Sabrina searched her room, going through the handsome cherry wardrobe and desk, hoping to find a bottle of brandyor sherry. Whiskey would do just as well. Then she paused, remembering how Edwina had told her what drinking could do to a child. Just one little brandy…she was going to have a bastard anyway.
The thought brought a choking sensation to her, and she hurried to her window, anxious to inhale the night air. She was no naïve child, and she hadn’t been when she’d desperately traveled west from Maryland to reach her sister. She could be hard and determined herself, since she’d grown up with the manipulating man who’d managed to murder her natural father and get away with it smelling like a rose, a man who had become a renowned politician. A man with so many connections he’d followed her trail west. Rather than let him discover her, she’d wound up in a room with Sloan Trelawny—drinking whiskey to stall for time. And when the following morning had come, she had been furious. Furious with herself, for not trying to explain the truth, for allowing Sloan Trelawny to believe she was a novice prostitute. Furious with him. Because she could have lived with herself if she could believe she had made a sacrifice for Skylar’s and her own life. He had made the encounter more. He had made her see what making love could be, yet he had done so assuming he was educating a whore. When she had managed to depart at last, he had surely dismissed her as easily as his morning coffee. And when they had met again, she’d been stunned. And hateful herself. And now…
She could never tell him.
Fine! Then what was she going to do? Convince her sister that she was about to have history’s second virgin birth?
She could lie, of course, and tell Skylar that there had been a man back in Maryland.
Then she’d have to leave her sister. Skylar, now, of course, had Hawk.
And a world about to explode on them, the Sioux situation in the West was so tense.
Still…
Her head was killing her. She didn’t want to think anymore. One little sherry or brandy wouldn’t hurt her babe, she determined. It would definitely help her sleep, and she was desperate to sleep.
She pulled her blue velvet robe around her shoulders, quietly departed her room, and hurried down the stairs.
In the great hall, she saw a brandy decanter with glasses on a tray in the center of the huge dining table. She hurried to the table and poured herself a brandy.
A small one.
Edwina’s warning still disturbed her. She touched the glass to her lips, just tasting the brandy. She started then, swirling around, certain she had heard a noise coming from the hallway that led to the castle’s chapel. “Hello? Who’s there?” she demanded.
She thought she heard a sniffling sound in return. The cry, perhaps, of a lost child. “Hello, I won’t hurt you!” she called softly. “Who’s there, can I help you?”
She continued to hear the sniffling sound. She set down her glass and started down the dark corridor.
In her cottage,Edwina awoke with a start, staring up at the shadows of light and dark that played upon the ceiling.
She wondered what had wakened her.
She rose and moved restlessly to her window, looking out at the night. The moon was so nearly full.
An unease settled around her. Evil was afoot. She wished that she could do something about it, but she had no proof, no knowledge, just a feeling.
She had warned Shawna. And Sabrina Connor as well. And she had been overheard and taunted by the village drunk and ne’er-do-well for her pains!
That didn’t really matter, she told herself. She had been mocked before. Frequently. She should have told Lady Shawna more. She should have told her about the boy.
The wind suddenly rose. The door to the cottage suddenly banged inward.
A man towered in her doorway.
“You have come,” Edwina said.
He entered her cottage and closed the door behind him.
The wind continued to moan.
Clouds passed over the moon, then shifted away from it. It glowed yellow in the heavens. So very nearly full.
Sabrina foundthe door to the chapel open, and she slipped through it, certain that she could still hear a child crying. A lantern blazed on each side of the altar, but another beam of light cast a glow into the ancient chapel, and she saw that the door leading to the cemetery beyond had been left open. She knew that Shawna had recently brought a little boy to live at the castle, and though she mocked herself that it was too early for her to be feeling maternal instincts, she was still definitely worried. She couldn’t bear the sad, frightened sound of the sniffling.
Sabrina hurried through the chapel, past the thick castle walls, and into the cemetery.
It looked as ancient as the chapel. The remnants of ancient wooden crosses remained alongside stone Celtic crosses. Marble angels sat guard among simpler stones. Tall mausoleums rose to greet the dead of one family or another. Tombstones rose with dire messages for the living chiseled most sternly upon them.