Fire Raven (41 page)

“’Twould seem I should,” he murmured.

“Aye, Master Humble. Methinks you protest too much against the notion of Cupid’s dart. Is’t so awkward, then, to suppose your face as fair to Lady Katherine as Apollo’s?”

“Not awkward, Your Majesty. Nigh impossible.”

Elizabeth patted his face in motherly fashion, startling him. “Naught is impossible when I order it, sirrah.”

Morgan blinked with surprise. “You would command me to love my wife, Your Grace? I thought you summoned me here to dissolve the marriage.”

“I’truth, I did intend it. Methinks there is cause for reconsideration.’’

“Because of my face?” Morgan’s challenge was quiet, though no less bold for the fact.

“In
spite
of it, milord.” Elizabeth reclined in her throne and regarded him coolly. “Yea, one might pity Lady Katherine, but I suspect she has snagged a rare prize. Indeed, it appears so. If the wench is half so canny as her Irish kin, ’tis a wonder you are still in London.”

Morgan was silent a moment. “I had planned to pursue Kat,” he confessed, “but Your Majesty’s summons came first.”

Elizabeth snorted. “Aye? Rather I would vow you intended to ignore the royal missive altogether, in a Welshman’s dudgeon,” she said, and Morgan felt his cheeks burn, since that was exactly what he intended. England’s domina was far more perceptive, and sensitive, than he imagined one of self-centered Tudor descent could be.

Despite his resentment of Elizabeth’s meddling ways, Morgan had to confess he admired her. Admired a crotchety old queen who simpered like a young chit one moment and breathed fire and brimstone the next. Elizabeth Tudor was an admirable foe for matching wits against, if a man had the courage or inclination. He had neither at present.

Elizabeth’s chuckle broke the silence. “Come now, Master Humble. Hast our dear Kat stolen your tongue and fled with it to Wales? Then I must bade you return to your modest abode and wrest it from her determined grip.” Her gray eyes sparkled with sudden merriment “Marry, ’tis the only solution to this tangled net that I will consider.”

Realizing he was dismissed, Morgan rose and executed a deep bow. “I would serve your wishes, Your Grace,” he said.

“Just so. Pray God, you will always serve me thus.”

“With all my heart, Your Majesty.”

Remembering Elizabeth’s airy, yet affectionate, dismissal, Morgan was touched anew. He was no less surprised by her perceptiveness. Even the queen realized his heart’s desire resided at Falcon’s Lair; Elizabeth had commanded him to settle matters with Kat, however he might.

Their marriage would not be annulled. Not by church dictate, nor royal decree. It was up to Morgan to make amends now. He prayed it was not too late.

Chapter Twenty-One

“P
LEASE
, M
ERRY
,” K
AT APPEALED
, as her sister readied her departure for London, “I don’t want you to leave yet. I understood Mama and Papa’s need for haste, but can’t you send word to the queen and to Uncle Kit that you need to stay until autumn?”

Merry smiled and set aside the last of her baggage for Jem to attend to later. “I would fain stay, Kat,” she said, “but I’ve overstayed my welcome, and methinks Bess will be growing impatient. I’ve already risked her wrath by remaining here so long. You will do just fine in my absence. At last the staff is coming ’round to your ways.”

Merry recalled the devil’s own time she’d had in getting anyone from the village to come work at Falcon’s Lair. She’d deduced, during her stay, that the Welsh were far too proud and independent to make decent help and were best left to their own devices. There were precious few choices for servants in the surrounding area; she had to be satisfied with whatever she found.

At least she had finally procured a downstairs maid to help Winnie, and a doddering but winsome old man to play valet to Lord Trelane. Merry had arranged for the pair to arrive this evening. The maid servant swore she was experienced. Merry thought the chit seemed somewhat sly, but beggars could not be choosers. Pray dear Kat was not foolish enough to leave jewels and valuable gewgaws scattered about. The elderly valet claimed to be her grandfather and vouched for the girl’s honesty, but Merry was troubled anyway. If only Falcon’s Lair was in civilized London!

Well, Merry reasoned, she could set about redecorating Hartshorn when she returned to town and surprise Kat on her next visit. Merry would insist Trelane allow his wife to travel to London, thrice a year at least. Morgan seemed a dour sort of fellow; doubtless Kat would welcome the change of atmosphere. Too much doom and gloom was not good for the complexion, Merry decided.

Meanwhile, she hoped her efforts to improve Falcon’s Lair would not go unappreciated when Morgan finally arrived. They were already welcomed by her sister. Kat would soon learn to appreciate all the little niceties of her new position.

Merry sighed at the memory of all she had endured. Kat regarded her quizzically, and she was forced to explain.

“Truth to tell, Kat, I shall be well-quit of this dreary place. I miss Court and all the little civilities I took for granted there. Perhaps Wales suits you, but I fear I find it cold and cheerless. I do wish you happiness, y’know.”

Kat nodded. “I know. Bless you for all you’ve done here, Merry. I believe you’re right: the others seem to be warming to me now — except for Winnie.” She sighed at the thought of the friendship she had lost.

“The best way to handle subordinates is with a firm hand, dear. I could never make Mother understand the notion, either. She always treated her crew like family. ’Tis a grievous day indeed when a proper English lady must needs converse on an equal plane with commoners.”

“Merry! We’re both half-Irish.”

The redhead ignored the reminder. “You will do quite well, Kat, if you but remember my advice: always dress as befits your station and keep your head high; don’t lower yourself to a minion’s level by discussing anything but simple business with them; give your orders in a crisp, clear, authoritative voice. However, you must never raise your voice, lest you be thought to be losing control — ”

“Aye,” Kat said impatiently, rising from the settle where she had sat watching her sister pack. “I’ve commanded a whole crew of men at sea, remember? I vow, I shall muddle through — I wish you would stay, just the same.”

Merry crossed the room to embrace her. “You and the baron must visit Court again sometime soon. By then I shall be an aunt.”

Kat glanced down at her still-slender form, garbed in claret-colored silk. “Oh, Merry,” she whispered, “what if Morgan doesn’t want the babe?”

“Not want his own child? What nonsense.” Merry affectionately pecked both her cheeks. “He will be as surprised and delighted as I was when you told me. Faith, I confess I never imagined you a mother. At least not before me. But I’m well and truly envious of you now.”

Kat remembered the day when she and Morgan had walked together in the fields. The children they encountered screamed and ran as if a demon had sprouted out of her skirts. What had Morgan called them? Base little wretches. What if he reacted the same way to news of their own child?

“G
ODSPEED, DEAR SISTER
!” K
AT
called, as she waved Merry off later that afternoon. Jem looked downright relieved to return to London as well and hastened the team of horses onward with a crack of the whip as the coach rounded the bend in the road. In a moment, they were gone.

Kat glanced down at her empty palm, still burning with the image of the raven amulet Bryony had told Kat she would know when the time came to part with the clan’s mascot; it was today. Somehow it seemed right when Kat lowered the worn cord over her sister’s head.

Merry had protested, of course, pointing out that a pagan amulet hardly favored her primrose and white velvet gown with its elegant embroidery, but Kat persisted. It was important Merry wear it on the trip for some reason. Kat doubted, however, Merry would suffer the amulet for long — not when she anticipated a rich assortment of jewels as Sir Jasper’s wife.

After the rumble of the coach faded into the distance, Kat sighed and brushed away a stray tear. She was in no mood to return to the keep and deal with the staff right now. Perhaps a ride would cheer her up. She remembered the intriguing old cave on the mountain, and brightened. There hadn’t been time or opportunity to go exploring while Merry and her parents visited, keeping everything stirred up. Kat decided she might slip away now, and no one would be the wiser.

She hurried upstairs to change into her old trews and canvas shirt and frowned when the hooks barely fastened. Her size was increasing rapidly. God’s nightshirt, surely ’twas not twins? The color drained from her face as she considered the possibility. Her mother was a twin. Bryony had also birthed twins, albeit very different daughters. Kat knew twins ran in families. Sweet Jesu, that’s all she needed now. Two demanding little Trelanes. No husband to help.

Kat glanced up at the portrait of the dignified, lovely Elena Trelane, Morgan’s mother. Out of respect for her husband’s family, she had asked the portrait be hung in her new room. Suddenly she found herself resenting the woman.

“You were selfish, Lady Trelane,” Kat said. Even rendered in such life-like oils, the dark Spanish eyes were implacable — like Morgan’s when he was angry.

“You did not deserve your son. He never deserved your enmity.” Kat trembled with emotion as she stared at Elena’s hauntingly lovely face. “Even had you lived, I would never forgive you for hurting Morgan so.”

She turned her back on the portrait and went downstairs. Before leaving the keep, she ordered Winnie to have the portrait removed and put into storage. The housekeeper looked surprised but asked no questions.

At the stables, Kat called for Evan Howell to saddle the gray mare she favored. The stable boy did her bidding with alacrity and steadied the horse while she mounted.

“Will you want a groom, milady?” Evan asked, as Kat settled in place and he handed her the reins.

She shook her head. “’Tis just a short jaunt to clear my head.” She smiled at the towheaded lad. She liked young Evan. He was respectful and bright and kept the stables in perfect order. He’d relieved Lloyd Carey of the heavier chores, and the old man was grateful as well.

Deliberately ignoring Merry’s orders to act aloof with retainers, Kat leaned down and ruffled the lad’s hair. “Stay out of trouble, Evan. I’ll return in less than an hour.”

He offered her a crooked, charming grin. “Aye, milady. Enjoy your ride.”

M
ORGAN HAD ARRIVED AT
long last. He was somewhat chagrined by his wife’s absence and the dramatic changes his home had endured in the while. He did not deny the ancient keep craved a thorough cleaning, and it appeared to have been the benefactor of a generous hand. Everywhere he looked, the silver shone, the gold plate gleamed, and the linens were crisp and white enough to feign snow. Gone was the dirt covering the panes of leaded glass; some windows had been removed altogether, while most had been cleaned for the first time in years — mayhap centuries.

A tendril of warmth snaked through Morgan. He realized Kat had done this for him, for them. Irritation supplanted the warmer emotion when he was unable to locate Kat within the next hour; not even Winnie professed knowledge of his lady wife’s whereabouts.