Castles in the Air

Evelyn Trimborn

ISBN: 1-58345-019-X

168 pp. 5 x 8 Paperback $10.00

Poverty-stricken Irish aristocrat Alanna Lacy is at her wits’ end.  Enter property developer Bran Ryan, who offers her a way out of her desperate financial situation-marry him!  Faced with her father’s disapproval, and Bran’s spiteful ex-fiancee, can they build a future together, or will all their dreams go up in smoke?

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CHAPTER ONE

Wintry November sunlight flooded the sky.  As Alanna Lacy peered out of the elegant bay window, she noticed a taxi pulling up to the marble stairs at the front of the Castle.
“Oh dear, visitors,” she sighed aloud.
Alanna felt rather weary, and wondered if she could get her maid Alice to lead this conducted tour.  But something about the appearance of the tall, raven-haired man dressed in thick sheepskin jacket over an expensively elegant business suit intrigued her. Alanna removed her apron and tidied her long gown and hair briefly, before going to meet the new arrival in the foyer.
Much to her surprise, she saw he was carrying two suitcases.  She indicated for him to set them down beside her desk so that they would be safely out of the way.
“And where is Mr. Lacy, Mr. Marcus Lacy?” the man inquired briskly in a strong American accent.  “I need to speak to him right away.”
Alanna went white with shock and fear.  She stalled for time as she said, “He isn’t here at the moment, but I handle all the Castle business. May I ask what you wish to see him about?”
“I’m not in the habit of discussing my business matters with servants and underlings,” the man declared in a deep voice as he shrugged out of his sheepskin coat.
Alanna fumed at his curt dismissal.   “How dare you!  I am Alanna Lacy, owner of this castle, and Marcus’ wife.  I am not a servant.”
The stranger looked her over again with renewed interest, but also with bemusement in his deep blue eyes, which seemed to assess her from head to toe with one all-encompassing glance.
Finally he said, “You will forgive me, madam, but I believe it was an honest mistake.  I thought your dress was a sort of uniform for working around Castle Lacy, to give the place an authentic feel.  I didn’t mean to insult you.”
Alanna looked up into the deep blue depths of his eyes as he moved closer to her to shake her hand, and said with a haughty lift of her chin, “It’s not a uniform, these are my clothes.  You’ll find us very traditional and set in our ways around here, but of course the Victorians did have a point.  These skirts and petticoats are heavy, but very warm, especially with our Irish winters.”
“Well, enough of the idle chatter about the weather, Mrs. Lacy. I need to speak to your husband regarding a business matter.”
“Forgive me, but I don’t even know your name, and I suspect that if my husband did have any business arrangements with you, it must have been quite some time ago, for he certainly hasn’t mentioned it to me recently,” Alanna said smoothly, as she led him into the drawing room where there was a fire burning briskly in the grate.
It must have been ages ago, for Marcus had been dead for over two years.  Why was this man here?  And now, of all times? She decided to deal with this unexpected turn of events very cautiously indeed, and tried to assess the stranger by inviting him to stay to tea.
He accepted gratefully, and followed her into the drawing room.
“I’m sorry, I am behaving rather impetuously, I know.  I’m Bran Ryan, of the Ryan Corporation. I should have telephoned, either from New York, or at least from Shannon airport, but I had business over here, on the Continent, actually, and I really wanted to come see the place for myself first, before saying anything to you or your husband.
“Well, one look up the long drive told me it was like a fairy tale come true.  If you don’t mind putting me up for a couple of days, Mrs. Lacy, I think we can come to some sort of business arrangement.”
“And just what sort of business are you in?” Alanna asked him politely.
“Tourism, the same as yourself, only on a much larger scale. We have safari parks, resorts, fun fairs, all sorts of sites where people go to be entertained.  Your husband approached us to see if we would be willing to develop Castle Lacy.”
“Develop it in what way, exactly?”
“I’m not quite sure yet.  You’ve got a vast and historically important house here, but also a huge amount of land.  Maybe a safari park, like Longleat in England.  There would even be enough land left over for a small fun fair as well.  I have all the figures here in my briefcase, but I need to take a look at the place for myself before I come to any conclusions,” Bran said in a very businesslike manner which told her this was a man accustomed to always getting exactly what he wanted.
Alanna’s feelings swirled inside of her, so that she could hardly think clearly.  This man was here to buy Castle Lacy, to set her free of all the problems she had had ever since the family fortune had dwindled, and Marcus had died. She didn’t like the sound of the safari park one bit, but she couldn’t afford to chase him away just yet, not without allowing him to consider its possibilities, and maybe make an offer.
But Alanna didn’t want to appear to be too enthusiastic or eager either, in case he took advantage of her desperate position, which was why she also decided for the present not to tell him that Marcus was dead.
“Well, Mr. Ryan, I must say that you have come a long way, and at a great deal of expense to see us, but I am afraid my husband is very busy running the estate at the moment, and as I said, he leaves all the business decisions to me.  May I just say though, that he never mentioned you to me, but a Mr. Cheevers in New York, I believe, with whom he had gone to school.   Do you represent this Mr. Cheevers?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes, for I bought the company from him about three months ago, and as I said, I found the correspondence between Cheevers and your husband in the files.  Admittedly the letter was dated from  some time back, and you may have changed your minds since, but you’ll forgive me if I observe that it must be quite a place to manage and keep up, especially for a girl as young as yourself,” he said with a smile.
Alanna wondered if he thought flattery would help him, for she was twenty-five, and felt anything but young.  Indeed, she felt washed out and plain in her black dress, and often longed to wear something more cheerful.  But her father had insisted she remaining in mourning for Marcus, as though he had been some saint, or as if he had been the one and only love of her life and she would never marry again.
As Alice brought the tea things in, Alanna heard herself say, “Alice, can you prepare the blue room for Mr. Ryan, who will be staying with us for a few days.”
She knew she was letting herself in for all sorts of problems, not least financially, for they were always so poor that scrimping and saving was a full-time job, but the temptation of selling the house, of escaping from this mausoleum, filled her with renewed hope.
Alanna became quite animated over tea, and more than once she and Bran laughed together like old friends as they chatted about Bran’s journey from New York.  He told her all about the Big Apple, and she described the countryside around her home enthusiastically.
“We have a number of stately homes in the area, and a great deal of woodland.  It is excellent country for riding, farming, and rearing cattle.”
“I imagine it must be, but I detect a hint of bias in your voice, Mrs. Lacy.  Were you born around here, or did you marry into the area, so to speak?”
She blushed under the intense scrutiny of his dark blue eyes.  “I was born here.  Apart from studying in London for a time, I’ve lived here all my life.”
“I’ve lived in New York all my life.  But now that I am getting older and wiser, I find myself longing for a change of pace,” he confessed candidly.  Then he looked away to stare out of the window moodily, almost as though he feared he had given away something too personal.
Seeing his hard, wary look, Alanna simply sipped her tea in silence, and waited for him to finish his cake and sandwiches. She noted that he had stopped eating so heartily as he had been a moment before.  No doubt a powerful businessman like him must have many worries, she reflected, curious about his life despite her fears.
It was not simply her fear of him discovering the truth about Marcus being dead.  She wondered why she was continuing to maintain the pretence of her husband still being alive.  In the end, she had to admit that he frightened her.  He seemed to exude a raw masculine power which filled the whole room, almost suffocating her.  He was so tall, broad, well-dressed, sophisticated, so, so, physical…
“Whenever you are finished, Mrs Lacy, I should like a tour of the house.”
Bran’s voice broke into her reverie, and she stared at him absent-mindedly for a moment.
“Oh, yes of course, the house.  If you're ready?”
Bran nodded and rose from the sofa.
Once he had had a good look around the drawing-room, she took him on a tour of the whole house.  She showed him the library, the study, ballroom, morning room, and dining room, as well as the elegant little chapel on the first floor of the house.
Alanna normally recited the little lecture she had written long ago by rote, but in the deepening twilight, she could suddenly sense a certain romance about the place, and tried to inject some enthusiasm into her talk as she led Bran around.  After all, she was trying to sell the place to him, wasn’t she?
“The house was started in the early eighteenth century, near the site of an older, more traditional castle, the ruins of which are still standing outside in the park.  The main body of the house was finished by 1720, but the long arcades you saw outside were added in about 1770, and connected it to the two pavilions which were built at the same time.  The pavilion on the left houses the chapel, and the right one has the ballroom, with some fine views out over the hills beyond through the French windows.  All the marble was imported from Italy, at vast expense.  All the plasterwork you see on the walls and ceilings was done in 1755, and it has held up remarkably well.”
Bran nodded and smiled, and admired each room in turn as she led him through.
She conducted him on her usual guided tour for the guests who came to visit the Castle, an idea she had had several years ago when she had discovered that the family was appallingly poor.
Of course her father had raged and protested that they would be robbed blind, but by that stage most of their valuables, including all of her jewellery apart from her wedding ring, had been sold anyway.  There had still been the furniture, of course, but Alanna had had to start selling that bit by bit as well.
Though their family treasures and heirlooms had sold well, Alanna had recognised the need for a steady income, so in spite of her father’s objections, she had opened the most presentable parts of the Castle to visitors, and offered homemade souvenirs and teas. It was exhausting work, but she had had no choice.
Given a choice, she would have worked as an art historian and restorer of fine paintings and furniture, but that was not to be. Her father and Marcus had left all of the responsibilities of the estate to her, although her training didn’t go entirely to waste around the house.  Marcus, Alanna’s cousin, had owned his own antiques business, so she was able to do some restoration work.  Marcus’ parents had both been killed in a car accident when he was quite young, so he had come to Castle Lacy, to be raised as the only child and prospective heir to the Castle.
But then Alanna had been born, when Marcus was about fifteen, and he and Alanna had been brought up as brother and sister.  Alanna’s mother had died when she was ten, and had left the house to her daughter, but any income that she had had died with her.  For the first time Alanna discovered that while her father came from a family with a noble name, he himself had little cash or property of his own.
They had struggled on for a few years, until Alanna’s father had hit upon the idea of Marcus and she marrying.  Marcus was over thirty by that time, and had never shown any inclination to wed.  After much pressure from Mr. Lacy, he had given in.  As soon as Alanna turned sixteen, she was married quietly in a registry office, and Marcus began to support Castle Lacy with his earnings from his antiques business.
Alanna had grown restless by the time she had finished school at eighteen, and longed for a job of her own, so she had run away to London, with Marcus’ blessing, and trained at the Victoria and Albert Museum.  Ever since that time, she had helped Marcus, and his friend Gabriel, another antiques dealer who lived near the Castle, to restore the items that they  bought from sales and auctions.
Alanna had always known that there was something unusual about her marriage, for she had read enough books to tell her that couples usually shared the same room and even the same bed, yet she and Marcus remained as they always had been, like brother and sister.  The pieces all fell into place when she was about twenty, and walked in on Marcus and Gabriel kissing each other one day.
She had not been terribly upset; indeed, she’d felt quite sorry for Marcus, for it was obvious that the two of them were trapped in a caring but loveless relationship.  Given the opportunity, Marcus and Gabriel might have been very happy together, but duty had taken precedence over love for the sake of the Castle.
As if that were not enough of a sacrifice for Marcus to have made, as the years went by, Alanna’s father Gerald had become more and more demanding of Marcus’ money, time, and duty, especially his duty in producing an heir.
Alanna shook her head as the painful memories came flooding back, so that Bran Ryan, standing by her side, asked, “What is it?  Did I say something wrong?”
“No, not at all.” She smiled up at him sadly. “I was just thinking of something else for a moment.  Like someone walked over my grave, is the expression we’d use.”
Bran admired the chapel and said, “Is this where you were married?”
“No,” she replied distractedly.  “Father was in too much of a hurry to bother with a church wedding, and there was no money either.  I didn’t even have a wedding gown or any guests.”
Bran looked at her sharply, and inquired, “How many children have you and Marcus got?”
“None.  Why?” Alanna asked, and then suddenly coloured as she realised what conclusion Bran had jumped to.
He was eyeing her up and down so intently, she fell as though she couldn’t breathe.
 “No, it wasn’t like that, we were just very much in love and didn’t want to wait,” she lied, nearly choking on the words.
Bran looked even more grim and forbidding than he had done a moment before. “I think were should have a look at  the upstairs now.”
She stared at his broad back and shoulder as he turned away from her, and marched up the winding stairs.
Alanna sighed.  Let him think what he likes.  It hardly makes a difference what he thinks of your character, she reprimanded herself silently.
As she showed him the rooms upstairs, she gave a brief account of each room, and the history it had witnessed.
“This is the red room, where it is said that George II slept, and left this miniature of himself as a gift to the owner, Gerald Lacy, whom my father was named after.  The gold room is reputed to be haunted by the ghost of an overeager sportsman, who died in 1782 after a particularly vigorous day out fox hunting.
“Your own bedroom, the blue room, was visited by Mrs. Reginald Hargreaves, the original Alice for Alice in Wonderland, and the green room is where Lewis Carroll stayed.
“My own room, the white room, was slept in by Pope, Fielding when he was writing Tom Jones, and also William IV, amongst others.  I’m afraid the other rooms are all in a fairly poor state of repair, but there are some fine pieces of furniture in them, if you would care to see them.”
Bran nodded, and she led him from room to room quietly, while he made notes on all that he saw in a small book.
“How many bedrooms in all?” he asked.
“Sixteen, plus there are servants’ quarters upstairs, enough for ten servants, or store rooms, or workrooms.  I’ve knocked two walls down to make a workroom for myself to do my restorations.”
“Right, I’d like to see them all, if you don’t mind,” Bran requested.
 Alanna, though tired, assented, and showed him the way. As she showed him around, the enormity of selling her home suddenly struck her.  She wished she could consult Marcus about this brash young American with penetrating eyes who had come upon her by surprise.  She missed Marcus.  It had been true when she said they had loved each other, after their own fashion.  Perhaps they could have been happy together in their own way, and then none of this would have happened, she pondered.
 But her father had put far too much pressure on Marcus to live up to his expectations, and as his antiques business declined because of the economic recession, Marcus had looked for a way out.  Her father carping on about having children, “being normal,” as he phrased it, was what had finally pushed him over the edge, Alanna was convinced of that.  Marcus had loved Gabriel.  It was impossible for Alanna and he to pretend to be a loving couple and  have a child together.
Alanna recollected with a terrible pang how it had all ended so tragically.  Marcus had sold all of his possessions worth selling, and left the money in a bank account for Alanna.  Alanna found him hanging in the barn one morning when she had gone to feed the horses.
Her father had been devastated, and had blamed Alanna bitterly for a long time, but Gerald Lacy had soon realised that he was dependent upon her to keep the Castle going.  So he had agreed to all her economies, tourists, and any other means Alanna could find of making money.  The distraught Gabriel was still a close friend, and gave her as much restoration work as possible, but she had still been forced to sell the family heirlooms bit by bit.
As she followed Bran Ryan around the castle, a little voice said to her, “Why not?  Why not sell, once and for all?  Have some freedom for once in your life?”
But just as persuasively, another voice told her that Bran was a threat.  He might destroy the Castle, the village, the entire countryside for miles around.  These big corporations “developed” according to their own notion of the word.  To other people it might look more like destruction.  It was possible that Bran Ryan might be offering her a way out, but he might also change the estate beyond all recognition. The ancient forest, a splendid wildlife habitat, and even the house itself, might all be swept away if she sold Castle Lacy to him.
“Well, Mr. Ryan, I think I’ve shown you just as much of the house as you need to see for the moment, so if you would like to get comfortable, here is the blue room again, and I will leave you to settle in while I see about dinner.”
Bran came down the stairs with her for his suitcases, but remarked, “I’ve seen the house that’s true, Mrs. Lacy, but I shall need to see the grounds as well.”
“But, Mr. Ryan, it will be getting dark fairly soon.  You couldn’t possibly see all of it tonight.”
“I know, but I feel like taking a walk in the fresh air, so if you don’t mind coming with me, I’d like to make a start.  I’ve been cooped up on an aeroplane for hours, so please say yes.”
He smiled at her, and her breath caught in her throat at his stunning handsomeness.  The black hair, but delicate white skin, set off in stark contrast the shocking blue, fathomless eyes.  His strong jaw and even white teeth were perfect, and his lips looked full of passionate promise.
Alanna shook herself.  She had never imagined herself thinking of a man in that way, and Bran Ryan was the last person she could allow herself to fantasise about romantically.  She simply could not afford to trust him, and it was imperative she stay in control of any dealings they might have about the house.
“All right, Mr. Ryan, if you insist on seeing the estate, dress warmly, and meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes,” Alanna said quietly as she backed away.
“I will indeed, and thank you.”
His warm fingers stretched out to caress her arm, and Alanna felt as though she had been burnt by the contact.  She turned away from his sorching gaze to fetch her cloak, and prayed his stay would not be a long one.    He seemed to have the strangest effect upon her.

CHAPTER TWO

Alanna went down to the kitchen to inform Alice to add more potatoes and vegetables, since they had so little meat for dinner.  Business had been slow recently, and she was beginning to wonder how they were going to make it through the winter.
Her father had sold the last of the livestock recently, though without her permission, so that they were now having to buy everything from the village, or go out and kill it themselves.  Alanna hated shooting the game birds, but often she was forced to do it herself if her father were too lazy, or Gabriel too busy. She cursed her father silently for interfering, always making things worse just when she thought she had got on top of things.  She ardently hoped he was not going to butt in with Bran Ryan’s affairs here.
When Alanna went upstairs to the foyer, Bran was already waiting for her, and she noticed that he had changed from his formal business suit to a pair of jeans, shirt and warm cable-knit jumper.
“Don’t you think you should bring a coat?” she suggested, as she pulled her cape over her shoulder and did up the ties that held the two edges together.
“No, I think I will be fine like this.  It seems very mild her for the time of year, and of course New York gets a lot colder than this.”
Alanna noticed a pale watery sun setting as she went out the front door, and shivered slightly.  Her long dress rustled on the dead leaves underfoot, and they walked into the woods at the side of the house silently.  Soon they came to a ruined wing of the old castle, and Alanna said, “This was finished in about 1393, but it was never a good job, because of course by then the skills in  building mediaeval fortresses had gone into decline, so it was really never more than a fortified house, in the local reddish sandstone. It was blown up during a siege in 1643, and the family fled to live with the cottages in the village nearby, until their fortunes improved when Charles II came to the throne in 1660.”
As they stood admiring the ruin, a small young deer came crashing out of the thicket on the  right, and raced past them.  They both instinctively clasped one another, partly  startled, partly in awe of the beauty they had witnessed together.  Alanna enjoyed the feel of his sure touch on her shoulder, but she also felt she had to keep her distance from his powerful stranger.
“Sorry, I got a bit of a shock there.  It’s good to see there are so many deer still in the forest,” Alanna said quietly, disentangling herself from his grasp and going ahead of him on the narrow path.
“I imagine you would get a lot of poaching,” Bran said conversationally.
“Not really, the locals around here usually go halves with us on whatever they shoot.  My friend Gabriel also helps in that department, but I must admit, I get sick of venison, thinking about where it comes from.  I know I shouldn’t be so sentimental.  There are lots of pheasant, pigeon, woodcock, grouse, rabbits as well, but I'm not very good at killing them, so I leave that up to Father, or Marcus,” she added hastily.
Bran remained silent for several minutes, and he could see his very active and calculating mind taking in the whole scene. She wondered if he was beginning to get put off by the idea of developing the estate, when he said, “Well, I guess they could all go to feeding lions in a safari park.”
Alanna felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. All those animals, killed for imported lions, who would ruin the estate?  Who did this man think he was, God?
She remained silent, but all the time she was agonising over her decision to allow Bran to stay.  Of course she wanted to sell, didn’t she?  It would solve all of her problems.  But at the same time, to think of her home destroyed beyond recognition, was too painful to contemplate.  True, she wouldn’t have to live with the consequences, for she would be long gone, in London or Paris, or anywhere she could find a job in a museum.  But she was not so irresponsible that she could allow the Ryan Corporation to ruin a place which essentially had been untouched for centuries.
Alanna began to think him arrogant and overbearing, and extremely ignorant.  She began to point out the different trees and their relative ages, trying to give him a sense of the preciousness of what he was looking at.
“And of course it is a bit too far now, but you will have to see the village.  It was laid out as a model village in 1786, and to this day all the cottages are still thatched.  We still have a blacksmith, and travel everywhere on horseback, though of course some of us have cars or vans for longer journeys.
“Much of the estate is still working farm, though we haven’t had as much success with the livestock recently as we had hoped,” she lied.  “There used to be ornamental gardens near the house, but in the last century the owner decided it was too much of a problem keeping useless flowers, so he turned it into a Victorian kitchen garden full of useful herbs.  We also still grow our own vegetables.
“We’ve started foresting some of the trees, very selectively, and the carpenter in the village has been making some fine furniture out of it, which he sells from a fair sum in Dublin.”
He admired and asked a few intelligent questions, but all the time she could see him weighing the place up as an investment, not a place of natural beauty.
“As you can see, Mr. Ryan,” she finally found herself saying, “it would be criminally irresponsible, not to say completely foolish, to destroy what exists here for the sake of a safari park. And I don’t think I would be willing to sell to someone who was so cavalier about developing the place just for the sake of getting what they can out of this place financially.  It isn’t just a house and estate, it is a way of life.  There are farms, and tenants, and a village here, all attached to Castle Lacy.  It can’t all just be swept aside.”
“It can if I buy it.” He grinned wolfishly.  “If I purchase this place, I can do whatever I like.”
“That’s a big “if,” Alanna pointed out haughtily, “because I don’t have to sell to you if I don’t choose to.”
“Forgive me for pointing this out, Mrs. Lacy, but the matter has nothing to do with you, really.  Your husband Marcus contacted me to do business, and if he decides to sell, I will give him a fair price.  And forgive me for also saying that I can see you have been financially desperate for a long time, so I think you will sell, and gladly too, for all your high talk of principles and conservation now,” Bran declared with a sophisticated hauteur that made Alanna’s blood boil.
Alanna eyed him coldly as he towered over her, and she hoped she looked braver than she felt as she said, “Nothing would make me change my mind about my principles, Mr. Ryan.  If you want to destroy the beauty of centuries for the sake of a few tourists, then I suggest you look elsewhere.  I don’t have to suffer your arrogance, nor are we so desperate that we would sell to an unscrupulous man like you.”
Bran grabbed her by the shoulder before she could storm away, and demanded, “Now hold on!  Don’t jump to any conclusions about me just yet.  I haven’t got any definite plans, which is why I have asked to stay and see the place over the next several days.  So don’t report back to your husband that I am a complete swine without giving me a fair chance.”
Alanna looked up at him, and saw he was sincere.  Also, he looked fairly human, not like the devil with two horns she had just painted him.  She stared at him, spellbound, for a few moments, before she reached up and touched his hands briefly as they rested on her shoulders.
“All right,” she said, pulling her eyes way.  “I won’t make any hasty decisions if you won’t.  If you promise me that you will consider everything you see here carefully, then we will consider your offer equally carefully when the time comes.”
“Thank you, Alanna.” Bran smiled down at her, and she wondered why she liked the sound of him saying her name so much.
As they walked along, she pointed out the hills and their different names, and identified the birds that flitted past.
“Alanna, now there is an unusual name. What does it mean?”

She blushed and bent her head as she replied, “It’s a family name, my mother gave it to me.  It’s Irish for beautiful.”
He smiled again. “It suits you, I must say.”
Alanna hurried further on up the path  away from him. He was just too near, too magnetic.  She had never really spent much time alone with men before, and certainly never with a man like Bran Ryan.
As she neared an old wooden bridge, she saw that the river was up quite a bit from the last time she had been there.  In fact, it was lapping up very close to covering the bridge itself, so she called over her shoulder, “Don’t slip!”
She picked up her heavy skirts, and carefully watched where she placed her high boots as she made her way across.  Once safely on the opposite bank, she put her skirts back down and busied herself with picking some holly with berries on it for Christmas.
Suddenly Alanna heard a thump and a splash behind her. Whirling around, she peered desperately into the twilight, but could not see Bran anywhere.  Looking down, she realised to her horror that he had fallen through a crack between the slats of the bridge, and the river was churning and bubbling up through the gap that he was firmly wedged into.  He was definitely in danger of being sucked under, so she had to act quickly.
“Hold on, Bran!” she cried, as she ran down to the bridge. She pulled at his arms and vainly tried to catch hold of him, but her hands kept slipping away.
“Here, wedge yourself on either side of me, and pull,” Bran ordered.
She sat down with her legs astride him and firmly braced on the remaining boards.  She only hoped that they weren’t rotten as well.
“Now, I’ll grab your shoulders, and you lean back,” he commanded, shouting above the sound of the swirling water.  “Try to reach down and grab my belt.”
Alanna leaned forward, and felt the smooth leather under her hand.  She grasped it firmly with both hands, and said, “Right, I’ve got you.  Hang onto me, and try to see if you can push up with your feet.”
“I’ll try.  Ready?  One , two, three.”
At the count of three, Alanna heaved with all her might, until she thought her arms would come out of their sockets.  But she felt him rising up out of the gap, so she strained even harder. His strong hands gripped her firmly, and she felt his soaking body slide upwards over hers.
Before she knew it, they were both laying on the bridge gasping and panting.  Her relief at his safety turned to one of dismay at the intimacy of him laying on top of her.  She looked into his eyes for an instant, before trying to shake him off and get up.
“Are you all right?” he asked, as she struggled for breath. Then he rose.
Embarrassed, she tried to smooth down her wet muddy skirts, which had risen well up above her knees.  Her breath finally filled her lungs in a great gasp, and she shuddered as the cold wind hit her clammy skin.
Alanna willed herself to deal practically with the situation before her as he offered her a hand up.  They were miles away from home, it was freezing, and he was drenched.
“Are you hurt?” she panted, as she began to unbutton her cloak.
“I’ve turned my ankle, I think, but apart from that I feel all right, just soaked.”
“It’s about two miles back to the house, so I think you’d better try to walk back with me, rather than wait while I went to fetch help.”
“You’re absolutely right, but it will take me some time.   Why don’t you head back on your own, and I’ll follow.”
“Don’t be silly, “Alanna said impatiently. “ It will be pitch dark soon, and then you’ll never find your way back.”
She continued removing her cape, and then turned her back while she took off all her voluminous petticoats.
“Get your jeans off,” she commanded, “before you catch your death, and put these on,” she ordered, holding them out to him with a defiant look.
“You are joking!” he snorted in disbelief, as he looked her up and down darkly.
“Not at all.  They’re only a bit damp, and they’re made of flannel.  They’ll be far warmer than you limping all the way home in your soaking jeans,” she said firmly.
As if to testify to the truth of this statement, a cold wind whistled through the trees, and Bran began to shiver.
“Come on, take them off.  We can’t stand here all night!” Alanna exclaimed impatiently.
But the jeans wouldn’t come off, for they were firmly plastered to Bran’s muscular thighs, and his hands were shaking so badly he could only grasp them weakly.
“Lie down!” Alanna ordered, and with a few quick tugs, she took off his shoes and socks, and stripped his legs bare.  Then she hauled his jumper and shirt over his head, and pulled the petticoats over him and down to his waist.  She firmly knotted the drawstring, and then helped him shrug into her jacket and cloak.
When he stood up, she looked down, and said, “Well, they’re a foot too short on you, but they’ll have to do.”
“I don’t believe I have just be stripped naked and dressed in women’s clothes,” he laughed.  His eyes seemed to bore into her.
“I know it won’t do wonders for your macho image, but it’s better than freezing.  Come on now,” she insisted, as she helped him put his shoes back on.
 She shivered slightly in only her blouse and skirt, but she gathered up their wet things and then put her arm around his waist for warmth and support.
“Just lean on me, and concentrate.  We’ll be back in front of a roaring fire before you know it.”
She led him down the path towards the house, and tried to keep up a stream of inconsequential chatter to pass the time and fight off the strange thoughts that lurked in her mind.  How could she have taken off her clothes like that?  Worse still, how could she have taken off his clothes like that?  She’d never even been so close to a man before, yet now, she was actually enjoying the feel of his arm around her, and the weight on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry to be such a nuisance,” Bran said, but Alanna brushed it aside.

“Not at all, Mr. Ryan, I fish people out of the river every day,” she said coldly.
“Do you usually strip total strangers every day, and give them your clothes?”
“No, I do not, but the occasion seemed to demand it.  Are you complaining?” she challenged, trying to regain her composure.
“No, indeed I’m not, I’m just wondering what other delights you have in store for me when we get home.”
“Don’t be silly, needs must when the devil drives, Mr. Ryan. I may find you the most arrogant and loathsome man I have ever had the misfortune to meet, but I’m hardly cruel enough to abandon you in the woods on your own to die of pneumonia.”
“Mrs. Lacy, you do surprise me.  And what exactly is your  husband going to say when he finds us in such a shocking state?” Bran teased.
“I don’t think my clothes are that shocking.  Rather demure, I would say, even on you, with a foot of bare leg showing,” Alanna said with a laugh.
“You know what I mean,” he said quietly.
“Don’t bother you head with problems that won’t arise,” Alanna said quietly.  “After all, this it’s perfectly innocent, just a small crisis, nothing to be ashamed of.”
Bran remained silent, and they trudged on in the ever-growing darkness.  The path seemed much longer than Alanna remembered, and as they laboured back to the house, the going was made more precarious by mud and slippery dead leaves underfoot.
“Look over there, Mr. Ryan, there are the lights of the house now.” Alanna pointed.  But suddenly they both lost their footing, and went sliding down the steep bank. “Damn,” she swore softly, as she landed firmly on a tree root.  Bran came tumbling down after her, and landed on her legs.
“Are you all right?” she asked, as he gasped slightly.
She felt for him in the darkness, and her hand came into contact with his face.  She felt the coolness of his skin, and the slightest trace of subtle.  Fascinated, her fingers wandered down his neck to his broad shoulder, kneading, exploring, until suddenly she felt his mouth swoop down upon hers in a blistering kiss that sent her tumbling down all over again.
Alanna longed to stay locked in his embrace, but the cold air penetrated the thin fabric of her blouse.  She pulled her mouth away, and whispered, “We mustn’t.  It’s freezing out here, and we have to get back before they come looking for us.”
“You’re right, of course,” Bran said after a few moments of clearing his throat and trying to stand up on his own.
“I’m sorry,” he said hesitantly.  “You touched me, and I forgot myself.  It must be the romance of this place.”
Alanna scrambled up the bank ahead of him and then offered her hand to pull him onto the path again.
They went the rest of the way to the house without any further incidents, but neither spoke to the other after their kiss.

CHAPTER THREE

Once Alanna led him into the foyer of the castle, they were surrounded by worried servants.  Alanna commanded the butler to bring Bran to her room.
“Take him up straight away, Jenkins, and Alice, you fetch Mr. Ryan’s suitcases from his room, and bring them to mine.  I’ll have to sort out some clean clothes for him.  Then bring two hot whiskies, and as many hot water bottles as you can find.”
She trotted briskly up the stairs, and as she turned the corner, she caught Bran’s piercing blue eyes upon her.  Well, she thought, I must really look like a bedraggled wreck, but she had other things on her mind besides her appearance.  She made sure the fire blazed in her room first, then went into the bathroom and turned on the hot water tap.  She put in lots of bubble bath, and some soothing bath salts, before going back into the bedroom to switch on her electric blanket, and move a large armchair in front of the fire.  Just as the tub was nearly full, Jenkins appeared with Bran.
“In the bathroom, please, Jenkins.”
He did as she asked, and then looked at her inquiringly.
 “That will be all.  Just inform Mr. Lacy that I shall be down late.”
She caught Bran looking at her, but she merely said, “Right, just throw those things on the floor and get into the tub.  Shout when it’s safe for me to come in.”
A tap at the door brought Alice with the suitcases, and Alanna began to try to find something warm for him to wear.  After a few moments of searching Bran’s suitcases for clean nightclothes, she heard a splash and sigh, then his deep voice call out, “All right, safe to enter.”
Alanna peeped around the door, and saw that he was safely covered  up to the neck in a mountain of bubbles.
She bustled around getting towels out of the cupboard, and a bandage and some liniment.
“Are you warming up a bit?” she asked, but made the mistake of looking into his beautiful blue eyes.
“I’d be a lot warmer if you’d consider joining me in here.”
Alanna’s face flushed up to the roots of her hair.
“Of course I’ll share,” Alanna said, trying to sound nonchalant, “as soon as you are out of there.” She tossed her head, and marched back into the bedroom.
Alanna looked at the clock, and saw it was nearly seven. Her father would not be pleased at her tardiness, so she hastily searched her wardrobe for an easy evening dress to put on.  She found a white silk dress with a very full black over gown which looked extremely elegant, and had the added advantage of no fussy buttons or frills she couldn’t manage by herself.  Though it was very becoming, it still matched her father’s requirements that she wear mourning.
After a quick rummage in her chest of drawers for underwear and stockings, she went back into the bathroom to do her hair.
“How are you feeling now?” she asked, as she began to undo the sleeves and top buttons of her blouse.
“Better all the time.”
He held out a hand to her.  She was mesmerised by his smile, and was only saved from being drawn dangerously near the bathtub by a tap at the door.  Alice had returned with the tray of whiskies and some old fashioned stone hot water bottles, which they placed in the bed.
After Alice had gone, Alanna returned to the bathroom, and handed Bran a glass.  “Drink this, and I’ll just do my hair while you relax.”
She tried to untangle all the knots she had obviously got during their expedition to the woods, and after a great deal of brushing managed to get the unruly waves into some semblance of order.
“Incredible,” Bran admired in a rich deep voice.  “You look just like a Rossetti painting.”
While Alanna put her hair up into a high knot at the top of her head, she said, “I’m sorry, I took the liberty of looking through your suitcases, but I can’t find any nightwear.  I guess you must have travelled light from New York, and didn’t bother to bring any with you.”
 She turned to face him, and he smiled seductively. “I don’t really own any.  I find it gets in the way too much.”
Alanna frowned, and went out to her wardrobe.  She fetched out her own dressing gown, and a very baggy shell suit she had from her student days.
“Here, you can put these on when you get out of the tub,” Alanna offered as she placed them on the vanity unit.
Bran looked at them with a scowl, and said, “Really there’s no need to go to so much trouble, and I am sure your husband might object to my borrowing his things.”  He looked up at her with a penetrating stare, and her breath caught in her throat.
“They’re mine, I assure you.  They won’t be the best fit, but they are warm and comfortable, and they are extra large, so they’re better than nothing, aren’t they?”
“Definitely not,” he purred, but then saw his suggestive remarks were only upsetting her.  “Thanks, I um, didn’t want to be too much trouble.”
“You’d better get out before the water gets cold.  I still have to bathe and dress myself,” Alanna scolded, and shut the door behind her with a sigh.  She was relieved to be away from his magnetic presence for a few minutes and she gulped her whiskey recklessly in an effort to relax.
Soon he appeared at the door, and she directed him to the armchair in front  of the fire.  “Here, I’ll have to do up you ankle,” she said, holding up the bandage and liniment.  “Just hold still, and I will try not to hurt you too much.”
Alanna knelt down in front of him, and took his broad warm foot onto her lap.  She tested it gently, and said, “It’s sprained, but not broken, so I’ll put some arnica on for the swelling and bruising.  You’ll have to stay off it for a few days. If you’d like the local doctor to come out, I can go downstairs and ring him.”
“No, your gentle ministrations are really all I need. You have a magical touch.”
She smoothed the cream in and fastened the bandage securely.
“Right you’ll need to lie down now,” she said when she had finished, and helped him over to the bed.
“Can I persuade you to get in with me?”  he whispered, smiling softly.  “I’m sure you’re a lot warmer, and certainly a lot softer than these,” he said, holding up one of the hot water bottles with a wry face.
Alanna tried not to blush, and bit back a shocked remark she might have made.
“All right,” he sighed.  “I get the hint.  I’ll stop flirting with you, though it’s going to be damned difficult.”
Alanna gazed at him coldly.  “Your ‘charm,’ if you could call it that, is lost on me, I’m afraid, since you’re so obviously insincere.  I’ve looked in a mirror recently, and what I see there wouldn’t even launch a rubber duck, let alone a thousand ships. Now lie down and behave yourself while I get ready.  I’m late enough as it is, and my husband will be wondering where I have gone.”
She pulled the covers over him and placed the large chair cushion under his ankle to elevate it.
Then she disappeared into the bathroom, and had a very quick wash in the now tepid water.  After a few flicks of the towel, she pulled on her underclothes and struggled to pull the gown over her head without ruining her hair.  Then she went outside and put on the black gown, and surveyed her appearance in the mirror. No, definitely not Helen of Troy, Alanna reflected ruefully, as again she caught the blue eyes staring at her as though she were some sort of display in the zoo.
“Are you all right?  Your cheeks are rather flushed,” Alanna asked, as she went over to him and unthinkingly put a hand on his forehead to check for a temperature.  He reached for her hand, and placed a kiss on it before enclosing in firmly in his own.
“You are extraordinary, you know that, don’t you?” Bran whispered.
“Don’t be silly, Mr. Ryan, you make me sound like some sort of freak,” she muttered as she tried to pull her hand free.
“No, I mean it, there aren’t many people who would take me in like this, look after me, tend to my every need, especially someone who has been brought up in such a wealthy family.  You are really nothing like the woman I imagined you to be.”
“Look, Mr. Ryan, there is no need to thank me, or try to win me over with empty flattery.  You didn’t even know I existed until this morning, so how could you have formed any opinions about me at all?  I’m late.  Since you are not well, you won’t be required to meet Mr. Lacy tonight, so I shall have a tray prepared for you.” She pulled her hands from the warm caressing fingers, and wondered why she felt so cold and lonely once she was free.
“Try to get some rest, and here is your briefcase and some books if you get bored.”
“See you later, Mrs. Lacy,” he waved, as he settled himself back against the pillow with a volume of her favourite poems in one hand.
As Alanna rushed down the stairs and into the dining room, she met the cold accusing gaze of her father.
“You’re late!” he barked.
“I’m sorry, Father, but Mr. Ryan had an accident, and—”

“Yes, I’ve heard all about it, thank you.  What can you be thinking of, having a stranger in this house.  In your bedroom.  I will not have you behaving in so shameful a manner.  What will the servants say?” Gerald Lacy growled.
“Come now, Father, he thinks I am married, and besides, it would have been more harmful putting him in the freezing cold guest room.  I am twenty-five years of age, and I think I am old enough to judge what is appropriate or not.  Now, if he thinks you are my husband, not my father, all the proprieties will be respected, and he will go away tomorrow knowing he has no chance of doing business with us.  So just be polite to him, and keep up the charade. Then I shall escape completely uncontaminated by his presence,” Alanna added.
“Sarcasm does not become you.  I can’t imagine what he is doing here in the first place.  Who is he?”
Alanna took a deep breath, and said quietly, “Marcus wanted him to buy the Castle, so he’s come here to make an initial assessment of the possibilities for the site.”
“You must be joking, Alanna!” her father burst out.
“No, I’m serious.  He has only got around to it now because he’s had other projects in the pipeline, but now he’s here, on his way to other places in Europe.”
“Get rid of him!”
 Alanna remained calm.  “Father, look, he may not even think this place is suitable for his plans, and there  would be no question of my selling it to him unless I was certain that Castle Lacy and the estate would be preserved.  Marcus approached the company over two years ago because that company belonged to a friend of his, but Mr. Ryan has since taken that company over.  I don’t know if he can be trusted, so we will wait and see.”
“There is nothing to see!” her father bellowed, slamming his clenched fist down on the table so that the silver tinkled musically.  “He is to leave tomorrow, and we will have no more talk of selling Castle Lacy, is that understood!”
“But Father, you know we can’t—”
“I have other plans, and I shall inform you of them accordingly.  Until that time, you will obey my wishes, and the first thing you will do is get rid of that man.”
“Short of throwing him out in the middle of the road, Father, I can’t see how I can do that,” she said sweetly, but her eyes held a glint of anger in them.  “Marcus invited him, and he is now injured.  Perhaps he isn’t that bad, and we could sell to him if the price were right.”
“I have told you before, we are not going to sell.”
Alanna surprised even herself as her mask of dutiful daughter suddenly slipped out of place, revealing steel beneath that she had never known she possessed.
“Wake up, Father!  We have struggled to keep this place on year after year, and as much as Marcus and I loved this place, all our hard work just wasn’t enough.  It drained his company dry, until he went bankrupt.  You don’t want me to say this, but maybe he would still be alive today if it wasn’t for this house. Since he committed suicide, we have scraped through for the past two years, but we are running out of things to sell.  The big pieces would fetch a fair bit, but just how much longer could we keep on?  Five years? Ten if we starved ourselves?  I could get more of the antiques restored, but I need money, time, materials, and I need the strength to do it all on top of everything else I have to do around here.
“ I’m twenty five, Father. In ten years I will be thirty-five, with my youth wasted, and nothing left to sell.  I want to get out now, while I still have a chance of a life and career,” she argued forcefully.
“How can you be so selfish, Alanna?  This is our home, and you want to run off and have fun!” Gerald sneered, turning puce.
“Selfish!  You have the nerve to say that to me, after you forced me to marry Marcus?  After I had to struggle to get to university, and paid for everything myself by working as a waitress so I wouldn’t have to be beholden to either of you?  I am a trained professional art historian, father, and I could go to work in one of the best museums in the world, if I had my freedom.  No one is suggesting I am only out for a good time.  If I sell, you can keep all the money.  I will work for my living, and I don’t want a penny from you,” Alanna declared, stone-faced.
Her father saw she was completely serious, so he tried to alleviate her anger by apologising.  “I’m sorry, it seems I have been unfair.  I will come up with something, never fear.”
“Once and for all, if I can sell, I will.  But I refuse to let Bran Ryan or anyone else turn this place into a safari park, no matter how much he offers.”
“I shall ignore this conversation, my dear,” he said gruffly as he pushed his plate away and stood up from the table.
“You will make sure Mr. Ryan is gone within the next two days, as politely as possible, and I shall inform you of my plans. You have had a long day, and are no doubt a bit confused about things.”
He marched out of the room without a backward glance.
 Alanna gritted her teeth in frustration.  Why didn’t he ever listen to her?  She knew he had always been greatly disappointed by the fact that she was only a girl, but it had certainly suited his purposes to have a dutiful daughter who for so many years catered to his every whim.  Even her choice of career had been dictated by a burning desire to make him proud of her, and to help fit her for her responsibilities as head of Castle Lacy.  Marcus had supported her in every way, but the main burden of the estate had always fallen to her, for Marcus had been preoccupied with his antiques much of the time.
 But after all, he had had a choice.  He and his partner Gabriel could have been happy, but Marcus had felt duty-bound to marry her when her father Gerald had broached the subject just as she was about to turn sixteen.  After all, they were the last of the Lacys, so Marcus had felt he was doing the right thing.
Alanna had often wished Marcus, or even she, had had the strength to say no.  Marcus had been fifteen years older than her. He could have stood up to her father. Perhaps he might still be alive now if he had?  But then, where would she be?  She might never have got her qualifications.  She might have escaped from Castle Lacy, but into an even more difficult life.  There could have been plenty of worse men she might have been pressured into marrying.
She decided she would talk to Gabriel tomorrow, and get him to make an assessment of Bran Ryan’s character and plans for the Castle.  She trusted his judgment, and they were close friends in spite of everything.  Alanna often wondered if she should tell her father the truth, so he would stop mourning Marcus as the perfect husband and adopted son, but she decided it would be no use. It was better to go on living the lie, than confront him with a truth he would probably just ignore anyway.
As she stood up, Alice brought in Bran’s tray, and she said, “Thank you, Alice, I’ll take it up to him myself.  Then I am going to work for a few hours, so I’ll be upstairs if anyone needs me.”
Alanna walked quietly up the stairs, and listened at the door for a few moments before tapping on it and walking in.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d still be awake.  You must be exhausted, and you probably have jet lag as well.  How do you feel now?”
“I’m pretty sore in the ribs, where I got jammed into the gap in the bridge, but the ankle seems fine.  I don’t suppose you have any more of that wonderful cream?”
“Take off the dressing gown and jersey, and we’ll have a look at you,” she said, holding out the tube.
After a few feeble attempts to pull off the fleecy top himself, Alanna put him out of his agony by saying, “Here, you must hurt like the devil.”
She pulled it over his head, ruffling his thick black locks as she did so.  His broad back and chest glowed in the firelight, and his muscles rippled under his smooth bronze skin.
“Why is it every time we meet, you’re tearing the clothes off me,” Bran teased.
“Oh please, I’ve had enough of your childish remarks.  If you don’t want my help, I’ll just go,” Alanna muttered, and began to rise from the bed.
“No, I’m sorry,” he apologised, grabbing her firmly before she could slip away.
“Then hold still, and I’ll put some on.”
She rubbed him vigorously, and she heard a few sharp intakes of breath as she did so.
“Sorry, I know it must hurt, but I am being as gentle as I can,” Alanna said, frowning as she studied the deep purple bruises on his sides.
When she finished, she eased the top back over his head and down his arms and chest gently, and then went into the bathroom as much to wash her hands as avoid his sharp blue gaze.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll just change out of these clothes, and then I’ll leave you to rest.”
“No, don’t change. The gown is lovely.  You look like a princess.” He smiled lazily, but she shook her head.
“So did Cinderella, until she had to go back to her drudgery in the kitchen. I’ve got work to do, and the dress would only get ruined,” she said as she disappeared into the bathroom with her jeans and tee-shirt.
“What shall I do then?  I’m not sleepy,” he called through the bathroom door.  “Do you suppose you could ask your husband to look in on me for a few minutes if it’s convenient?  We could have a preliminary chat about business.”
Alanna froze.  She finished changing into an old shirt of Marcus’ and a pair of tatty, paint-bedaubed jeans, and came out to hang up her dress.
“Sorry, Mr. Ryan, not tonight, and at any rate I think it would be a waste of time.”  She nervously fidgeted with her hair, taking it down in a long rope before tying it up in a scarf.
He grinned.  “From princess to gypsy.”
 Alanna lost her temper then.  “I work long, hard, dirty hours.  You have no right to make fun of my appearance.”
“I wasn’t making fun,” Bran protested.  “I’m simply fascinated with the many sides of you I’ve seen tonight, business woman, fairy princess, nurse, lover...” he trailed off suggestively.
“You’re wrong there.  You forgot to mention wife while you were at it,” Alanna bit out as she tried to resist the nearness of him. “And I might as well tell you now, Mr. Ryan, that we have changed our minds.  Well, I certainly have anyway.  We are going to branch out into some other lines of work, so really there is no longer any pressing need for us to sell.”
“Now I am sure that if I spoke to your husband he might be prepared to deal with me,” Bran argued.
Alanna shook her head.  “No, there’s no need.  He leaves all the decisions up to me, so there’s no point trying to win him over.  Thank you for all you interest, but you are wasting your time, and you can leave tomorrow.”
“Just hold on a minute here.  I don’t believe you.  This place is falling down around your ears, and you tell me you have decided not to sell? Your husband must be totally besotted by you to let you make these decisions.  Or are you lying, and have a better offer from someone else?”  His eyes narrowed coldly as he studied her up and down contemptuously.
“No, no other offer.  I’ve told you the truth, so I’ll drive you to the station tomorrow, and that will be the end of it.  Go back to New York, and forget you were ever here.”
Alanna turned on her heel and left the room, hoping that her departure hadn’t looked like the headlong flight it really was.  She was terrified of his power, his magnetism.  He seemed to sap her resistance, to try to win her around, even when she struggled to remain firmly in control of the situation.  

A brilliantly moving romance. The couple are obviously made for each other, but doubts about themselves and their motives for being together keep them apart until it is almost too late for them to find happiness. I loved Ms. Trimborn's elegant style, and will certainly be reading more of her books in the future. - Annabelle Stevens

ISBN: 1-58345-019-X

168 pp. 5 x 8 Paperback $10.00

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