Fire Raven (7 page)

M
ORGAN WALKED THE WATER’S
edge at low tide, while seagulls screamed and dived above him. Their haunting cries alternately scolded and mourned. He felt as if he was being warned — against what, he didn’t know. Caring for Kate? Mayhap his emotions were clear to wild animals now. Clear to everyone but himself.

Morgan watched the gulls riding the currents on their frosty white wings and wished he might be so carefree. Duty was his sole destiny: Falcon’s Lair and finding Kate’s family. To the latter end, he studied the various debris scattered here and there along the rocky shore. Most of the stuff was battered beyond recognition. Indeed, it was a right wonder Kate hadn’t been, too. By some miracle, she’d been spared, except for cuts and bruises.

He raised his gaze to the clear blue horizon, scanning the deceptively peaceful sea for any further clues. It was the first clear day he’d had to ride out in search of more answers. There were too damme few to satisfy him here. Surely the young woman he called Kate would eventually remember her past.

Was it possible she lied about the memory loss for some reason? Morgan shook his head at the thought. Kate had nothing to gain by pretending she’d been washed ashore on the Devil Baron’s land. At best, it would irretrievably damage her reputation; at worst, she’d be viewed as yet another of his unearthly familiars.

Morgan chuckled, realizing that Kate, with her night-black hair and uncanny green eyes, might fit the townsfolk’s notion of a sorceress or witch, albeit a beautiful one.
What manner of crazy tale will crop up next?
he idly wondered. He considered asking Mrs. Carey to keep an ear primed for the latest rumor in town.

Something dragged at his feet. Morgan glanced down, surprised to see a wet clump of material washed up around his riding boots. He picked it up and unfolded the soaked cloth to reveal a torn but recognizable standard of sorts. The red background had washed out to a pale pink, making the center emblem all the more pronounced: a black bird clutching a burning oak branch in its talons.

His grip tightened on the wet cloth as he remembered the amulet, and Kate’s thoughtful whisper:
“Raven.”
He knew there was some connection between the standard and the unusual amulet she was wearing when he found her.

Morgan studied the fierce if bedraggled flag, then wrung it out and walked across the sand to tuck it in his mount’s saddlebag. He realized it was an important clue. With this pennant, he might be able to trace the lost ship and his Kate’s family. It was likely her passage home.

His Kate’s?
Morgan recognized the covetous thought and, at once, tried to banish it. He had no claim to her, none at all. Yet, he thought, it would be easy to toss the flag back in the sea and tell Kate he had found nothing. He was startled by his own devious musings.

Would he do anything to keep her here for a week, a day, an hour longer? Aye, he decided, he would. For the first time in his life, Morgan didn’t care to be honest.

Chapter Four

K
ATE RAN HER FINGERS
down the length of the velvet gown. “Are you sure?” she asked Winnie again, turning a bewildered gaze in the housekeeper’s direction.

“Aye. Himself was adamant about it. He doesn’t want to see you dressed as a servant anymore.” Winnie spoke the words with faint disapproval. Though she was fond of Kate, she didn’t approve of encouraging airs in those of the lower classes. Even more upsetting was the fact that the gown had once belonged to Lady Trelane, Morgan’s mother.

The instructions had been simple. The means had not. Morgan didn’t want Mrs. Carey going into town to buy any female attire. He realized that would only encourage wild rumors and speculation among the villagers; neither did he want to see the girl wearing peasant garb any longer. The quandary wasn’t an easy one. Winnie had done her best.

Kate’s “new” gown of deep green velvet was elegant, if simple. Spanish influence might be seen in the cut and style; at least Lady Elena had been tasteful enough not to choose gowns lavished with lace and embroidery.

Kate didn’t know the history of this gown or the others donated to her cause. Winnie merely told her that Morgan had arranged for a finer wardrobe. It appeared the girl was too stunned to question her good fortune.

“The fit is perfect,” Kate said, stroking the gown’s rich material as she turned about. “I wish I saw it, as well. You said ’tis green?”

“Aye, a wee shade darker than your eyes. Speaking of eyes, dear, the wrap should stay on a few more days, until I’m sure the damage is healing well.”

Kate sighed. “Very well. I’ll try to be patient, Winnie.”

“Have you remembered anything else?”

“Nothing, I’m afraid. I’m such a burden right now. I feel terrible about it. I hope I come from a wealthy family so I can repay your master properly.”

Winnie was spared a reply by the vesper bells from the village. “La, Katie, we’re just in time.”

“For what?”

“The evening meal, of course. Take my arm and I’ll lead you downstairs.”

“Will Morgan be there?”

Winnie clucked at the familiarity. “I doubt it. He’s working late in the lambing sheds. I daresay he’ll wish to ask you some more questions later.”

Kate fell silent, sensing the sudden change in atmosphere and Winnie’s air of disapproval. The woman was always kind to her, yet in the past few days Winnie’s manner seemed cooler, more distant. What had caused the change? First Morgan, now the housekeeper. All of a sudden, she felt lost and alone.

This time, Kate knew, the meal would be solitary. At least she had managed to feed herself, if somewhat awkwardly. She smelled the pungent aroma of barberry candles long before she was seated and left at the massive table to fend for herself.

The wood felt smooth and cool beneath her fingertips; she fancied it was mahogany. By pretending she saw her surroundings, she effectively distracted herself for hours. Certainly there was nothing else to do, except think about Morgan, and that was becoming too painful.

She fumbled awhile with the utensils, then managed to spread a cloth over her lap. Suddenly she burst into tears of frustration, surprising herself.

“What’s wrong,
Faeilean?
”

At the gentle query, Kate’s head rose with a jolt. She realized Morgan was close. He must have been seated next to her all this time. Her cheeks burned as she quickly regained her composure.

“I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“I just arrived.” He reached out and coaxed a tear from her cheek to his finger. “You’re beautiful, you know,” he said softly. “Too beautiful to cry.”

Kate swallowed a painful surge of emotion. It threatened to push another ragged sob from her lips. “I can’t be very beautiful with this hideous cloth tied around my head.”

“Then I’ll amend it to ‘simply beautiful,’ Morgan said, his tone teasing. “Are you ready to eat now?”

“I’m not hungry,” Kate lied. She couldn’t bear the thought of another humiliating episode, wherein Morgan was forced to hand-feed her like an injured lamb. Just as she spoke, her stomach gurgled. She felt another blush burn her cheeks and heard Morgan chuckle.

“Now, I won’t have any nonsense,
Faeilean
, “he scolded, as he nudged a spoon against her lips. “Eat.”

She ate. It was delicious and filling; she soon heard her whalebone stays creaking in protest. Despite her upset, she was ravenous, and Morgan’s approval of her hearty appetite made it all the easier to eat every last crumb. Finally, she shook her head and begged for mercy. Laughing, he gently wiped her mouth with a linen napkin. Kate sat back with a sigh, replete.

“Better,” Morgan approved. “Mayhap you’ll be able to concentrate upon what I have to tell you now.”

She sat up straight. “You’ve found something.”

“Aye.” Morgan sounded reluctant for some reason to reveal his discovery. Nevertheless, he proceeded to describe the flag he had found, along with several other boards from smashed crates. He said the latter bore the Eastland Company’s mark. “I’ll venture to guess we can discover your identity within a fortnight now. ’Tis quite possible you were a passenger upon an English vessel.”

“Are you certain?” Kate wondered. “You said I spoke in Gaelic when you found me. The English and Irish are always at odds.”

“Yet your English sounds native-born,” he pointed out. “’Tis obvious you’ve been to England before; perhaps your family lives there. A mystery, to be sure; one which must needs be solved. With your permission, I wish to send out several queries about a recent shipwreck or any missing vessels in these waters. We shall soon discover if you have any relatives anxiously awaiting news.”

“Parents, you mean?”

“Or a husband.”

She turned towards him. “What makes you think so?”

“I can’t imagine a woman so lovely would not be wed, or at least betrothed.”

“Winnie said I wore no wedding ring,” Kate said, not sure why she felt obliged to point out the fact.

“Aye, you wore men’s trews, as well. Mayhap your husband is more accommodating than I would be about such attire.”

There was as much tease as threat in his tone, Kate discerned. She decided to play along for a moment: “Pray tell, what would you do, sirrah, if I were your wife in truth and I chose to wear men’s garb?”

“Do you truly wish to know?” Morgan asked, his voice lowering an octave as he leaned close to her. His hand moved to cover hers, and she felt both a languid warmth and a strange, feverish excitement rising to engulf her.

“First of all,” he murmured, “any lady wife of mine would suffer dire consequences for wearing such mannish attire. ’Twould be a grave crime against nature, especially if she were as comely as you. Should she disobey me, anyhow,
Faeilean
, she should forfeit a penalty.”

A smile curved her lips at his mock threat. “In sooth, would you truly? Pray tell, Morgan, what would it be?”

“’Twould be better if I showed you.”

Kate drew in her breath when his lips grazed her own. She leaned towards Morgan, chasing his mouth with her own, her bold pursuit meeting with success. She felt his arm steal around her shoulders to steady her.

After a moment’s hesitation, he resumed the kiss, this time tracing her willing lips with the tip of his finger before he claimed her mouth again. With a sigh, Kate leaned into Morgan, her hand braced against the cool leather of his jerkin. She inhaled the musky male scent of him, a combination of leather and tobacco and wet wool. It was oddly exciting to her heightened senses.

“Ah,” he murmured at last, reluctant to draw the intoxicating kiss to a close. “You make me forget my honor,
Faeilean
.” He set her back from him.

Kate sensed Morgan physically and emotionally withdrawing from her. This time she was determined not to let it happen again.

“Morgan.” She spoke his name with a clear affection she sensed startled him. “I owe you my life, thus my thanks as well. Yet there is some deeper bond between us now, and I ask you — nay, I beg of you, not to deny it any longer.”

His silence frightened her. She felt a hand alight upon her head, tousling her hair like a child’s. When Morgan spoke again, his voice was sad and low.

“There are reasons,
Faeilean
, why it cannot be.”

“Why?” Her wounded whisper echoed throughout the room. “Is’t because … oh, Sweet Jesu, are you married?”

“Nay.”

“Mayhap you’re already betrothed yourself.”

“No,” Morgan repeated, an edge of anger lacing his deep tone. She heard his chair thrust back and sensed him towering over her. “I beseech you, Kate, to let it alone. Some things are better not discussed.”

“You kissed me. You wanted to. I know you did.”

She knew she sounded childish, yet emotion pushed all reason from her mind. She must know why Morgan denied their feelings, their future.

“Are you truly such an innocent, Kate? Any red-blooded knave will take what he can from a willing lady.”

Morgan saw his deliberate jibe hurt her. She ceased all questions, though; it was his intent. He was sickened by the necessity of his own cruelty, for he was nothing if not a gentle man at heart. Kate must harbor no misplaced affection for him. He was torn and relieved when she nodded, as if accepting his statement.

Then she rose from the chair beside him and addressed him formally.

“By your leave, sirrah, I wish to depart immediately.”

“Just where do you plan to go,
Faeilean
?”

“Please stop calling me that. It sounds like an endearment, when it clearly is not.” She bit her lip and forged on. “I think it wisest if I seek refuge elsewhere. There must be a nearby abbey or convent —”

“Ridiculous. You are in no condition to travel, and your family is yet to be found.”

“Nonetheless, ’tis not my intention to impose upon this household any longer. I shall leave right now.” With curt, angry gestures, Kate gathered up the cumbersome velvet skirts. She paused as he heaved a great sigh.

“How do you propose to find the nearest retreat, Kate? Will you blunder about in the darkness, hoping to bump into the abbey bell?”