaw, and, in that stubborn expression, Merry caught a glimpse of their mother, Bryony.

“Nay. I’ve a right to return to Falcon’s Lair and stay there, until Morgan or the queen tell me otherwise. Besides, I never thanked the Careys for their hospitality, and I feel a strong need to walk the shores where the
Fiach Teine
sank. I must deal with the tragedy, once and for all.”

Merry sighed. “You can’t let it rest, can you?”

“Rory was my husband. The entire crew was like family to me. Mother and Father would understand.”

“I wish they were here to dissuade you now.”

“They would understand better than anyone, I think.” Kat paused, blinking back tears at the memory of all the beloved faces she had grown up with and sorely missed now.

Over the past few months, the names and faces of her crewmen had slowly surfaced, one by one: Rogan Keane, first mate, a dear cousin; Ty Dempsey, their burly bosun; Corby MacQuaid, the lookout; Little Barry, the cabin boy, not quite twelve when he died; Higgins, a cranky but amazing cook, who served nigh two-score in her parents’ fleet. Slade had lent Higgins to his daughter, with a wink and a grin.

Kat’s heart ached when she imagined telling her parents how she had failed. She recalled both of them as proud, especially her mother. Kat was said to resemble Bryony Tanner in more than looks. While her mother still sailed the high seas without a qualm, Kat had suffered terror of water ever since the tragedy. She knew she must deal with it eventually. Returning to the site of Adrien Lovelle’s treachery, and Rory’s death, was the first step in the direction towards the healing of her heart.

Merry sensed her unwavering stance and sighed again. “’Tis utter madness to defy the queen, Kat. You have already roused Bess’s ire by snatching Maggie’s intended and by wedding the baron under false pretenses.”

“Maggie was glad to be quit of Trelane’s suit, and as for Morgan, I thought he would come ’round to the notion once the shock faded. He is not, it seems, pleased to find me his wife today, yet the deed is done. Short of the annulment, he must deal with me. I will seek my answers in Wales, Merry.”

Another sigh came from her sister. “How will you get there?”

“I pray Uncle Kit might lend me a mount.”

Merry shook her head. “Don’t be foolish. ’Tis too dangerous for a woman to travel such a distance alone. If you must go, you will take one of the coaches. And I shall go with you. If you must defy Bess, you shall not be alone.”

Kat did not conceal her relief. “Would you risk so much for me?”

“What are sisters for?”

T
HEY CROSSED THE
W
ELSH
border on a stormy, windswept day. Slowly and painstakingly, the elegant Tanner coach continued rumbling northward, Kat and Merry ensconced within its cozy velvet depths. Jem, the coachman, had been reluctant to spirit them off on such a lark.

“Don’t favor this one bit,” he repeated whenever they stopped to change horses or frequent an inn. He ominously shook his grizzled head. “There are rogues and brigands all about, miladies, and the master would rightly have my hide should anythin’ happen to either of ye.”

“Uncle Kit will understand the necessity of the matter,” Merry reassured the old driver at their last stop before the border. “I left him a letter in great detail, explaining our actions. Please, Jem, you know me to be a reasonable and mature young woman. Faith, I would not accompany my sister north were it not absolutely necessary.”