Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Two

A few weeks later, back at Heartstone, Lucien worked hard with the colt, Storm, as he half watched his son riding past, going to join his mother and sister.

“Good day, Luc.”

Lucien turned to see Phillip standing there. He looked sober and worried. “Phillip, what brings you here?”

“Just stopped by. Thought I should apologize again and see if I was still welcome here.”

Lucien smiled. “Of course you’re welcome here. How are things in London?”

Phillip leaned on the fence as he watched his friend. “You look well—marriage must agree with you.”

Taking a deep breath, he turned the colt loose and walked over to his friend. “It is the best thing that ever happened to me. I am pretty sure that Rafe would also agree. When can we expect you to lose your freedom?”

Before Phillip could say anything, someone else did. “Yes, Phillip. When are you getting married?” It was Rafe.

“Rafe.” Phillip smiled as he greeted his friend. “The wife let you out of the house so soon?”

“I am the man. I can do what I want.”

“Uh-huh. If you say so. Marriage may work for the two of you, but I have no intention of giving up my freedom. There is not a woman alive out there that can keep me interested for the rest of my life. I like the life of a rake.”

Lucien grinned. “I don’t look at it that way. I am happy. I have everything that I could want.”

“Don’t you two ever miss your freedom? I mean going out with different women and not being tied down?”

“Yes, Lucien. Answer his question. Do you ever miss that?” Ciara’s voice broke in. As one, the men turned and swallowed when they saw her sitting on her horse. Phillip blanched. Ciara shook her head at the men. With a wink at Phillip and a smile for her husband, she added, “Sorry. I don’t mean to intrude. Lunch will be in a few minutes. Lord Edais, will you join us?”

His answer was stammered. “Y-yes. That would be fine. Thank you, Lady Heartstone.”

“Call me Ciara. I don’t like all that formality stuff. Rafe, I am to tell you that you and your wife will be joining us as well. See you inside.” She rode off, disappearing into the stable, leaving the men in both awe and amazement as they watched her graceful movements.

Lucien smiled to himself as he watched the woman he had the privilege to call ‘wife.’ She was a work of art. Every movement, every motion was beautiful to watch. Sighing deeply, he slapped his friends on their backs. “We should get inside.”

Phillip had never felt more like an outsider than he did at lunch that day. Not that the company he kept made him feel bad, or awkward. It was that they seemed so bloody happy with their families. The looks on his friends’ faces when they picked up their infant children. The love that was in their gazes as they kissed their wives. It hurt him to think that maybe Rafe and Lucien had a point. For in truth, they didn’t seem to be trapped into anything undesirable at all.

Phillip looked around the table and watched his friends smile. They had never been so relaxed-looking before. Rafe was holding his heir and looked content. His wife, Devonna, was bending over a piece of paper that Lucien’s eldest, Brenden, had drawn and was showing her.

Ciara sat beside her husband, holding in her arms their daughter, Keely. Lucien was speaking to Rafe about his stables and every now and then would send a secret smile toward his wife as he looked on in wonder at his family. On the floor over by a wall lying sprawled out in complete silence were the rest of the clan, a mountain lion, a wolf cub and two Irish wolfhounds. They were well-behaved despite the conversations going on around them.

Phillip slid his gaze back toward the woman that had snared The Black Marquess. She was intriguing to him. Lucien was right, there was something about her that made a person sit up and take a second look. When he glanced up at her face, he saw that she was staring at him with those unwavering whiskey-colored eyes of hers. It was like she was evaluating him and taking his measure.

Ciara stared at Phillip. The man was a mystery to her. By all outward appearances, he seemed to be one thing, and yet at times he appeared to be completely different. In truth, he seemed to be unhappy. Like his actions were ways for him to avoid the real issue bothering him.

She realized that this quandary of a human male was in fact still nervous around her. Ciara didn’t hold a grudge against him. What happened back then was between her and Lucien.

The fact that he’d brought Lady Polly Ward with him that one day had been harder to forgive. She had done it, but it had not by any means been easy.

Ciara turned her attention to the infant she held in her arms. Keely was a miracle. The birth had not been an easy one—she had come way too early. When she came, she hadn’t been breathing at all.

Now, she was a strong girl. Growing and smiling at everyone. Bryn looked after and loved his little sister.

There was no jealousy from him. He loved being with her. Keely didn’t cry much and she would follow Bryn with her eyes, grinning and drooling when she would see him smiling at her.

The adults spent the rest of the afternoon outside. The nice fall days were coming to an end and Ciara wanted to enjoy them as much as possible.

* * * *

In the weeks preceding Christmas, Lucien was summoned to London. The duke sent the note but no other explanation.

Ciara was lounging in the salon when Devonna stuck her head in the door. “Ciara. Mind some company?”

“Come in, Dev. Did you bring my nephew?”

“I left him with Bryn, Keely and the governess.” She shut the door and sat down on a couch.

Ciara had just sat up to ring for tea when Mrs. Ashley knocked and brought in tea and snacks. After she’d left them alone, Ciara smiled at her sister-in-law. “What’s the matter, Dev?”

“Rafe was summoned to London by Father.”

“Lucien as well. Maybe it means they found Richard.”

The door opened and in came Bryn followed by the governess and both babies. “Sorry, my lady. He wouldn’t stay in the nursery any longer.” Her disapproving tone was clear.

“That’s fine.” Ciara opened her arms to hug Bryn as Devonna rose to get her son. “I always have time for my son.”

“With all due respect, milady, you should be sterner with him. The children ought to be seen, not heard, and only seen at certain times. Left to run loose like this can only bring trouble.”

“My son is not causing trouble.” Ciara’s voice sharpened. “This is his home and if he wishes to leave a room he may do so. I will not allow my son to feel like a prisoner in his own home.” She removed her daughter from the dour-faced woman.

“I am doing what I was hired to do.” Her words snapped with condescension.

“Your point?”

“That the Marquess of Heartstone hired me. My reputation is well known for dealing with unruly children. If allowed to do this my way and without interruptions, I will have him groomed into a proper child of a marquess.”

“Regardless of who hired you, I am his mother.”

“My lady, most mothers don’t interfere and allow me to do my job. In the end, they are happy with the results. I don’t have a biased opinion and can see the children for what they are.”

Devonna pulled Bryn down on the seat beside her as she watched the governess sign her own dismissal. “Mama’s mad, isn’t she, Auntie Dev?”

“I would bet so.” She ruffled his hair as they watched the scene unfold in front of them.

“What exactly is my son, really?”

“A child. But one sorely lacking in manners. That’s why I was hired.”

“Exactly. Was. Not anymore.”

The large woman drew herself up to all of her completely unimpressive and stocky height. Her broad shoulders were quivering with indignation as she struggled to regain her composure. She was an extraordinary governess, her services highly sought after by the crème de la crème of the ton. She was never prematurely dismissed. This was an outrage. She said as much.

Ciara believed that the teacher could be compared to a fish with her mustached mouth gaping open and shut. “I am relieving you of your position. As you claim there are many who wish for your services, you shouldn’t have a problem getting work.”

“You can’t dismiss me. I was hired by the marquess.” The woman shook with rage. “He will hear of this.”

“My husband”—Ciara began. Her tone, befitting her station, as regal and pompous as Devonna had ever heard—“may very well have hired you. However, as the case may be, he is in London and I am Bryn’s mother. I want you gone. Feel free to send him a note, for you can be sure that I will. Weeks will send some footmen to accompany you to gather your things and take you to the nearest coach. Good day.”

Ciara sat there with an expression that dared anyone to contradict her order. Silent footmen stood behind the ex-governess as if summoned by a bell pull and given verbal instructions, when in fact Ciara hadn’t touched the rope or called for them.

* * * *

Lucien and Rafe weren’t having much more fun in London. Richard had resurfaced and they were trying to figure out a way to make him pay for his heinous crime without dragging Devonna’s name into the open.

Richard was being held at the holding center while they figured out what to do with him. Rafe had an idea of what should happen to him but, while Lucien seconded it, they knew they couldn’t do that to him.

The duke maintained his calm while he argued with his wife on what to do with her favorite child, the child of hers which could do no wrong in her eyes and therefore shouldn’t be punished for the crimes that she believed had been levied against him in some form of injustice.

As tensions were rising in the Stokley household, there were problems at Bow Street holding house number six. An explosion rocked the house, shattering windows and spewing shards of glass. Smoke rolled and billowed as men dressed in the scarlet clothes that had given them their nickname, Robin Redbreasts, scrambled to restore order in the ensuing chaos.

The night progressed as they rounded up the detainees and tended all injuries which had been obtained during the blast. Once things were calmed down and were getting back to what passed for normal around there, prisoners back and accounted for, they discovered one was missing.

Richard Quentin Nidels. The stepson of the Duke of Stokley, Sebastian St. Martin.

Sam Whip, a veteran runner of the Bow Street constables, was sent to deliver the unpleasant news to the St. Martin house.

“What do you mean he escaped?” The roar from the duke reverberated throughout the stone mansion.

Lucien and Rafe watched as Sam tried not to flinch under the fury of the duke. While outraged in equal amounts, the two younger men wanted to hear as much information as they could.

“Luc.” Rafe spoke in a subdued voice that allowed only Lucien to hear him. “If he has realized that she’s told of what he did to her, and now he has escaped…would he? Do you think?”

“Yes. I think he will go after her. Damn it all. I wanted to spend a nice Christmas with my wife and kids, not worry about Richard.” Making his decision, Lucien headed for the door, Rafe right beside him. “Let’s go. I will not leave them unprotected. Father, you do what you must here. With him free, our wives are in danger.”

“I will join you at Heartstone as soon as I have made some arrangements,” Sebastian told his son and son-in-law as he waved them off with a hand. It was time he put his family first and he was not going to fail his beloved first wife again.

* * * *

Lucien and Rafe rode hard and fast into the falling snow. Winter had arrived and it had done so with a vengeance.

The two men had to stop along the way to allow their animals the chance to get warm and dry. As soon as was possible, they headed back out.

The climatic conditions were foul. They couldn’t run their horses and, at the speed they were going, neither of them was very happy.

Plodding along at what he considered to be a slower pace than that of a dead turtle, Lucien found himself wishing he had one of the much hardier horses that his wife had brought with her. They could handle this better than his high-stepping, fancy hunter.

* * * *

The upcoming Duke of Stokley rode into Heartstone Manor cold, wet and accompanied by his brother-in-law, a little after the sun had risen. Not that it did much in the way of warming the countryside for it was still snowing and cold.

A footman took their tired mounts as they entered the building, taking the icy steps two at a time. The warmth that hit them stopped them in their tracks as their frozen bodies absorbed as much of the heat as possible.

Once warm, Lucien noticed that the doors were open to the ballroom and there were servants scurrying about with food, drinks and wood to keep the fires going. It sounded like there was a party going on inside.

Scanning the entryway for Weeks, Lucien noticed his home was decorated for Christmas. It was beautiful, warm and inviting. The only thing missing was his family.

“Weeks, where is my wife?” The question slipped from his mouth as he spotted his elusive butler.

“In the ballroom, my lord. Your sister and children are there as well.” Weeks allowed himself a rare grin. “Her family has arrived.” As he turned away, he stopped. Weeks spoke once again, solemn, “Your brother Lord Richard is there as well.”

Those words sent icy chills down both of their spines, eliminating the relief of hearing that the McKay Clan had arrived. Long strides took him to the entrance of the ballroom.

The sight stopped him and brought Rafe to a standstill beside him. The room was full of people. People Lucien didn’t know in the slightest. People not of Clan McKay.

The elegant ballroom was full of people dressed in flowing silks of many colors. They were covered with more gold than either man had seen on a member of non-royalty. They looked richer than the king.

They were all striking. Their skin tones varied from a light tan to the darkest coal. His ballroom was full of African royalty.

Richard was in the corner guarded by two men that made even Lucien feel small. They stood with their arms crossed over massive chests and appeared to be carved out of stone. Richard was sitting on the chair, making no trouble.

Ciara was sitting next to a very dignified older couple. The man had dark skin, wrinkled with age. His hair was white, making him appear more striking. Seated next to him was a woman who, despite her years, was incredibly stunning. Her hair was jet black and her skin was the color of rich honey.

They alone had on gold headbands that made Lucien believe that these two were of the highest rank in the room. “Ciara.” His voice brought the room to a standstill. Silence descended.

A brilliant smile spread across her face as she rose. “Lucien. Come meet my grandparents.” She pressed a kiss on his lips then led him over.

The elder male pinned a gaze on Lucien that had more effect than he would like to admit. “Lucien, meet my grandparents. The reigning king and queen of the kingdom of Shar’al.”

Lucien sketched a bow that was reserved for royalty. The queen inclined her head in acknowledgment. The king did nothing except assess with his eyes. “It is an honor to meet you both.” Lucien looked up as Bryn came running into the room.

“Papa! You’re back.” Bryn threw himself at Lucien and, as he was caught by his father, the king allowed himself a smile.

Holding tight to his son, he looked at Ciara. “What is Richard doing over there?”

“He made the mistake of trying to come after Devonna and me in the presence of the king’s guard. They are holding him for Rafe to decide his punishment.” Ciara grinned at him. “They are here for the Christmas season. They brought some gifts. Two are with Kosse.”

He arched an eyebrow. “More animals?” When she nodded, Lucien dropped his head back and laughed. “Then it shall be a wonderful Christmas indeed.”

Lucien set down his son and bowed once again to the king and queen. “I am pleased to have you in our home to share this time with us.”

Dinner was awesome. There were foods they had never had before and each one was a delicacy that tantalized senses. Rice flavored with rich spices, meats that pretty much fell apart in the mouth—they were so tender and succulent.

When they were enjoying an array of desserts, the door opened, admitting a very flustered duke. A very angry duke. “What is going on here?” He glanced around the room filled with imposing dark-skinned people. The bravado that he had been emitting seemed to wither and die in before those present.

Lucien turned back to his new in-laws. “Your majesties, may I present my father, Sebastian St. Martin, the Duke of Stokley, Marquess of Loqueal, Earl of Antliath, Viscount Tover…”

The king waved away the endless litany with a flick of one impressive, adorned hand. Bestowing a nod upon him, Lucien turned back to his father and spoke to him this time. “These are Ciara’s grandparents, their majesties, the King and Queen of the Kingdom of Shar’al.”

The night passed in smooth fashion as the families met and mingled with each other. The one, the sole one, in the house who did not was Richard. As the hours of darkness turned to the morn, he knew that his fate had been sealed.

* * * *

Christmas morning came to Heartstone. The grounds were covered with snow, making the whole estate feel pristine and pure. The massive tree that had been taken into the parlor sat covered with candles and surrounded with presents for the children, and a few for some of the adults.

Ciara sat alongside her husband as she watched her eldest child pass out presents to the adults in the room. Bryn’s footsteps were dodged by Remy the wolf, Thor and Loki the wolfhounds, and by the newest additions to the family, Arrow, who was a cheetah cub, and Leah, a Serval kitten. Her grandparents had also brought with them a trained black eagle.

Complementing the animals, they had brought lots of silks and other fine woven materials and trinkets of gold. What they brought was nothing to them, but to the English, it was a lot of wealth.

As they opened presents and ate the immense Christmas dinner, Lucien realized that he had everything that he could possibly want, need or desire. He had a family. As his contented gaze centered on the love of his life, she blinked and smiled at him. A smile that reached up to her amber eyes and filled them with love as she smiled a smile that he knew exactly the meaning of. Him alone. The smile was just for him and it rocked him to the core. I love you.

Ciara snuggled up closer to her husband and soaked up his warmth. As his strong arm settled around her and tucked her in closer, he placed a kiss on her head. Heedless of the others in the room, Ciara raised her face to Lucien’s and meshed her lips upon his. She was home.

Merry Christmas, daughter. We are proud of you. The words echoed in her heart as she leaned up against the man that meant the world to her. Her marquess.