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Apparently her brother’s letter hadn’t diverted her enough. She was right back where she started.
She flopped back a second time, groaning. By the gods, could she have acted more outrageously? Had she taken complete leave of her senses? She should be grateful to Jane for taking that moment to drop an armload of books. A mood breaker for certain. And one Daigh had used to vanish as completely as if he’d wrapped himself in the invisibility of the feth-fiada.
And really, she should be shocked. Appalled. Utterly and completely bowled over with disgust. He was walking dead. A man who until recently was naught but bones in a churchyard. An animated cadaver. One of the Domnuathi.
She should not have butterflies the size of vultures banging around her insides. Or be prickly with anticipation for their next meeting. She fisted a hand against her forehead. What was wrong with her?
Staring up into the bed curtains, the sounds of the household drifted up from below. Aunt Delia’s shrill commands to her dresser as she prepared for the Halliwells’ ball tonight. The soft shush of a maid in the corridor sweeping. The jangle of a bell pull. Steps on the stairs.
It had taken days to grow used to rising without the aid of the convent’s tolling bells. Longer to stop looking over her shoulder for Sister Brigh’s scowling face. Even now, dozing for an extra fifteen minutes seemed almost decadent. And time not spent in work, study, or reflection felt utterly frivolous.
She hated to admit it, but she found her leisure a wonderful respite. It made her recall the relaxed boredom of her life as it had been before her withdrawal into the order. A freedom she hadn’t appreciated.
“No, perhaps the lilac with that lovely gold overskirt and the lace up the sides.” Aunt Delia’s indecision floated between the walls. “When you’re done here, see to Lady Sabrina. I want to be sure she stands out. She’s such a mousy little thing.”
Sabrina grimaced at the sobriquet. What was so wrong with mousy? And why stand out if she planned on returning to Glenlorgan by June? She knew why. And it all went back to Aidan’s letter. Things to discuss. Whom was she fooling? She knew what he wanted. Her sparkling debut into Society followed by an advantageous marriage to some proper peer with deep pockets and a respectable reputation. Both assets the Douglases of Kilronan had lacked for longer years than she could count.
She was to be Aidan’s latest throw of the dice.
Or so he thought.
A knock brought her from that rebellious line of thinking.
Oh no. Aunt Delia’s maid come to work miracles.
“May I come in?” Jane poked her head around the door.
Sabrina sat up, smoothing her face into a calm smile.
“Nice try, but you’re picking your fingernails. And the mulish set to your chin is showing.” A shawl clutched to her shoulders, Jane took a chair by the fire. “What’s wrong?”
Hiding her hands in the folds of her skirt, Sabrina let her expression relax back into a frown with a sigh of relief. “If I’m not careful Aidan and Aunt Delia will have me married off to Sir Moneybags Stiff-and-Boring before summer’s end. Farewell to my life with the bandraoi.”
Jane stretched her feet to the hearth. “Surely Kilronan won’t stand in the way of your return to Glenlorgan. Not if you show him it’s what you really want.”
Sabrina snorted her doubt, her gaze falling once more on the brooding Welsh history.
Jane caught the track of her gaze. Lifted an eyebrow. “It is what you really want, isn’t it?”
Sabrina bristled. “Of course. Haven’t I always said so?”
“Yes, but you also used to fill the school dormitory with tales of princes and princesses. Stamping chargers. Wicked villains. Romance and derring-do and happily ever afters.”
“What’s your point?”
“Perhaps—just perhaps, mind you—you’re thinking you may have stumbled on your own once upon a time.” Her face reddened, or were her cheeks flushed already?
Sabrina threw herself out of bed. Crossed to the desk, grabbing up the book. Shoved it into a drawer where it couldn’t stare at her. Leaned against the desk confronting Jane with grim resolve. “It doesn’t matter. Daigh MacLir is not my happy ever after. He’s not mine to want.”
“He followed you to Dublin.”
“No. He fled Glenlorgan and happened on me in Dublin. That’s different.”
“Remember once you said—”
Sabrina wouldn’t let her finish. It was too humiliating. “Only too vividly. Don’t bring it up. It was silly and ludicrous. Fate, destiny, even love at first sight aren’t real.”
It was Jane’s turn to look stubborn. “If you say so. We won’t speak of it again.”
