Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Lord Morgan reached Ashby in midevening, to find his wife anxiously awaiting him. "Where is Delight?" he asked her.

"What is the matter?" Rosemary Morgan demanded. "Delight arrived, greeted me wanly, and then locked herself in her room. She will not speak with me, nor would she join the family for the evening meal. Vanora was heartbroken, for she has so looked forward to Delight's return."

"Let me speak with Delight first, my dear, and then I will reassure you, I promise. Everything is all right. You must trust me," he soothed her.

Lady Morgan nodded, and waved her husband up the staircase to their daughter's room.

"Delight, it is Papa. Everything is all right. Let me in, for I must speak with you." He stood in the dark silence of the upper hall, and then to his deep relief he heard the lock turning in the door, which then swung open.

"Blaze?"Delight rasped.

Lord Morgan gently pushed his daughter back into her bedchamber and closed the door behind them. "Sit down, Delight," he ordered her, and she sat upon her bed. "Blaze is fine. She will never know what happened, nor your part in it."

"Does Anthony know?"

"Aye, and Nick Kingsley too."

"Ohh, God! I shall never be able to face either of them again," moaned Delight, stricken.

"Tony forgives you, Delight. He understands that you were driven half-mad by your deep love for him. Nicholas understands too. Both of these men know the depths to which love can drive one. This was not your fault, Delight. Not really. You have not the capacity for evil that Mademoiselle Henriette had. It was she who encouraged you to your wickedness. You were like soft clay in her evil hands, and she used you for her own purposes."

"Oh, no, Papa! Henriette is my friend. She had nothing to gain by Blaze's death. I was the one who had everything to gain!" Delight protested.

"Listen to me, child," said Lord Morgan. "Henriette Wyndham led you like a lamb to the slaughter. She planned for you to take the blame for the murder of your sister, and then she intended luring Tony into marriage. She did not, I suspect, know when she came from France that he was in love with Blaze, and would marry her. She planned to marry him herself, and when she found him with a loved wife, she plotted to use you to gain her own ends. She will not trouble you any longer, however, for she is dead. Put this all from your mind, my child, and concentrate upon rebuilding your own life."

"Henriette is dead?" Delight looked shocked. "Papa! What happened ?"

"The Frenchwoman was an evil creature, Delight. She could not be left alive lest she attempt once again to harm Blaze and her unborn child. Do you understand that?"

Delight nodded. "But how?"

"The nightrail," he said quietly. "It is a secret you must share with Tony, Nick, and myself."

Delight was very pale. "So then," she said, "it is truly over. I will pray for Henriette."

"Aye, you should," he agreed with her. "She was a wicked woman for one so very young. Your forgiveness and prayers may help her. Now, Delight, go to sleep. It has been a long and terrible day for us all."

"Not yet, Papa. Tell me of the Irish lord and his son. I need something of my own to think upon lest my memories arise to assail me."

Aye, she did, he thought, and so he stayed, tucking her into the large bed she had once shared with her sisters, seating himself next to her. "There is not a great deal that I can tell you, my dear. The family name is O'Brian. Not the great lords of Thomond, but distant cousins nonetheless. Our own Father John has a nephew who is also a priest. You will remember that Father John's mother is Irish, and his nephew, the son of his mother's brother, one Father Kevin by name, is the priest in the household of the O'Brians of Killaloe. He and his uncle correspond, and it was through Father Kevin that we first received the tentative offer of a possible match between the O'Brians' son, who is just your age, and one of my daughters."

"But why have you chosen me, Papa? Both Larke and Linnette are old enough to wed."

"But you are my oldest unmarried daughter, Delight. Besides, you know that I must see Larke and Linnette wed to brothers who are hopefully as close as your sisters are. They could never survive without one another, I fear. Delight, I will not mince words with you. There is no more time left to cater to your whims. You will be eighteen in another few weeks. Unless the young Irishman and his family prove highly unsuitable, I intend making this match. Surely you understand now that Anthony Wyndham can never be yours. Unless you seek to enter holy orders, you must have a husband."

Delight sighed deeply. "I am not fit to be a nun, Papa, nor do I have the desire to be one. I know now that Tony really does love Blaze. Even if she had died, he would have not wed with me. I will not fight you, Papa, on this match you propose."

Robert Morgan patted his daughter's hand. "There is one other thing, Delight. I must tell your mother of what has passed."

Delight nodded in agreement. "I know, Papa. You have never kept anything from Mama, nor has she kept anything from you. She will not hate me, do you think?"

"Nay, Delight, she will not hate you," he answered her, and arising, he bent back down to place a kiss upon her cheek. "Go to sleep now, my child. Your nightmare is over."

Lord Morgan left his daughter's bedchamber, and seeking his own, found his wife awaiting him. As gently as possible he told her their daughter's tragic tale, and Rosemary Morgan's tender heart broke with Delight's pain and hurt.

"My poor child," she wept softly upon her husband's shoulder. "I must go to her!"

"Aye," he agreed. "I think that it would ease her conscience to know that you are not angered with her."

Lady Morgan left her husband, and hurried to Delight's bedchamber. "Are you awake, child?" she asked as she entered.

"Aye, Mama."

Rosemary Morgan enfolded Delight into her arms, and the girl burst into healing tears as she clung to her mother's neck. "Thank God," the good lady said. "You need to cry, my daughter, but rest assured that I love you."

When finally Delight's sobs had subsided, her mother settled her back upon her pillows, and smoothing her forehead with a gentle hand, she left her to return to her husband. Delight felt that a great weight had suddenly been lifted from her shoulders. With a little sigh she closed her swollen eyes and slipped into sleep.

Delight turned eighteen on the seventh of June. She had grown into a tall and slender girl whose long, dark, chestnut-colored hair and deep blue eyes only served to highlight the paleness of her creamy skin. Within the close and loving circle of her family her confidence had returned. Though she had been greatly matured by her experience, there were tiny glimpses of her former merry self. She was not the girl she had once been, but neither was she yet a woman by any means. A fact brought strongly home to her a few days after her birthday, when she once again found herself behind the great hedge near the front of the house with Larke and Linnette, who were fourteen, Vanora, who was twelve, and Glenna, now ten. They were spying upon a visitor who was just arriving at the house. For a brief instant she was hurtled back in time, and she remembered the day that Edmund Wyndham had ridden up to Ashby thereby changing all their lives forever.

"Who is he?" the twins queried in unison.

"He cannot be very important," Vanora noted.

"Why do you say that, sister?" asked Glenna.

"He has no great retinue with him," replied Vanora wisely.

"Perhaps he is Delight's suitor," answered Glenna.

"I think not," said Delight. "There is but one man, and Lord O'Brian is coming with his son."

"There are two riders," said Glenna.

"One is obviously a servant, you silly," Vanora chided her little sister.

"Well, I did not know, Mistress Wisdom!" snapped Glenna with spirit. "How is it that you are so well-informed?"

"You have but to compare his clothing with the other man's garb," was the smug reply.

Delight smiled to herself. Nothing, it seemed, changed. "I think," she said, "if we want our answers as to who he is, and for what purpose this gentleman has come, then we had best go into the house. Perhaps he is someone with twin sons for Larke and Linnette," she teased, and the twin sisters giggled.

They waited until the gentleman had entered Ashby, and then, trailing out from behind the hedge, they hurried toward the house. The other rider, now dismounted, stood before the house holding the reins of the two horses. He was not a very large man, and he was extremely wiry to boot, but he had the merriest twinkle in his eye that they had ever seen. Grinning boldly at them, he tipped his cap as they moved by him.

"Good day to yese, pretty ladies," he said.

Delight tilted her head politely as she had seen Blaze so often do. The twins giggled, Glenna flushed at having been called a "pretty lady," and Vanora demanded, "What kind of an accent is that?"

"Vanora, your manners!" Delight admonished, pushing her younger sister into the house.

"Well, how am I to ever know anything if I cannot ask questions and get answers?" said Vanora, her tone offended.

Rosemary Morgan hurried forward. "Quickly, Delight! Upstairs! You must change your gown. Lord O'Brian is here!"

"I was right! I was right!" cried Glenna, dancing about.

"Oh, be silent, you smug little toad!" snapped Vanora.

Glenna made a face at her sister, and then scampered off squealing as Vanora chased after her, eager to render a harsh judgment upon her little sister.

"Vanora grows more like Bliss every day," chuckled Delight.

"And Glenna is more like Vanora at that age as well." Their mother smiled as they moved up the stairs.

"Where is Lord O'Brian's son, Mama? I thought he was to come with his father so we might get to know one another."

"I know nothing," replied Lady Rosemary. "All I can tell you is that your father introduced us, and then told me to fetch you as quickly as possible." Lady Morgan helped her daughter change from her simple house garb into a more elegant gown. Carefully she laced her daughter's bodice of rose-colored silk with its delicate pearled embroidery. The overskirt and underskirt of the gown were of the same rich color, although the underskirt had been lightly embroidered with seed-pearl daisies and small butterflies.

Delight caught up her hairbrush and ran it through her tangled curls, but as she made to put her hair up, her mother stopped her.

"Leave it loose. I know you would appear sophisticated, but it is better you not seem any older than you are, lest Lord O'Brian think we seek to foist an elderly crone upon him."

Delight made a little moue with her mouth. "You make my situation seem so desperate, Mama."

"Need I remind you of your age, daughter?" came the sharp reply.

Delight said nothing more, instead putting small pearl earbobs in her ears and looping a beautiful rope of pearls about her neck. These were gifts from Blaze and Tony sent to Ashby for her birthday, and Delight felt almost guilty in the face of their generosity, but as she had no other jewelry of value that would impress Lord O'Brian, she wore the pearls.

Lady Rosemary hummed her approval of her daughter's appearance, and escorted her back downstairs to Rob's library. Delight had become quite the beauty, though she would never tell her daughters that they were, lest vanity obscure their common sense. Entering the library, the two women curtsied to the two men already within.

Lord Morgan came forward and took Delight by the hand. "This is my daughter Delight, my lord."

He arose from his chair, a big-boned tall man with the fierce look of a highwayman to him. His hair was blacker than any she had ever seen, even Tony's. The oval-shaped eyes glinted green as he coolly assessed her, as if assessing the finer points upon a blooded horse.

Delight felt herself flushing beneath his scrutiny. His look made her feel as if she were some slave girl, naked and upon the block for all to see. Furious, she glared at him.

Lord O'Brian chuckled. "She's got spirit," he said in the most beautiful voice that Delight had ever heard. It was deep, yet both rich and musical at the same time.

"She is a well-mannered and well-behaved girl, my lord," responded Robert Morgan.

"The hell she is, and so much the better!" came the reply. "I want no milk-and-water miss mothering the next generation of O'Brians!"

Lady Rosemary gasped at the frankness of his words, but Delight stamped her foot with outrage.

"And what makes you think I want to mother any generation of O'Brians?" she demanded.

Lord O'Brian burst out laughing at her words, but when he had recovered himself he looked straight at Delight and said, "Because you are eighteen, wench, and this may be your last chance for a decent match!"

"Go to the devil, you great Irish oaf! I would sooner die an old maid than marry any son of yours!" snapped Delight.

"I'll take her." Lord O'Brian grinned, turning to Robert Morgan.

"You'll take me?"Delight screeched, outraged. "Are you deaf, man, that you did not hear me? I'll wed no son of yours!"

Rosemary Morgan could not move. What was Delight doing? She was driving away the only good chance that they could possibly have now to gain her a husband.

"Nay," said Lord O'Brian, "you'll wed not my son, for the damned fool went and got himself killed in a cattle raid last month. You'll wed me, my fine-tempered girl, for he was the only heir I had left, and I need sons!"

At last Delight was stunned into silence. Marry this big, fierce man? It was the last thing that had ever entered her mind, for she had expected for a husband a boy her own age.

"Lord O'Brian's son has, as he has stated, been killed. He has, nonetheless, come to us to propose that he wed Delight in his son's place. I see no reason not to consent to this match, provided, of course, Delight, that you can refrain from killing the man until you have given him at least several sons," said Lord Morgan, his eyes brimming with amusement.

Delight could only stare for a moment.

"What, wench, does the news overwhelm you that much?" taunted Lord O'Brian.

Delight immediately recovered at his mockery. "Nay, my lord," she replied sweetly. "It was just that I had prepared myself to wed with a young man, not an old one."

He chuckled. "I suspect you'll get a great deal more from me, wench, than you would have ever gotten from that bullying milksop I sired on my last wife," came the wicked answer.

"And just how many wives have you outlived, my lord?" Delight was not in the least fazed.

"You'll be my third, wench, and like the others, I'll soon have you purring like a kitten."

"Unlike the others, I'll long outlive you, my lord, and you had best beware, for this kitten has sharp claws."

Lord O'Brian laughed again, and then said to Lord Morgan, "Draw up the betrothal papers. I want this hot-tempered wench in my bed before the summer's out. In Ireland a man needs a wife like this one during the cold winter nights."

Rosemary Morgan had finally managed to recover herself. "If you do not need us any longer, my lord," she said to her husband, "then Delight and I will withdraw," and grasping her daughter's arm in a death grip, she practically dragged her from the library.

"I will not marry that overbearing, pompous oaf!" said Delight, pulling away from her mother.

"Your father has agreed to it," said Lady Rosemary.

"I hate him!"shouted Delight.

"You do not even know the man," her mother reasoned.

"I know all I need to know," raged Delight, and picking up her skirts, she ran from the house.

Rosemary Morgan looked after her, bemused. She had never seen anyone react so strongly to another person as Delight had reacted to Lord O'Brian. Turning about, she hurried back to her husband's library. She really must speak with him about this. Perhaps Delight had a point, but upon entering the room where the two men stood toasting each other with goblets of wine, she found herself quickly and completely charmed by the big Irishman.

"Lord O'Brian and I have agreed on terms, my dear. Delight's dowry is acceptable to him, and I will also include two of my good brood mares, for the O'Brians raise horses."

"Do not tell Delight that, my lord, I beg of you," pleaded his wife.

Lord O'Brian laughed. "Nay," he said, "I do not think the wench would like to know that part of her bride's price is two horses. If she should ever learn it, however, I should like to be the man to tell her," and he laughed again. "Where is she, by the way? I would drink a toast with her."

Lady Rosemary sighed. "If Delight is true to form, then she was headed for the orchards, my lord. Through the front door, and to the right."

"Thank you, madam," was the reply, and he bowed most elegantly to her before leaving the room.

When he had gone, Rosemary turned to her husband. "Rob, is this match a wise one? I do not want Delight unhappy."

"I think," responded her husband, "that Delight may be a far more fortunate girl than she realizes, my dear. Lord O'Brian is Tony's age, and although I was surprised to learn that his son had been killed, on reflection I believe that an older husband is a better thing for Delight. A boy might have bored her. I consider this God's will. She will marry, and live in Ireland far from the scene of her former heartbreak, for though Delight seems recovered, I think to remain so near her sister and Anthony would eventually bring her pain again. Should she have compared a young husband with Anthony, the boy would have certainly suffered by comparison, but Lord O'Brian is a man as Tony is. I think he will keep Delight far too busy to even remember her broken heart."

"When have you decided upon the wedding ceremony?"

"We'll have a formal betrothal ceremony in a few days, for the Irish enjoy the pomp and pageant of such things. The wedding will take place in late summer before the autumn storms make a crossing of the sea between England and Ireland an impossible thing. Lord O'Brian will have to return to Ireland after the betrothal, but he will be back in August."

"I only hope Delight will be happy, Rob," fretted Lady Morgan.

"She will have to make her own happiness, my dear," he said, "but Lord O'Brian is much taken with her. If she will only stop fighting him, there is a very good chance that she should be not just happy, but content."

At the moment, however, Delight was neither happy nor content. She had seen Lord O'Brian coming from the house and into the orchard, and now she attempted to hide from him amid the falling blossoms of the fragrant trees. He did not call to her, but he seemed to be walking straight toward her. Suddenly she lost sight of him, and forced from her hiding place behind a large tree, she peered about to see where he had gotten to, for he was simply nowhere to be found. Suddenly a pair of strong arms imprisoned her, turning her about, and Delight shrieked, only to have her mouth stopped by his.

She had never been kissed, and this was certainly not what she had expected at all. He totally possessed and overwhelmed her in a way she wasn't certain that she even liked. On the other hand, she found that she did not dislike it either. His hard mouth bore down on her soft lips, almost burning them, and setting her pulses to racing in a manner that she had never known. She was suddenly afire, and unable to help herself, she wrapped her arms about him as she kissed him back.

Finally, when it became clear that neither of them would be able to breathe if they did not part, he pulled his head away from hers, but he kept his arms about her. "By all that's holy, wench, you are my match, and that is for certain," he growled at her. "I came here expecting some milk-and-water pale English rose. I even considered telling your father that since Desmond was dead there could be no uniting of our families, but the voice within warned me not to, and so I listened as I have always listened. And what have I found, eh, wench? A hot-tempered, hot-blooded vixen with an improbable name who, from the looks of her, will breed me up strong Celtic sons for Ireland. It took only a moment, but I knew I wanted you!"

In his passion Lord O'Brian had let his grip upon the girl loosen, and pulling away from him suddenly, Delight hit him a blow that might have staggered a lesser man.

"What the hell was that for, wench?" demanded the Irishman.

"You kissed me!"

"You kissed me back," he said.

"I didn't!" she denied.

"You did, wench," he teased. "You kissed me with a passion that you are too innocent to even understand, and I'll wager your pulses were racing when you did." He laughed at her guilty flush and continued. "I kissed you, wench, and I intend to keep on kissing you, and in time I'll be doing other things to you. Things that will make you weak with pleasure, and leave you begging me for more even as I will want more of you. I want to kiss your lovely body, and caress your pretty breasts. I want to teach you how to touch a man and make him content even as my touching of you will make you content." His arms snaked out, and he pulled her back against him. Delight attempted to struggle, but his grip tightened until she thought she would faint, and so she ceased her futile resistance. "I want to fill you full of me, Delight Morgan, and give you my sons and daughters." His lips brushed tantalizingly against hers. "I want to love you even as you want to love me."

"I don't want to love you!" Delight protested. "I do not even know you, my lord!"

"Cormac, wench! My name is Cormac. Aye, you know me! You know me well. I am the faceless man who has haunted your dreams since you grew old enough to have such dreams. I am the one who has caused you to awaken in the night aching with a feeling you have never understood until now. I am yours, wench, and you are O'Brian's Delight. Thus it was always meant to be, and it will be!"

She couldn't move. She was simply mesmerized by the beautiful voice that said such outrageous things to her, and the green eyes that glittered so dangerously as they devoured her. She did not quite understand what was happening to her. Up until a month ago she had thought herself in love with Anthony Wyndham. She had been in love with him since she had first seen him when she was only thirteen. She had just begun to accept the fact that Tony was Blaze's and would never be hers. Yet suddenly this wild man was sweeping into her life, saying incredible things to her, words that were touching her as no man's words had ever touched her. How could he have known of the faceless man in her dreams whom even she had dared not acknowledge aloud to herself?

"I will not be yours," she whispered.

"Oh, aye, wench, you will be," he promised her. "No one, even a stubborn little English girl, can fight the fate that's been ordained for her." He loosened his grip on her. "Now, run along, wench, and consider the things that I've said to you."

Delight did not wait to hear any more. She fled him, his mocking laughter echoing in her ears. Were her parents mad, matching her with this wild Irishman? Surely they would not do it! Particularly when they saw him for what he really was, but to Delight's great annoyance they didn't. Cormac O'Brian charmed everyone at Ashby, from the lowliest to the highest. Her sisters were in love with him, including Larke and Linnette, who, for the first time in their young lives, got into an argument with one another over who would sit next to Lord O'Brian at the table. Since Delight had been placed at his right, there was but one other place available. Lady Morgan finally solved the problem by asking her eldest son, Gavin, to sit by her daughter's husband-to-be.

With a smug and mischievous grin at his sisters, Gavin took the prized place. He had already told Delight that he thought the Irishman a grand fellow. Even the little children, three-year-old Hal and his twin brother, Tom, liked Lord O'Brian. He seemed able to sit for hours by the fire, the two small boys snuggled deep in his lap, telling them wonderful and outrageous tales of Ireland that left them wide-eyed and admiring.

In a rare moment of quiet shared with Cormac O'Brian, Delight asked him, "Why is it that no one else can see you as I do?"

"Because, wench, they are not afraid of me as you are," he answered her.

"I am most certainly not afraid of you!" Delight told him emphatically. "Why should I be?"

"Because you are independent. Because you are a virgin, and virgins always believe that to be loved is to be possessed. You do not want anyone to possess you, but believe me, wench, when a man and a woman love one another, the possession is mutual. There is no winning in love, only sharing. You will understand that one day soon, and then you will not be afraid of me."

His words left her thoughtful, even if she did not really totally understand him. Mad! The man was simply mad. Her parents were matching her with a madman, and there was nothing that she could do about it.

The day chosen for their betrothal was the twenty-first of June. Blaze and Tony sent their best wishes, but the Earl of Langford would not allow his wife to travel in her newly announced condition. Delight was secretly relieved, for she was not yet quite up to facing Blaze and her husband. Still, she smiled to think of Blaze's outrage at being told she must remain at RiversEdge and miss the family event. Bliss, of course, was near her time. There was absolutely no question of her coming. She and Owen also sent gifts and good wishes to the couple.

Blythe, however, came with Nicholas and their children. "I could not let this happy day go by and not be with you, dearest," the gentle Lady Kingsley declared as she hugged her sibling. "I know that Bliss and Blaze are very disappointed not to be able to be with you in this joyous moment."

Cormac O'Brian's eyes warmed at the sight of the fair and beautiful Blythe, her two elder children clinging to her skirts, baby Edmund in her arms.

"There are two like that?" he asked Lord Morgan.

Robert Morgan smiled. "Aye, her identical twin is the Countess of Marwood, but more fiery of temperament. Blythe is my lamb. I've no other like her."

"I'd not complain of daughters if Delight gave me some like that," Lord O'Brian said admiringly.

The bride-to-be wore a gown of pale cream-colored silk, its bodice decorated with tiny seed pearls and gold threads, as was the panel of its underskirt which showed. Her upper puffed sleeves were slashed to show pearl-dotted lace beneath, which fell into cuffs as they emerged from beneath the narrower lower sleeve of her gown. In her ears and about her neck were her pearls. Her loose dark hair was crowned with a wreath of daisies and ivy.

Cormac O'Brian was dressed in dark green velvets and silks. Though his clothes gave him the thin veneer of civilization, there was still a savagery about him that was both intriguing and fascinating. About his neck he wore a heavy gold chain from which hung a great round medallion upon which was the raised figure of a falcon in flight.

They stood side by side within the family chapel while Father John spoke the ancient words of the betrothal ceremony which, in effect, caused them to pledge themselves formally, one to the other, and to agree upon their intent to marry. Cormac O'Brian then pushed the betrothal ring upon Delight's finger. She stared down at the beautiful circle of Irish red-gold which was carved all around with tiny forget-me-nots studded with tiny blue sapphires.

A formal betrothal ceremony was a serious and binding thing, which in many places was considered more important than the marriage ceremony itself. There was no going back now. The marriage agreement was then signed by the bride's father, her intended husband, and the bride herself. Lord O'Brian was then instructed by the priest to give Delight the betrothal kiss, which he did, in a most chaste manner, thus finalizing the vows made between them, and ending the ceremony.

"Now," said Lord Morgan, "let us celebrate this happy event!" and with his wife he led them all back to the Great Hall of Ashby, where a feast awaited them. They had scarcely sat down to table when a messenger wearing the Earl of Marwood's badge rushed into the hall and ran up to Lord Morgan who waved his permission to the servant to speak.

"The young countess has gone into labor, my lord, and she begs that her mother and father attend her immediately. His lordship agrees with her ladyship, and also begs that you both come."

"Trust Bliss to take the attention away from Delight at her own betrothal feast. She has always had a flair for the dramatic," said Vanora primly.

"Vanora, have some charity for your sister," scolded Lady Rosemary. "You do not know what it is like to give birth to a child."

"Neither Blaze nor Blythe whined for you, Mama, when they first gave birth," noted Vanora.

"Nevertheless, I was with them both. A woman in labor with her first child wants the company of the other, more experienced women in her family. You will too one day. Blythe is here with us, and Blaze cannot travel." She arose from the table. "I must go to Bliss immediately, although it will be hours before she has her child. Still, she needs the reassurance of her family about her. Rob, see to the horses, for we will have to ride. The coach will take too long."

"I am going with you, Mama," said Blythe. "I cannot be away from Bliss at such a time. My lord," she said, turning to her husband, "will you see the children safely home, and then join me?"

"Go along, sweetheart," he told her. "Tell Owen I shall soon be with him, and we will all get drunk together."

"Oh, Delight," said Lady Morgan, "I am so sorry that your day has been spoilt, but you and Cormac must continue to host your feast." She hugged her daughter, and then hurried off to seek her traveling-cloak.

Blythe went with her, and Lord Morgan, with a hurried apology to his daughter and Lord O'Brian, quickly followed. For a long moment the hall was silent in the wake of their departure, and then Vanora said, "When are you going to cut the betrothal cake, Delight? I am fair starved to taste it!"

"So am I," replied Lord O'Brian, "but I think Delight's lips are probably far sweeter."

"My lord, behave yourself!" snapped Delight.

"Why, wench, if I behaved myself I should not be half the grand fellow that Gavin says I am," Cormac O'Brian teased, and snatching up his goblet, he arose. "A toast, my lords and my ladies! A toast to the loveliest bride a man could ever have! A toast to O'Brian's Delight!"

"A toast!" cried the remaining guests, rising and raising their own goblets while Delight blushed, half-irritated, half-pleased by his words.

And while the merriment continued in the Great Hall of Ashby, Lord Morgan's little party rode out for Marwood Hall. It was a ride of several hours' length, and sometimes they kept to the high road, but at other times they scorned it, riding cross-country, always taking the most direct route, until finally in the late afternoon they arrived. The women, almost falling from their horses, hurried on wobbly legs into the house, to be greeted by Owen FitzHugh, who was looking gaunt and haggard.

"I will never do this to her again," he declared dramatically. "My God, how she is suffering!"

"When did her pains begin, Owen?" Lady Rosemary asked him.

"Not until midmorning, belle-mère," he answered her.

"But your messenger arrived at Ashby at midmorning," she answered, puzzled.

"Her waters broke at dawn," he said, "and she insisted then and there that I send for you."

"Ahhhh," replied Lady Morgan understandingly. "Take me to her, Owen."

He led them to Bliss's apartments, where the expectant mother was found sitting up in her bed eating sugarplums and drinking wine. "Ohhhhh, Owen!" Bliss cried dramatically when she spied her husband, "I feel so dreadful!"

"And no wonder!" snapped her mother, coming into the room. "Stop eating those sweetmeats, and put that wine down, you little idiot! When did you ever see me eating and drinking in the midst of labor? You are going to be as sick as a pig, Bliss, and 'twill serve you right!" scolded the good lady, snatching the goblet from her daughter and sweeping up the dish of candies.

"But, Mama," wailed Bliss, "it keeps me from thinking about my pain!"

"You are supposed to think on your pain. How else is your child to be born if you do not consider on your pain? I do not think, however, that you are in that much pain if you can eat and drink sitting up. When was the last time you felt a spasm?"

"A little while ago," said Bliss vaguely, but then she gasped with surprise as a very sharp pain knifed through her vitals. "Ohhhh!" she shrieked. "Here is another one, and sooner than the last, Mama!"

"I am astounded," replied her mother dryly, "for I would not have been surprised if you had rendered my grandchild in his cups with all your wine! Where is the birthing table? Is no one in this house properly prepared for Marwood's heir?"

Lady Morgan took immediate charge. She sent her son-in-law off with her amused husband, who cast her a fond look as he escorted Owen FitzHugh away from the scene of activity. Her orders quickly rang out, and Marwood Hall's servants, used to their more lackadaisical mistress, scurried to and fro obeying Lady Morgan's recognized voice of authority. Under her mother's guidance Bliss got down to the serious business of having her child. Her labor quickly progressed stage by stage until shortly after ten o'clock in the evening she brought forth her son, and as the infant's howls rang through the house, Owen FitzHugh burst into his wife's chamber to find his exhausted but happy wife cradling their child, a look upon her face that he had never seen before.

"Is he not wonderful?" she cooed at her husband. "Is not my little Owen a fine baby boy?"

The Earl of Marwood knelt hollow-eyed by his wife's bedside. "I will never do this to you again, sweetheart," he vowed to her.

Bliss looked down on him as if he had gone stark raving mad. "God's foot, Owen! I've had a baby, 'tis all, not endured the Holy Inquisition! Little Owen is only the first. I want a houseful like him!"

"But what about the court?" he asked her, confused. "Do you not wish to return to court, sweetheart?"

"Oh, there is time enough for that," she answered him airily, "but first I want to raise my children."

Rosemary Morgan was still laughing about that two days later when they returned to Ashby. "Did you see the look upon his face," she asked her husband for the hundredth time, "when she said she wanted a houseful of children?"

"Motherhood is a potent emotion," chuckled Lord Morgan, "but you have been a shining example for our daughters, my dear. In the end the acorn does not fall far from the oak."

"Delight will be so excited to know that she is to be little Owen's godmother. I am glad we sent the children a message of Bliss's safe delivery. At least they did not have to wait until we returned home to know their sister and her son were all right. Now I can concentrate properly upon Delight's wedding. Unless there has been some difficulty with Blaze's confinement, you must convince Anthony to allow her to come, for I would not have her the only one of my children absent on such a particularly happy occasion."

"I will do my best, my dear," her husband replied, "for I agree that upon such a happy day we should all be together once again."

Lord and Lady Morgan and their escort reached their home shortly after sunset. It had been a lovely spring day for a ride, even as long a one as they had just completed. They were anxious to be home, for Lord Morgan had three mares in foal near their time, and his wife was concerned about their two youngest sons who had been sniffly. There was also something to be said about the comfort of one's own bed. Entering the house, they were greeted by Vanora.

"Lord O'Brian has kidnapped Delight," she announced without any preamble.

For a moment her parents looked uncomprehendingly at Vanora, but she did not bother to repeat her words, for she knew that they were not deaf.

Finally Lord Morgan said, "What do you mean that Lord O'Brian has kidnapped Delight, Vanora?"

"They were gone the morning after the betrothal, even before the messenger arrived from Marwood Hall to tell us of Bliss's son. They have not been back since, and there is a letter in your library for you."

"That does not mean that he has kidnapped her, Vanora," said Lady Morgan. "Wherever do you get such fanciful ideas from in the first place?"

Vanora looked mightily offended, but she could not respond sharply to her mother as she might have to her siblings. "Mama," she said frostily, "what am I to think when Lord O'Brian comes from the house carrying a struggling, muffled body over his shoulder, which he slings onto one of the two mares that you promised him, Papa? What am I to think when he, his servant, the muffled body, and the two mares go off? What am I to think when Delight is no longer here afterward?"

"You actually saw all of that?" her father said.

"Aye, Papa, I did. The bedchamber was stuffy, and as it was dawn, I saw no harm in opening the window, which as you know overlooks the front of the house. Lord O'Brian even saw me. He grinned, and he waved farewell to me."

"Oh, Rob!" cried Lady Morgan. "I feared that this match was a mistake."

"Let us see what the letter says before we render too quick a judgment," answered her husband as he hurried into his library. There the letter sat, just as Vanora had said, upon his desk. Slowly he picked it up and broke the thick wax seal. Carefully he unfolded the heavy vellum and lowered his eyes to peruse its message. He read:Robert, I can stay no longer away from my lands. In Ireland a man who stays too long off his lands may return to find he has none. I have taken Delight with me, as she is my betrothed wife. I will wed with her on the date agreed upon by us, but 'tis better we wed in Ireland. The late-August seas are chancy at best, and I fear a storm would prevent me from reaching England, which would mean I should have to wait almost a year to claim my wench. Come if you can. I promise to cherish her.

Your ever grateful son-in-law,Cormac, Lord O'Brian of Killaloe.

"Oh, Rob, what is it?" begged Rosemary Morgan.

Lord Morgan looked up from the message. His fine blue eyes were bright with their amusement. "Well, my dear, I suppose one might say that Lord O'Brian did indeed kidnap our daughter, since Delight did depart under some duress. He has taken her back to Ireland to wed, as he feels it is dangerous for him to be off his lands for so long, particularly, I suspect, as he has no sons right now. The Irish are an opportunistic race. We are invited to come to the wedding if we can."

"Ohh, my poor Delight," wailed Rosemary Morgan "and in her fragile condition too!"

Lord Morgan was forced to laugh. "Delight is about as fragile as a rock, my dear. Cormac O'Brian is an honorable man. I have no fears that he will marry her. Father John will keep us informed through the letters that he and Father Kevin exchange."

"He had no right to steal our daughter!" Lady Morgan was now indignant.

"Our daughter, but his betrothed wife," reminded her husband. "Perhaps you will think me mad, my dear, but I think it is the best thing that could have happened to Delight. He has yanked her away from everything that is familiar, and forced her into a different world from the one that we know. Delight is a strong girl. She has to be, to have survived what she has survived. Now she must be strong for herself, and she will be, my dear. She will be!'

"I think that it is heavenly," murmured Vanora, her dark eyes dreamy. "Imagine having a man so in love with you that he cannot wait until your wedding day, but must steal you away instead."

"How old are you now, Vanora?" asked her father thoughtfully.

"Twelve, my lord, this February past," she answered him.

"Time to be considering a husband for you, I think, my daughter," replied Lord Morgan.

"I shall choose my own husband," said Vanora stubbornly.

He smiled down at her. "Perhaps you will, little one. Perhaps you will. Run along now, and tell the others that your mother and I have come home. We will see them all in the chapel for vespers shortly."

Vanora curtsied to her parents and ran off.

"Well now," said Lord Morgan, sounding extremely pleased with himself, "we can truly count ourselves quite fortunate, my dear, can we not?" He smiled broadly at his wife.

"I do not understand you, Rob. Delight has been kidnapped by her betrothed husband, and you consider us fortunate?"

"One must look at the larger picture, my dear," he told her, and when she looked puzzled he said, "Four are wed, and but four to go!"