Lord Of Shadowhawk. Lindsay McKenna

have Sorche bring you something to eat.”

      “Thank you.”

      Alyssa listening to him leave the room, her stomach still rumbling, telling everyone within earshot that she was indeed starved! She had heard the carefully cloaked amusement in Tray’s voice when he had asked her if she was hungry. He could have embarrassed her with a snide comment, but he hadn’t. What an odd man he was!

      Again, Alyssa found herself wishing mightily to know what he looked like.

      Chapter Five

      Alyssa seemed in the best of moods when Tray returned from his long overdue gallop along the cliffs of Shadowhawk. The brisk ride had lifted his spirits, and when he had knocked lightly at Alyssa’s door and heard her voice ring out, his heart pounded briefly. He gave her a smile of welcome, even though she could not see him as he entered the bedchamber.

      “You look improved,” he noted, walking over to the fire and warming his cold hands.

      Alyssa shyly lowered her head, her fingers nervously entwined in her lap. “Sorche is responsible for that. She chatted with me while you were gone.”

      “I imagine she is happy to have someone new to talk to.”

      Alyssa nodded. Tray’s voice was lighter, devoid of…unhappiness, perhaps? She licked her chapped lips and mustered the courage to talk with him directly. “Sorche said you own an Arabian horse. Is that true? I’ve heard that they’re very rare. Did you carry us here on one?”

      Tray’s eyes lightened and a slight smile hovered around his mouth as he drew up a chair near the hearth and sat down, sprawling his long legs out in front of him. “Ah, I should have expected it,” he baited her. Alyssa lifted her chin and he suppressed the rest of his smile in that fleeting instant in favor of drinking in her unparalleled beauty. The blue silk nightgown she wore brought out the emerald highlights in her eyes and the wine darkness of her hair.

      “Expected what?” she challenged, her voice stronger.

      “That you would have an interest in horses.”

      “The Irish are famous for their love of horses. We can gentle brutes that can’t be tamed by anyone else.”

      Tray relaxed and enjoyed her spirited exchange. My God, her face was so expressive, so readable. He found himself wanting to burn those images into his memory. “You won’t get any argument out of me. Sorche told me the Irish have a secret method of taming a horse.”

      “We do. And I know that secret.”

      One dark eyebrow rose as Tray rested his chin against his hand. “Really?”

      “Yes.”

      “That wouldn’t be a bit of Irish blarney, would it, Aly?” he teased.

      She flushed when he called her Aly. The man was forever giving her pet names! “You don’t believe me?”

      “No, I didn’t say that. It’s just that I know there are very few Irish horse tamers who pass on their trade secrets. Especially to a young and beautiful woman such as yourself. Taming a horse is a man’s task, not a woman’s.”

      Alyssa’s lips parted in consternation. “A man’s task? Indeed! I’ll have you know that I’ve gentled horses no man could get near!”

      Tray’s gray eyes grew light with amusement. “There isn’t an Irishman alive who doesn’t indulge in a bit of stretching the truth. I’m afraid you’d have to prove that to me, little one.”

      “I can. I mean I could, if…if I weren’t blind,” she stumbled lamely.

      Tray winced as he heard the excitement drain from her voice. “Well,” he soothed, “perhaps when you’re better, and when Dr. Birch says that you can ride, I’ll let you go with me. Would you like that?”

      An instant’s hope flickered to life inside Alyssa and then died. He was handing her dreams, only dreams. She bowed her head, muttering, “Sorche said you were an unusual man. But you’re a lord and I’m a commoner. No lord rides with someone like me.”

      Tray roused himself, scowling at the truth in her words. “We’ll see,” he said.

      Alyssa raised her head, her eyes large and sad. “Please,” she whispered rawly, “tell me what you’re going to do with us. I’m blind and of no use to you. And I’ve heard tales of small boys who are taken to Wales and sent to coal mines, never to be seen again.” She raised her hands in an open gesture toward him. “Are we slaves? Will you send Sean to the mines to die?”

      Tray rose, his face ashen as he stared across the room at her. “Did Sorche tell you anything?” he asked tightly.

      “Only that you were told to come to the ship and pick up a boy.”

      Tray expelled a deep breath and drew a chair near her bed. “I owe you some answers. My half brother, Vaughn, demanded my presence aboard that ship to pick up a small boy who had been captured in the rebellion. Vaughn told me I’d find Sean in the ship’s hold.” His voice softened momentarily. “And I found you there along with him.”

      Alyssa swallowed, her eyes unnaturally bright. “Sean told me how you saved me from being killed. The sailors were going to throw me on the cart….”

      Tray avoided her gaze. “Anyone would have done the same,” he muttered. “As for what I’m going to do with you, I’d like to return you to Ireland once you’ve fully recovered. Both of you.”

      A small cry shook Alyssa and she clasped her hands together. “You mean that?”

      “You have my word upon it,” Tray promised grimly, dreading the moment he would have to let her go.

      Confusion laced her voice, “You’re so different…”

      Tray gave a harsh laugh, crossing his booted feet and staring pensively down at them. “Different? Now you’re being kind. People usually use much different words to describe me, such as devil, or monster.”

      “No…they couldn’t. They’re wrong.”

      He chanced a brief look at Alyssa and closed his eyes, unable to deal with the compassion he saw flooding her face. “It’s good that you’re blind or you’d agree with them. Just ask Sean. Hasn’t he told you that I’m like a huge, hulking monster, silently treading the halls of Shadowhawk like a satanic effigy?”

      Alyssa heard the bitterness in his quiet voice, unable to understand his sudden sadness. “Why, no. He’s frightened of you, but only because you’re English.”

      “Welsh,” Tray corrected. “Now, what other questions do you need answered?”

      Just the gentle teasing in his voice gave her the courage she needed. “My father, Colin.”

      “What about him?”

      “He was on board that ship, too.”

      “A prisoner?”

      Alyssa nodded.

      Tray sat up. “Don’t tell me your whole family was caught in the middle of that uprising?” His tone was incredulous.

      Alyssa chewed on her lower lip. If she told Tray the truth, that her father and her brother, Dev, were a part of the rebellion, he might well send Sean to the coal mines to die. She had to continue the lie Sean had invented for them. “Yes.”

      Tray clenched his fist. “Damn those hotheaded English soldiers,” he hissed blackly. He had heard that the English army under General Lake’s banner were killing, maiming and torturing thousands of helpless victims who had taken no part in Wolfe Tone’s poorly executed rebellion in Ireland. Tray looked up into her innocent features. “That ship doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning. They’re taking on water at Colwyn Bay. I’ll send one of my servants to locate my half brother and we’ll