They came to the end of the promontory, and Meggie looked out, speechless, over the Irish Sea and the magnificent coastline, rugged hunks of land chipped inward or thrusting out like long fingers into the sea, the shore lined with scored and barren rocks.
She slipped off Aisling's back, shook out her riding skirts, and made her way to the edge. The water sparkled beneath the morning sun. It was very calm, low tide, the waves collapsing gently against the dirty sand, fanning out, then easing back again to be swallowed into the next wave. She became aware that Thomas was looking at her. She turned slowly, feeling him close to her, feeling the pull of him, the pull she'd felt when she'd first met him, even though her mind had been full of Jeremy. Jeremy, now at Dragon's Jaws with his pregnant wife. No, she wouldn't think about either of them.
"Thomas," she said.
He crossed the distance between them in an instant and pulled her up against him. The wind was mild, but still it plastered her riding skirts to her legs.
He didn't kiss her, just held her and looked down at her. "You're so bloody innocent."
"Well, yes. Could you expect much else given my father is a vicar?"
He kissed the tip of her nose and pulled her about so she leaned her back against him. She loved the feel of him, the strength, the heat. She'd never really thought about the heat of men, but now she did, and those wicked thoughts heated her as well.
She said slowly, feeling his arms cross over her chest, pulling her closer to him, "Can I trust you, Thomas?"
His arms tightened. He rested his chin on top of her head for a moment, said without hesitation, "Yes."
She said, her voice clear and calm, "You can trust me too, Thomas."
"Meggie-"
She turned then and lightly touched her fingertips to his jaw, to his lips. "It's all right. I made vows before God, as did you. I keep my promises, Thomas. You are my husband. I will be with you until the day I die. I will never leave you. I haven't made you laugh in a while. I will work on that. You have a beautiful smile. It pleases me to see it."
"A beautiful smile?" She wouldn't leave him and he had her loyalty. It wasn't enough, dammit.
"Oh yes."
He looked away, but not before she saw something flash in those eyes of his, something she couldn't begin to understand.
And, at the very bottom of things, she knew she didn't know him very well at all.
She pulled away and looked back toward Pendragon, a magnificent heap of gray stone fashioned into a lasting structure that was more a castle than not. It was big, overpowering, it would surely make an enemy pause, and they had held Cromwell off the first time. Yes, Pendragon dominated everything around it, including nature, and it was, she thought, watching a dark cloud chase across it, menacing. It had secrets, perhaps even secret passages. One could only hope. She shivered, but she was smiling.
Meggie lay in her bed, wide-awake. Thomas had loved her, then leaned over her and said, "I think I want to sleep in my own bed tonight. Good night."
And he'd kissed her mouth one last time and left her.
There was moonlight spilling in through the windows, and it was beautiful. It was also frightening, that moonlight. It cast strange shadows on all those white walls.
Why had he changed his mind? He'd made love with her, and she'd felt flooded with pleasure and with something that was deeper, something that made her want to cry with the power of it. She'd thought he'd felt the same things. Evidently not.
She shivered beneath the thick covers. It was turning cold, a storm was coming, and very soon now, a big storm with lightning, pounding thunder and torrents of wild rain. But the moon was still so bright. She felt tears sting her eyes and swallowed. She wanted him beside her. What was wrong?
"Damn you, Thomas," she said, then willed herself to sleep. She'd written to her father and Mary Rose, telling them about Pendragon, the lovely stretch of coastline, asking for recipes, asking Alec and Rory to write a cooking song for her, praising, for example, a buttock of beef done in the French way. She'd sounded happy because she penned her words to make it seem that way, but she wasn't, not completely. So many strange people here at Pendragon.
Her mother-in-law had read from her journal, dated from the fall of 1808, for two hours, without pause. Unfortunately it was in French and Meggie understood perhaps one word in five. She'd finally rolled her eyes toward her husband, and he had stood up and taken her hand. "Meggie is very tired, Mother."
They'd left William, his mother and Madeleine, her journal still open, in the drawing room. Barnacle was hovering just outside. He said, shaking his head, "I remember it was five years ago now, she read those very same pages. It was 1808, was it not?"
"It was," Meggie said. "You've an excellent memory, Barnacle. Do you speak French?"
"One must when one's back hurts this much," and he screwed up his face into such agony, that Meggie automatically stepped forward.
"I'll walk on your back tomorrow, if you wish, Barnacle. Did today help?"
"A bit, milady, a meager bit. Naturally I speak French."
Meggie fell asleep. She didn't know what woke her, but it was something she hadn't heard before in this strange house. A mouse scurrying across the wooden floor? A moth trapped against the windowpane? Just the crackle and heaviness of thunder in the air, not quite ready to strike yet?
She was suddenly very afraid.
Chapter 24
MEGGIE LAY THERE, eyes wide open, perfectly still, adjusting her hearing, her vision. Waiting, waiting for another sound. The moonlight no longer sliced into the white room. There were only clouds now cloaking the sky, thick, bloated, black as the bottom of a cauldron. It was nearly black inside the bedchamber. The storm was here, the wind coming hard through the partially open window, too cold now. Rain would begin any time now. She'd heard nothing, for how long now?
She'd been a fool. She started to get up to close the window when she heard it again. It wasn't a scurrying sound, it was quite something else. It was close, very close. Too close. She didn't see anything. But that didn't matter. She rolled to the side of the bed that gave onto the dressing room, and when she jumped up, she tangled in the covers. She staggered, fighting to get free of the covers, when suddenly lightning lit up the black sky, once, again, and then the thunder rolled and boomed, making Pendragon shudder as those huge hits shook it to the ground. She heard someone's intake of breath, and that someone was right behind her, she could hear the breathing, low and fast and something else, something-She yelled even as she whirled about to see who was there.
She saw something, it was black, a figure, and then something struck her hard on the side of her head. She slid down into the pile of covers that she'd pulled off the bed.
"Meggie!"
She thought she heard a man's voice, but she wasn't all that sure and what's more, she didn't really care. She felt warm and safe and there was nothing to touch her, nothing at all.
"Meggie! Damnation, wake up! What the hell's wrong? Wake up!"
The man slapped her face, and not light taps either, he really smacked her good, and it made her so mad that she reared right up and said in his face, "Don't hit me again or I'll clout you back."
Thomas said, "Good, that's better. Please don't clout me. Are you all right?"
"I must think about that."
"Jesus, Meggie, I heard you scream, thought the thunder and lightning frightened you. I'm sorry I slapped you so hard, but I was scared, you wouldn't wake up." He grabbed her against him. She felt his pounding heart beneath her cheek.
She said against his shoulder, "You really heard me scream? I didn't know if I managed to get it out before whoever it was hit me on the side of the head with something hard."