Druid's Daughter (9 page)

“Go ahead, my dear. I’ll listen to whatever you want to say
and then we’ll plan our wedding date. I’m not about to give up because of
whatever silly sin you think you must confess. But go ahead.”

Crossing his legs at the ankles, he hoped he appeared
perfectly at ease although he most certainly was not. He dreaded the next few
moments.

Viviane seated herself beside him, pulling a chair close
enough she could hold his hand. Ambrose watched her, but didn’t follow to her
side.

“I need to touch you for courage.” Her nervous laugh
revealed a true hesitancy. “I think I must start when I was sixteen and was far
along in my training for a Druid priestess. On Beltane, which is the celebration
of the summer solstice, a priest persuaded me the Goddess ordained I lie with
him, that my virginity was fated to be a gift to her through him. You might
know there can be a commingling of many initiates at that time, but never
unless the priestess or novitiate wishes it. Never, ever, can it be a matter of
false representation.”

She drew a deep breath and he started to reach for her, but
she waved him away.

“I became pregnant, from that one night. When I told the
High Priestess she was incensed, not at me for being pregnant, but for the
deception played on me. Druids revere life and while in your world I would be a
fallen woman, I was not to the High Priestess or to the Druids. I was not
chastised or ostracized in any way. A new daughter is always especially welcome
to them for training.”

Randall was rigid with anger. “And him?”

“He was dismissed from the Druid community. Druids despise
falsehood in any form. I do not know what happened to him nor do I care.”

She took a deep breath and continued. “When a girl was born
to me I knew one thing, I didn’t want to continue my training. The Druids would
gladly have given her to be fostered and then taken into their teaching. I
wanted to raise her myself. I named her Morgan after Morgan La Fay the
enchantress, Merlin the magician’s enchantress. I took the name McAfee as the
closest I dared come to La Fay. She is well named. My Morgan enchanted me from
the moment I saw her.”

Randall knew he must conquer his fury. When he thought he
had himself in control as he leaned toward Viviane, who sat in silence. Only a
slight twisting of her hands betrayed her distress at finally revealing her
past.

“My dearest love, please don’t go on. I can tell this is
difficult for you.” Randall took one hand and pressed it firmly in both of his.

“No.” Viviane’s sigh came from deep in her chest. “I’m
almost done.”

She took a long breath. “I left the Druids and became a
servant. My training for a priestess didn’t extend to teaching me to earn a
living. I only took work if Morgan could be with me. After about six years I
became housekeeper and then secretary to Lord Sinclair. He loved Morgan and
begged me to marry him and let him adopt her. He had a large library and we
were both given full rein. When he died he left me a good deal of money and I
bought a place in the country plus this townhouse. But I have never lain with
any other man except the false priest. I am untouched except for that one
horrible night.”

She got up and began to walk around the room with her
graceful glide. Brushing her hands across her eyes, she smiled with artificial
brightness.

“There. You have the whole story.”

Devon Randall said nothing for a long moment. He was filled
with emotion, so much so he hesitated to speak. He knew well he could not
express his fury at the bastard renegade priest. It would be useless in the
present circumstances and would just divert them both. Still, he realized he
must essay something.

What would be the best way to handle this? The deep pity
flooding his heart would not help her now. Nor would protestations her story
mattered little to him except to make him admire her all the more. Finally he
made up his mind to tell her at least one of his candid feelings.

“So? Have you decided how I’m to take all this? If I could
find your deceiver I’d gladly rid the world of his obnoxious presence, but
other than that, I don’t see your story has much to do with your refusing me.”

Viviane’s astonishment was written large on her expressive
face.

“Devon, I just told you I’m an unmarried mother with what the
world would call a bastard child. I have no impressive family background, in
fact I’ve worked most of my life. Outside of the training I received as a
Druid, I’ve educated myself. In addition, if my story were known, Lord
Sinclair’s leaving me money could be made into a nasty scandal.”

Devon rose and went to her, taking her lightly in his arms.
“You’re beginning to annoy me mightily, my dear. Do you think I’m so shallow
that what others say matters?”

Viviane paled. “Your position as a high government official
should make it matter. Your friends would shun me and perhaps you. You would be
ostracized in the world you cherish. I will not let you throw away all that.
Can you imagine what Queen Victoria would say?”

He tried to hold her to him, but she struck down his arms
and whirled away. Ambrose got to his feet and growled. Viviane shushed the dog
automatically and looked at Devon with what seemed to be true anger.

“You’re insane to want me. I’ll not permit such destructive
nonsense. I’ll not let you ruin yourself for a misguided passion. You may let
yourself out of the house when you’re ready.”

Before he could stop her she ran out the door and up the
stairs. Ambrose shot him a reproachful look and then trotted after his
mistress. Devon considered rushing after her, but the butler was starting
toward him and he hated to be forced to shove the poor old man around. And
Ambrose would not let him near Viviane in any case.

Devon took his hat and coat from Jackson, his every movement
slow as love for Viviane overflowed his heart. She was even more magnificent
than he’d ever suspected. He’d do anything to persuade her to marry him, but as
yet he didn’t have an idea in his rattled head.

First he must persuade her to see him again. He thought he
might manage to get past Ambrose, but then Viviane would likely refuse to even
speak to him. He had a horrible idea this siege was going to be difficult
indeed.

He’d stood gawking at her as she ascended, graceful even in
her distress. She slammed a door very hard after she’d reached the top of the
stairs.

Lord, what a magnificent woman!

Chapter Eight

Seated in his office the next day, Commissioner Randall
turned his focus from his own crisis to the one Lance described. He shoved his
personal problems aside with ruthless efficiency as he listened to the horror
story of the new murder.

“You’re absolutely right, Lance. The press should be given
as much information as you can without jeopardizing the case.”

“I shudder to remember the amount of criticism aimed at the
press in the Jack the Ripper case. I feel much of it resulted from the decision
to tell the newspapers nothing. I’m glad you agree, Sir.”

The two men, one the head of all of the Metropolitan Police
and the other the most revered inspector in the C.I.D., were in accord. The
Commander, never energetic, had chosen not to attend the meeting,

“This time we must be smarter.” Randall leaned back in his
chair and contemplated what the next step should be.

“I do agree.” Dellafield was now pacing around the room,
thinking on his feet. “Hopefully panic won’t ensue when the people of London
suspect another vicious serial murderer is loose. At least they’ll know their
police were doing their best to protect them.”

“Our plan is settled, then,” said the Commissioner and the
two shook hands as the cohorts and friends they were.

Lance decided to take a short walk before returning to his
own office. As he strode along, the irritations of the city’s dirt and noise
seemed to evaporate into the mellow air. He could not remember when London had
been blessed with a more lovely summer. Leaves of trees were still a shining
green, although they would soon change. Grass sprouted in the dirty cracks of
the pavement. Even the usual city odors seemed to be muted and a freshness
filled the air. London was always a fascinating city, but today it seemed even
more attractive. In such a beautiful world, how could anyone be driven to such
horrendous deeds as those he was now investigating?

He arrived back in his office with his thoughts a little
clearer. As he headed toward his inner room, Shriver put his finger to his lips
to shush him and then slowly opened the door. Throwing his sergeant a
questioning glance, Lance entered and discovered the delectable reason for
Shriver’s unusual behavior. Morgan lay curled up in a chair, fast asleep. Lance
stopped short as every nerve in his body came to exhilarating life.

Lance closed the door, softly and walked with care to look
down and exult in his beautiful Druid. No matter their intrinsic differences,
she was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen. She was lying curled with her head
resting on the arm of the chair. Her mouth in repose was curved almost into a
smile and her impossibly long lashes swept down on her creamy cheeks. Her hair
had come loose from its thick coil and several chestnut strands lingered over
her face and neck. Her breath in peaceful sleep barely moved her perfect
breasts. She far surpassed any female even of his rather fertile imagination.

He could not resist. He leaned down and kissed her
soft-as-satin skin. Her breath halted, then caught as she sat bolt upright.

“Lance!” He could not decide if her tone was delighted or
accusing. Maybe both.

He knelt beside her chair so their eyes were level. Her
fragrance drifted to him, a floral scent he could not name. He must ask her
sometime. He was sure it would be as unusual as the rest of her lovely self.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, my dear. I had no idea you’d
come to visit me.”

He felt himself subjected to one of her long, searching
glances. Then her face cleared.

“I can see you’re all right. I’m glad. I’ll come back
another time.”

She made an effort to rise but he stopped her.

“Oh, no, my girl. Not quite so fast. Why did you come? I
know you had a good reason. Now tell me.”

He stood quickly even as he leaned over and imprisoned her
in her chair with his long arms.

“I want to know what’s bothering you. If your mother and
Ambrose can’t fix the problem, it must be bad indeed.”

His tone was joking, but she didn’t answer his smile.

“Oh, I’m so foolish,” she muttered. “I feared you’d been
injured. I seemed to see your aura and it quite frightened me. It’s tinged with
black, even now. But I guess you escaped what worried me.”

Lance was unbearably touched, both that she’d seen danger to
him and also that she came scurrying to check on him. Had the murderer been in
the vicinity when he and his men examined the body? He smiled as he realized he
no longer dismissed her comments as completely foolish.

He turned away from her as his traitorous body let him know
how much just the sight of her affected him. If he told her how he appreciated
her concern he’d send her out the door in embarrassment. As well as committing
himself in a way he did not want to be committed.

“Well,” he said, “I thank you for a most thoughtful action.”
His tone was properly cool and she relaxed.

He willed his body to behave itself.

“I wonder if we should take this seriously,” she mused. “I
don’t as a rule foresee danger in an aura, but perhaps it’s possible. Yes, I
think you should be extra careful for the next week or so.”

He was glad his back was turned. What to do with a girl
whose beauty and integrity grabbed at his heart, but who honestly believed she
saw auras warning of danger? No use telling her a policeman was always in
danger. Actually he usually sat at his desk and directed others into possible
peril. He was not as often in the field as many of his men were.

Still she had come out of concern for him.

“If I promise to remember your warning, will it satisfy you?”

Her sudden grin was a pert delight.

“Not unless you remember in time to avert an injury and not
afterward.”

He laughed at her quick wit. “Let me tell you about two new
murders.” he said. “We’re giving the details to the newspapers in about an
hour, so you’ll soon be able to read about it. I’d rather tell you the whole
story myself.”

After one horrified glance, she settled back in her chair as
he sketched the details. He briefly told her of the first killing, then moving
on and leaning more heavily on the latest one.

“The same evil man, do you think?”

“I most definitely think so. His method was the same and
again he killed a poor and young prostitute. Why the startled look, my dear?”

Morgan gazed intently at her fingernails. “I was thinking of
Mr. Gladstone and his admirable work trying to rescue prostitutes from their
miserable life. Too bad someone like him couldn’t have saved these two before
this monster got them.”

Lance looked his surprise. “How strange, Morgan. I had the
same thought the other day. But not only are these thoughts of ours immaterial,
but this monster, as you call him and as he certainly is, would merely have
picked another two victims. In any case, I always thought it stupidly reckless
for the Prime Minister to jeopardize his career as he did.”

Red spots flared in Morgan’s cheeks. “Just like a man! I
think Mr. Gladstone was a saint to try to improve pitiful creatures’ lives. In
spite of malicious criticism.”

“And I think he was a fool,” said Lance in one of his cooler
tones. “He almost destroyed his ministry in spite of being warned to desist.”

Morgan glared at him and rose to leave, but Lance put out
both his hands and stopped her.

“I apologize. Not for my opinion, which is honest, but my
stupidity in voicing it. And he’s dead, my dear. Let’s not argue over long-ago
policies.”