"The alphabet. How to write, and hopefully how to read."

"I've already been working with Bridget." A wild idea hit me, one I wasn't sure would be very welcome in some schools of thought. But after seeing the unchanging horizon of the servants' lives, I knew I now firmly believed in educating the masses. Everyone deserved the gift of reading and writing. It would be one step that would give them more of a choice in the future. "I suggest we have a class for all of the servants who want to learn after the evening meal one night a week. That way, everyone can benefit, and Jamie will see that while it seems I am similar to this Mary, I am different."

A gust of wind whipped a strand of hair across my face. Before I could brush it back, Stuart did. My breath caught at the sudden action and its familiarity, but my heart didn't pound. "You didn't happen to be suddenly born in May of this year?" he asked.

"What?" I shook my head, thinking I'd heard wrong.

"You are so like Mary that reincarnation would explain a lot. Unfortunately, I think there's a more logical explanation. Since I know Mary didn't have any sisters, you must be one of her cousins of which she was so fond. If you're here to find answers other than the ones given, you're wasting your time."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I promptly tripped because my knees were rubbery. I would have fallen had he not caught my elbow. I'm not sure what else I would have said to convince him because the harsh sound of a woman weeping cut into my shock. Stuart heard, too, and turned from me.

"Wait here," he said tersely then ran ahead to the bend in the path.

I decided that I'd much rather have Stuart's dubious character in sight rather than stand alone with the dark of the forest at my back. I hurried after him, even though he didn't follow the path but turned toward the sand dunes, increasing his pace.

Following close at his heels, I felt my insides hurdle over a cliff when I saw Bridget on the ground, head bent as she huddled protectively against the rise of the dune and the whipping wind. She had the blue shawl I'd given her clutched tightly about her, as if seeking comfort.

Chapter Nine.

"Bridget! Good Lord! What happened? Who hurt you?" I asked, running to her.

Stuart gave me a sharp look, but I ignored it as I fell to my knees in the warm sand. I didn't care if I was jumping to conclusions. Jamie's supposedly protective attack on my person weighed heavily on my mind, and I had yet to decide his intent. If Jamie were trying to protect me, then why did Stuart lie to Sean? Why not just tell the Killdaren the truth? But I didn't dare ask more questions so soon. If Stuart had a suspicion of who I was and why I'd come, how long before someone else made the connection?

Bridget, teary-eyed and pale, looked up from where she'd been crying into her mob cap. She saw me and cried harder. "Oh, Cassie, what am I ta do?"

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. "While I'm thanking God you're alive, can you tell me what has happened to you?"

"Not me," Bridget said. "It's me mum. She has the consumption. Won't live another year, they're sayin', and she'll need tending to before too long. Me brother Tim's just six, and I've not gotten a note from Flora yet, either. I can't even tell her about our mum."

Part of me sighed with relief that nothing untoward had happened to Bridget. Since coming to Killdaren's Castle, my imagination had grown almost to the point of the ridiculous, but then, there'd been enough incidents to provide ample fuel for my imaginings.

Another part of me empathized with Bridget's pain. Here she'd been given plenty of warning of a loved one's death, and yet was as powerless as I had been to stop Mary's or my grandparents' deaths. "We'll sort this out." I squeezed her shoulder. "You'll see, there is an answer. We just have to find it."

Bridget nodded her head, trying to stifle her sobs.

"Which doctor did she see?" Stuart asked.

Bridget's eyes widened. "Couldn't afford ta 'ave a doctor come. Old Mrs. Compton does most the doctorin' for village folks like us."

"I understand," Stuart said. "But you should have-"

"Should've what? How can you understand anything?" Bridget shouted, sounding almost bitter. "You pretend to know our troubles Stuart Frye, but you can't. You don't know what it's like ta see your mum and your brother a hurting, and you can't do anything else but go and scrub fancy floors that never get used just to barely keep your family from starving."

"I do know." Stuart straightened, coldly stepping back from Bridget, his jaw taut, his eyes bleak. "I know what it's like to have someone's life in my hands, and I know what it's like to make bitter choices. If you can walk, I suggest we get back to the castle. I've already pushed my mother as far as I can for the day." He held out his hand to Bridget, but she ignored his offer of help, and struggled to her feet alone.

"Don't need ya to talk to your mum on my account neither." Bridget started marching down the path, her anger at Stuart apparently bolstering her as she pulled the blue shawl tighter around her.

From the clenched set of Stuart's jaw as he stared at Bridget's back, I determined now would not be a good time to ferret out more information. Given all of the factors of my situation at Killdaren's Castle, there never seemed to be a good time for asking questions.

Stuart turned to me when we neared the stables. The storm raging in his dark eyes made me shiver, and told me a lot more lay hidden inside him than what I'd seen. "Whatever your reasons for being here, I'll keep silent for now," he said. "Don't make me regret it."

He stalked off then, leaving me feel as if he'd raised an axe and I had best tread carefully or he'd let it fall.

Bridget and I spent most of the evening after dinner talking about her family. Though less teary-eyed, she had no hope that her mother would live through another Cornish winter, and she despaired about what she could do. I tried to reassure her and thought I could do a number of things to help her, even bring her and her family back to Oxford with me when I left Killdaren's Castle, though I doubted an Oxford winter would be any milder. But I couldn't tell Bridget any of that yet.

Exhausted, Bridget fell asleep early, deciding to delay reading the next story in the vampire book-a decision I was thankful for. The title of the next story, "Forbidden Fruit," didn't sound as if it was anything I needed to delve into. Not if I wanted to have any peace of mind whatsoever. The forbidden fruit of my attraction to Sean and the heated memory of his kiss didn't need anything more to fuel them.

I took out my journal and added today's events, then reread the entries, frustrated with how slowly the secrets at Killdaren's Castle were unraveling. I wanted to grasp the end of that yarn and jerk hard, even if it sent the ball spinning out of control.

One thing I could do was research the history and legend behind the Circle of the Stone Virgins. Stuart had said that the stones might have had their origins in Druid lore, and I recalled that the library downstairs had several books on the subject.

Lighting a candle, I stole downstairs, listening very carefully for any whisper of sound as I went directly to the library. I slipped inside, taking care to be very quiet. Knowing Sean's picture hung in the shadows made me feel as if I'd entered his bedchamber. I tiptoed across the thick rug, smelling the lemon and beeswax scent lingering from the cleaning Bridget and I had given the room earlier. I also detected a hint of something else, and sniffed the air as I pulled from the shelf several of the Druid books that were mixed in with the vampire books. Mastery of Druid Magic. The Sacred and Profane Rites and Rituals of the Druids and their Children. The Druids' Thirst for Humans.

"You surprise me. I thought it would take longer for you to meet me."

"Oh!" I jumped in fright, sending the books flying as I juggled the candle. "Meet you?" Turning fast, I found myself face to face with Sean, or face to chest to be more accurate. This time the casual cotton of a white shirt lay soft and inviting across his broad shoulders and supple flesh. Warmth and mystery emanated from him, and I clenched my fist to keep from reaching out to touch him.

To see his face, I had to tilt my head and retreat a step, which brought my back against the bookcase. Leaning toward me, he planted his hands on the shelf behind me, trapping me between his arms, blocking my escape. An escape I am sure I would have made, had my mind been capable of thought.

It wasn't, just at present.

The dampness of his hair and the smooth line of his jaw, combined with the fresh scent of soap and spice, told me he'd just come from his bath. We stood so close I could count the flecks of green and gold in the irises of his eyes. Having all of his dangerous male appeal so unexpectedly close disconcerted me to the point that all I did was stare at him. The only thing keeping his body from pressing into mine as it had during his kiss was the flickering candle in my unsteady hand.

He blew the candle out.

"Oh!" I stood in the dark, desperate for my eyes to adjust to the moonlight.

"Can't have us catching on fire, can we?" He must have been able to see in the dark because he took the candle from my tingling fingers.

"No, fire is good," I gasped, already burning. For a moment I stood there, waiting helplessly for him to kiss me, until I realized what I was doing. Good Lord, had I lost all sense of myself? "Cassiopeia's Corner" would have advised any woman finding herself in such circumstances to take drastic measures and gain a proper footing. Only, I didn't want to stamp on his foot and flee, but I did want to learn more about him, and I would have to compromise my notions of propriety to do so. I planted my palm in the center of his too tempting chest and pushed. He only took one step back, which gave me some breathing room, but not much.

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you doing here?" I demanded.

"Since it is my library, I think I'll ask you that question."

"Oh." I winced. "Forgive me, I forgot myself."

He studied my face a moment. "You're forgiven, but first satisfy my curiosity," he said. "What is a pretty maid such as yourself looking for in books about Druid magic and powers?"

I arched a brow. "Perhaps I'm looking for spells to make odious men keep a respectable distance. You took enough liberties with my person earlier today, sir."

He laughed, making me feel like a mouse cornered by a hungry cat. "I recall a mutual liberty taking, lass. But considering you were trespassing into my private quarters, I had the right to not only know why you were there, but also could have viewed your intrusion as an invitation to take more from you than the kiss I did. In fact, as much as I've tried to fight my attraction, I regret not doing so." His gaze dropped, seemingly studying my mouth, then moved lower.

My breasts tingled.

"I suggest you answer my question, Cassie. Or I might be moved to coerce the answer from you." His gaze slid over me. "In a mutual way, of course."

Deep inside me, I knew I shouldn't find his threat exciting. I shouldn't wonder what a mutual coercing entailed, but the notion intrigued me in an utterly improper way, that I blurted out the truth before I could entice him into a coercive action. "I wanted to research the Circle of the Stone Virgins that I saw today. Mr. Frye mentioned they might have a Druid origin."

After studying me a moment, despite the darkness, he pushed back from the bookcase, freeing me. I didn't run or move, but waited to see what he would do. He lit the candle, flooding a dim light about us. Surely my sigh was one of relief and not disappointment. Using his cane for balance, he nimbly picked up the books I'd dropped.

"Do you and Stuart spend a lot of time together? I saw you walking toward the village this afternoon as well." He spoke casually, yet I sensed an underlying tension.

He didn't glance my way. After setting all but one of the books on a table, he tucked his cane under his arm, then opened the book and thumbed through the chapters.

"I barely know the man." Did he think my association with the groomsman inappropriate? Then I remembered I was but a downstairs maid. My insolence to him, even though provoked, was shameful. "Today, we met by...accident at the stone circle." I didn't have an explanation for keeping silent about Jamie's attack, other than to keep my own council until I determined friend from foe. "And when Bridget was late returning from the village, he escorted me to find her."

He glanced up from the book, his eyes narrowed. "You sound as if you had reason for worry. Why?"

I shrugged, unwilling to divulge my concerns about Mary's death yet, because anything I could have said would have made him even more suspicious of me. "Bridget was...uh, upset. Her mother is ill. The consumption. Bridget is at a loss of how to care for her and her young brother."

He handed me the book, The Sacred and Profane Rites and Rituals of the Druids and Their Children opened to a chapter with an alarming title. "The Seduction of the Innocent." I nearly dropped the book.

"From what I've been able to piece together, the Stone Virgins have their roots in a local legend about Daghdha. Are you familiar with him?"

"He was an imaginary king of the fairies, was he not?"

"Imaginary?" he asked, quirking his brow.

"Surely you don't believe in such musings as dancing fairies and vam-er, leprechauns?" I asked, heat flaming my cheeks.

Turning from me before I could read his expression to know if he'd heard my slip, he walked across the room and lit the fire. There was a part of me that winced to see so magnificent a man hindered by the need of a cane, even though he used it so gracefully. I wanted to ask how he he'd been injured, but couldn't. Not yet. Flames licked their way over the kindling, enticing me closer to him and the fire. Though summer, the late night dampness of the castle-like manor called for the extra warmth, as if every degree of heat was necessary to fight lurking chills, and perhaps to chase the shadows from the owner himself. In the dark of the night he appeared as mysterious as his portrait looming on the wall behind him.

I watched as he placed a log on the fire then settled into a leather- and brass-winged chair, motioning me to the matching, opposite seat. "If you're asking if I believe in miniature winged creatures flitting about, then the answer is no. If you're asking if I believe in nonmortals, then the answer is yes."

He spoke with such assuredness that a lump of questions settled into the pit of my stomach. Did he speak of spirits or something more sinister? Weren't vampires considered to be nonmortals?

Like Pandora, I was urged forward by curiosity until I found myself perching on the edge of the chair with the Druid book clutched to my breasts. Though unwise, I wanted to open this forbidden box of knowledge more than I wanted to be safe. Or was it the man himself drawing me to the forbidden? No proper woman would pursue such subjects, nor would she remain alone in a room with a man in the middle of the night, but then, nothing I had done since coming to Killdaren Castle had been proper. I tried to tell myself that any information I could glean would aid my investigation of Mary's death. Inside, however, I knew the truth. I wanted to know more about Sean, who he was, and what he thought almost as much as I wanted to know the truth about Mary.

"Nonmortals?" I asked tentatively, afraid to know what he meant.

"I hear the scandalous imaginings of all things dammed in your voice." He laughed, the rich sound as warm and beckoning as the fire. And probably just as devouring, I reminded myself. "Human nature is an odd thing, is it not?" he asked softly. "Always tempting man to his demise. Though I'd love to oblige your fancies, I fear my answer is more mundane. Let me ask you a question first. Do you believe in God?"

"Of course."

"Is God mortal, then?"

"No." I bit my lip in chagrin.

"So there is a spirit world, where things exist that man cannot explain, correct?"

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. I knew all too well about the unexplainable. In my mind, my dreams of death were forewarnings from the spirit realm, but something never spoken of beyond the circle of my family, for fear of condemnation from those who did not understand.

"Then imagine with me a moment that God is not alone. It is possible that He presides over more than just man? There are a number of archeological wonders about the world leading one to believe that more than just mortal man and beast have walked this earth. Where the notion came from that the Tuatha de Danaan, the fairy folk, are diminutive creatures, I don't know, but from all reports, they are giants capable of magic for good or for ill."

"You say 'are' rather than 'were'. Why?"

"You listen well. Are you sure you want to hear about the Stone Virgins, lass? For they didn't die virgins," he said softly, his tone deep and luring.

I shivered. Pleasurably. We'd already obliterated any lines of propriety. "Yes," I said, slightly breathless. "You can't leave the story there."

He smiled, slowly, making me feel like a morsel about to be eaten. "The legend centers around Daghdha's insatiable appetite for women and his jealous wife, the queen of the fairies. Being the god of fertility, his powers and actions were generally believed to be good, and the harp he played, magical, capable of controlling the minds of mortals. He commanded the seasons and the emotions of man with his music, a note for sorrow, a note for joy, and a note for dreams. And whenever the opportunity arose, Daghdha didn't deny himself sport with mortal women." He paused, sliding his gaze over me, making me flush.

"And?" I prompted, wanting to escape the fire he licked over me.

"Well, given Daghdha's odious description of a huge-bellied giant, naked below the waist, and our local legend of the Stone Virgins, I'm of the opinion he could also seduce with the Uaithne, his harp made of living oak. He could play one note and any woman would come to him, willing to give herself to him."

"He sounds like an unconscionable, uncouth beast."

Sean smiled. "Perhaps. Here in Dartmoor's Forest, on the eve of Beltane, away from the eagle eye of his queen at Tara, Daghdha lured seven of the most beautiful mortal virgins into the forest with his harp and seduced them with his prowess, showing them each the high pleasure of immortal relations. Then he turned their earthly bodies to stone before they could tell anyone of his deed or before his queen learned of his indulgence."

"That's horrible," I cried.

He laughed. "Well, it is rumored that he only put stone figures here to keep his queen from looking no further should she ever learn of his exploit. What really happened is that he fell in love with the women and chose them for his own. He gave them the knowledge of the gods and the gift of immortality, and took them to a secret lair to spend eternity pleasuring them."

"That's not any better."

"Isn't it, lass? The knowledge of the gods and an eternity of pleasure, never to know pain again?"

Snapping the Druid book shut, I stood and marched across the room, agitation stealing over me. "It doesn't matter what he gave them. It was criminal of him. He used magic to seduce them then took their lives from them. He gave them no choice."

He laughed again, seemingly enjoying my irritation. "Perhaps. It could be that they wouldn't have chosen differently had they been given a choice. There are those who would pay any price for knowledge and eternal pleasure."

"You're missing the point. Those who would pay any price, though foolish, at least were able to choose. I cannot believe that you'd rationalize and condone what he did by saying they might not have chosen differently."

He rose and slowly walked toward me. I deliberately kept my gaze directed at his face and not on his infirmity. I almost had the feeling that his gaze was measuring my reaction to his use of the cane.

"What would you do?" he asked softly, "Given the offer of knowing the unknown of the universe, and great pleasure always, would you choose to leave this mortal life?"

I opened my mouth to assure him that I would never willingly forsake all that I held dear, but he pressed his finger to my lips, shocking me silent.

"Think on it a bit. Don't speak rashly, and make very sure that it isn't ignorance of what that knowledge and pleasure might be before you answer."

I nodded and he lowered his finger, letting it brush softly against my chin and neck as he stepped away. Before he could turn, I touched his arm. For a moment I'd seen pain in his eyes and I suddenly had to know. "Would you? Would you give up your life for that?"

"In a heartbeat, lass," he said.

I released his arm as if burned, but I needed to know more. "Why?"

His laugh was harsh. "I don't think you really would like hearing the answer to that question, for there are a number of reasons why I'd leave this godforsaken life. Take the Druid book and go back to your room and let fairytale dreams ease your sleep."

I watched as he poured a glass of amber liquid from a decanter on a side table, filling the room with a hint of scotch, similar in aroma to what my father drank on occasion. Then he moved slowly to the chair, stretching his legs before the fire.