Page 32 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

“A Cornish chough?” He sounded alarmed, frustrated and disbelieving.

The bird fluttered, beating its wings, squawking in agitation. Gwyn wrapped her arms around her head.

A door slammed open behind them.

“Shoo! Shoo! Great, nasty bird!”

She felt, rather than observed, someone chasing the chough away. When the flapping retreated, she peeked out to meet Miss Morwen Cardew’s baleful eye.

“Now what have the pair of you been up to?” she demanded.

“I was merely showing Lady Gwyn the courtyard,” Locryn protested, his eye on the bird where it perched atop the lattice. “She’s interested in gardening and I knew she’d enjoy the topiaries.”

“Never mind what you were enjoying.” Morwen rolled her eyes. “Who have you annoyed?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Aunt.”

“Birds don’t just attack like that without a reason. That was not any sort of natural behavior. That bird wassent.”

He stiffened, while Gwyn stared.

“Mmmm hmm.” His aunt merely met his gaze with a raised brow. “Well, if you don’t know now, then I suppose you will soon enough. In the meantime, you’ve all drawn more thanmyattention.” She stalked off toward the house.

Startled, Gwyn watched her go, and saw a host of curious faces staring out at them while fingers pointed up toward the still-fidgeting bird.

“Come, Lady Gwyn.” Locryn held out a hand to her. “I’ll return you to your sister.”

“Thank you.” It came out calmly enough, even though she felt a little panicked at the thought of leaving things like this. “Perhaps . . . I hope you won’t think me bold . . . but perhaps, after church tomorrow, you’d allow me to show you the garden plot I’ve been working on?”

His hand, gripping hers, squeezed tighter than strictly necessary. “I would like that, very much indeed.”

She smiled in relief and their gazes held in gratifying communion. As they reached the house, she was able to enter with a smile.

* * *

“What happened?” Thistle looked wildly at Derowan. They were perched in a topiary sculpted to look like a swan, and peeking out from behind a wing. “They nearly fixed it! And almost completely by their own efforts! I barely had to do a thing!”

“Propping that door open and sending in that breeze was a masterful stroke, though,” Derowan said loyally. “Exactly what was needed.”

“But they didn’t kiss! Whatever possessed that deranged bird to act so? I don’t understand!”

Derowan didn’t answer, but she did glance uneasily into the gardens.

“They have to kiss, Derowan. I think it might be the only way to break my spell. The only way we will both be free.” She dropped her head and buried her hands in her hair.

“Well, they did make an arrangement for tomorrow. There’s that. Surely they’ll get the job done, then.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Thistle vowed.

“Well, we know when and where to find them.” Derowan paused. “But, Thistle, let me ask . . . when was the last time you saw Morcom?”

Thistle stared after the couple.

“Thistle?”

“What? Oh, Morcom? Several months ago, I think?”

“The last time he coaxed you to the dancing at the burrow? On the night of the full moon?”

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