Duchess of Sin (27 page)

A
nna reined in her horse at the crest of a high hill. From that vantage point, high above the rolling fields, she could see
for what seemed like miles and miles. The Connemara house, with all its convivial company and holiday cheer, was left far
behind, and she was alone with the dark gray sky and the cold wind.

Yet it was not just the urge to be alone, to gallop over the fields and feel the rush of the wind in her hair, that drove
her away that morning. Just past the low stone wall at the foot of the hill lay the Adair estate.

Her horse pawed the ground restively beneath her as she studied the land beyond that wall. She didn’t know what she had expected
to see there. Maybe something that would tell her an essential secret about Conlan McTeer, some magical shimmer in the very
air. Yet it looked no different than any other land in County Kildare. There were lush fields and hills, a pale gold-green
in the winter, laying like a patchwork blanket seamed with gray walls and strands of silvery ash trees. A few hardy sheep
cropping the grass and a few crows in the trees were the only signs of life.

But in the distance, she could see mysterious towers and a curl of smoke that seemed to beckon her forward.

She glanced back over her shoulder. She was still alone. She had slipped away without a groom, far from the watchful eyes
of her mother and sister and of Grant Dunmore. Far from everyone at that party, who so smugly waited for her to announce her
future as Lady Dunmore. No one would know if she explored for a while before she went back.

She tugged on the reins, letting the horse run free. They dashed down the hill, the wind shrieking past them. Anna laughed
at the joyous pleasure of speed and movement, shouting as the horse jumped the wall, and they were on Adair land.

She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do now, so she turned the horse in the direction of the towers. There was a bridle path
cut through the meadow, just wide enough for one horse, and she followed that wherever it would take her. The sky seemed even
darker and lower now, a charcoal gray that threatened snow, but she didn’t want to turn back. She couldn’t, not yet. An insatiable
curiosity drove her forward, a need to feel close to Conlan and start to understand him.

She came to the rise of another hill, one crowned with a moss-encrusted Celtic cross. She drew in the horse to study its faded
designs, the familiar loops and curves of the knotwork pattern. But there were no words to tell her why it was there, what
its significance could be. It was a beautiful marker of a fierce spirit fighting for survival in its own land. Much like Conlan
himself.

She folded back the veil of her riding hat to better see into the distance. In one direction lay a clutch of
whitewashed cottages, a small village with smoke curling over their thatched roofs. In the other lay the big house, Adair
Court.

She studied it closely. It was older and darker than Killinan Castle. Killinan had been in her family for generations, but
the only remnant of the old medieval keep was a single round tower, a crumbling shell where she and her sisters played as
children. Later generations created a more comfortable and fashionable pale stone Palladian mansion.

Adair Court retained its crenellations and towers, like something in an old fairy tale. Ivy vines, brown in the winter, crowded
over the walls and covered the mullioned windows. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see a moat and drawbridge, knights galloping
over it with swords drawn and horses’ hooves clattering.

Much like the pounding hooves she heard now, thundering over the turf. She looked back to see Conlan himself galloping toward
her on a fearsome black horse. He charged up the hill like one of those knights of old but Anna held her ground, even as he
reined in a mere two feet from her. Dust and grass flew into the air.

Despite the way they parted in Dublin and her resolve to do her duty to her family she felt a terrible thrill to see him again.
She didn’t realize until she looked into those green eyes just how much she had missed him. It was as if she had been walking
around with a part of herself missing, and now she was whole again.

Even in the cold, he wore no hat or neckcloth, just a tweed riding jacket over his shirt. He didn’t smile at her, but she
saw a sudden flare of light in his eyes that gave her hope that he was happy to see her, too.

“What are you doing here, Anna?” he asked.

Anna laughed. “And good day to you, too, Your Grace. Am I trespassing again, like when we first met in ’98?”

“So you remember that day, too?”

“Of course I do. You seemed quite terrifying that day, like a dark villain from a Gothic novel.”

“And now?”

“Now—now I know better. You are even more terrifying than you were then.” And he was—terrifying because of the threat he posed
to her resolve to be respectable. The threat that he posed to her heart.

A reluctant smile touched his lips, and she saw that in the country he did not shave as often. Dark whiskers roughened his
jaw and those sensual lips, and his cropped hair had grown longer. It made him look even more medieval, her Irish warrior.

“I don’t want to frighten you, colleen,” he said. “But you shouldn’t be out alone on a day like this. It looks like snow.”

“I had to escape from all that holiday merriment at the Connemaras’,” she said. “It’s so loud and stuffy there, and if I heard
‘Three ships came sailing’ one more time I would start screaming and not be able to stop. I didn’t mean to go far, but…”

“But?”

“I wanted to see your home. I was curious what kind of land could spawn such a man as you.”

Conlan laughed reluctantly. “And what have you learned in your explorations?”

“Not a thing. You are more of a puzzle than ever.”

“Am I? That’s gratifying. What puzzles you here?”

“This cross, for one,” Anna said, gesturing to the old Celtic cross. “What does it mean?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s been there for many years, too many for anyone to remember. My mother used to say it was
the grave of our ancestor, Ewan the Brave. He was a warrior who fought the Vikings.”

“Really? An ancient warrior’s grave?” She studied the cross again, even more intrigued. “How romantic.”

“I admit I hardly even notice it now. It seems a part of the landscape.”

“So you were not coming to visit your ancestor?”

“I had a much more prosaic errand,” Conlan said. “I was going to call on some of my tenants, until I saw a witch on horseback
trespassing on my estate.”

Anna shifted the reins in her gloved hands. “Perhaps I should not have come. After the way we parted in Dublin, I should consider
that I may not be welcome here.”

His smile faded. “I was in pain that night and furious with myself for leading you into danger again. I shouldn’t have shouted
at you.”

“It seems to me I led myself into danger.”

“But you would not have been following me if I hadn’t taken you to that tavern first, if…” If they had not made love. The
unspoken words hovered between them. “I meant it when I said you should stay away from me.”

“Yes, I should. But I can’t seem to. Can you stay away from me?”

“It would appear not, since here you are. You do have a witchlike way of appearing everywhere I turn.”

Anna laughed. “To be a pest is my own special magic.”

“Since we can’t be rid of each other, would you like to come with me now?”

“To visit your tenants?”

“Yes.”

“Me?” She was very glad indeed that he invited her, that all seemed calm between them for the moment. But she was strangely
frightened, too. What if they did not like her? What if they thought her a—a spoiled Ascendancy princess? “Really?”

“I can hardly leave you alone to wander on my property. Who knows what havoc you would wreak? I promise the McEgans are kind
people. They will welcome you.”

“Very well then. I will go with you. But I warn you, I am not as good at these things as my mother is.”

“No one expects a witch to suddenly be an angel,” he said. “You did say you wanted to see more of my home.”

“I do. Thank you.”

She tugged at the reins, following Conlan down the slope of the hill and along a narrow path around cottages laid out like
a little village. They were small, but tidy and snug, the walls thick and sound. She could hear laughter through the windows,
and there were holly wreaths on the doors.

“Some of the servants live there,” Conlan said, “though most of them live in the house itself. There’s also a shop or two.”
He led her past more widely spaced cottages and through a thicket of trees. Nestled among their bare limbs were two small
brick buildings, with no windows and stout doors. One had a plain wooden cross above the door.

“The school,” he said simply. “And the chapel.”

With those words, Anna knew for certain that he trusted her. In ’98, hidden Catholic chapels and secret “hedge schools,” led
by priests, were rooted out and brutally destroyed. Even now they were technically illegal,
but a strong landowner like the Duke of Adair could keep them safe.

“Do you have many pupils?” she asked.

“A fair number. The tenants’ and servants’ children go there to learn reading and writing, a few sums, things to help them
with their business or farms later.”

And religion, too, Anna was sure. “What of trades? Such as sewing and cooking for the girls? Perhaps training as ladies’ maids?
My mother has a whole separate school for the girls at Killinan.”

“That would be most welcome, if a lady could be found to teach them,” he said.

They emerged from the trees to find more fields, fallow now for the winter season, but she could see that by summer they would
be alive with wheat and oats and vegetables. The stone walls were sturdy and the hedges tall and neatly clipped.

“You are certainly a good landlord,” Anna said. “Everything looks so well-tended and prosperous.”

“Are you surprised? Did you expect neglect and weeds?”

“Not at all. I already know how much you care for your people,” she answered. She had seen how he fought, how much he would
sacrifice for them. A duke’s existence was not merely one of lofty titles and privileges; it was duty, the care of the people
and the land. She truly saw that now in these lands.

“The McEgans’ farm is just this way,” Conlan said as he led her down a hedge-lined lane. The house was also whitewashed with
a thatched roof, but larger than the village cottages. It was two stories with a little vegetable garden enclosed by an iron
fence. Chickens pecked around
the doorstep, and rosebushes twined dormant around the blue door.

Conlan swung down from his horse and reached up to help Anna from her saddle. They stood there for a long moment, his hands
warm at her waist, mere inches from each other. Anna leaned into him and inhaled deeply of his familiar, much-missed scent.
How good it felt to be close to him again! She had a fierce longing to throw her arms about him, to kiss him and feel that
lust rise within her again. Feel his body harden and know he wanted her, too.

But the door swung open behind them, and Conlan let her go. Flustered, her cheeks uncomfortably hot, Anna fussed with her
gloves and the braided edge of her habit, before she turned to the door.

A man stood there, tall and raw-boned, and a little girl with adorable blond braids held on to his hand. They both smiled
in greeting, warmth and the scent of fresh bread slipping from the house behind them.

“Your Grace!” the man said happily. “We didn’t expect to see you here on such a cold day.”

“I wanted to see how your mother fared, Patrick,” Conlan said. He took Anna’s arm and whispered in her ear, “His mother has
been ill, and I sent the doctor to her yesterday. She’s quite elderly now, I fear, but an excellent teller of tales.”

“You send a doctor to your sick tenants?” Anna said in surprise. Her mother nursed the people at Killinan herself and sent
a doctor in more difficult cases, but most landowners would not take such care. She should have known Conlan was different.

“Of course,” he said. “There is a midwife, too.”

“Your Grace!” the little girl cried, and to Anna’s shock came skipping up the cobbled walkway to tug at Conlan’s coattails.
“I’m getting a new doll for Christmas!”

Conlan laughed and swung the girl up high into his arms until she shrieked with giggles. “Are you indeed, Molly girl? What
a fine Christmas gift!”

“Aye, but Papa doesn’t know I know, so it is a secret.” She turned curious blue eyes onto Anna. “Who is this?”

“This is my friend Lady Anna,” Conlan said. “Anna, this little charmer is Miss Molly McEgan.”

“How do you do, Miss McEgan?” Anna said. “I am so very pleased to meet you.”

Molly shyly popped a finger into her mouth and whispered around it, “She is pretty, Your Grace.”

“Yes, indeed she is,” Conlan said. He smiled at Anna over Molly’s golden head.

Anna thought Molly would be a perfect pupil for that girls’ school, and she resolved to find a proper teacher for it. “I should
very much like to see your doll, Miss McEgan, once she is no longer a great secret. I once had a beautiful doll myself, named
Eleanor, but I’m sure she is nothing compared to yours.”