The Knight and the Dove by Lori Wick Page B

her.
    “Aunt Louisa is looking everywhere for you,” he said without preamble.
    “I could not find her,” Megan answered with quiet dignity.
    “You could have told me.”
    “I could not locate you, either.”
    “So you just came anyway?”
    “No. I told Arik.”
    “But he came with you!”
    Megan’s hands moved at her side in defeat. All fight was draining from her. Would she ever do what was right? This was as bad as living with her mother; worse, because there was no convent to return to. The thought made Megan tremble all over.
    “I did as you asked, Bracken. I did not tell Arik to join me. I never thought—”
    “That seems to be your problem,” he cut her off. “You don’t think of anyone but yourself.”
    Megan’s eyes flashed with fury. That statement had been completely unfair. Megan turned from Bracken and lifted her basket. She left the men without word, her back straight, the basket handle over one arm. Megan had not gone ten yards when Arik moved to follow her. Bracken watched their progress for just an instant before transferring his gaze to the distance.
    He was barely aware of his brother, so when he did look at Brice it made the younger man’s stunned face even harder to bear.
    “She’s afraid of you,” Brice accused, and the pain in his voice surprised Bracken. “Stephen said as much, but I didn’t believe him. ’Tis true. She’s terrified of you. She trembled all over.”
    Bracken had seen the trembling as well, but opened his mouth anyway to try to justify himself. Brice would allow no such thing; he cut him off with a downward slash of his hand.
    “Don’t speak to me right now, Bracken. I can’t bear it. Mother is going to wish to know of your happiness and that of Megan, and I hate,” Brice spat the word, “to tell her what I’ve observed.”
    Brice swung away, not toward the keep but back toward the woods. He still had his crossbow with him, and Bracken let him go, knowing he would be safe enough. Bracken took himself back to the keep. The noon meal would be served soon, and when they had eaten he would speak with Megan. He wasn’t entirely certain what he would say, but Brice had been correct—he did frighten her.
    Bracken contemplated the reason he teased and antagonized her and could only come up with one lame answer. He desired to see some emotion on her face, even a scowl, rather than the cold, expressionless eyes she often turned to him.
    Knowing this did not excuse his behavior; nevertheless, it helped him to know what he should do, and that was apologize. If the opportunity presented itself he would do so over the meal; if not, he would ask Megan to join him in the war room. He was not experienced in court manners or taken to gently wooing ladies, but he could tell Megan he was sorry for his actions because he sincerely was.
    Bracken, so ready with his plan, fought disappointment when Megan failed to join him at the table. Indeed she did not make an appearance downstairs at all.

     
    Megan, you can’t hide in here all day, the small redhead said to herself. But even though her stomach growled, she made no move toward the door. If only she didn’t have to face Bracken. She felt as if she must slip into armor every time she met the man, and right now she was too weary to fight.
    Megan scowled when her stomach sounded again. She had just decided then and there to head down to the great hall when someone knocked on her door. Thinking it to be Louisa, Megan walked calmly toward the closed portal. She stood in stunned silence when she saw Bracken on the other side.
    “May I speak with you, Megan?”
    “Yes,” she answered, and was about to move into the hall when Bracken’s attention suddenly moved beyond her.
    Without a word he stepped toward her. Megan was forced to retreat, but Bracken took little notice. He came fully into her bedchamber and just stared. The small room had been transformed. Tapestries and hangings were draped all over the walls. Carpets, thick