Despair.
It was a terrible feeling, but something she couldn’tcontainasyetanotherdaypassed withouta singlepost from Ireland.
So, whenFrancineleft the house one afternoon in the carriage, and Locklyn had yet to call,Fallonfound her chance topen anotherdesperate pleato Father O’Leary.
She tieda green, velvet bonnet securely about herchin, threwher black,fur-lined cloak about her shoulders to keep out the chill of thegentlewind and rain,and made her way to the stables.
Since Abram was gone in the carriage with his mistress, Fallon took it upon herself to saddle her own horse. She’d visited the stable on several occasions to chat with the servant who had become a dear friend, and he’d showed her where everything was kept.Honey was glad to see her, snorting and tossing her head, for the mare had gotten used to Fallon’s frequent visits.
Climbing onto the horse’s back, she urgedHoneyinto agentlecanteras theyheadedtoward town.She didn’t wish for the mare to slip in the mud and injure herself. Her guilt would know no bounds if that occurred.
Whentheyarrivedin front of the postal office, Fallon attempted to dismount, but the rain had made thestirrups and the leather soles of her bootsratherslick. Her foot lost its purchase and she started to fall. With a cry of alarm, she held her breath, preparing for the impact of the soggy ground and a miserable ride back to Shawsea Hallas shedrippedwith mud.
However, insteadshefound herselfcaughtupin a pair of strong armsthat gently placed her steadily on her feet.She straightened her bonnet which hadgoneaskew and turned to thank thestrangerfromsaving her froma rather embarrassing encounter. However,thewordsstuckinher throat as shestood face to face withher savior.
“You haven’t chosen the best day to venture out of doors, Miss O’Malley.” Fallonshivered asthat smooth, familiar voiceaddressed her.
“Mr. Clare.” She hated that herownvoice was so breathless, but of all the people she expected to encounter, it certainly wasn’t him. Even in the rain with the droplets drippingoffhis hat, he was undeniably handsome. But then she remembered Josephine,andFallon’sadoration cooled considerably.She glanced around to see ifthe widow was around, anxiously awaiting his return,but there was no sign of her.Nevertheless, she couldn’t resist asking,“Is Mrs. Stuart not with you?”
“No.” His face abruptly shuddered. “She isn’t.”
She thought his reply was rather curious, but sinceshe reminded herself that it was none of her concern, she offered him an even dismissal, “If you’ll excuse me?”
She turned on her heel, but his words stopped her. “I’m surprised Locklyn didn’t escort you to town in his carriage, rather than allow you to succumb to the elements. That doesn’t seem rather gentlemanly of him.”
Fallon slowly faced him. She yearned to tell him that she preferred Locklyn didn’t escort her anywhere, but instead,her pride made her say, “I don’t require Mr. Durmor’s constant attentions. I’m quite capable of managing on my own.”
His dark eyes seemed to bore right through her. “I imagine that’s true.”
She turned todismiss himagain, but he caused her to hesitate for the second time. “Writing an old friend?”
Fallon turned sharply, wondering if there was a hidden inflection to his meaning.She glanced down at the sealed missive in her hand.“Not that it’s any of your concern, but it’s apriest, actually. One who was like a second grandfather to meback in Carraroe.I found I’ve needed his… council recently.”
Hegrinned, showing off those devilish dimples. “If you require absolution, I would be more than happy to hear your confessions.”
She crossed her arms. “I’m sure you would.Either way—” Sheshiftedher gazeto a distant point. “It’s not something you can help me with.”
“I suppose that depends on the request.”
Fallon eyed him skeptically. She wasn’t sure if he was being sincere or just mocking her. Either way, nothing was being solved standing out in the rain. “Good day, Mr. Clare.”
With that, she lifted her skirts and disappeared into the postal office, and this time he didn’t call her back.
***
Footsteps rapidly made their way alongthesecret cove where the Raven’s ship,Crimson Rosewasdockedin port near Southampton. The area around the massive vessel was wreathed in a cloud of dark, eveningmist, as the messenger was suddenly halted by a deep voicethat held a heavy Irish inflection. “What do you want,lad?”
At first,theboywho couldn’t have been more than thirteen years of age, was unable to speak. Hefinally appeared to recall his errand andheld up the paper he clutched in hisshakinggrasp, obviously anxious to complete the task at hand so that he could scurry away. “I… I have a note for the captain.”
Atticus watched the exchange from his position in the shadows on boardthedeck with a snort.The boy’s face paled visibly as his first mate stepped out of the shadows, while keeping his face wreathed in menacing darkness. He always knew Sean had a flair for the dramatic. But then, how else would the Raven and his crew keep their fearsome reputation? And he also knew that Sean just enjoyed teasing the lad, even though his father was the local post master and a firm supporter of the Irish cause.
“Just drop it there and go about your way. I’ll see that the captain gets it.” At the firm command, the boy nodded, dropping the letter so rapidly that one might have imagined it had suddenly caught fire in his hands. He all but ran backthe way hehad come.
Atticus heardSean chuckleastheboydisappeared from sightand walked over topick up the missive.Even from this distance, he could see the frown Sean wore ashe noted the seal from the diocese. It wasn’t often that the Raven received letters from Father O’Learyin England. It was dangerous to say the least, for if the correspondence wasintercepted by the wrong hands, it could mean the priest’s lifeas a traitor to the Crown. Ithad tobe important, indeed, if he dared to risk such a threat,but since Atticus had asked for a reply, he had been expecting it.
Sean headedup the gangplank and walked over to him. He held out the letter.“Thisjustcamefor you.”
Atticusbroke the sealand read the contents without a word, although his brows came together in aconsideringfrown.He studied thewordsfor a moment and thendropped his armwith a heavy sigh. Hereached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, not sure if he was relieved, or equally conflictedas before.
