Fire Raven (38 page)

Only the ebb and surge of the waves answered her cry, and, when the echo from the cliffs faded, Kat wiped her streaming eyes, feeling both foolish and sad. She only imagined Rory was there. Her guilty conscience surely sought to make amends, however it might. But Rory was long gone, claimed by a sea as fickle-natured as his wife.

“’Twas not your fault, Kat. ’Twas my time to go.”

Kat started at the gentle murmur near her ear, then fancied she felt something brush her arm.

“Rory?” she cried, whirling about. She saw nothing. She was alone. Yet she was not.

“Aye, colleen.”
Kat noticed his voice no longer held heartache or terror or despair. The drowning man from her dreams was gone. To the contrary, Rory sounded content, at peace.

“Kat, love, I must go now. You’ve a life to live without me, a life with the wee one I could not give you.”

Startled, Kat touched her stomach. Aye, she felt a faint swelling there. Dared she hope? She sensed the invisible presence withdrawing from her, and she gazed out at the implacable depths to which it returned.

Mayhap it was only the wind. Or the waves hissing as they rushed ashore. Nay. She could not take the chance. Another broken cry issued from Kat’s lips and echoed off the cliffs. “Rory! Don’t go. I must needs explain — ”

“Ahh, sweetheart. Love needs no explanation. Farewell, Kat, farewell. Wish me godspeed …”

She did not mistake the moment of severance. Rory’s last earthly link was broken, and Kat herself felt a physical jolt — part pain, part joy — as his spirit rose from the sea and vanished into the sun. Whatever vestige of Rory Shanahan haunted these waters was gone forever.

Gradually the wind dried the tears on Kat’s cheeks. Twilight was here. She looked over the water one last time. The sea looked molten gold now, mesmerizing in its beauty. Even the gulls had stopped shrieking and squabbling for food and now nestled along the cliffs with their heads tucked beneath their frosted wings.

Kat heard her mount whicker restlessly in the distance and realized it was time to head back. With a final glance, she turned from the sea. One strange, inexplicable moment after Rory had left, she experienced a desire to turn and walk calmly into those shimmering waters and let the cold waves close over her head and join her crew, as their good and faithful captain …

Nay, Kat
. She did not need to hear Rory’s voice again to know the notion was foolish and forbidden. She had a new life now, Rory had reminded her — one with Morgan, and their child. Or did she? She shivered and pulled her cloak more snugly around her shoulders. Aye, she must get back. She knew Merry would be frantic if she didn’t return promptly by the dinner hour.

W
HEN
K
AT REACHED
F
ALCON’S
Lair, she was surprised to see a fine yet unfamiliar coach parked outside the great door. Praying it was not the Earl of Cardiff, Henry Lawrence, she slipped from the gray’s back and handed the reins to Evan. Her stomach tightened with dread.

She knew Morgan preferred riding over using a coach, and she doubted Uncle Kit would have pursued them here. Elizabeth Tudor’s messenger, then? Kat supposed Bess might consider her behavior scandalous enough to warrant arrest — snatching her cousin’s intended and wedding without permission probably constituted treason in their proud queen’s eyes.

Squaring her shoulders, Kat mounted the steps. She was Lady Trelane. She must not flee from her duties. From now on, she would face her destiny head on. Rory’s parting blessing had given her the courage to endure, and she could do no less than fight fate for the sake of her child.

Despite her resolve, Kat’s emotions were an equal blend of trepidation and defiance as she entered the great hall. She feared one disapproving glance from Merry might shatter her composure. Her sister loathed seeing her in trews; Merry’s outrage was unparalleled whenever Kat donned men’s garb and bound her breasts. Today she had done both. It was impractical to ride astride in a farthingale, Kat had pointed out more than once, but Merry never accepted excuses when it came to a lady’s appearance or behavior. Alack, Kat thought with a sigh, she and her twin had certainly outgrown each other long ago.

She heard voices coming from the makeshift parlor. Since Morgan rarely, if ever, entertained, Falcon’s Lair lacked a proper parlor. Merry had done her best to cope with the “dreadful situation,” as she put it, by transforming the unused conservatory into a receiving room.

Kat knew she should change into a gown and fix her hair before greeting her guests or, conversely, her new jailers, but she decided on a whim to risk shocking them all. If Morgan truly suffered such a beastly reputation, then his wife’s eccentricities would scarce be worthy of note.

Kat opened the parlor door without announcing her presence. Merry whirled at the sound, her white taffeta skirts rustling. She looked prepared to snap at one of the staff for interrupting her private conversation.

“Kat!” she exclaimed instead, though with an equal note of rebuke. “Where have you been?”

Kat whipped the flat velvet cap from her head, letting the thick dark braid tumble to her waist. “Out.” Her gaze encountered another woman. Her eyes widened with surprise. “Mama?”

“Can there be any doubt?” the attractive, dark-haired woman answered with a grin. She rose from a chair to indicate her own set of trews and canvas shirt, nearly identical to her daughter’s. Though she was one and two score now and the mother of seven living children, Bryony Tanner was slim as a reed and glowed with good health. Kat noted her mother’s hair was still dark as night, her blue eyes keen as ever. Bryony stepped forward and swept Kat into a fierce embrace, as a golden-haired man stepped forward and looked on with obvious emotion.

Slade Tanner hugged Kat in turn, when his wife was finished. “Thank God you’re safe,” he said. When Slade withdrew, Kat glimpsed a betraying sparkle of tears in her father’s deep green eyes — eyes that mirrored her own. At last, her identity was complete.

“We thought the worst, Kat. ’Twas a rude and blessedly welcome shock to learn otherwise.” As Slade spoke, he touched Kat’s cheek as if to reassure himself she was real, not a spirit like Rory.

“I’m glad you’ve come,” Kat said, tears pricking at her eyes. “But how did you find out where I was?”

Slade exchanged an amused glance with Bryony. “We had the misfortune of arriving at Court just as Bess blistered your uncle’s ears. It seems the Tanners have conspired to outrage Bess Tudor thrice in as many generations: two weddings without permission; one refusal to wed at all.”

“Cousin Grace?” Kat guessed. At her father’s nod, she sighed. “How fares poor Uncle Kit? Is he languishing in the Tower as we speak?”

Bryony laughed, planting her hands on her hips. “Bess knows better than to rile an old adversary again. The O’Neills and Tanner families are irretrievably linked now. O’Neills defend their own. The only prison dear Kit shall ever visit will be Ambergate, where I vow he is quite content to spend all his days.”

Frustrated at having been left out of the conversation, Merry interrupted, sounding peevish. “Did you speak to the queen about me?”

Slade shrugged. “Concerning what?”

“Father! Don’t tease so. I pray you reassured Elizabeth Tudor of my constant devotion and unswerving loyalty.”

“I fear it slipped my mind,” Slade said with a twinkle, winking at Kat and his wife.

Merry stamped her foot, petulant as a little girl. “If I have lost my position at Court, I shall never forgive you!”

“’Twas your choice to accompany your sister here, Merry,” Bryony put in. “I was prouder of you than ever when I heard what you had done.”

“Aye, Mother, but I’m not the born rebels you and Kat are,” Merry wailed with distress. “My whole life is Court. Bess promised to make me a fine match someday.”

“In this much, our good queen did not disappoint,” Slade said. “If you are agreeable, Merry, you will wed Sir Jasper Wickham come spring.”

“Of the Carlisle Wickhams?” Gone in an instant were Merry’s tears; in their stead, a calculating gleam appeared. “I hear tale Sir Jasper is rich and comely. He will suit me quite well, I trow.”

“Wickham is also accounted rough and crude and brutal,” Bryony said dryly. “Though I suppose a border man must be.”

Merry tossed her head. “My betrothed is hardly a barbaric Scot, Mother. You have been listening to too many O’Neill ballads. Elizabeth Tudor would approve no man for my husband who was not refined and accomplished in every way.”

“Then you agree to Wickham’s suit?” Slade asked.

“Aye, Father.”

“Merry,” Kat protested, “it sounds like you have never laid eyes on the man.”

“Just as you never saw Morgan Trelane and loved him anyhow,” her sister retorted. There was nothing Kat might say in response. That was true enough.

Kat saw a shadow cross her father’s face, and all traces of mirth was forgotten.

“Kit told us a little of your frightening adventure,” Slade said. “I would fain hear the tale again, from your own lips.”

Kat wondered where to start. “D’you speak of Wales and Morgan Trelane?”

“I know how you came to be here and heard Lord Trelane was the one who nursed you back to health. Also, that you were later taken to London, a prisoner of Henry Lawrence.”

“Mark my words, the odious old goat shall hear from me,” Bryony interjected on an ominous note.

Kat shook her head. “’Twas not Lawrence’s fault, Mama. He but rightfully sought to protect the queen. The strange circumstances of my survival and resulting blindness would give any man pause. I believe Lord Lawrence is good at heart. A trifle overzealous, perhaps.”

“You are generous, Kat,” her mother said. “More generous than Lawrence intended to be with you.”

“I would not incur the resentment of Morgan’s neighbors. I am Lady Trelane now, which behooves me to show a generous nature.”

Bryony looked surprised. “I’truth, daughter, you have grown up in these months. I am both pleased and a little sad. You seem different, somehow.”

“Aye, Mama. I am different,” Kat conceded softly. “I am in love.”

“With Lord Trelane?”

“With Morgan, with Falcon’s Lair, with all of wild, beautiful Cymru.” Kat met her mother’s searching gaze, and added gently, “Ireland and Rory are part of my past now. So is the sea.”

Something seemed to slump in Bryony’s proud posture. “Are you certain, Kat?”

“Aye, as I ever shall be. Do not mourn, Mama. I have never been so happy as in these past few months with Morgan. Rory and I shared a beloved hobby, nothing more. Morgan and I connect on a far deeper level, mayhap one of the soul.”

Bryony only nodded, looking too stricken for words.

“I regret the reminder, dearest,” Slade said to his wife, “but we came not to chide Kat. She was almost lost to us forever and I, for one, am simply grateful she is alive.”

“You’re right.” Looking abashed, Bryony stepped forward to hug Kat again. “Forgive me, colleen.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I know how much the sea means to you and Father. ’Tis your life. Once ’twas mine, too. Until a terrible fire consumed my ship, my crew, and almost my life. Like the legendary phoenix, I was miraculously reborn from the ashes.” As she spoke, Kat realized the words rang true. She trembled with emotion, and Bryony held her tighter.

“Mayhap we should rechristen you “Fire Raven,” instead of your lost ship,” Bryony murmured. “With a certainty, the clan’s mascot watched over you.” She withdrew and glanced at Kat’s bare neck. “Was the amulet lost at sea, too?”

“Nay. Morgan kept it here for me. I found it in my room. I will send it back to Ireland with you and Papa for safekeeping.”

Bryony shook her head. “The amulet chooses its owner. When your Uncle Brendan gave it to me, he said a strange, powerful force compelled him to part with it then. I felt the same thing when I handed the amulet to you on your twelfth birthday. You will know, when the time is right, to do the same, Kat. Until then, do not abandon or reject the power. It surely saved your life.”

F
OR THE FIRST TIME
in years, more than a handful of diners occupied the great table at Falcon’s Lair. The staff had outdone themselves in order to impress Lady Trelane’s family. Kat was pleased and touched by their efforts.