Besieged

Chapter 1

Lady Fortune Lindley drew her soft taupe wool cloak about her, and stared intently as the green hills of Ireland came slowly into view. The May wind was yet sharp, and ruffled the fur edging the hood of the garment against her face. Leaning against the ship's rail she watched as the early morning mists, like pale silver streamers, blew themselves out of existence, revealing a pale wash of blue-white sky. She wondered what Ireland would really be like, and if she would at last find love. Did love even exist for her?

Her gloved fingers tightened about the railing. What on earth was she thinking? Love? That sort of thing was for her mother, and for her sister, India. Fortune Mary Lindley was the practical one in the family. Her mother's history was both fascinating and appalling. Two husbands murdered, and one of them Fortune's own father. Her half-brother, Charlie, a royal bastard because her mother and the late Prince Henry had been lovers, but could never have wed because her own mother would have been considered a bastard by English royalty. In India, however, her mother had been a royal princess, courtesy of a grandmother who had been kidnapped, placed in a royal harem to bear the Indian emperor a child before being retrieved by her family, and sent back to her Scots husband.

And her own sister, India, who had attempted to elope with a young man, only to find the vessel upon which she was making her escape attacked and taken by Barbary pirates, had also ended up in a harem. Rescued, she had returned home enceinte with her Barbary master's child. Their stepfather had been furious, and had sent her up to the family's hunting lodge in the mountains to have the child. Fortune had gone with India to keep her company. The child had been taken from her sister upon its birth, and India had been married to an English milord. Love? Heaven forfend! She certainly didn't want her life filled with such melodrama!

Love was not practical. What a woman wanted was a pleasant man with whom she could live peaceably. He must be reasonably attractive, and have his own wealth, for she would certainly not share hers. That she would keep for her children. They would have their children at reasonable intervals. Two. A son to inherit his father's estate, and a daughter to inherit Maguire's Ford. It was the sensible thing to do. She hoped she would like Ireland, but even if she didn't, she would remain there. An estate of some three thousand acres was not to be sniffed at, and her mother's gift to her upon her marriage would make her not simply wealthy, but very, very wealthy. Wealth, she had observed, was far more preferable than bleak poverty.

"Are you thinking of William Devers?" her mother asked, coming to Fortune's side to look out over the water at the nearing land.

"I keep forgetting his name," Fortune chuckled. "William is not a name that is familiar to me, Mama."

"You have a cousin William," Jasmine answered. "My Aunt Willow's youngest son. He is the cousin who has taken holy orders in the Anglican church. I don't think you ever met him, poppet. A nice young man, as I recall. A bit younger than I." Jasmine's eyes were thoughtful with her concern. Fortune was her privy child. She was never really certain what Fortune was thinking. "If you do not like this young man, poppet, you do not have to wed him," she told her daughter for what must surely be the twentieth time. God! She didn't want Rowan's youngest daughter unhappy. It had been a near enough thing with India.

"If he is presentable, Mama, and kind, I'm sure he will suit me well," Fortune replied, patting her mother's hand in a gesture of comfort. "I am not adventurous like you and India, or the rest of the women in this family for that matter. I want an orderly and peaceful life."

The duchess of Glenkirk laughed aloud. "I do not believe, Fortune, that the women of this family ever sought out wild adventure deliberately. It just seemed to happen."

"It happened because you were all so impulsive and reckless," Fortune said disapprovingly.

"Hah!" her mother snorted with humor. "And you are not impulsive, my little huntress? I've seen you take your horse over a small chasm many a time, sending us all into fits."

"If the stag can take the jump then so can the horse," answered the girl. "Nay, Mama. You and the others sought out exotic climes and places. You associated with the mighty. It was inevitable that you should find yourselves caught up in risky ventures. I am not like that at all. While I did visit France with you and Papa once, I have remained content at home in the bosom of my family. Like Papa I do not like the court. Too many young people who do not bathe regularly, with deceitful tongues, all seeking out the latest gossip, and making it up if they can't find it. Non, merci."

"Even in simple country places, Fortune, there are deceitful tongues all too ready to gossip. Perhaps you have been too sheltered within the safety of our family gathering, but be vigilent, poppet. Always follow your intincts even when they war with your practical nature. Your instincts will be right every time," her mother advised.

"Have you always followed your instincts, Mama?" Fortune asked.

"Aye, most of the time. It's when I didn't that I got into difficulties," Jasmine responded with a smile.

"Like when you took us to Belle Fleurs after old King James ordered you to marry Papa?" Fortune probed.

The duchess laughed again. "Aye," she admitted, "but don't ever tell Jemmie that I said so, poppet. It will be our secret. Ohh, look! We're entering Dundalk Bay. The Irish call it Dundeal. We'll be landing soon. I wonder if Rory Maguire will be there to meet us as he was all those years ago when your father and I first came to Ireland to see our new estates. That dreadful little devil who later killed Rowan had brought him along to drive the coach. Your father was quick to learn that Rory Maguire's family had been the lords of Erne Rock for centuries. They left with Conor Maguire, their overlord, and the earls, but Rory would not leave his lands, or his people. We made him our estate agent, and he has served me loyally and faithfully ever since."

"Shall he remain, Mama?" Fortune asked.

"Of course," Jasmine answered. "Listen to me, Fortune. Maguire's Ford will be signed over to you on your wedding day. It is to be yours alone, and not your husband's. We have been over this, but I cannot make it clear enough to you. A woman who does not possess her own wealth is doomed to a life of servitude. You may want a simple and quiet life, poppet, but you will have neither if you are not your own mistress.

"In Ulster the Protesants and the Catholics have a tenuous relationship at best, but any malcontent can cause trouble easily. That is why we have isolated Maguire's Ford from the estates around it. There are both Catholics and Protestants in our village now. Each attends his own church, yet they work together in peace. That is how I want it, and how you will want it. Rory Maguire has spoken for me for twenty years now. He has kept the peace along with my cousin, Father Butler, and our Protestant minister, the Reverend Steen. You will now be responsible for seeing that the peace continues. Your husband can have no say in the affairs of Maguire's Ford, nor should you be influenced by him to make any changes. The people of Maguire's Ford coexist contentedly. It must remain that way."

Above the two women the wind filled the canvas of the great sailing ship, ruffling it with a faint booming sound. The salt spray faintly misted their lips, and the air was damp with the scent of the sea.

"Why do the Catholics and Protestants fight, Mama?" Fortune asked her parent. "Do we not all worship the same God?"

"Aye, poppet, we do," Jasmine answered, "but the churches have become bases of power for men very much like governments and kings are bases of power. Unfortunately power is never quite enough. Men who have it always want more. To have power you must have a hold on the hearts and minds of the people. God is a most powerful weapon. The churches use that weapon to intimidate the people. Each wants his way of worship to be the right way, the only way. So they fight each other, killing, they believe, in God's name, convinced that they are right because they do.

"My father, your grandfather, the Grande Mughal Akbar, long ago brought representatives of all the world's religions into his court. For years they argued with one another about the nature of God, the proper way to worship, and why each was right in his thinking, and the others all wrong. While my father tolerated them, and listened to them with much interest, in the end he founded his own personal religion, but no one other than he was asked to follow it. Faith, my dearest, is a matter between you and God alone. Let no one tell you otherwise."

"So men use God to pursue their own ends, Mama," Fortune said thoughtfully. "I think it very wicked."

"It is," came the reply. "I have raised you to be tolerant of all people and faiths, poppet. Do not allow anyone to change you," Jasmine advised her daughter.

"I won't," Fortune said firmly.

"If you fall in love, you may be influenced by your lover," her mother said.

"I will never fall in love, then," Fortune replied quietly. "Most men today are not, from my small observation, like my stepfather. He respects you, and listens to your counsel. That is the kind of man I would marry, Mama. I hope William Devers is like that."

"Your father respects me because I have made him respect me, but as for listening to my counsel, he may listen, but seldom takes my advice. Men are stubborn that way, Fortune. You must learn to work around them in order to get things done," Jasmine said with a smile.

"I have seen you wheedle Papa," Fortune replied with a rich chuckle. "When we were small, India and I used to wager how long it would take you to get him to do your bidding."

"Did you?" Jasmine said dryly. "Which of you won the most often?"

"I did," Fortune answered a trifle smugly. "India was always in too much of a hurry to win. I, however, bided my time, as did you, Mama. Patience can truly be a virtue when dealing with a man."

Jasmine laughed aloud yet once again. She caressed her daughter's cheek tenderly. "I never realized you were such a wise child, Fortune," she said, chuckling. "I fear William Devers may have more of a woman than he is anticipating."

"The only thing William Devers is anticipating is my dowry," Fortune said sharply. "He will get quite a surprise when he learns that I intend keeping my own wealth. He may not be willing to have such a girl for a wife, Mama."

"Then he will be a fool," came the answer.

"Who will be a fool?" James Leslie, the duke of Glenkirk, joined his wife and stepdaughter at the ship's rail.

"Oh, we were just speaking of men," Fortune said airily.

" 'Tis nae particularly flattering, lassie," the duke answered. "Are ye excited, my pretty? In just a short time, a few days at the most, ye'll meet the young man who will probably become yer husband."

"We will see," Fortune said quietly.

James Leslie drew a slow, deep breath. What was it about his stepdaughters? He had raised them since they were little girls, and they had, for the most part, been amenable lasses until it came to the matter of marriage. Still, he remembered his breach with the eldest, India, only just healed. He had promised India that he would not doubt any of his children ever again. It was a promise he meant to keep. "Aye, yer right, lass. Yer right. We will see. Why the young fellow could turn out to be a terrible dunce, and I'll nae hae my lass wed wi a fool, or a villain," the duke said.

Jasmine Leslie smiled. She had seen the look in her husband's eye, and knew his patience was being tried. He had done the right thing, however. Perhaps it was possible to teach an old dog new tricks.

"We had best go to our cabin, poppet," the duchess said, "and see if all is in readiness for the remainder of our trip."

"Let me stay, Mama, and continue to view the land," Fortune pleaded prettily.

"Very well," Jasmine said, and taking her husband's hand drew him to her side. "She wants to be alone, Jemmie."

He nodded, and together they left the main deck of the vessel.

Fortune continued to lean against the ship's railing lost in thought. This was the land of her birth, yet she had been but a few months old when she had left it. Ireland meant naught to her at all. It was the name of a place. Nothing more. What was it really like? And what was Maguire's Ford like? The castle that was to be hers was not large, her mother had said. It was called Erne Rock, and was set on the lough. Mama said it was a sweet place; that she and Rowan Lindley had been happy there. Fortune's brow furrowed. Could she really be happy in the place where her father had been so brutally murdered? The father she had never known because he had died shortly after she had been conceived.

She had felt his absence her entire life. How often when she stayed at her elder brother Henry's seat at Cadby had she sought out the portrait of Rowan Lindley that hung in the gallery of the house? Tall and big-boned, Rowan Lindley had a square jaw with a deep cleft in its center with a dimple. His hair was tawny and his eyes were golden in color. He carried himself with a faint arrogance, natural to a man whose family had held the same lands since before the time of the Norman conquest. Henry Lindley resembled his father in features, but India, a mix of both her parents, had his famous eyes. Fortune loved the portrait of Rowan Lindley. She drank it in each time she saw it as if she might gain something of her father.

She didn't look like him at all, or her mother either. There was nothing in her that she might say was him. She had her great-grandmother de Marisco's blue-green eyes, and her great-great-grandmother O'Malley's flaming red hair, they told her. Her grandmother Gordon always noted that Fortune was the duck in the swan's nest with her pale skin and wild pate. Fortune smiled to herself. She wondered what William Devers looked like, and if she wed him what their children would look like.

A light rain began to fall, and Fortune drew her cloak more tightly about her. She had heard it said that it rained easily in Ireland, yet the sun would be out the next minute. Looking up she saw the clouds scudding across the sky, yet here and there there were patches of blue. She laughed, deciding that she liked it. Then the sun burst forth, turning the morning bright and faintly warm. The ship moved more slowly now, its sails being trimmed as it glided toward its dockage. Usually ships anchored in the bay, but they would dock today because of the unusual amount of luggage belonging to Lady Fortune Lindley.

As the vessel skid into its berth, and the sailors leapt forth onto the dock to make the ship fast, Fortune saw a tall gentleman standing and watching. She wondered who he was. He was dressed very simply in dark breeches, a doeskin sleeveless doublet with staghorn buttons, a white linen shirt, and fine leather boots. His head was bare, and she noted his hair was almost as bright as her own. Well, Fortune thought, at least I won't stand out so much any longer if this fellow is about. The gentleman stood next to a large traveling coach to which were attached six fine chestnut horses. Fortune noted with pleasure that the coach horses were matched. Since the ship they had traveled upon belonged to her family, and the dock was privately held by them, she knew the coach belonged to them too.

"Why it's Rory Maguire! He has come to meet us. How absolutely wonderful!" Jasmine was by her daughter's side again. She waved quite enthusiastically. "Rory! Rory Maguire!"

He had seen her come to the rail to stand next to the young girl. She was older, yes, but still, he thought, the most beautiful woman he had ever encountered. He waved back at her.

The ship was finally made fast to the dock, and the gangway lowered. Jasmine hurried off the vessel, trailed by her family and servants. She held out her hands in a gesture of greeting to her estate manager. "Rory Maguire! How good of you to come and meet us! How it takes me back. Far too many years than I care to remember," she finished with a smile.

He took the elegantly gloved hands in his and kissed them both. "Cai mille failte, my lady Jasmine. A thousand welcomes back to Ireland, and yer family too." He released her hands from his gentle grip-

"This is my husband, James Leslie, the duke of Glenkirk, Rory," Jasmine said, drawing Jemmie forward.

The two men shook hands, each carefully sizing the other up as they did so. Apparently satisfied, they smiled, speaking a greeting.

"My wife has naught but good to say about ye, Maguire," the duke said. "I look forward to seeing the estate."

"Thank you, my lord," came the reply. "I think you'll be pleased. 'Tis a fair land, Maguire's Ford." Rory turned back to Jasmine. "I've brought the coach, of course, my lady, and there's horses to ride if you prefer. You'll be remembering Fergus Duffy, I'm certain. He's come along to drive the coach for us. As I recall yer servants prefer it to the back of a beast."

"Fergus Duffy, and how is your good wife, Bride?" Jasmine called up to the coachman with a smile. "My daughter is looking forward to meeting her godmother." The duchess drew her child forward. "This is Fortune, Rory. Fergus, this is the lady Fortune."

The coachman tipped his head in greeting.

Rory Maguire took Fortune's slender gloved hand and, raising it to his lips, kissed it. "I welcome you, my lady, and hope Maguire's Ford will please you so that you will want to remain."

Fortune looked directly into the blue eyes assessing her. She felt a sudden and odd sense of recognition, yet she had been but an infant when this man had seen her last. "I thank you, sir," she replied, puzzled as to the strange feelings she was now experiencing.

"I've a lovely little black mare with me you might enjoy," Rory said to Fortune, releasing her hand.

"I'd prefer that fine dappled gray gelding," Fortune said pointing, and quickly recovering from her earlier sensitivities.

"He's a wee bit unpredictable," the estate manager cautioned.

"So am I," Fortune-replied with a mischievous grin.

Rory Maguire laughed heartily. "Do you think you can handle him, my lady? I'll not have you being tossed about. 'Twould be a poor welcome home, I'm thinking."

"There's not a horse alive I can't handle," Fortune boasted.

Maguire looked to the duke and duchess, and when James Leslie nodded his approval, the Irishman said, "His name is Thunder, my lady. Come, and I'll give you a hand up."

"My baggage?" Fortune queried.

"We'll need several carts," Jasmine said. "Fortune brought all her possessions as she hopes to remain here in Ireland."

"We can hire them here in town," Rory replied. "I wasn't certain the lassie would be remaining or not."

"Is William Devers a bad catch then?" Fortune asked boldly.

Rory chuckled again. "Nay, my lady. He's considered quite the pick of the district. Tall and handsome, he is, with a fine estate up in Lisnaskea which will one day be his own. Not as big as Maguire's Ford, mind you, but more than respectable. There'll be a lot of disappointed lassies the day he picks a wife and marries, I'm thinking."

Fortune grew silent now. So William Devers was considered desirable by the ladies. He probably had a large head to go with his large estate. She walked across the dock to where the gray gelding stood stamping his feet with impatience. Taking the animal by his bridle she looked directly into his eyes, her other hand rubbing his velvety muzzle. "Well now, laddie, you're a handsome fellow. I do believe we'll get on just fine. Ready for a good long run? I surely am, but you must behave yourself until we get out of the town and onto the high road. Then we'll race the wind, you and I!"

Rory Maguire watched the girl speaking softly with the horse. He had felt a strange feeling when he had first looked upon her. It was as if he knew her, and yet that was not possible. He had not quite yet shaken off the sensation but he approved her actions with the animal. Cupping his hands together he helped her to mount Thunder. "Up you go, my lady." Only as he boosted her was he suddenly aware that the horse did not have a lady's saddle, but the girl mounted astride, obviously used to riding that way. He untied the animal from its hitching ring.

Thunder danced a bit as he accepted the new weight upon his back. He tossed his head to test her mettle, but she held him firm, her hands resting with seeming lightness upon the reins, her knees pressing against the horse's sides, warning him, guiding him. "Easy, laddie," she soothed him, and his ears pressed back, listening to the soft voice, new but a moment ago, now familiar. He quieted.

Rory Maguire smiled and nodded, pleased. The girl was a natural horsewoman. Turning he looked to see the boxes and trunks being unloaded off the ship. "Mary, Mother of God," he muttered beneath his breath. "I've never seen such a muck."

The duke laughed. He had had the same reaction when he first saw all of Fortune's luggage. "I've had the captain send into the town for wagons to transport my daughter's belongings. We dinna have to wait. Do ye hae horses for my wife and for me?"

"Aye, my lord. The lady can ride the black mare. 'Twas a black mare you last rode to Maguire's Ford," he recalled with a quick smile at Jasmine, and she nodded. "And I've a fine stallion for you, my lord. He's just trained. I couldn't bear to geld him, and so I must keep him separate from the breeding stock. We'll probably sell him to someone who needs a new breeder. He'll fetch a fine price as do all our animals. The descendants of Nightwind and Nightsong are very valuable animals. Who's to ride in the coach?"

"Adali and Rohana," Jasmine said.

"So they're still with you, eh? What happened to the other little lass you had, my lady?"

"Toramalli is a married woman now," Jasmine answered him. "She and her husband are at Glenkirk, our home in Scotland, making certain our three sons behave themselves. Patrick is fourteen now, while his younger brothers are thirteen and ten. We thought to bring Adam and Duncan with us, but they preferred having a summer without us."

"Then you expect to return home fairly quickly?" Rory asked.

"Aye," Jasmine replied. "William Devers has been recommended by both my priestly cousin and by the Reverend Mr. Steen. If he and Fortune please each other there will be a wedding before summer's end, Rory. If that happens, the daughter born at Maguire's Ford will make Ireland her home. I hope he will turn out to be Fortune's future, for I should like my daughter to be happy and settled."

" 'Tis every mother's wish," Rory answered her. Ahh, how lovely she was despite her years. He almost sighed aloud.

"Good day, Master Maguire," the voice said, and Rory was pulled from his reverie.

Startled, he looked up, and into the face of Jasmine's faithful servant, Adali. The man never changed, he thought a bit irritably. The light brown face was still bland and smooth. The dark eyes piercing. "I thought not to see you again, Adali," he replied.

"Yet here I am like a bad penny," Adali smiled, showing a row of even white teeth. "All is in readiness for our journey?"

"Aye."

"Then let us depart," Adali said. He turned. "Rohana, get into the coach. I will shortly join you." He swiveled about again, speaking to the duke. "The wagons for my lady's possessions will be here shortly, my lord. Rohana has gathered everything that we will need for the journey and stored it in the coach. The wagons will travel more slowly than we will. I do not expect them at Erne Rock until at least a day after our arrival, but the ladies will certainly want to rest for a few days before entertaining, I am certain."

"Excellent," the duke replied as he swung himself into the saddle of the young stallion.

The day, which had been bright, now turned gray once again as a fine misty rain began to fall.

"A soft day, just like my first day in Ireland," Jasmine said, smiling at Rory Maguire. "Tell me how my cousin fares."

"He is well, and content as a mousie in its winter nest," came the answer. "He's a good man, Cullen Butler, for all he's a priest. He's not judgmental, or small-minded like so many of the others. As he so often admits, Rome would not approve of him at all, but Rome is very far away. At Maguire's Ford he is a blessing."

"And the Protestants we settled with their minister?"

"Good people, and hard working," Maguire replied. "Samuel Steen is cut very much from the same cloth as your cousin, my lady. He's sensible and open-minded. We've had no difficulties although others have, but then we both know the reasons for it."

"Pray God, Rory, that we can keep Maguire's Ford a place of peace for good people," Jasmine told him.

They rode for several hours, finally stopping at a small inn.

"This is a familiar place," Jasmine said, "and yet it was not here the last time. There was a farmhouse. A deserted woman and her poor bairns, Rory. What happened to her?"

He chuckled. "You don't know? Yer late husband, the English marquess, sent me back a month or so after you had settled in at Maguire's Ford. He purchased the farmhouse from Mistress Tully, and then hired her to run an inn here. With the monies he paid she did just that, and was able to keep her land to farm as well. Look at the name of the place, my lady. The Golden Lion. Mistress Tully said that's what the Englishman reminded her of, a lion. Hers is the only decent stopping place between here and Maguire's Ford. A lot of the English don't like it, but there's naught they can do since the place is owned by the most English marquess of Westleigh and his family."

"My son never said anything about this," Jasmine observed.

"He probably doesn't know, either. The administration of the inn and its business was assigned to me at Maguire's Ford. The marquess thought I would be better handling it than an absentee manager."

"My God, all these years, and I never knew! Rowan had such a good heart. I remember that poor woman with her big belly, and those wee ones crowding about her. I remember how poor the place was with its dirt floor and two wooden benches. I remember you telling me that her husband had deserted her to go with the earls, but that she would not leave the land. And yet look at it now," Jasmine concluded as they clattered into the courtyard of the inn. She could just make out the original farmhouse in the quadrangle of buildings that made up the inn.

It was all whitewashed, and neat as a pin with roses and other flowers growing about it. There was a large stable for at least two dozen horses. There was glass in the windows of the place, and several chimneys smoking gently. She could smell the aroma of roasting meat and poultry. The scent of good ale wafted out from the taproom. Several young men ran from the stables to take the horses.

"Come along," Rory Maguire said, helping Jasmine from her mare. "Come in and renew your acquaintance with Mistress Tully. She can speak English now. She quickly found it necessary to her survival."

The duke of Glenkirk found himself a bit piqued by the Irishman's easy manner with his wife. Then he consoled himself with the knowledge that other than Adali and Rohana, Maguire was only acquainted with Jasmine. His was a difficult position. He was not really a servant, having been born to the nobility. Yet he no longer possessed his lands, but rather managed them for an English landlord, who just happened to be the duchess of Glenkirk. I must get to know the man better, James Leslie thought to himself. He seems a good fellow after all, and has been honest with my wife's lands and retainers.

Jasmine scarcely recognized Mistress Tully, who was now plump and rosy-cheeked. The innkeeper greeted her warmly, curtsying and thanking her again for Rowan Lindley's kindness those many years back.

"As you can see, m'lady, his good heart was our salvation. I don't know how I would have managed without it," she said in her soft lilt.

They sat down in a small private room to a meal of roasted lamb, onions, carrots, and potatoes. There was also a fat duck stuffed with bread and apples; a broiled salmon with dill; fresh bread, butter, and cheese. There were wine and ale both.

"I'm sorry we can't remain the night," James Leslie remarked as he loosed his doublet and pushed his pewter plate back.

"If we did we shouldn't be able to reach Maguire's Ford by late tomorrow, my lord," Rory replied.

"Where will we stop tonight, Maguire?" the duke asked.

"The only place we can, Sir John Appleton's manor," came the reply.

"Is he still alive?" Jasmine wondered aloud. "As I remember he and his wife were terrible snobs, and extremely unpleasant toward the Irish. He had done something minor in old Queen Bess's court."

"He's alive all right," Rory Maguire said darkly, "and he's but grown meaner with the years. His lady died, but his daughter and son-in-law live with him. They're no better than the old man."

"It sounds a right treat," James Leslie muttered.

"Oh, they'll fall all over you and her ladyship, my lord. 'Tis the rest of us that will be given short shrift," Maguire chuckled.

"There's no place else?" James Leslie queried.

Rory Maguire shook his red head, making a mournful face as he did so.

Sir John Appleton was now a fat old man with a gouty foot. His daughter, Sarah, and her husband, Richard, were spare and sour. They were openly flattered to be entertaining the duke and duchess of Glenkirk and their heiress daughter. They sat Fortune next to their son, John, and hoped for a miracle. They did not get it, for John, normally a loud bully, was struck dumb by Lady Fortune Lindley's beauty and air of self-assurance. She was like no other girl he had ever met, and he was frankly intimidated by her. For her part Fortune ignored him. Young John Appleton had a spotty face and damp palms. The fact he was so silent and lacking in interesting conversation did not stand him in good stead with Fortune. She thought him rather foolish.

"The reputation of yer horses is widespread," old Sir John remarked. "I'm amazed considering ye've got Irish Catholics working on yer estates. They've robbed ye blind, no doubt."

"I have both Catholics and Protestants working on my estates," Jasmine said sweetly. "Both render me good service, and I find no difference in them, Sir John. They are all decent people."

"Idol-worshipping papists," the old man said venemously.

"Catholics don't worship idols," Fortune suddenly snapped, highly irritated. "They worship God. What twaddle!"

"Madame! Reprimand your daughter. She is much too forward, and wrongheaded," Sir John snapped.

"Fortune, please apologize to Sir John. He cannot help his ignorance," the duchess of Glenkirk said to her daughter.

"Yes, Mama," Fortune remarked meekly. "I apologize to you for your ignorance, Sir John." She smiled sweetly. Then rising, Fortune curtsied prettily. "I must retire now," she explained, and left the room.

Sir John and his family were not certain at all that Fortune had really apologized, but they dared not argue further with the duchess of Glenkirk. The girl was not at all suitable for their young John, they silently decided. She was much too pretty, and far too bold. Undoubtedly she would come to a bad end. They were not unhappy in the least when their guests announced they would seek their beds.

Rory Maguire, Adali, and Rohana had been grudgingly served a meal in the kitchen of the great house. The servants were suspicious of the Irishman, and his two foreign-looking companions. After they had eaten they were told that Rohana could go with her mistress, but the two men would have to sleep in the stables.

"Master don't allow the likes of ye in the house," the cook said grimly. "We'd all be murdered in our beds!"

"I doubt there is any man who would even get close to that woman's bed," Adali said humorously as he and Rory found a spot for themselves in the stable loft. He spread his cloak upon the sweet-smelling hay and sat down. "I've slept in worse places," he decided.

"I, also," Rory agreed, laying his own garment upon the hay. He stretched out, and then said, "She looks happy."

"She is," Adali said.

"Good."

"You have never married, Master Maguire?" Adali asked.

"Nay," came the answer. "There was no point to it. The lands were no longer mine. I had naught to offer a woman. Children would have but complicated my life for they would be Catholics by faith, Irish by blood, and alien in their own land as long as the English occupy it. I cannot be certain of the future myself. I should not want the responsibility of a wife and children to worry over."

"You have no need of a woman?" Adali probed.

"After her?" was the reply.

"It was but one hour of one night almost twenty-one years ago, Master Maguire. Are you telling me there has been no other since?"

"Aye. Oh, once in a rare while I have a bout of lust which is satisfied by a village widow of my acquaintance. She is known for being kind to men like me, but as she is discreet, there is none who would call her a whore," Rory said.

"Can you be as discreet as your widow, Master Maguire?" Adali asked him in all seriousness.

"Of course!" Rory exclaimed. "Have I not always been? I know she knows nothing of what happened. I would not distress her."

"Good. She thinks of you as her friend, Master Maguire," Adali told him. "I believe you would not want to lose that friendship. She loves James Leslie, and he loves her. They have built a good life together in Scotland with their children."

"You need not fear, Adali," Rory Maguire said, and there was a dark hint of sadness in his voice. "She never saw me as anything other than a friend. It is the best I can hope for. I will not lose even that small part of her attention on a foolish hope and dream that will never, ever be. Nay, Adali. I would give my life for my lady Jasmine, but she shall never know the part I played in saving her own life all those years ago. It would shame us both."

"Nay, there was no shame, Master Maguire," Adali reassured him. "You, the priest, and I did what had to be done. No more than that. There is no disgrace in it, nor should you feel guilt. Good night now. I will see you in the morning."

"Good night, Adali," Rory Maguire said quietly, rolling himself onto his side, wrapping his cloak about him. Then he thought that the next few months would be the hardest of his life.

Chapter 2

They departed the Appleton estate even before the sun was up. Their hosts were still abed, but they were anxious to remain not a moment longer than was necessary.

"Please tell your master," the duke of Glenkirk instructed the butler, who himself was but barely awake, "that we thank him for his hospitality, but our journey is a long, tedious one. If we are to reach its end by sunset today, we must depart earlier than would be expected."

The butler bowed low, as obsequious as his employer. "Very good, my lord. Sir John will be sorry he had not the opportunity to bid you a proper farewell himself," he replied smoothly.

"He is excused," James Leslie said grandly with a wave of his gloved hand. Turning he shepherded his wife and stepdaughter from the entrance hall out into the damp and foggy morning.

The coach carrying Adali, Rohana, and their small bit of luggage had already departed. Rory Maguire stood waiting, holding the horses. They mounted quickly and cantered down the gravel drive away from Appleton Hall.

"Good riddance!" James Leslie said.

"Aye, and amen to that, my lord," Maguire responded.

The morning brightened, and the fog slowly lifted, but there was no sun, and it rained once again. Strangely the gray only made the countryside greener by comparison. The green hills over which they traveled rambled gently. The rolling landscape was broken only rarely by a gray stone tower, usually in a state of ruin, or a small village. There were fewer villages, Jasmine noted, than when she had first come to Ireland. Some were deserted and falling into decay; others were gone entirely, their former existence attested to only by a broken and pulled-down Celtic cross in a weed-strewn square. Ulster, never heavily populated to begin with, was now even less populated it appeared.

"What has happened here?" Jasmine asked Rory Maguire.

"Not all landlords are like you, my lady," he replied. "You know the penalties placed upon those who follow the Catholic faith. Many have been driven off their lands because they will not convert to Protestantism. It is that simple."

"But these landlords are not even in Ireland," Jasmine said. "What difference does it make to them as long as the land is worked properly and is prosperous for them?"

"They appoint agents who follow the letter of the law," he explained. "Most are English as are the settlers. We have Scots landlords too, but for now the Scots remain in Scotland, except for those who are able to give up their clan ties to seek lands of their own."

"What happens to the people?" she queried him.

"They go to relations in parts of Ireland where the laws are not so assiduously followed. They flee into the more remote regions, living a more primitive existence. They die. A few emigrate to France and Spain. There are no other choices."

"It is the way of the world," Fortune said quietly, surprising them. "I have learned this in my studies, and Mother has often said that it is so. One tribe conquers another, and another, and so forth. Nothing remains the same forever. Like my mother, however, I see no necessity for what is happening in Ireland. Bigotry is wrong, and it is cruel."

"There's just as much of it on one side as the other," Rory told the girl. "At Maguire's Ford we are fortunate to have two men of religion who are liberal and open-minded, but such a thing is unique. For as many Protestant ministers who tell their flocks that Catholicism is a wicked, idol-worshipping faith, there are an equal number of Catholic priests howling that the Protestants are dirty heretics who ought to be burned, and if not here on earth, then surely in hell, for they are the devil's own spawn. Such thoughts do not lead to understanding, or tolerance, my lady. There are, I fear, and am sorry to say, far more John Appletons upon this earth, than people like yer mam."

"You like my mother, don't you?" Fortune observed, moving her gelding next to his.

His heart contracted in his chest, but Rory Maguire flashed her a casual grin. "Aye, my lady, I do. I always have. It must be the Irish in her for she's got a big heart, does the lady Jasmine."

"My mother says if I remain in Ireland I should keep you on because you can be trusted, and few men can," Fortune said.

"Perhaps yer husband will have other ideas, lady," he replied.

Fortune looked at him as if he had lost his mind. It was a look he recognized, but it was certainly not her mother's look. "My husband will have no say in the management of Maguire's Ford," Fortune said. "If I marry William Devers, he will not be in possession of my lands. He has his own. The women in my family do not give over their wealth to the men they wed. It is unthinkable!"

He laughed aloud. "Yer mam has raised you well, my lady Fortune," Rory Maguire said, vastly amused, but also relieved when she continued.

"If Iwed William Devers, you will retain your place, Rory Maguire," Fortune said. "Besides, I will need you to teach me all about the business of the horses. I know little about horses but that I like them very much and enjoy riding them."

"You know how to talk to the horses," he said. "I saw how you conversed with Thunder before you got on his back. Who taught you to do that, my lady Fortune?"

Fortune looked puzzled a moment, and then she said, "No one, Rory Maguire. I have always done it before mounting a strange beast. It only seemed polite. My sister and brothers make fun of me for it, but I've never been thrown, or had any difficulty since my very first pony." Fortune explained to him.

"Ahh, now that's the Irish in you," he said with a smile.

"I like you, Rory Maguire," Fortune told him.

"I like you, Lady Fortune Mary Lindley," he answered her.

"How do you know my full name?" Fortune was surprised.

"Do you not know, my lady, that I am your godfather?" he replied.

"You are? Mama," Fortune called to her mother who was riding just behind her. "Is that true? Is Rory Maguire my godfather?"

"Aye," Jasmine said. "He is."

"Then," said Fortune emphatically, "I shall call you Uncle Rory, and you will call me Fortune when we are in private, en famille."

He turned his head to catch Jasmine's eye, and she nodded just barely. "Very well, Fortune," he agreed, his heart warmed by her generosity and her charm. This was no proud m'lady. The people of Maguire's Ford would take to her without question, and they would be able to continue in their peaceable ways provided that William Devers did not interfere with his bride's authority. Rory wondered how the young man would take to the notion that Fortune would control her own lands and her own wealth. If Rory knew Jasmine, the bridegroom would sign a legal document before he took a step down the aisle to claim the flame-haired beauty.

The rain gradually slipped away, and by the time they had stopped to rest the horses and eat a bit of bread and cheese, the sun was shining. From the look of the sky it would be sunny the rest of the afternoon, Rory decided. Looking about him he saw several familiar landmarks, and realized that because of their early start they would reach Maguire's F'ord by midafternoon. Surreptitiously he watched the byplay between Jasmine and James Leslie. They were so openly and plainly in love with one another that he felt actual physical pain in his heart. Whatever he had said to Adali last night, whatever he said to Father Cullen Butler, there had always been one tiny secret place within him that yet hoped she would love him. Now he could see quite plainly that it would never be. The knowledge was as if something had died within him at that same moment. He sighed deeply and audibly.$$

Hearing the sound Fortune, who was sitting next to Rory Maguire in the grass, turned. "What is the matter, Uncle Rory?" she said. "That is the saddest sound I have ever heard." She laid her head upon his shoulder and took his hand in hers. "Do not be sad."

Her compassion quite took him by surprise. He felt his eyes filling with tears which he quickly blinked back. "Ahh, lassie, we Irish are oft-times subject to black moods that come suddenly upon us." He gave the elegant little hand holding his a small squeeze. "It's all right, and now if you are ready we should be going." He arose and drew her up. "You were such a wee babe, Fortune Mary Lindley, and now what a fine lady you have grown up to be."

"I wondered where those dark humors came from, Uncle Rory. I get them too. That, also, must be the Irish in me," Fortune said. "For a girl whose father was English, and whose mother is a mixture of English and Mughal, I seem to have a lot of my Irish great-grandmother in me," the girl chuckled.

They rode on at a more leisurely pace now, the coach lumbering along behind them. The afternoon was bright, the sun warm upon their backs. Finally they topped a hill. Below was a long stretch of blue water which Rory told Fortune was upper Lough Erne, even as Jasmine explained to her husband. The upper and lower loughs divided the area which was known as Fermanagh, running the length of it before it became the river Erne, which emptied into Donegal Bay at Ballyshannon.

Rory pointed, saying as he did, "There is Maguire's Ford below us, and there on the lough, Erne Rock Castle, where I hope, you will want to make your home, Fortune."

"Look in the meadows below, poppet," Jasmine said to her daughter. "See our horses, and look! Sheep. I see the breeding stock we sent from Glenkirk took, Rory."

"Aye, my lady, they did," he replied.

They rode down the hill and into the village. Ahead of them a pack of little boys raced, calling to the villagers in both Irish and in English, "They're coming! They're coming!" People began to appear from out of the cottages and the fields, lining the road to see the absentee landlord of Maguire's Ford, returned after twenty years.

Spotting a familiar face, Jasmine drew her horse to a stop. "Bride Duffy!" She slid from her mount's back and hugged her old friend.

"Cai milk failte! A thousand welcomes," Bride Duffy said, her honest face wreathed in a broad smile. "Welcome back to Maguire's Ford, my lady Jasmine!"

The two women embraced again, and then Jasmine drew Fortune forward. "Here is your goddaughter, Bride Duffy. Make your curtsy, Fortune."

Fortune curtsied before the red-cheeked country woman. "How d'ye do, Mistress Duffy?" Fortune said, and met the woman's gaze with her own. "I am pleased to meet you at long last."

"Bless yer heart, m'lady," Bride replied, "and pleased I am to remake yer acquaintance for you were just a wee babe in nappies when I saw ye last." She hesitated just a brief moment, then hugged the young girl. "Now yer back to where you first saw the light of this harsh world, and come to marry, or so I am told."

"Only if I like him," Fortune said quickly.

Bride Duffy chuckled. "Just like her mam, she is."

"Both my daughters have minds of their own," Jasmine said. "Come, Bride, and meet my husband, James Leslie." She drew her friend over to where the duke now stood, and introduced them.

Finally Rory was able to draw Fortune and the Leslies away so they might see the castle. The coach carrying Adali and Rohana had already gone ahead. Erne Rock Castle was set upon a small headland and surrounded by water on three sides. It was almost three hundred years old. To gain entrance one crossed a drawbridge that lay over a moat, which was actually a part of the lough that had been dug out on the land side, and lined with large stones to keep it from collapsing. With its drawbridge raised, Erne Rock was an invincible fortress, small though it was.

They walked their horses across the drawbridge, and upon entering the courtyard they were greeted by several stable lads who took their mounts. Fortune looked about her in order to get her bearings. There were the stables, and there a gatehouse. The courtyard was paved in large flat stones, and not particularly large. She followed her mother up a small flight of steps. There was a red rosebush at the foot of the stairs, growing up from an open flower bed. Fortune cupped one of the roses in her hand and sniffed appreciatively. Then she hurried after Jasmine.

Inside, Erne Rock Castle was a warm and friendly place. There were stone floors on the main level and beautifully polished wooden floors on the upper level. The Great Hall had two fireplaces alight with bright fires this May afternoon. It was not a large room at all, being no bigger than the family's private hall at Glenkirk, Fortune noted. There was a tapestry depicting St. Patrick driving the snakes from Ireland on one wall. The furniture was of glowing golden oak. There was a paneled and well-stocked library on the main floor as well as a room that Rory used to conduct estate business. The kitchens were located behind and below the Great Hall. On the second floor of the castle there were several bedrooms, each with its own fireplace.

Jasmine opened the door to the large bedchamber, and stepped back so her daughter might look inside. "Here is where you were born," she said softly. "Madame Skye's sister, the doctor nun, Eibhlin, delivered you into this world. You were the hardest of my babies, and were turned about the wrong way. I wagered Mam a gold piece that you were a boy."

"Were you disappointed?" asked Fortune, who had never heard this story before.

"Nay," Jasmine replied. "How could I be? You were a perfect little girl with your grandfather's mole just below your left nostril above your lip. But more important, you were your father's last gift to me, Fortune, and I loved him very much. You, India, and Henry were all I had left of Rowan Lindley, along with some sweet memories. It was the greatest legacy I have ever received."

"What happened to my grand-aunt Eibhlin?" Fortune wondered. "Is she still alive? Could we go and see her?"

Jasmine smiled. "Nay, poppet. Eibhlin O'Malley, God assoil her good soul, died almost two years after you were born." She wiped the tear that had come to her eye for thinking of Eibhlin made her think of her grandmother. Ireland, Jasmine decided, made her sad. Catching herself she said, "This will be your room now, poppet, for it is the chamber belonging to the head of the household."

"I am not the mistress of Erne Rock Castle yet, Mama," Fortune responded. "You and Papa take this room. I want one that overlooks the lough. If I take William Devers for my husband, then after we are wed I shall move into this room, but not now, Mama."

"You are sure?"

"Aye," Fortune replied, and then her look grew distressed. "Will it upset you, Mama, to share a room with Papa that you once shared with my father? Would you prefer to be in another chamber?"

"Nay, poppet," Jasmine told her daughter. "I have happy memories of your father here, but sad ones as well. Perhaps being with my Jemmie will erase those unhappy recollections, and I will come to recall Erne Rock only as a happy place, for you were born here, and will be wed here as well. My grandchildren will be born at Erne Rock."

"Perhaps," Fortune said.

Jasmine took her daughter by the hand, and together they sat upon the chamber's large bed. "Poppet, I have sensed a reluctance in you from the beginning regarding this marriage. It is natural for a maiden to be hesitant when facing her wedding, but I feel it is more than that with you, Fortune. What bothers you, my daughter?"

"You and Papa keep saying that I don't have to wed this William Devers if I do not like him. Yet at the same time you speak as if it is just a matter of time before we meet and are married. I am not you, Mama. I do not want my husband chosen for me. I want to choose my own husband! You have brought me from my home to a strange place, and you expect me to marry a stranger. What if I really don't want to marry William Devers? What will happen to me then?" Fortune's blue-green eyes were troubled.

"If you really do not like this young man," Jasmine answered her, "then that will be the end of it, but what makes you think you won't like him? Is it only because you do not know him? Fortune, it is true that my father, the Mughal, chose my first husband for me. I did not not see Prince Jamal Khan until the hour in which we were wed. My parents chose wisely, however, and I was happy, with him. My grandmother chose your father, although I did know him beforehand; and old King James chose your stepfather, whom I also knew. Sometimes your elders know better, Fortune, but if you truly dislike this young man, you do not have to marry him. Neither Jemmie nor I want you unhappy."

"None of us knows this William Devers," Fortune said darkly.

"My cousin, Father Cullen Butler, knows of him. The Reverend Mr. Steen knows him. They feel he is a most suitable and eligible candidate for your hand, poppet. Perhaps he is, and perhaps he isn't. Only time will tell. We shall see what we shall see," Jasmine told her daughter. "However, since his family has been approached, it is only proper that we give this young man a fair hearing."

"Aye," Fortune agreed, although not enthusiastically.

Jasmine stood up. "Come, and let us join the gentlemen down in the hall. I imagine that my cousin has arrived by now."

Together mother and daughter descended, coming into the hall arm in arm. Rory Maguire and James Leslie stood speaking with a white-haired priest in his black robes. Jasmine broke from her daughter's side, and hurried forth.

"Cullen Butler! Ohh, I am so happy to see you again! And looking so well, too. Thank you for helping to keep the peace at Maguire's Ford." Putting her arms about her cousin, Jasmine kissed him on both cheeks.

"And look at you, Yasamin Kama Begum," he said. "Yer as beautiful as ever, and you the mother of a houseful of children," he told her, hugging her back, his blue eyes sparkling with pleasure.

"And a grandmother too, Cullen. A little boy named after Rowan, and a baby girl, Adrianna," Jasmine said, smiling.

The priest's eyes went to Fortune, his heart leaping at the sight of her flaming red hair. His face, however, was a mask of calm and welcome. "And this must be Lady Fortune Mary, whom I baptized myself all those years ago. Welcome back to Ireland, my child."

Fortune curtsied, smiling at Cullen Butler. In him she sensed a friend, and an ally. "Thank you, Father."

He raised her up, and kissed her soundly on her cheeks. "Cousin Cullen when we are en famille, my child. Well, you surely have grown since last I saw you. And hair like your great-great-grandmother O'Malley, a Scots lass from the Isle of Skye, you have. I never knew her for she died before I was born, but she had hair like a flame, they said."

He is yet quick and clever, Adali thought, standing at the edge of the hall. Madame Skye would be pleased, but then she chose him herself all those years ago, and sent him out to India to watch over my mistress. Still he has put it into their heads that Lady Fortune's hair is a family trait even though none of her siblings, or cousins, have tresses of such an outrageous color. He smiled to himself, satisfied.

"I should like to meet the Reverend Mr. Steen," Jasmine said.

"I invited him to come with me and greet you," the priest replied, "but he felt we should be allowed a small time for a family reunion. He will come tomorrow."

"And the Deverses? When are we to meet them?" Jasmine continued.

"Next week. They have been invited to come and stay for three days so the young people may see if they like one another," Cullen Butler said. Then he turned to Fortune. "Are you anxious to meet yer intended, my child? He's a handsome fellow, I can tell you," he chuckled.

"He is not my intended until I decide if we like one another, and will suit," Fortune responded. "I won't marry a man I can't love."

"Nor should you, lassie," the priest said. "Marriage is a wonderful sacrament, and should be treated with respect, Fortune Mary. Still, I like what I hear of young Master Devers, and I believe you will too."

"Poppet, go with Adali. He will show you the rest of the castle," Jasmine said. "If it becomes yours, then you should know everything you can about it." She waved her daughter off with her faithful servant.

"She's hesitant, and 'tis natural, of course," the priest noted. "How old is she now?"

"Twenty this summer," Jasmine told him.

"A bit long in the tooth to be playing the reluctant virgin," muttered the duke of Glenkirk. "She should hae been wed several years ago, and would hae been but for her obstinate older sister."

"Now, Jemmie, you promised us you would not fuss with Fortune. If you do you will only make her dig her heels in harder. If she and William Devers do not suit it will be unfortunate, but hardly the end of the world, my darling." Jasmine laughed. "There is a man out there in the world who is just right for Fortune, and she will find him in her good time. Of that I am certain."

"Yer beginning to sound more like yer grandmother every day," James Leslie grumbled. "In this day and age a maid must have a husband. We've found her a perfectly respectable young man from a good family, who, I am told, is handsome and well formed; and who is to have a respectable inheritance one day. She's lucky the lad will consider someone as old as she is. Twenty is practically past time to wed."

"Bridal nerves," Cullen Butler assured the duke. "Once she meets with young William she will be reassured, my lord. I guarantee it."

"Rory?" James Leslie looked to the estate manager for some sort of confirmation and reassurance.

"I've heard nothing bad about him, my lord. His mother rules the roost up in Lisnaskea, I'm told, but the young couple will be living here at Erne Rock. He's a fine lad, they say, although I prefer his elder brother myself," Rory Maguire told the duke.

"Elder brother? I was told this William Devers is his father's heir. If he has an elder brother, how can this be?"

"The older brother has been disinherited, my lord," Rory said.

"Why?"

"He is a Catholic, my lord," came the explanation.

"How awful!" Jasmine exclaimed.

" 'Tis the world in which we live," the duke said darkly. "That such a thing should be allowed in our time, and yet it is."

"Even here in Ireland, and especially here in Ulster," the priest said quietly, "we are discriminated against and hounded. The penalties are the same here as in England. Catholics cannot hold public office except in the House of Lords."

"But that is because they cannot in good conscience take the oath of supremacy to the king for they cannot acknowledge him as head of the church in England," Jasmine put in.

"Mass cannot be heard in public, nor can anyone harbor priests," Cullen Butler quickly countered. "Do you not pay the fines to the crown for us here in Maguire's Ford? We would be driven away otherwise. I make certain my people attend Reverend Steen's services several times a month to ease suspicions that we are a nest of traitors here. Failure to take communion on important feast days is subject to a fine of twenty pounds. Three such offences are considered treason."

"You know the reason for that," Jasmine spoke up. "Grandmama, herself, was in Paris with Grandfather Adam in 1572 when the St. Bartholomew's massacre occured. Pope Gregory XIII openly rejoiced in Rome when he learned of it, and held a public procession of priests and cardinals to celebrate the death of those poor Protestants. Why he publicly encouraged the murder of good Queen Bess. He even offered absolution in advance to anyone who would assassinate her. Then in 1605 a group of foolish English Catholics plotted to blow up the Houses of Parliament while old King James was speaking. Still, I do not believe that the Catholics should be so penalized and persecuted for the sins of a few fanatics," Jasmine concluded.

"In that, Cousin," the priest chuckled, "I concur, and I know I speak for my whole flock when I say, thank you."

The next few days were quiet ones as Jasmine, James, and Fortune recovered from their journey from Scotland. Fortune explored the estate alone and with Rory Maguire. There would be no changes, she quickly decided, at Maguire's Ford for she liked the Irishman and the way he managed the estate. They seemed to have a great deal in common, particularly their love of the horses. It seemed to her as if they had known each other their whole lives.

On Monday morning the Reverend Mr. Samuel Steen arrived at Erne Rock to greet its mistress, and the bride-to-be. He was a tall man with fine gray eyes. His deep brown hair was peppered with bits of gray as was his imperial, a small tuft of beard that grew from his round chin. His voice was deep and resonant. "Good day, my lady," he said, bowing to Jasmine.

"I am pleased to finally meet with you, Reverend Steen," Jasmine told him. "Steen. It is an odd name, sir, although I certainly mean no offense to you. Please, sit with me by the fire on this damp day."

Samuel Steen accepted her gracious invitation. "The name Steen is from Hainault, my lady. My family, who were master weavers by trade, came to England over three hundred years ago as part of Queen Philippa's dowry. There were several families of weavers who came. It was our task to set up a commercial weaving industry for England so its wool would not have to be sent abroad to be woven into cloth. We left England some years ago, and went to Holland because we were being persecuted for our religion. Ten years ago we were offered the opportunity to go to England's colonies in the New World, but alas, our ship, the Speedwell, sprang a leak. We had to put into an English port. We were then offered the chance to come to Ireland, or be returned to Holland. We chose Ireland. By God's good fortune Master Maguire was on the docks the day we landed. He offered us shelter here at Maguire's Ford if we would but keep the peace with our Catholic neighbors. How could we not agree? We know persecution far too well. Some of our people, however, could not manage to restrain their prejudice, so we left them behind. We have never regretted the day we came here, my lady."

"Nor have I. My cousin, Cullen Butler, has written to me of how you have begun a small weaving industry here in the village, and that you have taught your Catholic neighbors this trade as well. I am very pleased by your initiative, Reverend Steen. And tomorrow I shall see if you are a good judge of bridegrooms," Jasmine smiled.

"I have seen the young lady riding with Master Maguire. She is a pretty child. Young William will make her a fine husband," he responded, returning the smile.

"If they suit," Jasmine replied. "I am a modern parent, and will not force my daughter into an unhappy alliance, Samuel Steen."

He looked a trifle startled, but the Protestant minister said nothing. He was certain that the young couple would like each other. Besides, in the end all the parents would have their way, and the marriage would be celebrated. "Your daughter is a Protestant?" he inquired.

"She was born here at Maguire's Ford, the posthumous child of my second husband, and she was baptized by my cousin. However, she has been raised in England's church," Jasmine explained.

"Perhaps I should baptize her a Protestant," he suggested. "Sir Shane and his wife are very strict, and may be upset by this knowledge, my lady. I mean no offense, you understand."

"One baptism is quite enough for any good Christian, Samuel Steen," Jasmine told him. "If the fact my daughter was baptized a Catholic distresses them then perhaps their son is not for Lady Fortune. My daughter is, after all, a great heiress. She can have her pick of husbands. It does not have to be William Devers. It is providential that Fortune considers him at all." She smiled sweetly at the minister.

She was a strong-willed woman, the minister thought, but he was not in the least put off by it. He hoped her daughter was as strong, for Fortune Lindley's future mother-in-law, Lady Jane Anne Devers, was as tenacious as the duchess of Glenkirk. She was an uncompromising Protestant who had already spoken to him about removing the Catholics from Maguire's Ford when her son became its master. Young William, of course, was more flexible, and if the young couple made Erne Rock their permanent home, he would be under his wife's influence rather than that of his mother, which Samuel Steen suspected would be a better thing. He saw no reason to dispossess the Catholics of the village for their religion. Everyone got on well. If there was no one to interfere, they would continue to get on well.

On the morning that the Deverses were due to arrive, Fortune bathed with the help of her new maidservant, Rois, who was Bride Duffy's youngest granddaughter. She was a slender girl of eighteen with dark braids, large blue eyes, and porcelain skin lightly sprinkled with several freckles across the bridge of her nose. Rois was soft-spoken and diffident towards her mistress. Her grandmother had been training her for several months for this coveted position in what was to become Lady Fortune's household.

"Have you ever had a suitor, Rois?" Fortune asked as she stepped from her tub to be enfolded within a soft, warm towel.

Rois blushed prettily. "Kevin Hennessey and I would like to walk out, my lady, but grandmother says we must keep our attention on our positions. In a year, or two, we may be allowed to court."

"What does your Kevin do?" Fortune was fascinated. It would seem that her servant had no more freedom than she had.

"Kevin helps Master Maguire with the horses," Rois said.

"Does he like what he does? Is he good at it?" Fortune probed further. God's bones! Getting information from Rois was like pulling teeth.

"Aye, he loves the beasties, as he calls them," Rois said, warming now to her subject. "And he is very good with them. They say that one day he may take Master Maguire's place, but that, of course, is a very long way off, my lady."

"Have you ever kissed him?"

Rois blushed again, this time a far deeper hue than previously. "Ohh, my lady," she squeaked. "You shouldn't ask me such a thing."

"That means you have!" Fortune pounced. "Good! What is it like to be kissed? I never have, except by my relations. It is far different with a suitor, I expect, isn't it?"

Rois nodded her head, working furiously to dry her mistress. She wasn't quite certain what to say. "When Kevin kisses me," she said, and then quickly amended, "if he did kiss me, my heart beats a tattoo like a drum, and my whole being feels filled with light. It's hard to describe, but it is wonderful. If, indeed, it actually happened."

Fortune giggled mischievously. "That doesn't tell me a whole lot, Rois," she said frankly. "I guess you have to experience a kiss to know what it's like. I wonder how long before William Devers tries to kiss me. I wonder if I will like this kissing."

"Women usually do," Rois replied. Then she slipped a clean chemise over her mistress's head.

"My mother certainly does," Fortune remarked, straightening the lace edging about the chemise's low-cut neckline, and on the balloon sleeves that came just below her elbow.

Rois rolled a pair of cream-colored silk stockings up Fortune's slim legs, gartering them with gold rosettes. Then she helped the girl into several silk petticoats. Next came the outer skirt of heavy deep green silk, the skirt falling in simple folds with its fullness toward the back, and open in the front to display the skirt petticoat of cream and gold brocade.

"Sit down, my lady, and let me do your hair," Rois said. She unpinned the fiery mass from atop Fortune's head and brushed it out vigorously, parting it in the middle, and coiling it into a flat knot at the nape of her mistress's neck. She tied the single lovelock by Fortune's left ear with a pearl-studded gold ribbon. Stepping back she observed her work, and then smiled. "Come on now, and let's get into your bodice, my lady," she said. She helped Fortune into the square-necked green garment, pulling the cloth down firmly so that the lace from the chemise showed; fastening the sleeves, which came to just below the elbow as did its undergarments, at the armscye, drawing down the lace from the chemise sleeves so that they showed. It was a simple gown, but an obviously expensive one. "You do look nice," Rois said with great understatement. "Shall I bring you your jewelry box, my lady?"

"Aye," Fortune said. When the maidservant opened the case, Fortune chose a long single strand of creamy pearls and slipped them over her head. They lay glowing and perfect upon her gown. About her left wrist she affixed a bracelet fashioned of a double strand of pearls. About her other wrist she wore a bracelet of gold links, each of the rounds studded with an emerald. Contemplating her rings Fortune chose a large baroque pearl, a round emerald, and a simple gold ring with the Lindley family crest, two swans with their necks intertwined to form a perfect heart. "There," she said with a small chuckle. "That should be impressive enough for a first meeting."

"Yer so naughty, my lady," Rois giggled, and taking the jewelry case stored it away.

There was a soft tapping upon the door, but before Rois could answer it, the door opened to admit the duchess of Glenkirk who was garbed in rich burgundy silk, a necklace of pigeon's egg rubies about her neck with matching earbobs that fell from her lobes, several rich bracelets, and her hands heavy with elegant rings. Her hair was done as was her daughter's save that Jasmine wore no lovelock.

"How lovely you look," she complimented both daughter and maidservant with her words. "The green is quite suitable for your hair, eyes, and skin. You have Irish skin like the O'Malleys, poppet. It is very fair."

"Merci, Mama," Fortune replied. "I see you are dressed for battle," she chuckled. "Is it really fair to intimidate poor Lady Jane at our first meeting? The duchess of Glenkirk is really quite grand."

"I have been informed by those who know that Lady Jane is a very intimidating woman, Fortune. I want her to understand that I am even more intimidating, and by inference, that you will not allow yourself to be bullied. It is important to establish these things upon first meeting, else we have a difficult time doing so afterwards. You must remember it is young William you are contemplating marriage with, and not his strong-willed mama. He is, I have been told, a pleasant young man, as is his father. It is your future mother-in-law that we must put in her place today so you do not have any difficulties later on," Jasmine advised her daughter.

"Listen to her ladyship, my lady," Rois said with sudden unaccustomed frankness. "There are rumors even here at Maguire's Ford about Lady Jane Devers, although my grandmam would skin me for saying so."

"What rumors?" Fortune asked.

"They say she hates Catholics, and will not tolerate any about her. Those up in Lisnaskea must hide their faith, or risk losing everything-their homes, their positions, whatever they may be. Her stepson, Master Kieran, is only allowed to remain in the house because his stepmother will not drive him out for fear of a scandal. Sir Shane did disinherit him when he turned twenty-one and refused to convert to Protestantism," Rois said. "Most believe her influence was responsible for it."

"How is it that Sir Shane's eldest son is a Catholic?" Jasmine queried the maidservant.

"Sir Shane was born into the one true church," Rois said with complete ingenuousness. "His first wife, may God assoil her good soul, was Lady Mary Maguire, a kinswoman of Master Rory's. She had three children before her death. The eldest was Moire, then came Master Kieran, and finally Colleen, who killed her mother in birthing. The older children were six and four when their mother died. Two years later Sir Shane courted and won the hand of Mistress Jane Anne Elliot, the only daughter of a London merchant who had settled in what the English call Derry.

"She was an heiress of some small means, and Sir Shane was attracted by both her fortune and her person. The only condition to the marriage was that Sir Shane convert to Protestantism, and raise his children as such. The poor man wasn't strong in his faith. He had three motherless children. While wealthy in land and cattle, he hadn't the coin his wealthy father-in-law-to-be could supply to restore his tumbledown manse and buy more cattle. He succumbed to their request, was baptized once again, this time by a Protestant minister, and swiftly married.

"Sir Shane's two daughters were easily cajoled into following their father's lead. Moire was eight, and had been her papa's darling. She wanted to please him, and not lose him to her stepmother, although to be fair to Lady Jane, she has been good to her predecessor's children. Little Colleen was but two when her father wed, and knew no better. Lady Jane is the only mother she ever knew. But Master Kieran was six, and as stubborn as his da's prize bull. He had adored his mother. Now he had but two things remaining to remind him of her. A wee miniature he always keeps on his person, and her faith. While his father and stepmother forced him to attend church with them each Sunday, he would sneak away afterwards to attend the mass being held in secret somewhere in Lisnaskea. It was years before his father and Lady Jane discovered it. By then he was a young man, and when they confronted him he did not deny it. From that time on he would not attend church with them in their Protestant church.

"Lady Jane gave her husband two children. The girl was born first when Master Kieran was seven. She is called Elizabeth. Then came Master William the following year. There were no more children after that. The rumor is that Sir Shane has a mistress outside of Lisnaskea, one Molly Fitzgerald, who has two daughters by him, but it isn't discussed aloud because she's a Catholic. Finally, when Master Kieran was twenty-one his father gave him an ultimatum. Give up his Catholicism, or give up his birthright to his younger brother, William. 'Tis said that the father and son had such a terrible fight over it 'twas heard all the way to Ballyshannon, but Kieran Devers refused to give up his faith for a piece of land. So, the father disinherited him, and made young Master William his heir."

"Yet Kieran Devers still lives in his father's house?" Jasmine was curious about such a thing.

"His stepmother would not allow the father to dispossess the son for fear of what would be said. She wanted it to appear all her stepson's fault. She wanted to be the good and gentle lady. So Master Kieran lives in his own rooms in a separate wing of the house. While there are those who are saddened by the loss of his inheritance, none can say with certainty that Lady Jane is responsible. It is very important to the lady how she appears before others," Rois explained.

"Poor Master Kieran has nowhere else to go. His mother's family are all gone, and the rest of his father's family are over in Donegal. They are hardly known to him, if they know him at all. While Kieran Devers is proud, he's no fool. Me grandmam says she thinks he enjoys remaining just to annoy Lady Jane, who would appear charitable towards him but is really not. 'Tis said she attempted to stop her husband from settling a sum on his son so that his wicked conscience might be salved, but Sir Shane would not listen to her then for he, too, cares what people think. The eldest son is in his will, and is given an allowance each year into the bargain. That generous allowance, I am told, comes from the inheritance the lady was bequeathed from her late father. I have heard it delights Master Kieran to donate a goodly portion of that allowance to the church just to annoy his stepmother." Rois giggled. "I have never seen him myself, but they say Kieran Devers is as handsome as sin, and as wicked as the devil himself to boot. Yet he is kind, and always ready to help those who need it. Mostly our kind who have been driven off our lands for our faith," she said.

"I have never heard you speak so eloquently before," Fortune teased her maidservant.

"There was nothing to say until yer mam asked me," Rois replied.

Jasmine smiled. "You're a practical puss like my daughter, Rois. Bride did well to choose you for Fortune."

The door to the chamber opened again, and the duke popped his head into the room. "The Deverses' coach is just coming through the village," he told his wife. "Come along, or we shall be late, and appear rude. We want to make a good first impression now, don't we?"

"Do we?" Fortune asked mischievously.

"I obviously didn't beat ye enough when ye were a wee lassie," James Leslie responded.

"You didn't beat me at all, Papa," Fortune said, linking her arm through his, and smiling up into his craggy face.

"Well, I probably should have," the duke teased her. He turned to his wife. "Where shall we greet them, madame?"

"In the hall," Jasmine responded. "Adali will escort them in to us. It sets the proper tone, for our rank is far greater than theirs. They should be honored to even be considered as a possible match for our daughter. The more I learn about the Deverses of Lisnaskea, the less certain I am that they are the right family with which to be allied. Perhaps we did not look closely enough back home."

If James Leslie was surprised by his wife's words he gave no sign of it. The duke knew Jasmine would have her way no matter what he said, and much of the time she was absolutely correct. "Nothing is signed, or even agreed to yet," he told her. "We can change our minds if Fortune does not like this young fellow, or we decide he is not at all suitable for her, darling Jasmine."

"I am glad you see it my way, Jemmie," came the reply.

They descended down into the Great Hall even as they heard the wheels of the coach rumbling into the courtyard through the open front door. Adali, garbed in his usual white trousers, tunic, and turban, was awaiting the visitors. Stepping out onto the portico, he waited until the Deverses had descended from their carriage and were halfway up the steps to the house. It was then he bowed deferentially to them.

"Sir Shane. Lady Jane. Master William. I am Adali, the duchess's majordomo. You are welcome to Erne Rock Castle." He turned. "If you will please to follow me. I shall bring you to the duke and the duchess who are awaiting you in the Great Hall with Lady Fortune."

^{Chapter 3}

Lady Jane Devers looked sidewise at her husband, and whispered in discreet tones, "She has a brown-skinned foreigner for a servant, Shane? We were not told she consorted with such people."

"If the man holds a position of such importance in the duchess's household, Jane, then he must be a person worthy of her trust, and the duke's," Shane Devers whispered back. "Now shut yer mouth before you destroy William's chances for this marriage. The girl is quite an heiress."

"I was an heiress," came the icy reply.

"Not like this lass," her husband shot back as they entered the Great Hall. He was a tall man with iron gray hair and dark blue eyes. His face was weathered and ruddy from the outdoors, and his big hands those of a horseman.

His wife was petite with fading blond hair and light blue eyes. Her complexion was yet fair, although her rosy cheeks owed much to the artifice of light rouge which she thought made her appear younger. Her gown was old-fashioned, the bell-shaped, ankle-length skirt worn over a farthingale with a wasp waist, and a long pointed stomacher. It was deep blue in color, and while it was of an excellent material, Lady Jane, looking at the duchess's gown, saw at once she was at a disadvantage. She almost cried with her frustration. Why hadn't she found out what Lady Leslie would be wearing? But then she had assumed that coming from Scotland, the lady would be no more up on the latest fashions than she was.

Seeing the woman's scrutiny Jasmine felt a surge of triumph. Lady Jane was obviously already intimidated. Excellent! She had not yet made up her mind about William Devers, but if he was indeed to be her son-in-law, Jasmine felt they were already off on the proper foot with his dominating mother. She smiled graciously. "Welcome to Erne Rock, Sir Shane, Lady Jane, and young William. May I present to you my husband, James Leslie, the duke of Glenkirk, and my daughter, Lady Fortune Mary Lindley."

Sir Shane bowed to his host and hostess as did his son, while his wife curtsied. Their greetings were acknowledged with a bow and two curtsies in exchange. Then Sir Shane said, "I thank you for having us, yer grace. I've always been curious to see the inside of Erne Rock."

"But I understand your late first wife was a cousin of the Maguire lords of Erne Rock," Jasmine said sweetly.

"Her kinship was closer to Conor Maguire and his ilk, although the Maguires of Erne Rock shared a great-grandfather with her," he replied.

"Ahh," Jasmine intoned. Then she smiled at the handsome young man by his father's side.

"This is my son, and heir, William," Sir Shane said. His wife poked him with a sharp finger. "And my wife, Lady Jane," he finished quickly.

"How d'you do, your grace," Jane Devers said. Then she turned her gaze on Fortune. The girl was much too pretty, and in a rather bold way with that bright red hair. Why she almost looked Irish. "I am pleased to meet you, my dear," she said in dulcet tones. "My dear stepdaughter is a Mary also."

"I am not called Mary," Fortune replied. "I am called Fortune, madame, for my mother considered it good fortune that I was conceived the very night before my father was murdered."

Jane Anne Devers caught her breath in sharply. Had the girl no sense of delicacy, using a word like conceived? Then she caught herself, saying, "Fortune is a unique name, my dear, but if it is what you are used to being called, then we shall call you that."

"I think it's a wonderful name," William Devers said, and then catching Fortune's hand up in his he kissed it. "Your servant, my lady Fortune." He looked up at her, his light blue eyes assessing her, and smiled winningly, showing a row of even white teeth.

"Sir," she answered, assessing him as openly. Blue eyes, and chestnut brown hair with just a hint of gold in it. He was taller than she was which pleased her for she knew she was tall for a girl. His face and his hands were tanned which meant he spent a good deal of time in the open air. He seemed to be well formed and well made.

"I trust I meet with your approval, my lady," he murmured softly so that only she might hear his words.

"You make a good first impression, sir," she told him.

William Devers laughed. He didn't like shy or prissy women, and had been expecting just that sort of creature. That Fortune Lindley was neither pleased him. It was far more fun to tame a wildcat than to be given a sweet kitten for a pet; and as Father had always told him, a wife was a pet to be cherished, protected, and trained to her husband's ways. The training, however, was more fun if the lady in question was a spirited lass, Shane Devers said. Fortune Lindley was obviously a fiery filly.

"Let us have some wine to celebrate our meeting," Jasmine said. "Adali, please see a cask of the Archambault red is broached. It has been aging for some years now in the cellars, and should be quite excellent. And bring some sweet wafers as well."

Adali bowed. "Yes, my princess, at once." Then he hurried out.

"Your serving man," Jane Devers said, quite unable to contain her curiosity. "He is a foreigner?"

"Adali has been with me since my birth. He is half-Indian, and half-French, madame. India was the land of my birth. If you consider Adali a foreigner, then you must surely consider me one too, for my father was the ruler of all India, Akbar the Grande Mughal; and my mother was an English noblewoman with Irish roots. She was his fortieth and last wife. I came to England, a widow, when I was sixteen. My second husband was Fortune's father, the marquess of Westleigh, and the duke is my third husband. Our marriage was arranged by King James himself, and our dear Queen Anne, both gone now, God assoil their good souls," Jasmine finished. There! That should give my Lady Jane something to chew upon.

But Jane Devers was not that easily cowed. "Three husbands, gracious! I have always felt one was more than enough, madame. How many children do you have besides dear Fortune?" She smiled again at the young woman.

"Well," Jasmine pondered, and James Leslie held his breath seeing the mischievous look in her eye. "Three by Lindley, two girls and a boy; three boys and a girl who died by my Jemmie." She cast her husband a fond look. "And, of course, my son by the late Prince Henry. He was my lover between my second and third husband. A lovely young man, as I recall. Our son, Charlie Stuart, is the duke of Lundy."

"You bore a bastard?" Jane Devers was pale with shock.

"Madame!" Her husband thundered, mortified by her words.

"The Royal Stuarts have always been generous with their favors, haven't they, Jemmie?" Jasmine said brightly. "Besides, no offspring of a Royal Stuart is considered tainted goods. The king adores his nephew, Lady Jane. Charlie has been welcomed at court since his birth, and treated like any Stuart kin by the royal family. His grandfather was so pleased with his birth-he was the old king's first grandchild-that he said he would raise my grandfather de Marisco's earldom to a dukedom the day Charlie inherited it, and so he did. Ah, Adali. Come, Lady Jane, Sir Shane. Here is the wine which comes from the estate of my grandfather de Marisco's family in France."

William Devers's eyes were dancing with his amusement. He did hope his prospective wife would turn out to be as amusing as her mother. He almost laughed when his mother, forgetting her manners, took the silver goblet offered her and gulped a great swallow even before the toast was offered. He had been trying all his life to disconcert her vaunted self-control, but had been unable to do so. Even his elder brother, Kieran, could not openly irritate her. How absolutely delicious that his future mother-in-law should prove so formidable.

"To the children," Jasmine said, raising her own goblet. "Let us hope this is indeed a match made in heaven."

"To the children," Sir Shane and the duke of Glenkirk echoed.

Jane Devers weakly raised her own goblet. She was suddenly quite unsure that Lady Fortune Lindley was the daughter-in-law she wanted. Her own brother had a lovely daughter, Emily Anne Elliot, who would be just perfect for William. Thank God nothing was signed! There was yet time to prevent her darling boy from being entangled in this dreadful misalliance. No amount of money in the world could make up for a daughter-in-law whose mother had so shamelessly borne a bastard. Then she gasped, her hand going to her heart as a priest walked into the hall in the company of the Reverend Mr. Samuel Steen.

"Cousin!" Jasmine called. "Come and take wine with us. You also, Samuel Steen. Adali, two more goblets."

"Cousin? Shane! She called the priest cousin!" Lady Jane whispered frantically to her husband. "If she is a Protestant, how can she have a Catholic priest for a cousin?"

"I was a Catholic before I wed with you, m'dear," he reminded her. "Many of these Anglo-Irish families are made up of both Catholics and Protestants. Do not distress yerself, Jane. Everything I see tells me this is the right marriage for our William. Look, he and the girl are getting along quite well. He'll win her over in no time, m'dear."

"I am not certain now about this girl. Her mother's loose morals give me pause for thought. Perhaps Emily Anne would be a better wife for William. What if this Fortune Lindley is like her mama? I shudder to think of the unhappiness she would cause our son."

"The girl appears lively, I will grant you, but there is nothing wrong with high spirits among the young, Jane," he answered her.

"Why could she not find a husband in England, or Scotland, Shane? Answer me that! Perhaps she already has a bad reputation that we do not know of, here in our little backwater, and will learn about only when it is too late!" She drained her goblet nervously.

"Adali, more wine for Lady Jane," Jasmine chirped.

"Show a wee bit of mercy, lass," James Leslie murmured softly to his wife. "The poor woman hae already been beaten to her knees."

"This is a mistake," Jasmine said. "I don't want my daughter married to that woman's son. You don't know what I learned this morning."

"But ye'll tell me, I'm sure," the duke chuckled. "Forget about Lady Jane, darling Jasmine, and look to yer daughter. She and young William are getting along quite well. This isn't our decision, it is Fortune's. She's going to be twenty years old in a few months, and has already turned down half-a-dozen perfectly respectable young men in England and in Scotland. Every one of them was titled! If this is the young man who will suit her, then so be it."

"We shall see what we shall see," Jasmine responded, but her eye had indeed turned to William Devers and her daughter. He looked nothing like his mother but for his light blue eyes. That in itself boded well, Jasmine decided. He had charm, she could see, but then Fortune would not be dazzled by even the greatest charm. Still, he seemed genuine in his interest towards the girl, and Jemmie was right. Fortune had been uncommonly fussy about choosing a husband. I'll buy them a house in England, Jasmine decided. There is nothing that says they must live here at Erne Rock. I'm sure young Master Devers would enjoy living in England. Perhaps somewhere near Queen's Malvern, or by Cadby where Henry makes his seat. I could be certain of seeing them every year, and it would certainly be as simple for me to come to Fortune's lying-ins as it is with India. Yes! I shall give them a beautiful house in England as a wedding present, along with Maguire's Ford.

"Ye hae that look in yer eye," her husband observed. "What are ye about, my darling Jasmine?"

"Nothing," she murmured back. "I am just deciding that I can possibly have my cake and eat it too, Jemmie."

"God help us all," he rejoined.

Jasmine again became the consummate hostess. "Dear Lady Jane," she said, "you know, of course, our good Samuel Steen. And this is my cousin, Father Cullen Butler."

"My lady." The priest bowed politely.

She gave him the barest nod, and then turned her head away.

"And it is good to see you again, Shane Devers," Cullen Butler said, ignoring the woman's snub. He knew of her reputation, and was not in the least offended. How it must pain her to have to sit quietly in the same room with him, he thought wickedly. I must give myself a penance for my mean spiritedness, he considered. Three Aves at most.

"Father," came the greeting from Sir Shane. "I suppose you've seen Kieran recently." It was said almost bitterly.

"I see him," was the answer. No use rubbing salt into that wound. He wasn't responsible for Kieran Devers's decisions, nor was the church.

"The young people seem to be getting on quite well," the Reverend Steen noted cheerfully.

"Aye," his companions responded.

"They make a handsome couple, don't they?" Reverend Steen said.

More murmurs of assent followed this observation.

"There should be more to a good union than just two pretty faces," Lady Jane said sharply.

"In that I certainly concur," Jasmine agreed.

"Perhaps," Cullen Butler said, "Lady Fortune would like to take Master William for a ride about the estate."

"What a good idea!" Fortune said. Sir Shane seemed pleasant enough, but she did not like Lady Jane for all her sweet speeches. She wanted a chance to be with the handsome William Devers, and see if he pleased her. If there was any spark that might be ignited between them. "Would you like to ride?" she asked him.

"I have no horse," he said. "We came in the coach." He looked disappointed.

"We have plenty of horses," Fortune laughed. "Adali, go and tell the stables we will need two horses. I'll go change into something more suitable. Is it all right, Mama?"

"Of course," Jasmine agreed. She understood what Fortune was doing, and approved.

Fortune dashed from the hall, returning some minutes later to call to William Devers, "Come on, William!" Then she was gone again.

He followed after her, grinning, even as he heard his mother behind him expressing shock at Fortune's garb.

"Your daughter rides astride? In breeches?"

He didn't hear the duchess's answer, but suspected it was pithy. He thought Fortune's breeches rather charming. They were not baggy, but rather nicely fitted, revealing her well-shaped legs and bottom. She was also wearing a sleeveless, deep blue silk doublet with silver buttons over a white shirt with balloon sleeves. It was all quite fetching.

The stableboy was holding two horses, one a fine dappled gray gelding that Fortune immediately mounted. The other was a tall, big-boned, shining black gelding. William took the reins from the lad, and swung himself up into the saddle.

"His name is Oberon," Fortune told William. "Come on! Follow me!"

He trailed after her out of the castle's small courtyard, over the drawbridge, and through the village, gradually edging his mount up until they were finally riding side by side. "You do not ride a mare?"

"Nay, Rory Maguire, our estate manager, feels Thunder and I are suited to one another. I like a horse with a bit of spirit, and Thunder has a spritely nature. Do you like to ride?"

"Aye, I do. Sitting about poring over accounts as my father does isn't my idea of great amusement."

"That's why we have an estate manager," Fortune said.

"Aren't you afraid he'll steal from you? After all he is Irish," William Devers said.

"So are you," she replied. "At least on your father's side."

"I have always thought of myself as British," he said.

"You were born in Ireland. You live in Ireland. Your father is Irish. You are Irish," Fortune told him with perfect logic. "Now I, on the other hand, have a slightly more complicated lineage. My father was an Englishman. My stepfather is a Scot. My mother is Indian on her father's side, and Irish, English, and French on her mother's side. I am the niece of the current Grande Mughal, and my Leslie half-brothers are related to the Ottoman sultan. We have an extremely knotty, complex, intricate, and elaborately labyrinthine family tree, William Devers."

"You are utterly fascinating," he said. "I have never met a girl like you at all. Why do you want to marry me?"

"I don't know if I do," Fortune said honestly. "I have yet to find a man to love, and love I must if I marry. I suppose that all sounds very romantic and silly, but it is how I feel, William Devers."

"I am known as Will to my friends," he said. "I hope you will learn to love me, Fortune, for I think I am already half in love with you. You are so alive!"

"What a lovely thing to say, Will." She smiled at him, and then, "Oh, look! That is the tree from which my mother hanged my father's murderer. That very limb up there." She pointed. "They say my mother never flinched but ordered he be hanged with my father's belt, and stood watching as he died. He actually meant to kill Mama. She and my father were riding, and had stopped to speak with my sister, India, who was only a small girl. She wanted to be taken up on Mama's horse, and when Mama bent down for her, it was then the shot rang out. My father was killed instead. The men came from the fields and saw the glint of a musket up upon the hill. They ran as fast as they could and captured the culprit. He was the same man Mama had dismissed as the estate's agent, and he was bold enough to admit it was Mama he had wanted to kill."

"Why did she dismiss him?" William was curious.

"He was cruel and he was bigoted. He had driven Mama's villagers from Maguire's Ford because they were Catholic. He planned to populate the place with only Protestants. He thought Mama too forward for a woman, and believed my father was bewitched by her."

"You don't approve of driving Catholics away." It was a statement.

"Nay, I do not. Why would you drive decent, hard-working people from their homes based upon their religious preference?" Fortune said.

"They'd murder us given the chance," he replied.

"I know that, but you'd do the same," Fortune told him in exasperated tones. "Do you think I am a dunce, Will Devers? There is anger and bigotry on both sides of the issue. I understand that, but I believe the English would be better off if they just came to Ireland to rule, and left everyone to live in peace, but no. The English must have their way in all things, and so the Irish will resist with all their might. 'Tis madness."

"You think a great deal for a young girl," he noted as they moved away from the hanging tree.

"Do you not approve of a woman being educated then, Will?"

"I have always been taught a woman's place is in the home, supervising her servants, and her children. She is responsible for their welfare, both temporal and spiritual, as well as pleasing her husband in whatever ways he may desire, and making his home a place of peace."

"Does a woman have to be uneducated to do all those things?" Fortune asked him seriously. She glanced over at him so she might see his face when he answered, and know if he was prevaricating.

"My mother has taught my sisters all manner of household duties," he began.

"Can they read? Or do arithmetic? Do they speak other languages than their own? Do they know the history of their country, or where the New World is on a map? Can they look up in the sky at night, and name the stars, Will?" Fortune waited for his answer.

"Why would they need to know these things?" he wondered.

"If you cannot read or write, how can you truly manage your household accounts? If you do not know arithmetic, how can you be certain that your estate manager isn't cheating you? Knowing other languages allows you to speak with the French, the Italians, the Germans. As for the rest, it is simply fun to know these things, Will. Knowledge gives one power. All the women in my family are educated. I intend educating my sons and daughters, too. You read and write, don't you?"

"Of course!" he replied hastily. "But my sisters do not. Mary, Colleen, and Lizzie are all married women. They have no need of an education such as you describe. My mother certainly didn't. She was my grandsire Elliot's only child, and heiress. My father wanted an heiress for a wife because he was poor in monies though rich in land. My grandfather wanted a man with a goodly estate and cattle. That is how matches are made, Fortune. It doesn't matter if the bride is educated or not. It is her property first, and then her charm that win her a husband."

"I still prefer being an educated woman. The women in my family do not have husbands who stray because they are interesting both in and out of the bedchamber," Fortune said proudly. "I hear it said your father has a mistress."

He flushed. "Young ladies should not speak of such things, or even know about them for that matter." Then he chuckled. "You are a most outspoken girl, aren't you?"

"Would you rather I dissemble? Or be coy, and giggle like so many girls on the husband hunt?" she demanded of him.

"No," he said, surprising himself, but he liked her frankness. His mother would not, but then it was not really her choice, it was his. He had never met a girl like Fortune Mary Lindley, and he found he was totally intrigued by her. "How old are you?" he asked her.

"Nineteen," she said. "And you?"

"Twenty-three," he responded.

"See that hill over there?" she said. "I'll race you!" Then she was off on her gelding, dashing across the terrain like some ancient huntress. Her hair came loose from its chignon, and fanned out, blowing wildly in the breeze created by her speed.

He dashed after her. He was not only intrigued, but excited by this flame-haired beauty with her blunt speech. He could hardly wait to bed her on their wedding night, for he had already made up his mind that she would be his wife. Even if she hadn't had a ha-penny to her name he would want her. Perhaps not as a wife under those circumstances, but he would want her.

Fortune made no pretense of letting him win the race between them. It was not her way. She played to win. Thunder covered the ground in great bounding strides, but she could hear the black gelding close behind her. She leaned low on the horse's neck, encouraging him to even greater speed. The wind was cool and damp on her face. The day was beginning to cloud over. It would soon rain, Fortune thought as Thunder topped the hill only to come face to face with another rider coming from the other direction. The two horses came to a quick halt.

"Kieran!" She heard William Devers say behind her as he topped the hill. "This is Lady Fortune Lindley. Fortune, this is my half-brother, Kieran Devers."

The horseman, tall, lean, and dark-haired, looked her over boldly. "Yer a proper hoyden if I've ever seen one," he said, reaching out to finger a lock of her blazing red hair.

"And yer a fool, I am told," Fortune responded angrily.

He laughed, and then said to William, "Does your mother approve of her, Willy?"

"She approves of my dowry," Fortune shot back, "but you get ahead of yourself, Master Devers, for no betrothal has yet been arranged, nor will it be unless I want it to be arranged."

"Don't wed her, Willy," his elder brother advised. "She's too much of a handful for you, I can see it." Then he laughed again at the look of outrage on Fortune's face. "I think your cousin Emily Anne Elliot will make you a far better wife than this wildcat."

"Kieran!" William's voice was anguished. He turned to Fortune, his face flushed with his embarrassment. "My brother is naught but teasing, Fortune. He has a rather odd sense of humor. Please forgive him. He means no harm."

"None at all," Kieran Devers agreed, flashing her a wicked smile. "None at all, m'lady Fortune."

She glared at him, and his eyes danced mischievously. They were dark eyes. Dark green eyes. And he was outrageously handsome. Even more so than his younger brother. He had a recklessness about him in comparison to Will's civilized manner. She would have never known they were brothers-half-brothers, she amended to herself. William Devers looked like his father. Tall, well-made, and sturdy with his mother's light blue eyes and chestnut-gold hair. He had an elegant nose, a small mouth, and well-spaced eyes set in a round face. But his brother, Kieran, was taller, with a long face, a squared jaw, a big mouth, and a nose that appeared to have been hewn out of granite. He was craggy and fierce looking while his sibling appeared the epitome of a civilized gentleman. A man like Kieran Devers was dangerous, and not to be tolerated.

"Kieran, why have you come over?" William asked.

"I thought it might help the cause if we appeared the happy family, and the duke of Glenkirk could see I don't give a damn for our father's lands. They are yours with my blessing, little brother. So, m'lady," he addressed Fortune, "William Devers will not come penniless to the heiress bride. Does that please you?" The green eyes mocked her.

"His wealth means nothing to me," Fortune replied scornfully. "My personal riches could buy and sell the Deverses of Lisnaskea several times over. I seek a man to love, you lout!" Then yanking Thunder's head about, Fortune cantered off towards the castle.

"Whew! What a firebrand," Kieran Devers said admiringly. "Yer a lucky man if you can win her, Willy. Red hair and a hot temper! She'll be a tigress in bed, you young devil. I'm not certain you deserve such a prize. Yer mam won't like her. She prefers Emily Anne, I'm sure, but poor Emily Anne isn't enough of an heiress, is she?" He chuckled.

"Fortune's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and so damned interesting. She says just what comes into her head," William said.

"I've noticed that," Kieran replied with a small smile.

The two young brothers rode down the hillock and across the meadows back into the village. As they traveled down the main street of Maguire's Ford several young women called out a greeting to Kieran Devers, and he greeted them all by name with a smile and a jest. William raised an eyebrow. He had not been aware that Kieran's escapades, as his mother called them, extended as far as Maguire's Ford. In the castle courtyard Kieran was greeted by a red-haired gentleman.

"Kieran lad, how are you?" Rory Maguire said. "And this will be yer little brother, I'm thinking. How d'ye do, Master William. I am Rory Maguire, the estate manager of her ladyship, the duchess."

"Rory, yer looking well as ever, and aye, 'tis young Willy," Kieran Devers replied as he dismounted his horse.

"You were not in the hall earlier," William said.

"Nay, sir, I wasn't. 'Twas out of respect for your mother's feelings, for we all know how she feels. I felt Lady Jasmine's cousin, Father Cullen, would be just about all she could handle." It was said with good humor, and a twinkle.

William Devers laughed. "Aye," he agreed. He decided he liked this Maguire fellow. Of course his mother had said that once he was master at Erne Rock, his cousin, James Dundas, would be a suitable estate manager, and James was a good Protestant. Still, Fortune had given him pause for thought when she had asked him why anyone who did their job properly should be discriminated against for their religion. Besides, James Dundas knew nothing of horses, and indeed, was afraid of them. He would make a poor manager for a horse breeding estate. William slid from his saddle, saying as he did so, "Come on, Kieran, and let us surprise mother." Then he laughed again.

Jane Anne Devers was indeed surprised to see her stepson enter the Great Hall in his half-brother's company. Still, he was dressed respectably, and appeared in a good mood. She hoped he had not come to cause any deviltry. "Kieran dear," she twittered as he approached her.

"Madame, you are as lovely as always," Kieran Devers told Lady Devers as he bowed and kissed her hand. Then he turned, and bowed quite beautifully to the duchess of Glenkirk who was sitting with his stepmother. "I am Kieran Devers, your grace. I hope I am not intruding, but my curiosity was, as always, too great. I came to lend my brother, William, support in his pursuit of your beautiful daughter, whom I have just met a while ago." He kissed Jasmine's hand.

"You are most welcome at Erne Rock, Kieran Devers," she replied. "Adali, bring Master Devers a goblet of wine. You will join us, sir?" She motioned him to a seat by the fire. He's a handsome devil, Jasmine thought. What mischief is he up to, or is he indeed just curious? She smiled at Kieran Devers. "Have you ever been to Erne Rock before? I understand your mother was a Maguire before her marriage to your father."

"This is my first visit," Kieran replied. "Thank you," he said to Adali who offered him a goblet from a tray.

"We met Kieran out riding," William said.

"He has already explained that, dearest," Lady Jane said patiently. Lord! Did William have to appear such a dunce before the duchess? "I am certain he cannot stay, especially now that his curiosity has been satisfied. Where is Fortune?"

"Nonsense! Your stepson must stay at least the night," Jasmine replied. "I have always been famed for my hospitality, my dear Lady Jane. It will be lovely to have a family party. Later, I hope to meet your daughters too."

"Only Colleen is in Ireland," Lady Jane said. "Mary and my Bessie are in England where their husbands reside. Colleen lives outside of Dublin in the Pale. Her husband has a small estate there. She is the only one who will be able to come for the wedding."

"If there is a wedding," Jasmine amended.

Kieran Devers saw his stepmother pale slightly. So, it was not the sure thing Jane Anne Devers had bragged it was. Interesting. Still, the girl was extremely desirable for her wealth, not to mention her beauty; but Jane Anne had been certain the only reason the Leslies would come to Ireland seeking a husband for their daughter was that she was unmarriageable in England for some reason. After all, according to his stepmother, an English husband was the most desirable husband of all. She had managed English marriages for his elder sister, Moire, who she had called Mary since the day she wed his father; and for her own daughter, Bessie. Colleen, however, had eluded her, falling in love with Sir Hugh Kelly. Hugh, however, had an English mother, and was a Protestant, and so Jane Anne had acquiesced gracefully to one Irish marriage.

"Of course there will be a wedding," William said with a smile. "I intend winning Fortune fairly and squarely. She is a wonderful girl, and I already adore her!"

"Who do you adore?" said Fortune, coming into the hall in a fresh green gown, her hair neatly contained within a pretty golden snood.

"Why you, naturally," William said ingenuously.

Fortune smiled. "You are a fool, Will Devers," she chided him, but her tone was soft, Kieran noted.

That's it, little brother, use your charm on her, he thought. But then as he looked at Fortune Lindley again, the hoydenish and disheveled look gone, to be replaced by an elegant young girl, he thought suddenly that she was far too much for his younger brother. Any marriage between them would force Willy into an untenable position. He would be caught between his strong mother, who had told him what to do and to think his whole life, and a headstrong young wife who obviously ran her own life, and would expect to run his as well. The resulting war between the two women would kill his half-brother, who was really a very nice young man.

Ah, the voice within him said, so that will be your reason. Admit it, Kieran Devers, you're intrigued by the wench, and would like her for yourself. Why you'd have her if she had nothing but her shift to her name. But she doesn't, does she? She's an heiress, and probably thinks herself too good for the likes of you. Fortune Lindley is a proud bitch, but a romantic one. She told you herself she would wed only for love, and no other reason, the voice within said. But he, having little, could never wed an heiress. Other men would, but if Lady Fortune Lindley was prideful, so was Kieran Devers.

"William's brother is going to remain the night, and visit," Jasmine said to her daughter. "Isn't that nice, poppet?"

Fortune said nothing, but she smiled weakly. The look in her eyes said she didn't think it nice at all. How dared this interloper push himself into their little group when she was attempting to know more about Will? Fortune was not happy. William Devers seemed a nice young man, but he had such old-fashioned ideas, a dreadful mother, and a rogue for a brother. He didn't set her pulses racing as she had expected the love of her life would. His older brother aroused more feeling in her breast than did Will.

Fortune gasped. God's nightshirt! She stole a look at Kieran Devers, and to her great mortification he met her eye and winked. She felt the heat suffuse her cheeks, and quickly lowered her head. This was impossible! Kieran Devers was highly unsuitable and worse, he was a practicing Catholic. Will Devers was far more eligible as a husband. He would inherit his father's lands and chattels one day; and if he was a bit old-fashioned, she would influence him to be less so. There was no one she cared for at all in Scotland or England. She was going to be twenty in a few months. If not William Devers, then who? Fortune wondered. Certainly not that dark-eyed devil who was his half-brother.

Kieran Devers was not a reliable man, she was certain. After all, he had given up his position as his father's heir simply over the matter of religion. What sort of a man was that big a fool? An honest one, a little voice in her head said. That may be, Fortune thought, but I don't want an exciting life where I never know what one day will bring. That's the kind of life a woman would lead with Kieran Devers. I want stability, not adventure.

"Mama, may Will sit next to me at dinner tonight?" Fortune asked her mother in sweetly appealing tones. The sooner she could get over her reticence about William Devers, the sooner they could be wed.

"Of course," Jasmine said, and wondered what it was all about. She had seen Kieran Devers flirting with Fortune, to Fortune's dismay. Then her daughter's face had grown contemplative. What had she been thinking about? Jasmine considered. Then she decided if Fortune were forcing herself to make a match with William when she really wasn't certain, it could only lead to her daughter's unhappiness.

I shall sit William on Fortune's right, and Kieran on her left, Jasmine silently decided. Fortune had recently said she would wed only for love, although there had been a time when her ideas were more sanguine about marriage. What had happened to her practical, sensible child? Still, better love with the wrong man than an unhappy eternity with the right one. If Fortune was attracted to Kieran, better she face it now, and not marry young William because he was the right choice. Her daughter could be stubborn. Besides, and Jasmine smiled to herself, a rascal made a far more interesting lover than a proper gentleman. I can't allow her to make a mistake, Jasmine decided. Ican't!

Of course if Jemmie discovered what was going on he was going to be furious despite his promise to allow Fortune her own decision. She would have to keep the truth from him as long as possible. "Adali," she called to her majordomo. "Put Master Kieran's things in with his brother's. They can share a room and a bed. I'm certain they've done it before. Erne Rock is so small, but it's a wonderful place for a young couple, and their children. Don't you think so, Lady Jane?"

"I had thought William and his wife would live with us at Mallow Court. After all, it is to be William's estate one day, isn't it, Kieran?"

"Indeed, madame, it is," he agreed cheerfully.

"If there is a wedding," Jasmine said, again striking a little bit of fear into Lady Devers's heart. "I think the young couple should have their own home. Fortune should not have to live with her husband's relations. She will have Erne Rock in Ireland, and of course, the duke and I intend seeing she has a suitable house in England, either near her brother's seat at Cadby, or her half-brother's seat at Queen's Malvern." She smiled brightly. "We will want to introduce them into the court."

"Mama, you know I hate the court," Fortune said.

"But you must make contacts, my darling, if you are to be successful with your breeding farm," Jasmine reminded her. "After all, you cannot depend upon your share of the family's trading company for your entire support. You surely didn't think I meant to bring you to Ireland and leave you here?"

"I didn't know," Fortune said, puzzled by her mother's speech.

James Leslie and Sir Shane came into the Great Hall. They had been closeted in the library, discussing the terms of a settlement should there be a marriage between their children. Kieran Devers arose and greeted his father. Then he bowed to the duke as his father introduced him to James Leslie. The duke saw an unrepentant Celt like himself in Kieran Devers, and immediately liked him. The lad was a fool, of course, to give up his inheritance for the church, but one had to admire his faith, and his tenacity in holding on to what he believed was right.

"Yer content with yer decisions then, laddie?" the duke said.

"Aye, your grace," Kieran Devers replied, knowing exactly what was being asked of him. "Mallow Court is my brother's, and I happily cede it to him."

"Yet ye remain." James Leslie was curious.

"For now," Kieran responded. "I feel there is somewhere else for me in this world, my lord, but I am not certain where it is at this moment in time. I am satisfied to wait, for in time I will be led there."

James Leslie nodded. Strangely he understood exactly what the young man was saying. The Irish were even more fey than the Scots. If Kieran Devers were awaiting a revelation, then he would undoubtedly get it eventually.

"Dinner is served, my lord," Adali said. "My lady says you are to come to table at once."

"Gentlemen," the duke said, and led his guests to the high board.

Chapter 4

It astounded William Devers to learn how quickly he had fallen in love with Fortune Lindley, but he was certain he was in love. She was the most beautiful girl in the world. He liked her flaming red hair no matter what his mother said, and Lady Jane had a great deal to say when they returned home. She kept her peace in the coach as they traveled around the end of the lough back to Lisnaskea. It was as if she were afraid the duchess would hear her unless she was safely in her own home. William was quite surprised that his mother was so intimidated by Jasmine Leslie. He had found her lovely to behold, and quite charming in her manners.

"I will marry Fortune as soon as possible," William announced to his parents when they were gathered about their own fire that evening.

"No," his mother said, "you will not! She is far too outspoken a female. An educated, overbred bluestocking if I ever saw one. She is not the girl for you. Your cousin, Emily Anne, is far more suitable a match for you, William. She may not have Fortune Lindley's wealth, but no amount of monies could make up for having that Lindley girl in our family!"

"I agree with you, madame," Kieran Devers supported his stepmother. "For the first time in our acquaintance, I agree with you."

"You do?" Now Jane Devers was suspicious. "Why on earth would you agree with me, Kieran? You certainly never have before, although I did my best to raise you properly despite your Catholic leanings."

He laughed. She had indeed done her duty, at least publicly, as his stepmother, and he had to admit to himself that she had never been a cruel woman. She could not help it that she preferred her own son, and had encouraged his father into disinheriting him so William could someday be the master of Mallow Court. Strangely he had no deep feelings for his home. It had been no loss. There was something else awaiting him, somewhere.

"I concur with your conclusions because they are correct, madame. Fortune Lindley is a beautiful, spoilt wench of great privilege. She would destroy William without ever meaning to do so. Cousin Emily Anne, however, loves our Willy, and has since they were children. She is younger than Lady Fortune by almost three years. She will be delighted to live at Mallow Court with you to guide her. Lady Fortune would not."

"You want her!" William accused his sibling. "You want her for yourself, Kieran. Don't think I don't see it!" His face was red with his anger.

"Aye, I'm intrigued, I'll admit, but then wild things have always fascinated me, Willy. Nonetheless, I doubt the duke of Glenkirk, with his own royal blood, and close ties to the king, will be willing to match the likes of me with his beautiful, wealthy daughter. Matches among people of our class are not made that way. I have nothing to offer any respectable woman as you well know. So though I may desire her, I shall never have her. And you should not be foolish enough to seek her perfumed little hand."

"Make the offer," William Devers told his father. "Make it, or I shall leave this house forever, and never come back!"

"Dearest." Lady Jane reached out, and touched her son's face, but he shrank back from her.

"I will have Fortune Lindley for my wife. When we are wed, we shall live at Erne Rock, and in England, for that will please her. I shall never set foot in this house as its master until you are dead and gone, madame. You will rule me no more!"

"But you will allow her to," his mother snapped.

"She has more to offer me than you do, Mama," he replied with devastating effect.

Lady Jane burst into tears. "She's bewitched him!" she sobbed on her husband's sturdy shoulder. "Or else my son should never speak to me in such a terrible fashion. She has bewitched him!"

"Don't be a fool, Willy," Kieran chided the young man. "This girl is beautiful, it is true, but she is not for you. You have absolutely nothing in common with her that I can think of. What would you talk to her about?"

"Talk? I don't want to talk with her. You damned well know what I want to do with her!" came the angry reply.

"Ohhhhhh!" Lady Jane collapsed against her husband in shock.

Sir Shane swallowed back a chuckle. "Mind yer tongue, you young scamp," he half-scolded William.

But Kieran did laugh, receiving a furious look from his overwrought stepmother. "You've raised him honest, madame," he said shrugging.

"If you truly desire it, William, I will tender an offer to the duke of Glenkirk for his daughter," Sir Shane said to his disquieted son.

"If you do, I shall never forgive you," his equally agitated wife cried out. "She is a dreadful girl! Dreadful! Dreadful! Dreadful!"

"Calm youself, madame," Kieran said, and to her surprise he put an arm about his stepmother in a comforting gesture. "It is highly unlikely that Fortune Lindley will accept Willy's offer, and the choice as we all heard, is hers to make."

Jane Devers sniffed audibly. "Do you really think so, Kieran?"

He squeezed her hand. "I do, madame, I do!"

"You mean you hope," snarled William. "Fortune will be my wife! I will not take no for an answer from her."

"You will have to, you young fool!" his elder sibling shot back. "For God's sake, Willy, if you make a spectacle of yourself over this girl, Emily Anne won't have you at all. Behave like a Devers of Lisnaskea, and not some whining, spoiled English milord!" He turned to his father. "Perhaps, sir, this would be a good time for Willy to visit the Continent, and see how the rest of the world lives."

Jane Devers pulled away from her stepson. "Oh, yes, Shane!" she cried to her husband. "He could go to London first, and see his sisters, and their families. And I will go with you, William! I have not been to London since I was a little girl." She clapped her hands excitedly like a child. "We shall all go! You, too, Kieran." Her heart was overflowing with good will at this moment. It was a most wonderful idea. She would get her son away from Fortune Lindley. When they returned the girl would have undoubtedly gone back to Scotland with her family. And Emily Anne Elliot would be waiting. "I'll need a new wardrobe, of course, judging by the duchess's beautiful gown. I wonder if Colleen has a good dressmaker down in Dublin who would be willing to come up to Ulster? I must write her this very day." She hurried from the room.

"Make the offer to the duke," William Devers said, implacably.

Kieran Devers went to the sideboard, and poured out three double drams of peat whiskey into small polished pewter cups. He handed one to his father, and one to his younger brother, keeping the third for himself.

Shane Devers gulped the liquid fire down. It seared his throat as it dropped into his stomach like a hot stone. "Hear me out before I go any further," he said to his heir. "I spoke with the duke the first night we were at Erne Rock. The terms of any marriage agreement between you and Lady Fortune would be very odd to say the least. He tells me this is the standard marriage contract for all the women in his family. You would receive a settlement in gold, to be agreed upon by both families. As for the rest of Lady Fortune's wealth, and lands, they remain in her hands. You would have no say in how she managed her property at all, William."

"But what if she frittered her wealth away as any woman would do given such license? Women do not know how to manage their pin money let alone manage great wealth, Da. Look how Mama always comes to you to wheedle additional coins because she has spent her allowance before the quarter is up," William said.

"Lady Fortune has been managing her own wealth since she was a maid of twelve according to her stepfather. Her great-grandmother taught her how before she died. She was the famous Skye O'Malley, who was old Queen Bess's confidante, if the stories be true. The girl has almost doubled her wealth in the past few years, William. She is no fool.

"Do you think you could marry a woman who would not heed your advice regarding her investments? For after all, William, you know nothing of such things. This girl has grown up in a noble and wealthy family, and she is clever. She would not be content to simply sit at home and manage her household while having your children. I am not overwhelmed by jealousy and wild emotions as is your mama, but I, too, agree with her that this marriage would not be a good thing for you. Still, if knowing what I have just told you you still wish me to approach the duke of Glenkirk with a firm offer, I shall do it, my son."

"Make the offer," William Devers said through gritted teeth.

Kieran shrugged, and poured himself another dram of whiskey. "You want to lie with her, and can think of no other way of doing it than to marry the wench," he said scornfully. "I know a lass who would pleasure you so well you would forget all about Fortune Lindley."

"You want her yourself," his brother repeated angrily.

"If I wanted her, little Willy, I'd take her," Kieran Devers said with brutal frankness. "Virgins don't interest me, however."

"You bastard!" William Devers yelled, and tried to hit his brother, but Kieran was too quick for him, and pinioned the young man's arms to his sides, shaking his head wearily.

"Behave yourself, Willy, or your mama won't take you to London Town," he teased his brother wickedly.

"Leave him be, Kieran lad," their father said to his elder son, "and you," he told the younger sternly, "keep your hands to yourself! I'll not have my sons fighting amongst themselves like savages."

"You'll make the offer?" William demanded, shaking himself free of his elder brother's grip.

"I'll send over to Erne Rock in the morning," Shane Devers promised his heir.

"My lord, this message has just arrived from Mallow Court," Adali said coming into the Great Hall the following morning.

The duke took the folded parchment, and breaking the seal scanned the contents. "They've offered for Fortune," he said. Then he turned to his stepdaughter. "Well, lassie? Will ye hae him, or no?"

Jasmine held her breath.

"I know I should accept him, Papa," she began. "It is the sensible thing to do for I am not getting any younger."

"But ye won't accept him, will ye, lass?" James Leslie said.

Fortune shook her head in the negative. "No, I won't. Poor Will. I know he cares not a whit for my money. He is handsome, and has a nice little estate he'll inherit one day; but Papa, he is the dullest man I have ever met in my entire life. And his ideas about women are positively ancient. They are supposed to stay at home having babies, and listening adoringly to whatever their husbands say. He is ill educated for his class, and does not care. He has no interests at all except riding, but horses are only a means of transportation for him. He is not in the least attracted to the idea of breeding, and raising the beasts for sale. That, he says, is for Maguire to handle. I could find nothing of interest to speak with him about, and Lord knows, I tried. If I must remain a spinster, then I will remain a spinster, but I should rather go to my grave a virgin than wed with such a handsome young dunce!"

Jasmine let her breath out in an audible swoosh. "Thank goodness!" she said. "I was so afraid you would do the right thing, poppet, and he would have made you miserable, I fear."

"Very well," James Leslie said with surprising calm, "then what are we to do now?"

"I think we should remain in Ireland for the next few months," Fortune suggested.

"Agreed," Jasmine replied. "And we must make certain that poor young William is not embarrassed by your refusal, poppet. It must be put out that you simply didn't suit each other, but that our families have all remained friends despite our mutual disappointment."

"I concur," James Leslie said. "We will deliver our refusal in person. I would not embarrass the Deverses. You and I will ride over tomorrow morning for it is too late now for us to go and return. We must start early. First, however, I would tell Father Cullen, and the Reverend Steen. They had high hopes for this match. Cullen will understand, but it will be hard for Reverend Steen."

"Shall I come too?" Fortune asked.

"I think not," her stepfather said.

Fortune hugged him hard, and kissed his handsome cheek. "Thank you for understanding, Papa," she said. "I realize I am a disappointment to you in that I cannot settle upon a husband, but as nice as he is, Will Devers is not the man for me. I wonder if any man is."

In the morning the duke and duchess of Glenkirk set out for Mallow Court. They both enjoyed the gentle hills and the soft weather as they rode. Mallow Court was a pleasant Tudor dwelling, and the announcement of their arrival brought both Sir Shane and Lady Devers hurrying into their Great Hall where Jasmine and James were already being served wine by the well-trained household servants.

"Forgive us for our unannounced arrival," James Leslie said, kissing Jane Devers's hand, "but we wanted to come personally to give you an answer to your offer for Lady Fortune."

Dear God, Jane Devers thought, agitated. They are going to take my William away from me. She flung her husband a distraught look.

Seeing it Jasmine actually felt sympathy for the woman, and quickly said, "Your son is a fine young man, and I would be proud to have him for a son-in-law. Unfortunately, my daughter does not believe she is the right girl for William. While Jemmie and I think the boy quite suitable, we will not compel Fortune to a marriage she does not want. We wanted to come and tell you this ourselves because we did not want you to think we were refusing your suit capriciously. Nor did we want any gossip that would reflect badly upon William. I hope you are not too offended, and that you will not think badly of Fortune."

Jane Devers almost collapsed with her relief. William was safe from that girl! Then suddenly she found she was also offended. Fortune Lindley had turned down her son's offer of marriage! Did the baggage think herself too good for William Devers? The words were out of her mouth before she could hold them back. "Then why did you come to Ireland to seek a husband for your daughter if you did not intend she accept a most suitable prospect? It does seem quite fickle to me," she huffed.

"My wife"-the duke began, squeezing Jasmine's hand hard, and warning her to silence-"thought to give her Irish estates to Fortune. We believed under those circumstances an Irish husband would be best."

"A perfectly reasonable conclusion," Sir Shane replied, glowering sharply at his wife as he silently warned her to keep quiet. The duke and duchess of Glenkirk had been more than generous in their treatment of the Devers family. They would not be embarrassed by this situation now despite the fact Jane had blathered about the countryside to all who would listen that their son would undoubtedly marry the heiress of Erne Rock Castle. "Will you be returning to Scotland soon?" he asked.

"Nay, not immediately. We thought to spend the summer here in Ulster," the duke responded. "Jasmine has not been here since Fortune was born. Now with the pain of the marquess of Westleigh's murder long past, she is enjoying Maguire's Ford again. Father Cullen was her tutor in India, and shepherded her from her father's court to England twenty-four years ago. He is her kinsman, and she is fond of him. She had not thought to see him ever again when she left Ireland last. We shall go home to Scotland in the autumn in time for the grouse hunting, and then down into England to court for the winter. Perhaps the right man will make his appearance then. For Fortune's sake I hope so."

"Lady Fortune is a lovely lass," Shane Devers said graciously. "I am sorry she will not be our daughter, my lord."

Bows and curtsies were exchanged all around, and then the Leslies of Glenkirk took their leave of the Deverses of Mallow Court.

"My prayers have been answered!" Lady Jane Devers cried out when they had gone. "We shall leave for England as quickly as possible. I can have my wardrobe made in London. It will be more up-to-date than with a dressmaker from Dublin."

"William will not be pleased at all," her husband answered her. "I do not know what he will do for he has convinced himself that Lady Fortune Lindley is the love of his life. How he should know that on such short acquaintance is beyond me, my dear. Let us call him now, and tell him. John," he called to a footman. "Fetch my sons, and tell them to come to the Great Hall at once. Find Master Kieran first."

"Why Kieran first?" his wife demanded.

"Because Kieran can help us to control William's assured outburst. I don't want him galloping across the countryside to plead with the girl. It would embarrass Lady Fortune, and shame us."

Kieran Devers came, and was swiftly apprised of the situation. He smiled sardonically. Had he not predicted the haughty wench would turn his younger brother down? Why the Leslies had even considered a Devers of Mallow Court was beyond him. With a duke for a stepfather, a duke for a half-brother, and a marquess for a brother; with a small fortune and rich lands to her name, the Lady Fortune Lindley could have a duke for a husband. She probably had some poor dumb devil back in England dangling while she tortured him by coming to Ireland on a supposed husband hunt. "How soon does the girl go home?" he asked his father.

"They plan to remain for the summer months," was the surprising answer, "which is even more reason for getting William off to England as soon as we possibly can. Are you going with us?"

Kieran shook his head. "I have no desire to see England," he said. "You, William, and Lady Jane go. I'll look after everything here, Da. 'Tis small trouble. The crops are planted. The sheep are flourishing in the meadows. There is not a great deal to do, but I know how closely you mind your accounts, and that I can do for you."

William Devers came into the hall. "You sent for me, Da?"

"Lady Fortune has refused your offer," his father spoke bluntly.

"Of course she would the first time," William answered calmly. "She is a lady, and it would be unseemly for her to jump at my offer."

"For God's sake, Willy," his brother snapped impatiently. "You could offer a hundred times, and the wench would turn you away! She doesn't want you. Her parents came themselves to tell our father and your mother, laddie. Let it go, and marry your cousin, Emily."

"I don't believe you," William Devers said defiantly.

"Faugh! You tell him, madame. Tell your son he has been rejected by a disdainful and arrogant English wench," Kieran said angrily.

"It is true, William," his mother said.

"I shall go to her!" William cried.

"You shall not!" Sir Shane said harshly. "Would you disgrace our family with your lovesick behavior?"

"Take one step out of the hall," his brother warned, "and I swear, laddie, I shall beat you senseless!" His dark eyes threatened warningly as he glared at his younger brother.

William Devers felt his heart sink. She had turned him down. How could she? She was the most beautiful girl in the world. She spoke about things he had never heard a woman speak about. He adored her. How could she not understand that he loved her? "You have always planned on me wedding Emily Anne," he said, suddenly turning on his mother menacingly. "Put it from your mind, Mama. I would not have that simpering, treacle-soaked little bitch if she were the last girl on the face of the earth!"

Lady Devers drew herself up, and glared fiercely at her son. "Do not speak to me like that, William. You do not have to marry your cousin if you do not wish to, but Lady Fortune Lindley will not marry you either. We will leave for England tomorrow to visit your sisters. Perhaps a few months away will free you of the bad influences you have come under these past few days. No!" She held her hand up at him. "Do not even attempt to argue with me in this, William." Then she stalked from the hall, her back straight, her head high.

Kieran put an arm about his brother's shoulders, but William shrugged it off. "There is nothing you can say to comfort me," he snarled.

"I suggest you lock him in his room till you're ready to leave, Da," Kieran said mockingly. "If you do not, the young fool may make a run for Erne Rock, and get his backside kicked by a duke for his presumption." He chuckled.

"I'll kill you one day, Kieran," William said angrily.

"Why would you even bother?" his brother returned scathingly. "You already have everything that should have been mine. Not that I care, Willy, but your mama might. Pull yourself together, laddie, and behave like a Devers." Then he, too, departed the hall.

"I don't think I can trust you, William," his father said wearily, and then proceeded to follow his eldest son's advice.

The next morning the Deverses' coach pulled away from Mallow Court, a stony-faced William seated inside with his mother. His father rode alongside the lumbering vehicle with his elder son who had decided to accompany them as far as the Dundalk Road. There Kieran Devers bid them farewell, and headed back cross-country to his home.

Fortune saw him from a distance, but she recognized the large white stallion he had ridden the day he had come to Erne Rock. With its black mane and tail, the beast was quite distinctive. She waved to him. It was bold, she knew, but once she had realized that young William Devers was not really the mate for her, she had also realized that his older brother was the far more interesting man. Now she meant to confirm her first impression. Because she was not marrying his brother did not mean they could not strike up an acquaintance. After all her parents had both stressed the importance of not embarrassing the Deverses by avoiding them, and appearing to snub them. Not that she had any interest in Kieran Devers.

What was the wench up to? Kieran wondered, as he rode toward her. She had certainly been rude enough when they had first met, and then she had made a great pretense of being enthralled by his brother. If anyone was to blame for William's heartbreak and attitude, it was certainly Lady Fortune Lindley. Still, he was rather fascinated by her. A wench who rode a big gelding, and rode it astride to boot. He waved back as he came toward her.

"Good day, Master Devers," Fortune said pleasantly.

"Good day, Lady Fortune," he replied.

"You were coming from the Dundalk Road?" she queried.

"I escorted my parents and William to it. They are going to England to visit my sisters in London," he explained.

"Poor Will. He is a sweet boy," she answered him. "I hope he will enjoy London, although most of the good families leave it in the summer weather. Perhaps your sisters' families have homes outside the town?"

"If it is the fashionable thing to do, then they will indeed have country houses," he told her with a small smile. "If there is one certainty my stepmother has taught my sisters, and my half-sister, it is how to be fashionable, and properly English."

"You don't approve of the English?" she said quietly.

"I don't approve of those who enter a country, take the land from its rightful owners, and attempt to impress their religion and way of life upon a people who already have their own way of life and religion," Kieran Devers said.

"It is the way of the world," Fortune told him as they rode along side by side. "Our tutors taught my brothers and sister and me that throughout history one culture has always conquered and overcome another. Those of you in Ireland today once came from another place to overcome the Tuatha da Danae, the Fairy folk, who it is said once ruled this island. It is claimed they now live beneath the earth here because they did not wish to assimilate with the Celtic races. Sometimes these changes are for the good, and other times they are not. I don't approve, however, of how most of the English treat the Irish, but given the opportunity, would you Irish not be as wicked? Given the chance you would pillage and burn in the manner of your ancestors, and drive the English right into the sea itself. You would show no mercy, and are no better than they are."

He laughed, suddenly seeing what had so fascinated his young brother. "Aye," he agreed, "we would do just that, Lady Fortune Lindley. We might keep you though, for I have heard it said there is Irish in you. Is it true then?"

"Aye. My great-grandmother was born Skye O'Malley. She was the O'Malley of Innisfana, and a great woman. She died when I was just thirteen, but I knew her well, and shall never forget her," Fortune told him, and tears sprang into her eyes. "She was always so good to me."

The sky had clouded over as they rode, and now a heavy mist of rain began to fall.

"Let's shelter in that ruin," he said, pointing.

When they had gained the haven of the gray stone and dismounted, Fortune asked him, "What is this place?"

He shook his head. "I cannot say for certain, but they say it was once the hall of a Maguire chieftain several hundred years back. See how thick the moss is upon the walls? This archway, however, should keep us from the worst of it. Sit down, Fortune Lindley, while we wait." He plunked himself upon a shelf of stone that formed a natural bench, and patted the place by his side.

Joining him she said, "May I ask you an honest question, Kieran Devers?" And when he nodded in the affirmative she continued on, "Why have you given up your birthright over a matter as simple as religion? You do not seem to me to be a fanatic like so many others."

" 'Tis a fair question," he replied, "and I will try to explain. You are correct in that I am not a fanatic, and to be most candid religion means very little to me. I'm neither martyr nor saint, but the Catholic faith is all I have left of my mother. She died when I was just a little boy. We were an Irish family then, Moire, Da, and me. Then wee Colleen was born, and our mam lost her life giving our sister life. Da was devastated at first. But he soon began to cast his eye about for another wife to raise his children, and run his house. His other needs he had already taken care of, you see, by a discreet lady named Molly, who has had two daughters by my father. They are called Maeve and Aine, good girls both," he smiled.

"You know them?" Fortune was surprised, considering Lady Jane.

"Aye, although my stepmother is not aware that I do. Maeve was born when I was eleven, and Aine when I was fourteen. Da was wed already to his Lady Jane. A merchant's pretty heiress with firm ideas about everything."

"They say she wouldn't have him until he became a Protestant," Fortune remarked. "They say she made him be baptized again."

" 'Tis true," Kieran told her. "Jane Elliot fell in love with Mallow Court the first time she saw it. She wanted it badly, but she is as firm in her faith as she is self-willed. She insisted Da convert. The local priest in Lisnaskea came, and warned my father he would burn in hell if he did any such thing so, of course, he did. Da and I are alike in that we don't like being told what to do. He was baptized again as were Moire and Colleen. My father sent the priest packing in retaliation for his threats."

"Why weren't you baptized again?" she asked him.

"They couldn't catch me," Kieran said with a mischievous grin. "Everything changed when Lady Jane came into the house. My mother's things disappeared one by one. My mother's faith was erased from our lives. It was as if Jane sought to obliterate my mother entirely, or so I thought. When I grew up I realized it really wasn't that at all. My stepmother is a decent woman, but she lives by her own set of manners and mores, and she expects all her family to live by them, too.

"So even though I was not baptized again, she decided to be patient with me. I was forced to attend church each Sunday, and on other specified days, with the rest of my family. She thought once I was comfortable with her faith, I would acquiesce to her wishes. It was years before they discovered that after I had been to church with them, I would slip off to attend the mass wherever it was being held that day.

"On the day I turned twenty-one, I was told I must either be baptized a Protestant, or Da would disinherit me and Willy would become his heir. I would inherit a younger son's allowance, and I could make my home at Mallow Court, but I would lose the heir's portion of the Devers estate. I tried to explain to my father how I felt. Do you know what he said to me? That he could not even remember my mother's face now. That Jane was his wife, and he would have her content. It was then I told him to give Mallow Court to Willy. I did not want it."

"Did you not allow your pride to overrule your common sense?" Fortune wondered aloud. "I do not think your father was being callous when he said he could not recall your mother's visage. It is difficult to remember those who have died after a time. There is no fault in it."

"The truth is," Kieran Devers said, "that I have no passion for Mallow Court. I know I should, but I do not. It has never really felt like mine, nor has my native land felt like a place I should be. I cannot explain it, but I believe my true home is somewhere else."

Fortune stared open-mouthed at him in surprise. "You too?" was all she said.

"But surely you have had a place you love, that is home to you," he replied.

"I was born here at Maguire's Ford," Fortune began, "but I was taken to England when I was just a few weeks old. I have lived at my great-grandmam's house, Queen's Malvern. I have lived in France at Mama's chateau, Belle Fleurs. I have lived in Scotland at Papa's castle, Glenkirk, and at my own father's seat, Cadby, in Oxfordshire, but never, Kieran Devers, have I ever felt truly at home anywhere, though I will admit to loving Queen's Malvern best. There is no place I believe where I really belong. I was hoping Ireland would be that place."

"But it is not," he said.

"Nay, it is not," she admitted. "It would appear that you and I are two lost souls, Kieran Devers."

He looked at her, seeing her really for the first time. She was quite beautiful, but she had a second beauty that shone from within as well. Her green-blue eyes were warm and sympathetic. Her smile was sweet. It was a strange contrast, considering her blunt speech.

"The rain has stopped," Fortune said. "My parents will wonder where I have gotten to, Kieran Devers. Will you ride with me again?"

"Tomorrow?" he asked her softly.

She nodded. "Aye, tomorrow, in the morning."

He led her horse from the shelter, and, cupping his hands together, he helped her to vault into her saddle. When she was firmly seated he took her gloved hand and kissed it. "Tomorrow, Fortune Lindley," he told her. Then he gave her gelding a gentle swat on its rump, and the beast moved off. He watched her go, curious to see if she would look back at him, and when she did he grinned broadly.

Fortune blushed to the roots of her fiery head. The devil! she thought. He was waiting for me to do that, and knows women well indeed that he waited. Boldly she turned about, and stuck her tongue out at him before kicking Thunder into a gallop. She could hear his laughter on the wind, and chuckled. They were surely well matched, she considered.

Then the verity of the thought struck her. They were well matched. Or were they? her practical nature asserted itself. What did she really know about him? The fact that they had been able to hold a pleasant conversation was encouraging. At least Kieran Devers was no dunce like his younger brother, Will. Still, Kieran was the first man in all her life who had ever held her interest long enough that she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Had she at last met a man she could love? Only time would tell, Fortune thought. Only time would tell.

^{Chapter 5}

“We were beginning to worry, poppet," the duchess said as her daughter entered the hall, handing her cape and gloves to a servant.

"I was out riding, and met Kieran Devers. We had to find shelter from the rain, Mama. He will be coming in the morning to ride with me. He really isn't so bad a fellow when you get to know him a bit.

"I knew it!" James Leslie said with a grin.

"Knew what?" his wife asked, curious.

"I knew it was Kieran Devers who intrigued Fortune. Tall, dark Celts are far more interesting than civilized Anglo-Irish mama's boys," he chuckled, and then he gave his daughter's cheek a loving pat. "Be careful, poppet. This one's a real man, and, I suspect, unlike any ye hae met before."

"Papa! I am not intrigued by Kieran Devers at all," Fortune protested. "But who else is there for me here at Maguire's Ford? It will be nice to have someone to ride with, and better an attractive man than my mother or father."

"Madame, you hae best speak wi yer daughter," the duke warned his wife. "I dinna want to embarrass her by sending a groom along to chaperone her. I'll nae hae that handsome young devil tampering wi our Fortune, Jasmine."

"Am I such a fool then that I could be seduced, Papa?" Fortune demanded of him angrily. "You think because I am a virgin that I am totally ignorant of what transpires between men and women, but I am not. How could I be, living in your household? And let us not forget the winter I spent with my sister, India, when she was enceinte with my nephew, Rowan. Do you think all we did was sit and sigh over lost love, tell stories, and sew infant's garments? While Diarmid courted India's Meggie in our sight? Really, Papa!"

"Fortune," Jasmine cautioned her daughter warningly, but James Leslie was already laughing at his stepdaughter's outburst.

"She's right, darling Jasmine," he said. "Fortune's too old for me to be treating her like a green fifteen year old. She's not our headstrong India, running off, jumping from the frying pan into the kettle. Fortune is our practical child. She will behave wisely."

"I most assuredly will," Fortune huffed. But she couldn't wait to see her chamber, and talk with Rois who, while she might be reticent to chatter for fear of her grandmother, Bride Duffy, could, when coaxed, Fortune had discovered, divulge all manner of local gossip. So she waited patiently through the rest of the day and into the evening as if her life was as it had always been, and it was. Yet it wasn't.

An old-fashioned bard, one of the few left in Ireland, had asked for hospitality from Erne Rock that evening. It had been graciously granted. Now the bard, full of good food and drink, sat before the fire and began to strum upon his small harp. He sang of battles and heroes unknown to the duke and duchess of Glenkirk. He sang his ballads in the ancient Irish. James Leslie could understand a few words, but the Scots Gaelic was somewhat different from the Irish Gaelic tongue. Rory Maguire, seated at the high board with them, translated, his rich musical voice making the stories come alive.

When the bard had finished, James Leslie invited him to remain for as long as it pleased him, and sleep in the Great Hall. "We are not a large castle, Connor McMor, but you are more than welcome."

The bard tilted his head in thanks.

"If I am to ride early, I should retire now," Fortune said. She arose from the high board, and curtsied to the three adults. Then she hurried off.

"Make certain you see Kieran Devers in the morning before my daughter does," the duke of Glenkirk said to Rory. "And advise him that Fortune is nae to be touched, unless, of course, he seeks a short life. He is welcome to ride wi her, and pursue a friendship if that pleases them both, but I brought Fortune to Ulster a virgin. I would return her home in the same condition. She must yet find a husband to suit her. You will see he understands?"

"Aye, my lord, I will," Rory said. "Kieran Devers is a decent man. I should trust him with my own daughter if I had one, but I will nonetheless deliver your message."

Standing outside the Great Hall Fortune heard them, and smiled to herself. Her stepfather was really so sweet and protective, even if his diligence was misplaced. He should have been as strict with India, Fortune chuckled. She jumped, startled, as Rory Maguire appeared before her, his gaze amused.

"Eavesdroppers seldom hear good of themselves," he teased her.

"If I am to have Maguire's Ford as a dowry," Fortune reminded him, "you will be in my employ, Rory."

" 'Tis not certain now you will get Maguire's Ford," he replied. "That was supposed to be if you chose young William Devers for a husband. You have turned him away. There is none other in the area that should suit as well as he. Yer not the lady of Erne Rock yet, but I promise when I speak with Kieran on the morrow, I shall not embarrass you."

"Why does everyone feel they need to protect me?" Fortune grumbled. "I'm almost twenty, and no bairn."

He chuckled. "What a mixture you are," he told her. "The Celt and the Mughal warring with the proper English in you. Go find yer bed, not that you will sleep. I recognize the look in yer eye. Yer mother had that same look many years ago when she thought of yer da."

"I think I love you, Rory Maguire," Fortune said, and kissed his cheek. "Go gently on poor Kieran. I've only just begun to play with him. I may discover I don't like him after all, but until I make my own decision, I don't want him frightened off."

He bowed smartly to her. "As you wish, m'lady," he said.

With a girlish giggle Fortune hurried up the staircase to her chamber. Rois, dozing by the fire, awoke as she entered the room. "I want a bath," Fortune announced. "I'll be riding early with Kieran Devers, and I want to know everything you know, Rois Duffy!"

Rois arose from her chair. "Let's get you bathed first, my lady." She hauled an oaken tub from a cupboard, and going to the door of the chamber opened it, calling down the stairs, "Water for my lady's tub at once, please."

Almost immediately the young male servants began arriving with steaming buckets. Adali knew the habits of the women of the household quite well. The tub was filled, and the serving men were gone. Rois helped Fortune disrobe, pinning her hair atop her head. Naked, the girl stepped into the water, and sat down with a sigh of pleasure. She scrubbed herself quickly as Rois put her clothing away, brushing the dust of the day from it first, and cleaning her boots. Then the serving maid brought out a clean, lace-trimmed night garment for her mistress.

Clean, Fortune stepped from the tub into the embrace of a towel heated by the fire. Rois rubbed her dry, and slipped the nightgown over her mistress's head, tying the ribbons that held the neckline closed. Then seating Fortune she unpinned her long red hair and brushed it vigorously one hundred strokes before braiding it into a single plait. When she had tucked her mistress into her bed, and drawn the curtains about it, she called for the tub's removal. The serving men came, and lifting the small tub to the open window upended it, pouring the dirty water into the lake itself. They then stored the tub back in its small compartment, and departed a final time.

"Open the curtain now, and sit by me while we talk," Fortune commanded her servant. "Tell me all the gossip about Kieran Devers that you have heard. Hold nothing back! I know about his early years, for he told me so himself this afternoon. Has he a mistress? Does he like the ladies? You hear everything, Rois, and I want to know."

"The lasses like him, aye," Rois began. "He comes from Lisnaskea now and again to visit two here at Maguire's Ford. They are not the kind of girls a man weds, but good girls nonetheless. The gossip is that he is a vigorous lover. Ohh, my lady, I should not be speaking to you of such things, and us both maids yet!"

"I want to know!" Fortune insisted.

"They say he is a kind man with a good heart. One of the women was with child, not his, mind you, and she grew ill. He paid for the physician to come and tend to her, and when the child was born saw she had coin enough to keep her through the winter so she wouldn't have to work, and could regain her health again. The girl was a Protestant too, my lady."

"But no permanent mistress?"

"None that I have heard of," Rois said.

"No bastards?"

"None claimed, none named," Rois replied. "He seems to enjoy a good tumble, but he is not wanton, my lady. He simply has the needs of an ordinary gentleman. After all, he is his father's son."

"And he has courted no lady?"

"It is said he feels he has nothing to offer a woman, being disinherited, my lady," Rois said. "A gentleman of his station likes to be able to offer a woman a home. He is not willing to bring a wife to his father's house as he is no longer his father's heir. 'Tis all I know, my lady. There is really little gossip regarding Kieran Devers."

"Nothing bad," Fortune mused aloud to herself. "Pull out your trundle, Rois. I want to be up with the sun to ride."

Rois did as she was bid, making certain the fire had enough peat to keep it burning through the night, washing herself in a small basin, and disrobing to her chemise. Lying down she was quickly asleep. She had left the bed curtains open for Fortune preferred it that way.

Above in her bed Fortune did not sleep at first. The moon shone through her windows, silvery as it reflected itself in the lough. Kieran Devers was a handsome man with his black hair, and his dark green eyes. He was tall and lean, although Fortune suspected that beneath his doublet his body was hard and well made. He enjoyed women, but was not loose in his behavior. He had a strong will. A very defined sense of right and wrong. He was, to her mind, an ordinary man very much like James Leslie. Why was it then that she was so fascinated by him? What was it about him that made him different from any other man she had ever met?

In a few weeks she would be twenty years old. She had been pursued and courted since she was fifteen, when her breasts had suddenly become obvious. Boys she had known in Scotland and England could scarce keep their hands to themselves, and swore undying love. She had laughed at them all. After all they had played barefoot, ridden, and hunted together since they were bairns. She just didn't see them as husbands. Even though they were all now grown, her childhood companions were friends, not prospective lovers. She couldn't take them seriously, and sent them all packing.

She wasn't India, romantic and headstrong. Not that her sister hadn't been as fussy, for she had. At court young men of good families and old titles had approached their parents with marriage in mind. Both she and India agreed it was their dowries that attracted most. But the Leslies of Glenkirk had always said the choice was up to their daughters in the end. As frustrating as it had been for James Leslie, he had tried to keep his promise to them. India, however, would have driven a saint to perdition. The duke of Glenkirk had finally lost his patience with her, and married her off to the earl of Oxton. That it turned out to be a happy union was another story. And India had made him promise only last summer that he would not do the same thing to Fortune. But could her stepfather, the only father she had ever known, keep that promise? Would Rowan Lindley, the man who sired her, have kept such a promise?

She had come to Ireland fully intending to wed with William Devers as long as he were not an ugly beast with a bad temper. But he hadn't been. Tall, handsome, charming, he had been eager to have her for his wife, and she felt it was not just her inheritance that had attracted him. But in those few days she had spent getting to know Will she had come to realize she couldn't marry anyone just because it was the practical and sensible thing to do. What had happened to her? She was, it would seem, more like her mother and her sister than she had ever thought she was. It was a disturbing revelation.

What was more distressing was her fierce growing attraction to Will's older brother, Kieran. He overwhelmed her senses with the kind of sensual thoughts she hadn't thought herself capable of having. She found this complex man far more interesting than his younger brother. She was frankly relieved that the Deverses had gone to England to escape any possible embarrassment that the proposed match between their families, gone sour, might have caused them. Now she had time to be with Kieran, and none to fault her for it. And Papa had seen her attraction for Kieran Devers even before she had realized it! Fortune smiled to herself in the darkness. James Leslie had been a good father to her, and to the rest of them. Her eyes grew heavy. What was going to happen? she wondered.

She was up early but much to her disappointment it was raining. Looking out over the lough that was filled with heavy fog and mist she wondered if he would come anyway. A little rain never hurt anyone, she reasoned. She dressed for riding, and went down into the hall to eat her oat stir-about and drink her watered wine. James Leslie cast her an amused look seeing her garb.

"Where is Mama?" she asked, sitting next to him at the high board. She reached for the cottage loaf, and tore herself off a small portion, buttering it generously, and then slicing a bit of cheese from the half-wheel to go on it.

"Ye know yer mother becomes less interested in rising wi the dawn now that she is getting older," he replied. Then he sipped his wine, reaching for a hard-boiled egg to peel.

"Do you think he'll come, Papa?" The question slipped out.

"A wee bit of rain would hae nae kept me from a pretty lass when I was his age, poppet," James replied.

"I don't even know how old he is," Fortune said.

"I would say he is yet in his twenties, lassie. A husband should be older than his wife, I believe." He dipped his peeled egg into the salt dish, and took a bite.

"He is not to be my husband!" Fortune quickly said.

James Leslie popped the rest of the egg into his mouth, and then he took Fortune's hand in his, looking directly at her when she turned her face to his. "Now listen to me, lassie," he said quietly. "Yer a lot like yer great-grandmother in many ways. Madame Skye did nae in her youth, so I am told, flirt like some court coquette. If a man caught her eye then that was it. I think it will be that way wi ye, poppet.

"William Devers was a good enough lad, but too soft, too ruled by his family. I could see right away that he was nae the man for ye. His brother, however, is a different matter. He's a real man. Mayhap a bit of a fool to give up Mallow Court, but if he wins ye, he'll hae Erne Rock, and 'twould nae be a bad exchange. So if ye want him, Fortune, then pursue him, and dinna feel shame in it. Happiness is gained, nae conferred upon ye simply because yer a pretty lass wi a grand inheritance."

"Why, Papa!" Fortune was genuinely surprised by his words. "You were not so generous with India."

"India was a bit of a flibbertigibbet when she was on the husband hunt," James Leslie replied. "Ye are nae such a featherbrain, but rather her exact opposite. Intelligence is nae a bad thing in a woman, Fortune, but love is nae a matter one should overconsider. If ye find it, lassie, then grab it, and hold on to it tightly, for it may but come once in yer lifetime. 'Twas that way wi yer sire, and it hae been that way wi me. I loved yer mother from the beginning, and I will love her until I die." He patted Fortune's cheek. "Yer a good lass. Follow yer heart if ye've a mind to, and I will nae complain."

Fortune could feel the tears pricking at her eyelids. She blinked quickly to keep them from escaping. James Leslie had never spoken so candidly, or so lovingly to her as he just did. "Are you sure you are not trying to get rid of me?" she teased him softly.

He smiled a slow smile. "Aye," he said, "I want ye gone, lassie, but only if it is to a man who will love ye even more than I do." Reaching out he brushed the single tear that had somehow managed to escape down her pale cheek.

"My lord." Adali appeared in the entrance to the hall. "Master Devers has just arrived. I thought Lady Fortune would want to know."

"Oh, he did come!" she half-whispered.

"He would hae been a fool nae to come, but I somehow thought he would," the duke of Glenkirk said, rising from his place at table. "He is every bit as intrigued wi ye as ye are wi him, lassie."

"Papa, how can you know that?" she said.

"Did ye nae see the glances he gave ye when he was last here? I saw them, and 'twas then I knew he was already half in love wi ye, lassie. 'Tis fortunate his silly stepmother has whisked her little rooster chick off to England, isn't it?" The duke chuckled richly.

"Aye," Fortune agreed with a small smile. "It 'tis, Papa."

"Good morning, Lady Fortune. My lord." Kieran Devers came into the hall, handing his rain-soaked cloak to Adali. "When I began my journey from home the rain was hardly a mist. Now it is falling quite heavily."

"I will see your garment is properly dried, sir," Adali said. He hurried from the hall.

"Yer welcome nonetheless, Kieran Devers," the duke said. "Do ye play chess by any chance?"

"Aye, my lord, I do," was the reply.

"Then why don't ye and my daughter while away the time until the rains stop in that pursuit? Fortune plays quite well, don't ye, lassie?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I'll hae Adali fetch the chessboard and its pieces, and perhaps some good whiskey to take the chill from yer bones." He walked briskly from the hall.

"Are ye really a good player?" Kieran asked her.

"Aye," she responded, "very good. My mother taught me, and she used to play with her father when she was a girl in India."

"We'll play a game, and then if I find you a worthy opponent," he told her, "we'll wager perhaps, eh?"

"You won't need to test my mettle, Kieran Devers," Fortune told him. "We'll wager from the start. What would you have of me-if you win?" Her eyes twinkled mischievously, but his answer caused her to gasp.

"A kiss," he said, his handsome face serious.

"You're bold," she said, recovering her equilibrium.

"If you win, what will you have of me?" he asked her.

"A kiss," she responded, surprising him mightily. "I hope it will be worth it," Fortune finished with a wicked smile.

He laughed aloud. He couldn't help it. " "Tis you who are bold, I'm thinking, m'lady," he told her.

"Why?" she demanded. "Because I didn't blush, and demur, and ask you for a bonnie blue ribbon for my hair? I've been playing with boys my whole life, Kieran Devers. Be warned. I play to win, and am no simpering lass."

The dark green eyes narrowed speculatively as he reassessed her. "No quarter?" he said softly.

"No quarter," she answered him as softly.

"The chessboard, my lady," Adali said, coming upon them. He set a pewter dram upon the table where they would play.

"Damn me, man! You walk on cat's feet," Kieran said.

"Aye, I do, sir," Adali replied, flashing the young man a wide smile. "I was taught to do so when I served in the harem. I find it a useful trait. I often appear where I am least expected." He set the board up on the small square table before the hall's fire. From a rectangular silver box studded with green malachite he removed the pieces carved from ivory and green malachite, placing them with careful deliberation upon the board. "If you will choose your pieces, sir."

"I'll play the green," Kieran said, seating himself, and quickly swallowing down his whiskey.

Fortune sat opposite, immediately studying the board. Then she made a rather ordinary and common move with one of her pawns.

Standing near them Adali smiled softly, then left the hall.

They played at a fairly rapid pace. He was quite pleased by her skill. She was far and away the best player he had ever played with, but nonetheless he was winning. Chuckling he moved one of his two knights. Fortune laughed, and then with a deliberate movement checkmated his king.

"I belive I win, sir," she said sweetly.

His jaw dropped. "How the hell…" He looked questioningly at her, surprise all over his handsome face.

"I'll show you if you like," she said, and when he nodded his head quite vigorously she reconstructed their play to demonstrate.

"Madame, that is positively devious," he told her. "Set up the board, and we will play again."

"You owe me my wager," Fortune told him.

Taking her hand in his he kissed it tenderly.

"Nay, sir," Fortune cried, jumping to her feet. "If I had lost, would you have accepted such a paltry reward? I want a proper kiss! I have never had one before, but I want one now!" Leaning forward over the table she closed her eyes, and pursed her lips at him.

God and His Holy Mother help me, he thought. Then Kieran Devers took Fortune Lindley's small chin between his thumb and his forefinger to steady her as his lips brushed her gently, gently. "Is that more satisfactory, m'lady?" he said, releasing her.

Her heart had jumped when he first touched her. Then it had plummeted as his mouth made contact with hers. Opening her eyes she said, "I want more, sir. 'Twas pleasant, but surely there is more to it than that."

"If there is," he teased, "you must win again to find out. Now that I have seen your mettle, I shall not be so easy to beat next time. Sit down, Fortune, and let us set the pieces aright again." His heart was hammering in his chest, and to his shock he had felt a distinct tingling in his nether regions as he kissed her. It was impossible to concentrate although he tried his best to do so. She beat him a second time much to his mortification.

"Pay up, sir," Fortune said, "and this time you will do it properly as I have seen my father and mother kiss. You will put your arms about me, and hold me against you." She stood up, coming around the table.

"Very well, you clever vixen," he growled in a fierce voice, rising. Then he pulled her against him hard, his arms wrapping tightly about her. His mouth found hers, and he kissed her with passion, feeling his lust rising, his heart exploding within him.

She soared! The hunger he communicated, aye, hunger! sent her senses reeling. He wanted all of her, she realized, in that kiss. She might be a virgin, but Fortune Lindley knew desire when she faced it. She had seen it in men's eyes often enough. Her arms slipped up around his neck as her lips softened, and she kissed him back with an equal hunger. This was what she had been seeking her entire life. It was delicious!

Suddenly he pushed her away. He was almost trembling. "No!" he said to her.

"Yes!" she countered as quickly.

"You don't know what you are doing to me, sweetheart," he half-whispered.

"Do you know what you're doing to me?" she asked him.

"Aye," he told her, "I do."

"Then why stop, Kieran Devers?" Fortune demanded. She was flushed with her pleasure, and it was all he could do to remain a gentleman.

"Because if we do not, I shall carry you up to your bedchamber, and ravish your sweetness," he said in a hard voice. "Because I have wanted you from the moment I first saw you. Because I prayed you would not want William so I might have you! Because as much as I love and desire you, Fortune Lindley, I cannot have you, for I have nothing to offer. You're not just some lass I have met. You're a girl from a grand family, with a great inheritance. Nothing about me is worthy of you. My lineage, or my worldly goods, which amount to damned precious little. Do you know how angry that makes me, Fortune?" He backed away from her. "I had best return home to Mallow Court."

"The rain has stopped, and you came to ride with me," she countered. She was not about to lose him now, Fortune decided to herself, knowing if she let him go like this, she would never see him again. Remembering her stepfather's advice she plunged ahead. "I will be twenty next month," she said honestly. "I have waited my whole life for you, Kieran Devers. I will not let you leave me!

What do I care if you are a rich man, or a poor man. My wealth is yours for the taking if you will but have me in exchange.

"As for your lineage, if such things mattered to me, and they don't, yours is a proud lineage. Your father's family descend from the Debhers, the water-finders of the Celtic tribes. They were of high caste, Kieran. Your mother's family, the Maguires, have been the princes of Fermanagh for centuries. There is O' Neil on both sides of your family tree. There is naught wrong with your lineage. You have, I fear, been influenced by your English stepmother, and her disdain for all things Irish."

"How do you know this?" he asked her, amazed.

"I asked Rory Maguire," she said simply. "Do you know that the men of Fermanagh have always been considered the worst swordsmen in all of Ireland?"

"No," he replied with a small smile.

"Well, they have. Fermanagh has been the most peaceful region in all of Ireland. None of the great princes ever considered the men of Fermanagh a threat, for the great families of this region were made up of poets and bards; physicians and lawyers," Fortune told him. "Rory Maguire, being a member of the old ruling family here, knows all the history of the area, and was happy to enlighten me."

"I would not have thought Maguire a historian," Kieran said.

"Because he warned you to mind your manners with me as I am a noble virgin, and not to be taken lightly?" she teased.

He laughed now, for it was exactly what Maguire had said to him earlier when he had arrived, and stabled his horse. "Let us ride if the rain has stopped, or was that just a way to hold me here longer?"

"Both," she said honestly.

"There is no future in any of this," he insisted. "We're mad to even consider that there is."

"Is that not our decision to make, Kieran?" She put her hand upon his arm, and looked up into his handsome, but troubled face.

"Is it?" he wondered aloud, drowning in her green-blue gaze. He was in love, he thought to his amazement. It had happened so quickly, so suddenly. He had never expected to be in love, and the whole thing was utterly impossible. They would never let him have her.

"I want us to wed before your family returns from England in the autumn," Fortune said frankly.

"I haven't asked you to marry me," he replied.

"Don't you want to?" she demanded.

"Of course I do, but your family will not allow it, sweetheart. Don't you understand? Poor men, even of noble family, do not marry wealthy heiresses. You could have a prince, a duke, or a marquess, Fortune. Your family can certainly seek for a better match than I am."

"Kieran, the choice is mine. It always has been. I choose you. Do you really love me? Even on such short acquaintance?" she asked.

"Aye," he replied softly. "From the first moment we came face to face upon that hill, and you so proud and haughty."

"I was dreadfully rude," she admitted, "but you were as arrogant as I, Kieran Devers. I think my heart knew then even if my mind did not, but I was angry to have you spoil my perfect plans." He had yet to take his arms from about her, and she snuggled against him.

He dropped a kiss upon her fiery head, feeling her young body soft and yielding against his hardness. He wanted her greatly. He wanted to wake up in the morning and find her next to him. He wanted to give her children. Why had he been such a fool to defy his father? Why had he never considered that there might be a moment like this one? Or a girl like Lady Fortune Mary Lindley?

"I was baptized a Catholic by Father Cullen," she said to him, seeming to sense his thoughts. "That means we can be wed in his church. You do not have to give up anything for me, Kieran."

"It still does not overcome the problem of my poverty," he told Fortune quietly, gently pushing her away from him.

"Let us ride while we discuss this further," Fortune suggested.

"I am not a suitable match for you, sweetheart," he replied implacably.

"Adali!" she suddenly called, and the majordomo appeared from the shadows of the hall. "Fetch Papa, Adali. Tell him I need to speak with him immediately."

"At once, my lady," Adali replied, seeing the startled and nervous look upon Kieran Devers's face. He moved quickly from the hall, chuckling to himself as he went. The young man hadn't a chance of escaping Lady Fortune. She had always been a determined child who wanted what she wanted when she wanted it. Since she was not particularly demanding even as a little one, this attitude always came as a surprise to her family when she exhibited it. He found the duke in Maguire's small office going over the breeding schedule. "Lady Fortune would like to see you in the hall, my lord," Adali said.

"Tell her I will be there shortly," the duke responded.

"I think you had best come now, my lord," Adali persisted. "Lady Fortune has told Master Devers that they are to marry, but he demurs, believing he is not good enough for her since he has no wealth."

"God's boots!" the duke swore.

"Well, I'll be damned," Maguire said, a grin upon his face.

Kieran Devers paled visibly as the duke of Glenkirk, followed by Adali and Rory Maguire, entered the hall. They were going to throw him out, and set the dogs on him for sure. He had no right aspiring, even secretly in his heart, to a girl like Fortune. "My lord," he said, bowing. What the hell was the matter with him? He wasn't some damned cotter. He was a Devers with a Maguire mother, and O'Neil cousins. He had little to his name, but the name was a respectable one. Maguire was grinning from ear to ear. What the hell had taken the man?

"I understand ye want to marry my daughter, Kieran Devers," the duke said quietly.

"Aye, my lord, I do, but I know you will not allow it for I am a poor man with nothing but my name to offer," Kieran said.

James Leslie looked to his stepdaughter. "Well, Fortune, what have ye to say to this?"

"I love him, Papa," Fortune said.

"Ahh, yes. And ye do hae enough wealth for the both of ye. Are ye willing to share it?" the duke inquired.

"You know I am, Papa!" she cried. "And Kieran is welcome to whatever I have. There is such a great deal of it."

"My lord, I cannot wed Fortune for her riches," the younger man said emphatically. "I must be my own man, and come to her with something to offer besides my name. I am a man of honor, not some fortune-hunting rogue."

"Ohh, do not be so bloody proud!" Fortune shouted at him.

"Perhaps Willy could wed you for your inheritance, Fortune, but I will not!" he shouted back at her.

"Ye do not have to wed my daughter for her wealth, Master Devers. Ye will nae hae any control over her riches at all, nor would your younger brother hae. The women in this family keep and prudently manage their own wealth. It is their tradition. The men they wed are given a suitable settlement prior to the marriage. Fortune will continue to be very rich. Ye will nae be in comparison. If you wish, ye may take the settlement given you and invest it to increase it. Surely ye canna hae any objection to wedding Fortune now, can ye? Ye will be doing me a great personal favor in taking the chit off my hands. She hae been extraordinarily fussy about choosing a mate."

Kieran Devers had never been so surprised in his entire life. "You are saying that I can marry Fortune, my lord?"

"Aye, provided ye love the lass. Do ye?" the duke of Glenkirk asked, knowing the answer but asking nonetheless for he needed to hear Kieran Devers voice it aloud.

"I love her with all my heart! I could have never married another woman knowing my love for her would never have equaled my love for Fortune. Aye, my lord, I love her!"

Hearing the words Rory Maguire felt his own heart clutch. He knew exactly how Kieran Devers felt. At least the lad was gaining his heart's desire. He never had.

"Ohh, Papa, thank you!" Fortune threw her arms about the duke's neck, and kissed him.

"What is going on?" Jasmine Leslie came into the hall, looking about her.

"Kieran and I are going to be married, Mama!" Fortune said, beaming, and casting a loving look upon her intended.

"This is sudden, even for you, poppet," the duchess said slowly. "Are you sure this is what you want? You didn't want young William, yet you want his brother?"

"I love him," Fortune said. "Why is that so difficult for you to understand, Mama? Will was sweet, but dull. Kieran and I have so much in common with one another."

"For instance?" Jasmine asked her daughter.

"Neither of us has ever felt at home anywhere in this world. We both know there is a place for us we have not yet found," Fortune said passionately.

"You do not feel at home in Ireland? Or here at Erne Rock?" Jasmine was concerned for she knew Kieran Devers had no home other than his father's house, and they could scarcely live there after they were married. Was England the answer? With all the anti-Catholic laws in place Jasmine doubted it. Where then was there a place for her daughter and Kieran Devers to lay their heads? "You know I had thought to give you Maguire's Ford for a wedding gift," Jasmine said.

"It is bad enough that I have fallen in love with your daughter, madame," Kieran said, "but if we lived here at Maguire's Ford my family in Lisnaskea, my stepmother in particular, would burn with envy. Jane Devers adores her son as you saw. She will not be able to bear it that Fortune, having refused William's offer, even though Jane prayed she would, has turned about and married me. She has coveted your lands for some time, although she keeps it from my father. It was she who convinced Samuel Steen to put forth Willy's name. My brother has a tendency to talk to me for his mother has always maintained cordial relations with me for propriety's sake. Willy is a lonely young man, but Lady Jane could turn him against me in a minute if she thought I was in possession of Maguire's Ford. My brother fancied himself in love with Fortune, and is easily led by his mama. 'Tis the land my stepmother seeks. She would do everything in her power to take this estate from its Catholic masters. She'll cause terrible trouble over a marriage between Fortune and me."

"He's right," Rory Maguire said thoughtfully. "She's a fanatic, my lady. Kieran and Lady Fortune will have to leave Ireland to escape her anger; and you will have to see the estate is put into the hands of an undisputed Protestant so Lady Devers has no chance of stealing the lands from you."

"Oh, Rory, what about your people?" Jasmine fretted.

"We should be fine with a new Protestant master of your choosing, my lady." Damn, she was so good, so thoughtful of them all.

"Duncan and Adam!" Jasmine said suddenly. "We will give Maguire's Ford to our two youngest sons, Duncan and Adam Leslie. They are still boys, but both have been raised in Scotland's Anglican Church. There can be no disputing their loyalties, especially as they are half-brothers of the king's own nephew. The elder can have the castle, and we will build the younger a fine house. Protestants though they may be, Rory Maguire, they are open-minded lads both."

"If they are your sons, my lady, I have no doubt of it," he replied.

"Then Kieran and I can be wed?" Fortune asked.

"Not immediately," Jasmine told her daughter, and held up her hand to stop Fortune's protest before it began. "You and Kieran have been swept up in a passionate whirlwind, poppet. I have no doubt that you love each other… now. But will you love each other a month from now? A year from now? And where will you live? It cannot be here in Ireland for Kieran is right. His family will be furious that he has snatched up the heiress of Maguire's Ford. England may be a bit safer, provided that Kieran does not flaunt his Catholicism, and obeys the laws laid down by the king."

"The king's wife is a Catholic!" Fortune cried.

"And her faith has already caused a great deal of difficulty because of those people whose minds are closed to the diversity of God's word," the duchess of Glenkirk responded.

"Then what are we to do, madame? What hope is there for us?" Kieran Devers asked Jasmine Leslie.

"There is hope for you," Jasmine said quietly "There is always hope, Kieran. You say you do not feel at home in Ireland even though it is the land of your birth, of your ancestors. Yet you believe there is a place for you. I, too, follow my instincts, which is why I think you are the husband for my daughter, but before I let you have Fortune, you must find a place where you will both be content, and safe. To that end you will come to England with us at summer's end. There is someone I want you to meet there.

"His name is George Calvert, Lord Baltimore. Although his mother was a Catholic, his father was a Protestant, and he was raised in England's church. His family, while respectable and prosperous, were not noble. George Calvert was well educated, and caught the eye of Sir Robert Cecil, the king's Secretary of State. Calvert became his private secretary, and thus began his political career. He married, and his first son was named Cecil after Sir Robert. Slowly, through his diligence and hard work George Calvert rose. He has been here to Ireland several times on royal business, and thus knows the true situation.

"When Cecil died in 1612, the king retained Calvert in his service. He knighted him in 1617, and he eventually became Secretary of State, and a member of the Privy Council. He is a modest man, and very well liked. He has lands here in Ireland himself. He has been involved in the Virginia Company, and the New England Company. However, when his wife, Anne, died in childbirth several years ago, Sir George suffered a crisis of conscience, and turned to the faith of his mother.

"Calvert is a man who possesses great scruples. He publicly announced his conversion, and resigned his positions. The king was heartbroken, and he might have ordered Sir George's death. His love for Calvert overcame his disappointment, and instead the king created him Baron Baltimore in his kingdom of Ireland. Ever since King James' death, the Calverts have managed to retain a friendship, and keep in favor with King Charles.

"Lord Baltimore has a dream to found a colony where all men may worship as suits their conscience, with no interference from others. Whether he can accomplish this I do not know. I have little faith in the good will of my fellow man," Jasmine said, "but if there is anyone who can succeed in this endeavor, it is Calvert. Perhaps his colony is the place for you, and for my daughter. Will you come to England?"

"I will!" Kieran Devers said without a moment's hesitation. He took Fortune's hand in his. "This could be the answer, sweetheart. A place where we could each worship in peace and freedom. It is almost too good to be true."

"It very well may be just that," Jasmine replied. "I have lived long, and seen a great deal of evil done in God's name, Kieran, but as I told you, there is always hope." She smiled at him.

"But when can we wed, Mama?" Fortune demanded to know.

"When I am certain that your love will last beyond the sweetness of summer," Jasmine answered her daughter.

Chapter 6

Fortune stormed from the hall upon hearing her mother's words. Didn't she understand that they were in love? Certainly Mama had succumbed to love enough times in her life to comprehend the emotion. I have waited my entire life for this moment, Fortune grumbled to herself, and she has spoiled it for me.

"Sweetheart, wait!" Kieran Devers caught up with Fortune as she half-ran into the open courtyard. "Let us ride. The rain has ceased. We'll talk. Your mother is right, you know."

"What? Are you taking her part then? Don't you want to marry me, Kieran Devers? Has your ardor cooled so quickly? Michael! Saddle my horse!"

He took her into his arms, but Fortune attempted to pull away. "Stop it!" he commanded her sharply. "You're behaving like a child."

There was something in his voice that caused her to obey. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "She doesn't understand, Kieran."

"You're wrong, Fortune. Your mother understands all too well." He stroked her hair. "You've been so sheltered, and so wonderfully spoiled, sweetheart. 'Tis you who don't understand, or perhaps you want your way so badly that you don't want to understand."

Fortune sniffled, and put her head against his broad shoulder.

"I am a Catholic, Fortune. I made that decision long ago, and I find no reason to change my thinking on the matter now. Still, I will be neither martyr nor bigot regarding religion. That is the one thing the church was never able to drum into my head. I worship as a Catholic because I am comfortable doing so. You worship as a member of England's Anglican church because you are content that way. Each of our faiths has enemies who would destroy the other. It would seem in order to live in peace we must choose one, or the other. Your mother offers us the possibility of a place where we may each be able to worship as we choose, and not how someone else tells us we must worship."

"Such a place does not exist now," Fortune said sadly.

"If Sir George Calvert could found a colony where such a way of life was possible, would you not want to live there, sweetheart? Perhaps it is that place each of us has been seeking all our lives."

"But where would such a place be?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "I am not certain, but I think, perhaps, in the New World across the ocean. Let us spend the summer here in Ireland, falling more and more in love with each other, Fortune. Then come the autumn we will go to England with your parents. We will meet Sir George, and see what he has to say to us about this wonderful world he wants to make where we may worship freely as we choose."

"But when will we wed?" she persisted.

"Hopefully before we leave for England," he replied. "Your parents are not against us, sweetheart. They simply want to make certain that we truly love one another. I am willing to be patient, and so must you. Now, here is Michael with our horses. Come, my love, and let us ride out over the hills where we first met."

They rode out together, slowly through the village, then racing across the meadows, the sheep scattering before them. Fortune laughed, the sound echoing on the wind. Finally they topped the hill where they had first met. Below them the lough spread itself blue, melting into the blue-green hills hovering mistily towards the west. They dismounted, and stood looking out over the land.

"It is beautiful," she said, "but 'tis not home." Removing her cloak, she spread it on the grass, and sat down.

"Nay," he agreed, sitting next to her. "I've looked out over these hills all my life, and never felt the kinship with it that I should." Putting his arm about her he drew her down, and then leaning over her he kissed her, tenderly at first, and then with more passion.

How odd, Fortune thought, her mind hazy, I have absolutely no desire to hit him. She slipped her arms about his neck, drawing him closer, feeling her breasts give way beneath the hardness of his chest. This was really kissing! Surprisingly, it seemed to come quite naturally to her even if she had no real prior experience before today. The pressure on her mouth increased, and her lips seemed to part almost of their own volition. She felt the tip of his tongue encircling her lips. It was a delicious sensation. Boldly she reached out with her own tongue to touch his. It was as if she had been struck by lightning!

Raising his dark head Kieran smiled a slow smile at her. He rolled onto his back, and stared up at the sky. His male member was quivering with rising excitement. She really had no idea what was happening to either him or to her. How far, he wondered, would she allow him to go? He turned back to her, lying on his side, propped up by a single elbow. Then with his other hand he reached out and unbuttoned the silver buttons on her doublet.

She watched him through half-closed eyes, her heart beating a bit faster as the last button slipped through its buttonhole. His hand reached out to very, very gently caress the soft swell of her bosom. She drew an audible breath, her blue-green eyes widening at the burst of excitement that rippled through her body. How far would he dare to go? she considered nervously. Was she willing to allow him greater liberties? Would he stop if she asked him to?

His fingers played with the lacing on her silk shirt. Swiftly he loosened it. The ribbons of her chemise lay within reach of those fingers. His eyes met hers, silently asking permission to proceed further. He bent a moment, and lightly kissed her mouth.

Her whole body felt leaden. She couldn't move. She couldn't say no to him. She wanted him to open her chemise. She wanted him to touch her breasts. Once when she was small she had seen her mother's lover, Prince Henry Stuart, caress Jasmine's bare breasts. The look of pleasure upon both their faces and her mother's heartfelt sigh of delight had remained in Fortune's memory her entire life. She wanted to know that same joy. Sighing, she closed her eyes.

She had spoken not a word, and yet she had given her consent to him to proceed further. His fingers practically tore the ribbons from the delicate fabric which he spread open to reveal Fortune's bosom. He almost whimpered with sheer gratification for she was so beautiful, absolutely perfect in form. Her breasts were small, and fully round with delightful little nipples that looked like tiny fruits atop a bowl of fresh cream. His hand was unable to help itself, and tenderly cupped one of those small breasts.

Fortune's eyes flew open, and she stared down at the hand. A small sound squeaked from her throat. Her eyes grew wide again.

Kieran smiled at her again. She was such a fierce creature, but she was also far more innocent than either of them had anticipated. Still, he could not help himself for she was simply too tempting. He laid his cheek against her breast, and heard the frantic beating of her heart beneath his ear. "Forgive me, sweetheart," he said low, "but I cannot help myself. You are so lovely, Fortune. So damned lovely!"

She touched his dark head with her hand, gently ruffling his thick hair. There was something so natural about this even if she was a little frightened. Kieran loved her. He would not harm her. Passion, her mother had always warned her, was a powerful thing. She was only just beginning to understand at last what her mother had meant. "I love you, Kieran Devers," she told him.

He raised his head from her bosom. "And I love you, lambkin," he replied. There was something in his look she did not understand.

"What is it?" she asked him.

"I am not used to playing love games, Fortune," he answered her honestly. "I am burning with my desire for you."

"Oh." Her voice was very small. She was wise enough to know precisely what he meant. She drew the halves of her chemise together herself, and laced the ribbons. Then her silk blouse. Finally she did up the buttons upon her doublet. "They can be dangerous games, Kieran, can't they?" she half-whispered.

In reply he took her hand, and placed it upon his breeches. "Aye," he agreed, "they can, sweetheart."

Beneath her fingers she felt a hard length that simply radiated heat, and almost seemed to throb at her touch. She looked at him wonderingly. "Your manhood is a fine thing," Fortune told him. "You will give me great pleasure one day."

He laughed, the tension suddenly broken between them. It was such an outrageous remark from a virgin, yet he would have expected no less from Fortune. "Aye," he agreed with her. "I will give you a great deal of pleasure, lambkin. Now, take your wicked little hand away from me before I burst with my lust for you."

Giving him a teasing pat she said, "I did not place my hand upon you of my own volition, sir. 'Twas you who wished to boast." Then she moved her hand away from him. "Next time I would see it unclothed as you viewed my breasts today. Turnabout is considered fair play."

Laughing he took the hand that had touched him, and kissed it, both upon its back, and upon the palm. "Must I beat you to make you behave, sweetheart? You are a most naughty lass, I fear."

"You may beat me if it gives us pleasure," she shot back.

He raised a quizzical eyebrow. She had absolutely no idea what she was saying, he realized. Laughing again he struggled to his feet, and quickly caught the horses who had been grazing peacefully nearby. " 'Tis past time, sweetheart, that we rode home. Your parents will wonder where we have gotten to, and Maguire will set the dogs on me, I fear, if he thinks I have dishonored you in any manner." He helped her to mount, refraining from caressing her temptingly round bottom as she climbed into her saddle.

They rode home slowly even though the clouds were now beginning to scud quickly across the skies. A small rumble of thunder caused them to hurry the horses, and they reached the courtyard of Erne Rock just as the rain began to fall. There wasn't a stable lad in sight, and so they rode their mounts directly into the stables, dismounting there, and leading their beasts to their stalls. Efficiently they removed the animals' saddles and bridles. Fortune took up Thunder's own brushes, and began to curry him. He snuffled and danced gently as she worked. Kieran watched her, smiling. Then making himself useful he poured a measure of oats into the horses' individual troughs.

When Fortune had finished grooming her gelding she hung up the brushes and came out of his stall, closing the door carefully behind her. "I don't know where Michael has gotten to," she said. "Perhaps he went to the kitchens to be fed." She looked out of the open stable doors. The rain was coming down in sheets. "I suppose we must remain here until this shower ceases, or at least eases." She looked at him coyly. "What shall we do to while away the time?"

He chuckled wickedly. "You are really quite shameless, lass," he told her, backing her against the wall of the stable. His body not quite touching hers he reached around her, and cupped her buttocks in his big hands, fondling them teasingly. "What would you like to do, sweetheart?" he leered at her.

She was mesmerized by him. By the dark green eyes that devoured her face. By the strong fingers kneading her bottom. By the almost uncontrollable urge she was having to be made love to by him. She heard herself giving voice to her very thoughts. "I want you inside of me, Kieran Devers. I want you hard, and hot, and hungry for me."

"Jesu!" The word exploded from his mouth.

"I shock you because I am a virgin, and virgins shouldn't know such things, should they? But I have a mother who had a prince for a lover. I have a stepfather who is not shy about showing his passion for my mother. I have an elder sister who lived almost a year in a harem. And, Kieran Devers, I have eyes to see, and ears to hear. I know what happens between a man and a woman. I want that to happen between us. I am bold. Aye, I am, but I'm mad for you, and I want to be your wife," Fortune told him, her cheeks flushed with her daring.

He kissed her. He didn't know what else to do with her in the face of such frankness. She hadn't said anything to him that he hadn't been thinking himself. She wanted no more of him than he wanted of her. His hands moved to take her face between his two palms. His mouth moved over her soft skin hungrily, touching her lips, her nose, her eyes, her forehead, her cheekbones. She smelled of horse and heather. The nearness of her sent his senses reeling. He wanted the moment to go on forever. It didn't.

Rory Maguire's voice cut into their reverie. "Yer mam sent me to see where you were, m'lady Fortune."

Her eyes opened, and she smiled up at Kieran Devers as his hands released their hold upon her heart-shaped face. She looked past Maguire through the open stable door. "Ah, the rain has stopped," she noted. "We were waiting for it to cease, Rory."

"And well occupied you were, I could see, while you waited," he said dryly. Then his gaze fixed itself upon Kieran. "Her ladyship wants you to remain at Erne Rock for the interim, Kieran. Do you think you can behave yerself if you do? Frankly I think this is the best place for you-where we can keep our eye on you at all times."

"I'm not a maid of sixteen, Rory," Fortune said sharply.

"Nay, yer not, which means you should know better than to be making love in the open where every servant and gossip can see," he replied as pithily. "Next time, lass, try and be a bit more discreet. Word of your indiscretions with the handsome rogue will be distorted enough when they finally reach Lisnaskea. And you may believe me when I tell you that they'll be repeated in salacious detail to Lady Devers upon her return. She will not be happy to hear them, particularly as you will probably be wed to her stepson by then, having first spurned her lad. Her immediate thoughts, good Christian woman that she is, will be upon revenge."

"Mama should let us wed now," Fortune snapped. "Then there would be no cause for gossip."

"Yer mam is wise. Where's the harm in waiting if you truly love one another?" he demanded of her.

Fortune tossed her head in a gesture that was oddly familiar to him. "The harm may be in my belly if Mama makes me wait too long!" Then she dashed from the stables, heading for the castle steps.

Kieran Devers held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I will not seduce her," he promised the older man.

"Nay, but she'll do her best to seduce you," Maguire said with a shake of his head. "I had a younger sister, Aoife, who was just as headstrong as the lady Fortune. You had best be on yer guard, Kieran Devers. You could find yerself on yer back being ridden hard by that young vixen. A virgin she may be, but she's also an impudent wench."

The two men parted, Kieran Devers going into the castle. Rory, however, left the stables, and walked to the small gatehouse that Jasmine had given him years ago. He had not lived in it until she returned to Erne Rock, but it had long ago been furnished with family heirlooms dear to his heart; and Bride Duffy had seen that it was kept clean and aired should he ever need it again. Entering the house, and seeing his things, he was overcome with nostalgia. He climbled to a little attic beneath the pointed roof. There in a trunk was a rectangular box made of ashwood, its corners banded in silver. Removing the box he brought it down into the main room on the first floor of the gatehouse that served as his day room. A servant had already lit a peat fire against the damp.

Setting the box down on a table near the fireside chair, Rory poured himself a small dram of smoky whiskey. Then sitting down he sipped it appreciatively for several long moments before setting the tumbler aside, and reaching for the box. He had not seen, or opened this particular box in years. It contained individual miniatures of his family. Looking on them gave rise to a deep sadness, for Rory Maguire remembered that time long ago when his family had been in possession of Erne Rock, and Maguire's Ford. They had held their modest holding for several hundred years for their more powerful Maguire kin.

When their chieftain, Conor Maguire, had left Ireland with the northern earls over twenty years ago, Rory Maguire's father, mother, younger brother, along with his three sisters, and their families, had followed. He had been the only one not to go for he could not bear to leave their people to the mercy of the English. It had only been God's blessing, or the devil's luck, that their new English master turned out to be Jasmine Lindley, marchioness of Westleigh; and that she, even knowing his history, had made him manager for her new estate.

He had been able to remain in his home. While some might have been too proud to humble themselves as he had, Rory believed he had done the right thing in staying. His parents were buried in France, far from their native soil. What had happened to his sisters and their families he did not know. His younger brother, Conan, had gone to Russia and become an officer in the Tzar's Imperial Army. He had last heard from Conan ten years ago. He might even be dead for all Rory knew. The box with its miniatures was all he had left of his family.

Slowly he raised the box's lid. There were the seven oval miniatures, each sitting in its little recessed velvet indentation. He smiled seeing his father's face for he realized he now looked like his father although he hadn't seen it when he was younger. There was his mother with her elegant long nose, and bright blue eyes. And there he was at eighteen, and Conan, the second son, and next to the youngest at fourteen. His sisters, Myrna, the eldest of them all at twenty-one; Aoife at sixteen, and Fionula at twelve. Those had been happy times, he thought sadly as he prepared to close the box.

But then suddenly his eye returned to Aoife. The artist had painted her in what had once been to him a familiar pose-an impatient toss of her head. It was a gesture he hadn't seen in years… until today. Rory lifted the miniature from its case, brushing the thin layer of dust from it. He stared unbelievingly at the face staring back at him. It was Aoife's face, yet he had long ago forgotten it. It was also Fortune Lindley's face. But he had not until now recognized the two faces as identical, yet they were without any doubt one and the same.

Reaching out he grabbed the tumbler in his fist, and swallowed its remaining contents down in a single gulp. He felt as if he had been felled by a giant blow. How could it be? How could Lady Fortune Lindley and his sister, Aoife, have the same face? The same gesture? The same flaming red-gold hair that in all the family only he and Aoife possessed? Fool! The voice in his head mocked him. You know the answer to your own question. Did you not lie with Jasmine Lindley all those years ago? Fortune is your daughter.

He groaned as if he had been injured. His mind raced back twenty-one years ago. The marquess of Westleigh had been murdered. His wife had fallen into a fit from which she could not be aroused. She had cried out for her husband to love her but one more time. She was dying, or so Adali and the priest had claimed. They sent him to make love to the delirious woman in hopes she could be drawn back from the brink of death. While he had loved her secretly from the first moment he had seen her, he had known she would never love him.

Rory remembered he had been shocked by the suggestion made to him. Especially since the priest harried him every bit as much as Adali, who could be forgiven, being a foreigner. Still, he could not resist the opportunity they offered him to make love to her, even if she would never know that he had done so. They had not had to struggle too hard to convince him, he realized. And if she lived he would have the secret satisfaction of knowing he had saved her. If she died, he would die too. So he had done their bidding, and then slipped from her chamber back into the shadows of his loneliness. But Jasmine had survived, finally awakening the following morning. Discovering she was with child several weeks later, they had all rejoiced that her beloved Rowan Lindley, who had himself made love to his wife the night before he was killed, had given his darling this final gift of a third child.

But Fortune was not Rowan Lindley's daughter. She was Rory Maguire's daughter. Who else knew? Did Jasmine? No! She would not know because she never knew of his part in saving her life. Adali would know. His damned sharp eye would miss nothing. And Father Cullen? Aye, he probably knew too! And they had managed to keep it from him all these years. Had he not felt the need today to look upon his family's faces again he might have never known the truth. And now that he did, what was he to do with it? He pocketed Aoife's miniature before closing the box and setting it aside. His hand ran through his red hair in a gesture of despair. What was he going to do?

A serving girl entered his day room with a covered tray. "Master Adali sent you some supper, my lord, since you did not come to the hall. He asks if you are well." The girl set the tray down on a small table and lifted the linen cloth from it.

"Tell Adali I am not well, and would see him before he retires this night," Rory Maguire said. "And I would see Father Cullen too." Then seeing the horrified look on the servant's face he laughed. "Nay, lass, I am not dying. Just under the weather a bit. I need the priest's advice on another matter. Be discreet as you do my bidding, for I would cause no unnecessary disturbance." He gave a wink.

The girl hurried out giggling, and Rory looked at the meal on the tray. Trout. Several slices of beef. Bread. Butter and cheese. A dish of new green peas. He ate out of habit, but he tasted nothing. Pouring himself more whiskey he drank it down. He was cold. So damned cold. He had a daughter. A beautiful daughter who was the image of his favorite sister. A daughter who would be absolutely horrified to learn she was not the posthumous child of the marquess of Westleigh. He sighed. For twenty-one years he had kept the secret of Jasmine's survival after Rowan Lindley's death. It had not been easy, but he had done it, putting Jasmine from his mind, although she had always remained in his heart.

It had been a burden, but he now had an even heavier burden upon his shoulders. The knowledge of Fortune's true parentage. How could he not have known her? But Aoife had been gone from him so long, she had faded from his memory. They had all faded. He had put the box with the miniatures in his attic because it had been too painful being reminded of happier times and the loving family he had once had, and then lost. He might have gone with them, but he had refused to be driven from Ulster. He remembered how his mother and sisters had wept as they departed Maguire's Ford. The memory of it pierced his heart even now, some twenty-five years later.

He had strongly disagreed with the northern earls who had deserted their homes, and their people; for more people had been forced to remain than had been able to go. He had thought the earls selfish. He remembered arguing with his father, whose loyalty to his cousin, Conor Maguire, was greater it seemed than to his own immediate family. Only his mother's intervention had kept the two men from coming to blows. In the end, of course, his father's will prevailed. The family left Ulster in the earls' wake, but Rory Maguire had remained to protect, as best he could, the people of Maguire's Ford. That he had been able to was nothing short of a miracle, but in doing so he was bereft of a family. He had never married because he had fallen in love with Jasmine, and no other woman would do. She, of course, had never known the depth of his affections. Now, suddenly, he had a family; but how could he ever claim his daughter without causing Fortune and her mother irreparable harm?

The serving girl returned to take his tray, saying, "Both Master Adali and the priest will come, m'lord. Yer really all right, aren't you? Her ladyship asked that I inquire."

"Just a small flux upon my belly, lass," he told her with a smile. "I should be right as rain by the morrow."

"I'll tell her ladyship," the girl said, picking up the tray and leaving him alone once again.

He was not alone for long, however. Both Adali and Cullen Butler entered the room one after the other.

"Yer ill," the priest said. "The servant girl told my cousin."

"My illness is one of the soul, Cullen Butler," Rory responded. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew the oval miniature, and handed it to the priest.

Cullen Butler looked at it casually. Then he asked, "Where did you get this charming miniature of Fortune?" He handed the oval to Adali.

The majordomo looked at the small painting, saying quickly, "This is not the Lady Fortune, good Father. She does not bear the princess's birthmark between her left nostril and her upper lip." He looked directly at the Irishman. "Who is it?"

"My younger sister, Aoife," Rory Maguire replied.

"Of course," Adali said quietly. "The resemblance is utterly amazing, my lord Maguire. Both are beautiful women."

"You knew?" Rory's tone was accusatory.

"I knew," Adali said.

"And you, priest? Did you know also?" Rory's voice was hard.

"I knew," Cullen Butler admitted, "may God have mercy on me, on us all, Rory Maguire."

"But she does not know?"

"How could she?" Adali answered him. "She knew nothing of what transpired between you that night. Therefore she would not know the truth of her daughter's parentage. Nor would you have known but that you found that miniature of your sister."

"How could you have kept this secret from me? How could you have not told me that I had a daughter?" Rory asked his two companions brokenly. His blue eyes were filled with pain, and wet with his tears.

Cullen Butler looked stricken, but Adali was far more pragmatic than the guilt-ridden priest. "And if we had told you, Rory Maguire," he said, "what would you have done? What could you have done? Nothing! Who would have believed the manner in which my Lady Fortune was conceived? The knowledge of her true sire would have brought shame upon my princess, and the stain of bastardy upon Lady Fortune. You could have never expected to be a part of Lady Fortune's life, my lord Maguire. What happened twenty-one years ago was known to but four people. Madame Skye saw the truth, and questioned me. I did not lie to her. She is dead these seven years now, and only we three remain with our knowledge. What you did was a noble thing, my lord Maguire, and because I knew that you loved my princess I used you to save her. I felt no shame in my actions, nor should you have.

"I never knew my Lady Fortune would grow up as she did. I hoped that she would never see this place again, or you. But my princess has been determined for some years now to give this daughter Maguire's Ford. It was not up to me to tell her no, and it was only by unfortunate happenstance that you discovered the truth. I am sorry for you, my lord Maguire. 'Twill be a heavier burden for you to bear than any you have ever had before, but bear it in silence you will, or I will kill you myself. I will not have my princess, or her child, hurt by anyone. We will soon be returning to England, and that will be the end of it."

"Aye," Rory said quietly, "there is nothing I can do but sigh over the daughter who doesn't know she is my daughter; but that will not be the end of it, Adali. You cannot expect me to go on as if none of this ever happened. In the future I shall expect a letter from you twice a year telling me about my daughter, and how she gets on. That is only fair under the circumstances."

"Agreed," Adali said. He was a practical man, and this was a sensible solution to a rather unfortunate incident. "Remember, however, that my knowledge will not be firsthand once she is wed. There is talk that Lady Fortune and young Devers may go to a colony in the New World where all may worship as they choose. I will have to rely upon the letters sent to her mother, my lord Maguire."

"Fair enough," was the reply.

"I will pray for us all," Cullen Butler said, "especially you, Rory. Can you ever forgive me?"

"For what, Cullen Butler? You saved me from myself, and I fear Adali is right when he says I could never have been a part of my daughter's life without shaming both her and her mother."

"Then it is settled?" Adali said briskly.

"It is settled," Rory responded.

"And should you feel any bursts of foolishness overcome you, my lord Maguire, you will come to either me or the priest, eh?" A small smile creased Adali's brown face.

"I will," Rory agreed. Aye, I will be practical, but you cannot prevent me from dreaming about what might have been, the Irishman thought to himself. You cannot prevent me from protecting my child if need be. I have missed all of her life but those first two months, and these past few weeks. I will take what little happiness I can before she is gone from me again, this time probably forever.

"I will return to the castle then," Adali said, and turning he left his two companions.

"Stay, and have a bit of whiskey with me, Cullen Butler," Rory said. "You look as if you could use it. Strangely I think this is harder on you than on Adali and me." He motioned the priest into the other chair by the peat fire, and pouring him a tumbler of whiskey handed it to him. "Slanta!" he said, downing a goodly dollop from his own tumbler.

"Slanta!" the priest nodded, swallowing down half his portion. Then feeling stronger he said, "You are truly content then, Rory?"

Maguire shrugged. "What else can I do, good Father? God's blood, when I saw Aoife's face for the first time in all those years, and then recognized it as Fortune's face too! I thought at first I was imagining things. Then I realized I was not. So I do not die entirely alone one day. My daughter and her children will live on for me. It is a better fate than I had hoped for, Cullen Butler."

"I am so sorry, my friend," the priest said. "That I should have been drawn into such a plot all those years ago still astounds me. Yet that plot saved my cousin's life though she knows it not. I remember asking my Aunt Skye how an action so wrong could be right. Do you know what she said to me? That the church was often wrong. That the laws to which they clung so determinedly were made by men, and not by God. She believed if mankind used more common sense we would be a great deal better off." He smiled with his memory; then he sobered once again. "But you were hurt by our actions, I know, Rory. I had thought it all behind us, and it might have been but that you sought out those miniatures. You must be discreet now, and I know it will be difficult for you for young Fortune is a willful lass."

"So was Aoife," Rory replied with a small chuckle. "And now I know where Fortune gets her passion for horses from, for my sister had that same passion, and like Fortune was a marvelous horsewoman. She is not her mother, priest, but a headstrong Irish lass, I fear."

"I will warn my cousin, Jasmine, to watch the lass more carefully," Cullen Butler replied.

"And I'll be watching my daughter too," Rory told him. " 'Tis a good, if unfortunate, match she wants. Her desire for Kieran Devers has cost her Maguire's Ford. Still, I would not want her living under the constant threat of a charge of treason because of her husband's faith, which will happen if she remains in Ireland. When are the two young Leslie lads arriving to claim this gift from their mother?"

"Next spring," the priest said. "Jasmine has told me she wants to have them confirmed by the king in their rights to Maguire's Ford so that none can gainsay them. I am more than aware that Lady Devers has long had her beady blue eyes on this estate. She thought to gain it through Fortune, and while I will admit I thought William Devers suitable, I feared that woman's influence over her son. We may thank God that she herself has destroyed all chances of a match between Fortune and young Will; and we may praise God that Fortune is a wise lass who saw the danger in such a mother-in-law."

"Aye," Rory agreed, "but she'll have made an enemy of that fine lady when her preference for Kieran Devers becomes public knowledge. Lady Jane will find it hard to stomach the fact that Fortune preferred her stepson over her son."

"She cannot have her cake and eat it too," Father Cullen answered him. "She feared Fortune's influence while coveting the girl's dowry. Now she'll have neither, and my cousin, Jasmine, will make certain she does not gain Maguire's Ford and Erne Rock by foul means when she could not acquire them by fair."

"I hope yer right," Maguire said, "but she's a determined woman, Jane Devers, for all the fact that she's English."

Cullen Butler laughed. "Now, Rory, my friend, even the English have their good side, or so I'm told, although the holy mother church might disagree."

"And there's one time I'd be in agreement with the church myself," came the dry reply. " 'Twill not hurt to keep an eye on the Deverses when they return from England. Remember, the Leslie lads will not come until next spring, and they are young. We'll have to watch them closely lest that woman attempt to cause any mischief."

"We'll watch together, you and I, my friend," the priest said. "We'll watch together."