The Lady of Secrets (48 page)

The only disquiet that remained in her mind centered upon the man striding toward her across the deck. Or was it more accurately a disquiet of the heart?

She was reminded of that first voyage they had taken together when she could barely tolerate Armagil Blackwood. He was still just as untidy, just as rough in his appearance, but never had any features been more dear to her. She wanted to drink in her fill of the sight of him because she did not know how much longer she had.

He had embarked with them to make certain Patrick Graham
did not succumb to an urge to return to London and play the martyr. Armagil had not made clear what he planned to do once he had seen Sir Patrick safely on French soil. Meg had been reluctant to ask, fearing she might not like the answer.

He joined her at the rail, smiling down at her. After a mumbled greeting, they both fell silent. They had been through so much together, as adversaries, lovers, friends, it was strange she should suddenly feel so awkward, uncertain of even what to call him. Armagil? Robbie? She sensed that Armagil felt just as uncomfortable, after having bared his soul to her, all the secrets of his past.

He finally remarked, “It’s been a smooth crossing.”

“Yes,” Meg agreed softly.

“I daresay the countess has been glad of that, although I notice that she and Monsieur le Comte have scarce left their cabin.”

“I don’t think that has anything to do with Seraphine being ill,” Meg began and then blushed.

Armagil chuckled. “I doubt that it does either. So does this mean that the wayward lady has decided to return to her lord?”

“Seraphine and Gerard have had a rather stormy marriage; the painful loss of their son all but tore them apart. They are so very different, the comte so serious and quiet. And Seraphine is, well—” Meg smiled wryly. “Seraphine. But they love each other very much, and I always believed that if they could find their way back into each other’s arms, all would be well. I am very happy for her.” Meg could not quite prevent a note of wistfulness from creeping into her voice.

Armagil eyed her shrewdly. “You will miss her.”

“Very much,” Meg admitted with a sad smile. “Oh, there
have been times she has vexed me to the point of wanting to strangle her. But my island will be a much quieter place without her. Yet I am content, knowing she will be where she belongs.

“And what of your friend? I noticed that Sir Patrick is speaking to you again. Has he forgiven you for interfering with his vengeance?”

“I believe so. If he has not entirely, I hope he will in time. He intends to journey on to Douai. There is a seminary there for Jesuit priests. He means to take holy orders.”

“And then return to England?”

“I fear so. Not to stir up more rebellion, but there will be difficult days ahead for English Catholics and he hopes to at least bring them the comfort of the mass and their holy rites.”

“It will be very dangerous for him.”

“It will, and yet since he has arrived at this decision, Graham seems more at peace than I have ever known him.”

“And what of you?”

“I am well. Why, has my sister been haunting your dreams, telling you otherwise?”

“No, I have not dreamed of her again. I believe Maidred is no longer afraid for you. Her spirit is at rest.”

“That is good. I still wish I could have—I will always wish—” He swallowed.

“I know.” Meg laid her hand over his atop the rail. Armagil gave it a grateful squeeze.

Meg summoned up her courage to ask. “So what will you do now?”

“I intend to return to Scotland.”

“Oh.” Her heart plummeted. She drew her hand away from his, struggling to maintain a cheerful demeanor. “That—
that will be wonderful for you to go home after all these years, but is it safe for you to do so?”

“I think enough time has passed. I no longer bear much resemblance to that callow boy named Robert Brody. I have to take the risk, Meg. It is a journey long overdue. I have to find my other two sisters and ask their forgiveness for abandoning them. Hopefully they will not spit in my eye and walk away, although it is certainly what I deserve.”

“I am sure they will be overjoyed at your return, Arma—” She checked herself with a wry laugh. “I hardly know what to call you now. Armagil? Robbie?”

“I prefer Armagil. You are not the only one who has been finally able to lay the past to rest.”

“So you will still be Dr. Blackwood. Will you try to establish a practice in Edinburgh?”

“It is not my intention to remain in Scotland, Margaret.”

“You will return to London?”

“No, I thought I might set sail on a voyage of exploration. You see, there is this mysterious island I have heard of, a place mostly inhabited by women—which would suit me very well. I hear it is governed by a beautiful sorceress.”

Although her heart beat faster with a mixture of hope and joy, Meg strove to match his light tone. “A foolish rumor. There is no sorceress—at least not a beautiful one.”

“Beautiful,” Armagil insisted, tipping her face up to meet his. “As beautiful as she is wise. So tell me. Do you have any idea how I should go about applying to this dazzling lady for permission to dwell on her island?”

“Don’t be absurd. You require no permission. Faire Isle is a place of refuge. Anyone is welcome and I am sure Hortense will be delighted to see you.”

“Bah, she has likely taken up with some bandy-legged sailor and forgotten all about me by now. I am more concerned to know if you will be glad to see me.”

“Yes, very.”

“There is so much you can teach me, Margaret. I want to learn all of your ancient magic to become a better doctor, a true healer.”

“I will be happy to share what knowledge I have.” She gazed up at him, searching his eyes. “Is that your only reason for coming?”

“No, I believe I have a few things I can teach you as well.”

“Such as?”

His mouth crooked into a wicked smile. He drew her into his arms and kissed her until she was breathless. When he finally drew back, the teasing glint in his eyes softened to something more tender.

“I do love you, Margaret. I thought I should tell you that in case you are still having trouble reading my eyes.”

She placed her hand along his cheek, smiling mistily up at him. “I fear you will always be a difficult man to read. So I am very pleased to hear you say you love me. You should mention it more often.”

“Every day, milady. You may depend upon it.”

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