The Wild Child (41 page)

In fairness, he had to admit that his father had reason to take finances seriously. Having inherited a pile of debts and a run-down estate, Wrexham had worked hard for years to rebuild the family fortunes. It wasn’t surprising that money and property played an important role in his calculations for his children. With wonder, Dominic foresaw a future where he and his father would get along tolerably well, because at heart they shared similar values. Family mattered. The land mattered. Duty mattered. And if his father sometimes irritated him— well, no doubt Dominic could be rather irritating himself. But they would understand each other, and be friends.

Of course he couldn’t say anything so sentimental aloud, so he merely offered, “Shall I get you more ale, sir?”

Wrexham shook his head wistfully. “Any more and my gout will lay me out for the next three days.”

“A dance, my lord?” A blushing village girl appeared in front of Dominic. She had the air of someone whose friends had egged her into doing something outrageous, and a dark henna flower drying on her right cheek.

“I’m not a lord, but I’d be delighted,” he said after a glance at Meriel, who smiled and waved him off. Dominic had been concerned that she would be overwhelmed by the crowd, but her tenants had been shyly respectful, albeit burning with curiosity about the mad Lady Meriel who had been their unseen mistress for so many years.

He followed the girl into the squares forming for a country dance. He and Meriel had led off the dancing, and enjoyed themselves thoroughly. So far she had showed no signs of tiring of his presence. Quite the contrary.

The fiddler began to play, and people swung into the figures of the dance. Dominic laughed at the startled expression of a middle-aged woman whom he twirled around; she hadn’t realized that the new lord of the manor was in the same set. But her shock was followed by a toothy smile. The locals seemed to have accepted him wholeheartedly. He’d never be the distant sort of master his father was. In the adjoining square, Lucia was dancing with face flushed and ribbons flying, partnered by young Jem Brown, the former poacher, who looked well fed and content. The same set contained John Kerr. The steward knew his own worth, but he’d still been relieved by Dominic’s reassurance that his services were needed and valued.

Soon dusk would be advanced enough to set the huge bonfire ablaze. Dominic privately thought there was something rather pagan about a bonfire on Midsummer Eve, but that was all right. This was a very pagan sort of celebration.

Meriel tapped her foot to the music as she watched Dominic dance with the girl. He was so good with people, kind but also a natural leader. Every tenant and villager in Warfield already adored him, and who could blame them? Luckily, he didn’t expect her to be a belle of the ball, even at her own marriage feast. He understood.

Deciding she needed to stretch her legs, she slid from the bench and began to circle the festivities. This was the longest day of the year, but finally the sun was sinking toward the horizon, and the slanting rays were turning the fields and the old castle above to molten gold. Her home had never been more lovely, or more loved.

“Milady.” Kamal fell into step beside her, looking majestic in his neatly coiled turban and well-cut tunic. She smiled up at him. “At the spring equinox, who would have imagined such a scene at the summer solstice?”

“No one.” He glanced over the crowd toward the gentry table. Lord and Lady Amworth were there, along with two of their children, who were about Meriel’s age. The cousins were amiable, and the countess kept a close eye on her husband to ensure that he didn’t overexert himself. Mrs. Rector and Mrs. Marks were chatting with the general and Jena Ames, and even Lord Grahame was speaking politely to the parish vicar.

“There has been much change, and will be more.” Kamal regarded her seriously. “The time has come for me to leave Warfield, milady.”

“Oh, no!” She stopped in her tracks, dismayed. “Are you going home to India?”

“England is my home now, but I am no longer needed at Warfield. You have a husband to look after you.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t still need you,” she whispered, a lump in her throat.

“I shan’t go far,” Kamal said reassuringly. “General Ames is getting along in years, and wishes help in managing Holliwell Grange. Though the house is not so grand as Warfield, the estate is nearly as large. He has asked me to become his steward.”

“I see.” Meriel suddenly understood. “Will you and Jena be happy, Kamal?”

He stared, more surprised than she’d ever seen him. “How did you know?”

She smiled blandly. “I have my ways.”

He laughed. “I should have known you would realize. Yes, milady, Jena and I will be happy. We have known each other in other lifetimes, I think.” He resumed walking, his expression pensive. “Even as a child, I felt that I was not properly rooted in my homeland. When the time was right, I came to England to watch over you. Now that you are well, it is time to take the next step on my path.”

Meriel realized that General Ames had to know about the relationship. By hiring Kamal, he was giving tacit approval. And well he should—he could look the world over and not find a more honorable man for Jena. “I’m glad you won’t be far away.”

“I’ll always be near if you need me, little flower,” he said softly. She blinked back tears. It was hard to describe exactly what the relationship was between them—there were elements of father, big brother, and friend. Whatever the definition, his kindness and love had kept her sane. “How did we first meet? You’ve been so much a part of my life that I can’t even remember.”

“Perhaps it is for the best if you don’t recall.”

She stared at him. “That statement begs questions.”

“I don’t mean to be mysterious.” His expression was troubled. “If you feel the need to know, I shall tell you.”

She did want to know, but not tonight. Something was tugging at the back of her mind. Her memories of India were a chaotic jumble of terror and intense sensations and sudden, startling beauty. She had always tried not to think of the past, but perhaps it was time she did.

The dance had ended, and Dominic was holding a small blond, somewhere in the vicinity of four years old. Meriel felt a squeeze on her heart at the sight. He would make a wonderful father—and his children would be her children. For the first time, she experienced the primal desire to have a baby, but not just any child. His.

She glanced away, not wanting to allow her emotions to get out of hand in public. Idly she noticed a horseman cantering toward the gathering from the direction of the house. She shaded her eyes and tried to see, wondering who was coming so late. She’d thought that any guest who would have a horse was already here.

A travel-stained young man, well dressed. Handsome but stern, looking rather like Dominic, but with a darker, more restless light…

She gasped. Alerted by some instinct, Dominic glanced up and saw the horseman. For an instant he was very still. Then he gently handed the little girl back to her mother and began walking through the crowd toward the newcomer. Kamal said sharply, “Is something wrong?”

“Not if I can help it!” Meriel flung over her shoulder as she raced off, determined to be present when Dominic and his twin brother met again.

Dominic tried to read Kyle’s expression but could see nothing beyond brittle self-control—and a swift glimpse of a pocket pistol as his brother swung off his horse. He stiffened as an image of Kyle pulling out the gun and coolly taking aim seared across his mind. Reminding himself that it was normal to carry a weapon when traveling alone, he said in a neutral voice, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Before his brother could reply, Meriel materialized, panting and looking like a furious angel. “Lord Maxwell,” she said flatly. “If you are here to insult my husband again, I will personally scratch your eyes out.”

“You have a fierce defender.” Kyle studied his sister-in-law intently, then gave a slight bow. “You may sheathe your claws, Lady Meriel. I did not come here to fight.”

“Then why did you come?” Dominic’s gaze went to where his brother’s coat concealed the pistol. “To administer justice?”

Kyle flushed, understanding immediately. “Of course not. I just came… to talk. Will you walk with me?”

He glanced at Meriel and Kamal, who had appeared at a more leisurely pace. “Alone.”

Though Meriel looked mutinous, Kamal said, “Of course.” After collecting the horse’s reins, he deftly removed Meriel.

Dominic fell into step beside his brother, who set a course away from the gathering. Silently they followed along a hedgerow, until Kyle said, “Lucia cornered me and explained at some length your version of events. Was it true?”

Dominic studied his brother’s profile, which could have been carved from granite. “I shouldn’t think that she made anything up.”

Kyle was silent for another dozen steps before asking, “Can you honestly say that when you married Meriel, it wasn’t at least partly from a desire to score over me?”

Hell. What was the right answer to a question like that?

When in doubt, tell the truth. Ruthlessly Dominic dissected the motives behind what had been an excruciating decision before replying, “I don’t think so. Mostly I was terrified that if Lord Grahame found Meriel, he’d take her back to the asylum. When Kamal and I went to Bladenham, she was tied to a chair in a straitjacket, like a wild beast. I couldn’t allow that to happen again.”

Kyle gave him a shocked glance. “My God, her uncle permitted that?”

“He thought he was giving her the best available treatment.” Dominic hesitated, then continued haltingly,

“While most of my concern was for her, if I’m going to be completely honest I have to admit that I also wanted to make her mine— to bind her in marriage so that no one could take her away from me.”

“So your love for the lady was greater than your loyalty to me,” Kyle said coolly. Dominic swore to himself. They’d never had a discussion that cut so close to the core of their conflicts, and now he saw why. This level of honesty was devilishly uncomfortable. “I swear by all that’s holy that having to hurt you in order to protect Meriel was the most damnably difficult thing I’ve ever done. If I hadn’t truly feared that she might end up in the madhouse, I would have waited for you to return so we could have settled the question face-to-face.”

His brother sighed, some of the tension fading. “I’m glad to hear that. I was afraid you had seized on the opportunity to pay me back for being born first.”

“I have never wanted to harm you, even when things were most strained between us,” Dominic said quietly. “Believe that if nothing else.”

“I do believe it, because I’ve always felt the same.” Kyle picked an ox-eye daisy from the hedgerow, rolling the stem between his fingers. “That was why it was so upsetting to think that the… the underlying trust had been violated.”

So that feeling of trust had not been just on Dominic’s side. “In this case, Meriel had to come first—and I hope I never have to make such a decision again.”

“I suppose I faced a similar decision and didn’t choose Meriel, so perhaps it’s only fair that I lost her,”

Kyle said pensively. “She has been completely transformed since the first time we met. She looks very pretty, and doesn’t seem the least bit witless. The credit for that goes to you, I gather.”

“She was never witless, and has done as much for me as I have done for her.” Dominic stopped himself from trying to explain why she entranced him. Another time, perhaps. At the moment, it was more important to seize this chance to clear the thickets of misunderstanding that had separated him and his brother for so long.

He moistened dry lips before asking the vital question. “For years, I’ve hoped that someday we could be friends again. Is that possible?”

His brother halted and turned to meet his gaze. In Kyle’s eyes were pain, wariness, and a yearning to connect that was as strong as Dominic’s. “I… I don’t know. We’ve been at cross-purposes for so long.”

Realizing that his brother needed a reason to believe, Dominic said, “We’re not in competition any more, Kyle, if we ever were. Maybe now it will be possible to simply relax and accept each other’s differences.”

Kyle gave a swift smile that reminded Dominic of when they had been boys and closeness had been as instinctive as breathing. “God knows that it’s worth trying.”

“Shall we shake on it?” Dominic took his brother’s hand, then hastily dropped it when Kyle winced. Glancing down, he saw a stained bandage across his brother’s palm. It must have hurt to hold reins during a long ride. “What happened?”

“Cut glass. Nothing important.” Kyle closed his hand over the bandage. He’d always preferred to conceal weakness, which made it all the more remarkable that he had chosen to try to bridge the gap between them.

But perhaps it wasn’t so remarkable, because Kyle had changed over the last weeks. Dominic tried to define the difference, and decided that his brother looked as if he’d been forged in a fire by God’s own blacksmith. Petty concerns had been burned away, leaving pure steel. In fact, they had both changed profoundly in these last weeks, though for different reasons and in different ways. Maybe now they were finally mature enough to avoid the tension and conflicts of the past. Dominic asked, “What took you out of the country so that you couldn’t come to Warfield yourself?”

Kyle raised his brows. “How did you know I was out of the country?”

“I was receiving some rather strong messages from you. Very unhappy ones.”

Kyle’s face tightened. “You were always good at that.” After a long silence, he said in a voice saturated with pain, “I was… taking the woman I loved to Spain to die.”

“Damnation.” Dominic caught his breath, recognizing that this explained everything—Kyle’s outrageous bribe to persuade Dominic to take his place, the anguish that had radiated from him on his journey, the volatile, desperate anger that had exploded against Dominic at Kimball House. “I’m sorry.”

He imagined how he’d feel if something happened to Meriel, and his belly clenched. After seeking a way to give comfort and finding none, he put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and repeated, “I’m so sorry.”