Summer's Bride by Catherine Archer

Author:Catherine Archer
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-04-14T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Marcel paused at the entrance of the hall at Glen Rowan, viewing it with some interest. It was longer and narrower than the wide, open chamber he had run and played in as a child at Brackenmoore. The time-darkened beams hung lower over the tables. The tall stone hearth burned low and the room glowed with the light of many candles. Due to the late hour, the tapers along the walls cast more light than the tiny windows that ran along the very top edge of the outer wall. He suspected that this portion of the keep was far older than the one where the bedchambers lay, the windows there being larger and paned with glass.

He was immediately approached by one of his aunt’s servants, a matronly lady of ample girth, who curtsied and said, “I am Eveline, Lord Marcel.”

His brows arched in surprise. “You know me?”

“I came to this keep with my lady as her maid when she married the laird those many years ago. She has since promoted me to chatelaine. It is so grand to see one of her family after all this time. Should you have need of anything you have only to ask. I knew your mother before she wed Lord Benedict and went off to Brackenmoore. What a fine one, was the lady Louisa. Never a cross word to say to even the least of the servants, which I numbered amongst at the time. You have a bit of the look of her about your mouth, though Ainsworth has left his stamp clear enough.”

Somewhat shocked at this unexpected revelation, Marcel nodded, having to prevent himself from reaching up to touch his own mouth. So he looked like his mother about the mouth. No one had ever said this to him before. Of course, it was not so very surprising that no one would think to say such a thing to him. All at Brackenmoore had grieved the loss of his parents.

It might have helped to ease the aching grief he had known if someone had spoken to him of his parents. Someone who could have told him that his mouth was like his mother’s, that she and all things like her had not been completely taken from this world. It would have helped him believe that a part of her had lived on.

He realized how odd it was to have found contact with his past in this place that was so far from anything he had known. It seemed odder still that this connection with the past had occurred on the very day that Genevieve had questioned his feelings about his family. He gave a mental shrug. He had come full circle to face his past, and it was troubling to be sure. But that did not mean his leaving Brackenmoore was an attempt to run from anything.

He had been moving toward something. An inner voice told him that a part of what he had been seeking might be found here.

He cast a thoughtful gaze over the head woman and spoke carefully to cover his feelings of disquiet.

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