Lord Of Shadowhawk

“I don’t know, child. Tray is going to send for Dr. Birch. He’s the one who examined you and brought you back to health. He’ll be here before dawn. Is there anything we can get you? Are you hungry?”

“I—I want to see Sean. I need to know he’s alive.”

Sorche glanced up at Tray, whose features were almost as tortured as Alyssa’s. “Tray will get him up. What else? Would you like some good cabbage soup?”

Alyssa shook her head, her fingers moving to her throat. “Water. Just water. I’m so thirsty.”

Stiffly, Sorche got to her feet and went to the sideboard, pouring a large glass of water for her from the pitcher. Alyssa was far weaker than she thought; she couldn’t hold the glass. Sorche coaxed her to lie back against several pillows and then guided the glass to her lips. Before Tray returned to the chamber with a sleepy-eyed Sean in tow, Alyssa had drunk four glasses in succession.

Before they entered the bedchamber, Tray knelt down in the hall, his hands resting on Sean’s small shoulders. The boy’s eyes were still puffy with sleep, his red hair mussed. “Listen to me carefully, son. If your cousin asks you where she is, tell her you’re at a friend’s home. That isn’t a lie. Right now she’s upset about her blindness and she doesn’t need any more shock. She doesn’t need to know she’s in Wales. It will do nothing but aggravate her, and it might affect her health. You don’t want Alyssa hurt any more, do you?”

Sean slowly shook his head, his blue eyes widening. “Blind? But—how?” he blurted.

“I don’t know, Sean. Perhaps the blow to her skull caused it.” Tray’s fingers tightened momentarily on the boy’s arms. “We’ll know more when Dr. Birch arrives. Come, you were the first person she asked for when she woke up.” Tray got to his feet and kept a hand on Sean’s shoulder. The Irish boy seemed to sense the seriousness of the moment. Instead of flying to his cousin’s arms, he walked up to her with a sober expression.

“Lys?” Sean whispered, holding out his small hand, lightly brushing her arm.

“Sean? Oh, Sean!” Her voice stronger, Alyssa reached out until she found him.

Sorche sniffed, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she watched them hold each other in a long embrace. She felt Tray’s arm go around her shoulder, drawing her near, and she leaned gratefully against his powerful, seemingly tireless body. As usual, it was Tray who was keeping everything and everyone together.

Craddock appeared at the doorway in his rumpled nightgown, blear-eyed. “You rang, sir?” he mumbled.

The butler’s entrance diverted Tray’s attention from the reunion between Alyssa and Sean. The boy had buried his head against her shoulder, sobbing hard. At least there was one male she didn’t hate. Perhaps there was hope, after all. “Yes, get Dr. Birch here as swiftly as possible. Have Stablemaster Thomas hitch up the grays and send the coach. With the weather the way it is, I don’t want the good doctor falling off his horse or getting thrown. Send two outriders to light the way.”

“Yes, Lord Trayhern. Right away.”

* * *

Tray sat in a chair near the fireplace, his long, muscular legs stretched out before him. It had been three hours since Alyssa had awakened and now the excitement had worn off, leaving everyone exhausted. Tray felt gutted emotionally and he was sure Alyssa felt even worse. Sean had spent the better part of an hour with her, patiently answering her questions and successfully avoiding telling her where Shadowhawk was located and who their “friends” really were. Tray rubbed his brow tiredly and watched Alyssa as she slept fitfully on the bed once again. After Sean left, Sorche had given Alyssa more water and tucked her in, clucking over her like a mother hen. A soft smile touched his lips. Sorche gave endlessly of her love and affection. She was a miracle in his life, and his heart had lightened as he observed Alyssa falling beneath her spell, as well.

Tray’s head dropped to his chest, eyes closed, the pleasant crackle of the fire soothing him. He felt shocked and rebuffed by Aly’s initial shrinking away from him. Anger and frustration roiled within him. He didn’t blame Alyssa for her reactions to him. After all, he was a man.

Tray was almost ready to give in to badly needed sleep when he heard Alyssa stir. Immediately his head snapped up, his eyes narrowing upon her as she threw off the bed covers.

“Don’t get out of that bed!” His voice cut like a whip through the quiet of the chamber and Alyssa froze. She had placed her feet on the carpet, her thin ankles and beautifully formed feet visible beneath the folds of the peach-colored nightgown. Tray was up in an instant, limping toward her, his face set.

Alyssa heard him coming and shrank back as he approached. “Wh-where’s Sorche?” Her voice was small and quavering.

Tray glared down at her and ran his fingers through his hair. “Asleep.”

“Oh…” Alyssa tensed as if he were going to strike out at her any moment. It did nothing but feed the rage he had been feeling since she had awakened.

Swallowing his feelings, Tray asked, “Why? What do you want? Can I get it for you?”

Color swept her cheeks and Alyssa licked her lips. “I—I don’t mean to presume upon your graciousness, but…I drank so much water that I have to…I mean—”

Tray’s face relaxed. “I see,” he said. He squatted down in front of her. “My mother is very old, Alyssa. She couldn’t carry you to the water closet. And none of my other maids could do it, either. You’re not exactly a sprite of a colleen.”

Alyssa’s heart was beating hard in her chest as she listened to the humor in his tone. “I—I will walk. If you can just—”

“Listen to me, little one, you’re as weak as a lamb. I know it’s not customary for a man to take a woman to the water closet, but in this case, neither of us has much choice.”

Her shoulders dropped and Alyssa turned toward his voice. “If I can stand, will you direct me with your voice?”

Tray rose, a scowl forming on his brow. “You’re too weak to walk.”

Her chin jutting out in defiance, Alyssa forced herself to her feet. She wavered badly and threw out her hands to find nothing but air. But the fear of him as a man was greater than her fear of falling, and she prepared herself to hit the floor. As she lost her balance, Alyssa felt strong, masculine arms closing around her body. He lifted her as if she were a mere feather wafting on a summer’s breeze. She stiffened, a cry lurching from her throat.

“You don’t have to remind me that you want nothing to do with men,” Tray growled tightly, carrying her through the bedchamber to an adjoining room, which housed the bath and the water closet. He sat her down, making sure she would not fall again.

“Please,” Alyssa begged, “leave me.”

Tray hesitated, but he heard the humiliation in her hoarse voice. “Very well. Call me when you want me to carry you back to the bedchamber.”

“A-all right.”

Afterward, Alyssa rose and pulled the nightgown down around her body. She stood, her hands braced against the cool stone-and-wood enclosure. She tried to fight off the dizziness that washed over her, and her fear of Tray coming back pushed her into action. Hand outstretched, she met the hard, masculine wall of a man’s chest. Jerking her hand back as if burned, Alyssa would have fallen if Tray hadn’t reached out and brought her into his arms.

A strangled sound of fury left Alyssa’s lips and two bright red spots appeared on her cheeks as she lay stiffly in his embrace. “You—you were there all the time!” she gasped, trying to push away from him. “You gave your word—”

Tray slipped his arms beneath her, lifting her up against him. She was pitifully thin; his fingers could feel each clearly defined rib through the nightgown she wore. “No, I wasn’t. I had just come back in to check on you.”

This time, as they made their way back to the bedchamber, Alyssa noticed that the man walked brokenly. Was he hurt?

Why did she care? He was a man. And men were little more than monsters. She erected a barricade against Tray as he carried her back to the safety of the bed. Once deposited, she pulled the covers across her lap and leaned against the headboard.

The sound of shod horses clattering up the cobblestoned expanse leading to the main entrance of Shadowhawk tore Tray’s attention away from Alyssa. He recognized the sounds as a coach approaching. At the thought of Dr. Birch arriving momentarily, he felt another weight slipping free of his shoulders. Perhaps now the doctor would be able to tell them why Alyssa was blind.

Chapter Four

Alyssa saw the grinning face of the English officer as he leered down at her, his too-handsome features looming before her in sinister distortion. Tossing restlessly, moaning, she tried to escape from the hard male body that straddled her. She watched in horror as he slowly reached down and jerked at her thin shirt to deliberately expose her breasts to all. No, sweet Mother of Mary, no! Alyssa began to sob, knowing she would have to live through the same sequence once again as she hovered between wakefulness and sleep.

Then the bed shifted beneath her and she felt the weight of someone nearby. To her great relief, she heard his voice—that soothing Gaelic breaking through the terror, shattering the grisly scene dancing before her mind’s eye. Without hesitation, Alyssa welcomed the safety of his embrace, resting her head on his chest. The soothing sound of his heart allowed her own heart to eventually beat in rhythm with his.

“Rest, sweet Aly,” he rasped. “I’ll hold you this one last night and make your dreams leave you in peace. Sleep, little one. Sleep the peace of angels, because God knows, you deserve it.”

Tray bit back a groan as Alyssa nestled more closely against him. He lightly stroked her head, running the gossamer threads of her hair through his fingers as he had done for seven nights before. This would be the last time he would sleep with her now that she had regained consciousness. The doctor had seen her briefly and wanted to examine her more thoroughly the next day. It was nearly three in the morning, and everyone was exhausted.

Tray’s heart wrenched as Aly nuzzled him like a lamb seeking its mother, her slender hand resting on his chest. In sleep, she trusted him even though he was a man. He lay there a long time, aware that dawn was slowly breaking the hold of night. He desperately needed to rest, yet he also needed to hold Aly and somehow atone for all the cruelty that life had thus far dealt her.

He had forgotten the contentment that a woman could bring to him. Alyssa made him feel whole, complete. Yet he wouldn’t humiliate her further by allowing her to discover that he had held her during those nights when she had hovered at death’s gate. And Alyssa’s trampled pride would not allow her to accept him holding her at night any longer. He would now have to move to the adjoining bedchamber. A soft smile tugged at Tray’s mouth as he rested his arm on her back. Sean had been right: Alyssa was a spitfire.

* * *

Alyssa jerked awake with a gasp.

“Relax, miss,” a voice she recognized as Dr. Birch’s soothed. The man placed his hand on her shoulder. “I need to examine that head wound of yours a bit more closely.”