Midnight Secrets (18 page)

“Very well.” That was as much of a confession as I was willing to make. I found myself liking him, despite my desire not to. “You said Mary’s death was senseless. What happened to her?”

He caught my elbow, bringing us to a halt. Looking me dead in the eye, he spoke very succinctly. “I know nothing more than what you have already heard, I’m sure. Gossip runs more rampant amongst the servants in a household than sewers run in London. Mary went on a picnic with Rebecca. Rebecca returned without Mary and I found their picnic basket, blanket and Mary’s boots on the beach. She drowned.”

I blinked then searched the area ahead for Bridget, giving myself the needed moment to rein back my automatic denial. As much as I didn’t want to accept the fact that Mary was lost forever to us, I prayed that it was as simple as Stuart said. “Given those facts, that would be a logical assumption. So what does all of this have to do with Jamie and me?”

“He can’t accept that Mary is dead. It may be that in his heart he wants you to be Mary, and it upsets him that his mind tells him you’re not. He most likely saw you on the dunes this afternoon and had an overwhelming desperation to save Mary from harm.”

“Then why drag me into the woods and not to the castle?”

“For some reason Jamie feels safe in the Circle of the Stone Virgins.”

For a long moment I wondered why. The place felt far from safe to me, almost eerily evil. “Where did the stones come from?”

“It’s been here for centuries. Most likely it’s an ancient worship site for the Druids, or even a pagan temple for warring Romans when they conquered the Celts.”

I pushed the stones aside to think about later and focused on Jamie. Could his actions be explained so simply? Was he trying to protect me in some odd way? I could easily understand Jamie’s feelings, if that were truly the case. After each of my dreams, I’d felt the panic, the desperation to do anything to keep a loved one from harm.

Drawing another breath, I slipped my elbow from Stuart’s grasp, realizing once again that I’d completely forgotten that he’d touched me. His touch held none of the fire that Sean’s did. I started walking again. “So, how can I help Jamie?”

“That would be the dilemma. Should you show him kindness and spend time with him like Mary did, or do I ask you to show him no kindness, so that he knows without a doubt you are not Mary?”

“I would think only kindness can heal.”

“And that makes you like Mary. I have to confess there has been a moment or two when the sun hits the shine of your hair that I almost think you are Mary. It might help if you bound your hair tightly back and covered it completely with your mob cap.”

“What was Mary teaching him?”

“The alphabet. How to write, and hopefully how to read.”

“I’ve already been working with Bridget.” A wild idea hit me, one I wasn’t sure would be very welcome in some schools of thought. But after seeing the unchanging horizon of the servants’ lives, I knew I now firmly believed in educating the masses. Everyone deserved the gift of reading and writing. It would be one step that would give them more of a choice in the future. “I suggest we have a class for all of the servants who want to learn after the evening meal one night a week. That way, everyone can benefit, and Jamie will see that while it seems I am similar to this Mary, I am different.”

A gust of wind whipped a strand of hair across my face. Before I could brush it back, Stuart did. My breath caught at the sudden action and its familiarity, but my heart didn’t pound. “You didn’t happen to be suddenly born in May of this year?” he asked.

“What?” I shook my head, thinking I’d heard wrong.

“You are so like Mary that reincarnation would explain a lot. Unfortunately, I think there’s a more logical explanation. Since I know Mary didn’t have any sisters, you must be one of her cousins of which she was so fond. If you’re here to find answers other than the ones given, you’re wasting your time.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I promptly tripped because my knees were rubbery. I would have fallen had he not caught my elbow. I’m not sure what else I would have said to convince him because the harsh sound of a woman weeping cut into my shock. Stuart heard, too, and turned from me.

“Wait here,” he said tersely then ran ahead to the bend in the path.

I decided that I’d much rather have Stuart’s dubious character in sight rather than stand alone with the dark of the forest at my back. I hurried after him, even though he didn’t follow the path but turned toward the sand dunes, increasing his pace.

Following close at his heels, I felt my insides hurdle over a cliff when I saw Bridget on the ground, head bent as she huddled protectively against the rise of the dune and the whipping wind. She had the blue shawl I’d given her clutched tightly about her, as if seeking comfort.

Chapter Nine

“Bridget! Good Lord! What happened? Who hurt you?” I asked, running to her.

Stuart gave me a sharp look, but I ignored it as I fell to my knees in the warm sand. I didn’t care if I was jumping to conclusions. Jamie’s supposedly protective attack on my person weighed heavily on my mind, and I had yet to decide his intent. If Jamie were trying to protect me, then why did Stuart lie to Sean? Why not just tell the Killdaren the truth? But I didn’t dare ask more questions so soon. If Stuart had a suspicion of who I was and why I’d come, how long before someone else made the connection?

Bridget, teary-eyed and pale, looked up from where she’d been crying into her mob cap. She saw me and cried harder. “Oh, Cassie, what am I ta do?”

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “While I’m thanking God you’re alive, can you tell me what has happened to you?”

“Not me,” Bridget said. “It’s me mum. She has the consumption. Won’t live another year, they’re sayin’, and she’ll need tending to before too long. Me brother Tim’s just six, and I’ve not gotten a note from Flora yet, either. I can’t even tell her about our mum.”

Part of me sighed with relief that nothing untoward had happened to Bridget. Since coming to Killdaren’s Castle, my imagination had grown almost to the point of the ridiculous, but then, there’d been enough incidents to provide ample fuel for my imaginings.

Another part of me empathized with Bridget’s pain. Here she’d been given plenty of warning of a loved one’s death, and yet was as powerless as I had been to stop Mary’s or my grandparents’ deaths. “We’ll sort this out.” I squeezed her shoulder. “You’ll see, there is an answer. We just have to find it.”

Bridget nodded her head, trying to stifle her sobs.

“Which doctor did she see?” Stuart asked.

Bridget’s eyes widened. “Couldn’t afford ta ’ave a doctor come. Old Mrs. Compton does most the doctorin’ for village folks like us.”

“I understand,” Stuart said. “But you should have—”

“Should’ve what? How can you understand anything?” Bridget shouted, sounding almost bitter. “You pretend to know our troubles Stuart Frye, but you can’t. You don’t know what it’s like ta see your mum and your brother a hurting, and you can’t do anything else but go and scrub fancy floors that never get used just to barely keep your family from starving.”

“I do know.” Stuart straightened, coldly stepping back from Bridget, his jaw taut, his eyes bleak. “I know what it’s like to have someone’s life in my hands, and I know what it’s like to make bitter choices. If you can walk, I suggest we get back to the castle. I’ve already pushed my mother as far as I can for the day.” He held out his hand to Bridget, but she ignored his offer of help, and struggled to her feet alone.

“Don’t need ya to talk to your mum on my account neither.” Bridget started marching down the path, her anger at Stuart apparently bolstering her as she pulled the blue shawl tighter around her.

From the clenched set of Stuart’s jaw as he stared at Bridget’s back, I determined now would not be a good time to ferret out more information. Given all of the factors of my situation at Killdaren’s Castle, there never seemed to be a good time for asking questions.

Stuart turned to me when we neared the stables. The storm raging in his dark eyes made me shiver, and told me a lot more lay hidden inside him than what I’d seen. “Whatever your reasons for being here, I’ll keep silent for now,” he said. “Don’t make me regret it.”

He stalked off then, leaving me feel as if he’d raised an axe and I had best tread carefully or he’d let it fall.

Bridget and I spent most of the evening after dinner talking about her family. Though less teary-eyed, she had no hope that her mother would live through another Cornish winter, and she despaired about what she could do. I tried to reassure her and thought I could do a number of things to help her, even bring her and her family back to Oxford with me when I left Killdaren’s Castle, though I doubted an Oxford winter would be any milder. But I couldn’t tell Bridget any of that yet.

Exhausted, Bridget fell asleep early, deciding to delay reading the next story in the vampire book—a decision I was thankful for. The title of the next story, “Forbidden Fruit,” didn’t sound as if it was anything I needed to delve into. Not if I wanted to have any peace of mind whatsoever. The forbidden fruit of my attraction to Sean and the heated memory of his kiss didn’t need anything more to fuel them.

I took out my journal and added today’s events, then reread the entries, frustrated with how slowly the secrets at Killdaren’s Castle were unraveling. I wanted to grasp the end of that yarn and jerk hard, even if it sent the ball spinning out of control.

One thing I could do was research the history and legend behind the Circle of the Stone Virgins. Stuart had said that the stones might have had their origins in Druid lore, and I recalled that the library downstairs had several books on the subject.

Lighting a candle, I stole downstairs, listening very carefully for any whisper of sound as I went directly to the library. I slipped inside, taking care to be very quiet. Knowing Sean’s picture hung in the shadows made me feel as if I’d entered his bedchamber. I tiptoed across the thick rug, smelling the lemon and beeswax scent lingering from the cleaning Bridget and I had given the room earlier. I also detected a hint of something else, and sniffed the air as I pulled from the shelf several of the Druid books that were mixed in with the vampire books
. Mastery of Druid Magic. The Sacred and Profane Rites and Rituals of the Druids and their Children. The Druids’ Thirst for Humans.
 

“You surprise me. I thought it would take longer for you to meet me.”

“Oh!” I jumped in fright, sending the books flying as I juggled the candle. “Meet you?” Turning fast, I found myself face to face with Sean, or face to chest to be more accurate. This time the casual cotton of a white shirt lay soft and inviting across his broad shoulders and supple flesh. Warmth and mystery emanated from him, and I clenched my fist to keep from reaching out to touch him.

To see his face, I had to tilt my head and retreat a step, which brought my back against the bookcase. Leaning toward me, he planted his hands on the shelf behind me, trapping me between his arms, blocking my escape. An escape I am sure I would have made, had my mind been capable of thought.

It wasn’t, just at present.

The dampness of his hair and the smooth line of his jaw, combined with the fresh scent of soap and spice, told me he’d just come from his bath. We stood so close I could count the flecks of green and gold in the irises of his eyes. Having all of his dangerous male appeal so unexpectedly close disconcerted me to the point that all I did was stare at him. The only thing keeping his body from pressing into mine as it had during his kiss was the flickering candle in my unsteady hand.

He blew the candle out.

“Oh!” I stood in the dark, desperate for my eyes to adjust to the moonlight.

“Can’t have us catching on fire, can we?” He must have been able to see in the dark because he took the candle from my tingling fingers.

“No, fire is good,” I gasped, already burning. For a moment I stood there, waiting helplessly for him to kiss me, until I realized what I was doing. Good Lord, had I lost all sense of myself? “Cassiopeia’s Corner” would have advised any woman finding herself in such circumstances to take drastic measures and gain a proper footing. Only, I didn’t want to stamp on his foot and flee, but I did want to learn more about him, and I would have to compromise my notions of propriety to do so. I planted my palm in the center of his too tempting chest and pushed. He only took one step back, which gave me some breathing room, but not much.

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

“Since it is my library, I think I’ll ask you that question.”

“Oh.” I winced. “Forgive me, I forgot myself.”

He studied my face a moment. “You’re forgiven, but first satisfy my curiosity,” he said. “What is a pretty maid such as yourself looking for in books about Druid magic and powers?”

I arched a brow. “Perhaps I’m looking for spells to make odious men keep a respectable distance. You took enough liberties with my person earlier today, sir.”

He laughed, making me feel like a mouse cornered by a hungry cat. “I recall a mutual liberty taking, lass. But considering you were trespassing into my private quarters, I had the right to not only know why you were there, but also could have viewed your intrusion as an invitation to take more from you than the kiss I did. In fact, as much as I’ve tried to fight my attraction, I regret not doing so.” His gaze dropped, seemingly studying my mouth, then moved lower.

My breasts tingled.

“I suggest you answer my question, Cassie. Or I might be moved to coerce the answer from you.” His gaze slid over me. “In a mutual way, of course.”

Deep inside me, I knew I shouldn’t find his threat exciting. I shouldn’t wonder what a mutual coercing entailed, but the notion intrigued me in an utterly improper way, that I blurted out the truth before I
could
entice him into a coercive action. “I wanted to research the Circle of the Stone Virgins that I saw today. Mr. Frye mentioned they might have a Druid origin.”

After studying me a moment, despite the darkness, he pushed back from the bookcase, freeing me. I didn’t run or move, but waited to see what he would do. He lit the candle, flooding a dim light about us. Surely my sigh was one of relief and not disappointment. Using his cane for balance, he nimbly picked up the books I’d dropped.