Marriage by request

  MARRIAGE BY REQUEST by LUCY GILLEN

  "There's not a soul in Killydudden who doesn't think the doctor's a lovely man," someone told Cerys when she arrived in Ireland, but Cerys had her doubts. So why did she suddenly find herself wishing to believe that the doctor was "lovely First published in 1971 by Mills & Boon Limited, 17 19 Foley Street, London, England . SBN 373-01 S07-0 Lucy Giilen 1971 Harlequin Canadian edition published July, 1971 Harlequin U.S. edition published October, 197X All the characters in this boots: have no existence outside (he imagination of &e Author, and Aave BO relation whatsoever to anyone beating the same name or aames. They we not eyen distantly inspired by any individual known, oz unknown to the Author, and all the incidents are pure invention. The Harlequin trade mark, consisting of the word HARLEQUIN and the portrayal of cs Harlequin, is registered in the United States Patent Office and in the Canada Trade Marks Office. Printed in Canada

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE train was inevitably late. Even in Ireland, Cerys thought ruefully, the train services left a lot to be desired, and she lifted her case down from the rack with a frown of irritation. The platform, it it would be termed such, was deserted except for herself, a railway employee who looked as if he was due for retirement and a man leaning nonchalantly against the greenpainted railings, smoking a pipe. The railway employee should prove most useful, she decided, they were usually well acquainted with local places and people, so she approached the elderly man in the peaked cap with her nicest smile in readiness. 'Excuse me,' she ventured, I wonder if you could tell me how to get to Croxley House, could you?' Small but knowing eyes surveyed her for a second or two in silence, then a hand pushed the peaked cap to the back of his head and one finger worked busily amid his busy grey hair. 'Well now,' he said slowly, 'ask that fella there, why don't ya, he could tell ya like as not.' Frowning, Cerys turned and looked at the man leaning against the railings and realised with a start that he was smiling. Since there was no one else about but the railway porter, she concluded that it must be herself who caused his amusement and she flushed with resentment at the idea. He made an effort to rouse himself when she started towards him and, to be fair, he even came half-way to meet her. Unfortunately the centre catch of her case, which had given her trouble before, chose that moment to give way again and the lid dropped open, scattering her things all over the dusty concrete of the platform. 'Oh no 1' She surveyed the rumpled heap in dismay, near to tears in her frustration and anger. One thing after another had gone wrong with this journey and she had just about had enough. The smiles on the faces of the two men did nothing to appease her either and she looked at the younger one with angry eyes. Anger, had she but realised it, made her even more attractive than usual, lending sparkle and fire to the deep, almost violet-coloured eyes that had been put in with the traditional, 'smutty finger' and her usually smiling mouth pouted crossly. Her hair was slightly dishevelled from travelling and curled round the oval face like a frame for its prettiness. 'Let me.' It was the younger of the two men who eventually came to her assistance, crouching down, the pipe stuck jauntily into one comer of his mouth while he began to gather up her carefully packed dresses' and lingerie, with more haste than care. 'Oh no!' she protested, crouching down beside him and pushing his hands away. 'You'll ruin everything, let me do it.' His shrug as well as the rueful smile he gave her made her appear over-fussy and ungrateful. 'Suit yourself,' he told her, and stood watching as she lifted the garments carefully, removed as much of the dust as she was able and replaced them carefully in her case. When she stood up again he was still standing by her and he smiled again when she looked at him resentfully. 'If you're ready now,' he told her, 'I'll take you to Croxley. You are Cerys Brady?' he asked as an afterthought. 'Yes, I am.' She stood beside her case, glaring at him angrily. 'And if you were supposed to meet me why 6 didn't you say so when I came off the train?' she demanded. She assumed he was some sort of local car-hire man or perhaps an odd-job man who drove the car on occasions for her uncle, someone sent to meet her. He had the appearance of a gardener or something of the sort; anyway, his dress proclaimed him one of the working fraternity, although his speech had been only slightly, accented. The ancient grey flannels and a rather shabby tweed jacket looked as if he might have been called from some menial job in a hurry and packed off to meet her, and the thought set her worrying if her unde had had another attack that meant Liam had to stay with him. 'I beg ya pardon, ma'am.' He touched his forehead in the stage copy of the country yokel and bent to pick up her case, careful to put a finger over the treacherous catch. 'Will ya come t'is way wid me, ma'am?' She nodded, thinking she must have been mistaken in the first instance, for his brogue was as thick as the porter's and her reprimand seemed to have made him positively servile, a fact which did not raise him in her estimation. He was tall and rangily built and his legs were long enough to make it difficult for her to keep pace with him as she followed him out of the tiny station, and on to a dusty patch of ground that appeared to do service as a car-park. A vehicle was parked there that must once have been a car, although it was the most ancient contraption Cerys had ever seen outside a museum, and she blinked her horror when her guide led her towards it. She stopped short in her tracks, staring at the contraption into which he was already lifting her case, and he turned enquiring eyes on her when she gasped. 7 'Sump'n wrong?' he asked mildly. 'You you surely don't expect me to ride in that that thing, do you?' she asked. 'And why not?' he asked, as aggrieved as if the insult had been personal. 'It's a good car is this, none of ya cheap stuff, it's ' 'Pure antique,' Cerys finished scathingly, 'Well now, I'm sorry about the Rolls, ma'am,' he told her with what she was beginning to suspect was false servility, 'but sure himself was using it an' this was all there was.' He surveyed her for a moment in silence, a scrutiny that did nothing to improve her temper. 'Ya could walk if ya'd a mind to, ma'am,' he suggested mildly, 'it's only a step.' 'How big a step?' Cerys asked suspiciously, and was met with a gaze so innocent as to be almost unbelievable. 'A coupla miles, ma'am, maybe a bit less.' She glared at him in frustration and walked round to the passenger side of the car. 'I'll ride,' she decreed. 'But for heaven's sake be careful in this thing, it doesn't look very safe.' 'Safe as houses,' he assured her, opening the door for her and banging it shut behind her with such force that she almost started out of her seat. The engine, she noted with relief, ran smoothly and there was no crashing of gears as she had expected, in fact until they turned off the road after a few yards on to what appeared to be little more than a cart-track, die ride had promised to be smooth enough. Her companion said nothing, but Cerys had the uneasy feeling that he was laughing at her, and the feeling persisted, making her grow more and more restless as they drove along the bumpy narrow track. There seemed to be no sign of habitation, except for 8 some roofs glimpsed at briefly through some trees off to their right, and she wondered how isolated Croxley House was. This narrow track looked as if it led nowhere but through endless fields and low green hills which, while they were very lovely as scenery, gave her an awful feeling of loneliness so that she instinctively drew as far away from her companion as possible. No one, she realised, would hear her should she need to call for help, and she had not checked the identity of her chauffeur but merely come along with him just because he had known her name. It had been a rash thing to do, she realised that now, for he could have learned who she was from almost anyone, even the porter. In a place the size of Killydudden it was inevitable that everyone's business was public knowledge and the expected arrival of a stranger would probably cause quite a stir. 'Is this the only way to Croxley House?' she asked after they had hit a particularly hard bump which sent her inches into the air above her seat. 'Not the only one,' he admitted, 'but it's a sorta short cut as ya mig
ht say, ma'am. I t'ought ya might be in a hurry wid the train bein' late an' everythin'.' 'There was no need to come down this this carttrack, surely,' she protested as the breath was jolted out of her yet again. 'You could have used the road we started out on.' 'Aah, so I could,' he agreed. 'I was only tryin' to oblige. Anyway,' he added, 'we're nearly there now.' Cerys said nothing more, but hung on grimly to the side of the car as it bounced and bumped its way along the track until presently they rejoined the road just before turning into a driveway between tall stone pillars. An almost obliterated carving in one of the pillars, she just had time to note, gave the name as Croxley House and she breathed a sigh of relief as they drove between tall beautiful trees in the full, dusty glory of late summer. All around them wide, lush grassland looked as big as a park, incredibly huge and impressive. Croxley House, she knew, had been in the Brady family for generations and her father had often spoke of it with affection, but it even surpassed any idea she had had of it. Although she had seen it once before many years ago as a very small child she had no real memory of it and she found it breathtakingly lovely. Unable to conceal how she felt, she looked around her enchanted, her irritation almost forgotten as she took in the serene tranquillity of the parkland and the distant gleam of water in die sunlight. 'It's beautiful,' she breathed, forgetting her anger for the moment. 'It's really beautiful.' 'It is,' her companion agreed quietly and without the brogue he had laid on so thickly until now. 'Croxley is one of the loveliest places in Ireland.' He drove straight up to the wide sweep of gravel before the house and pulled up smoothly, turning to smile at her briefly before he got out and reached into the back of the car for her case. Two steps led up to the door and he took them in one enormous stride despite the weight of her case, pushing open the door and holding it for her. 'Thank you.' She stepped through into a hall and looked around her at the quiet good taste of her surroundings. The floor beneath her was carpeted and deadened their footsteps as they crossed the hall. Somewhere in the centre of the space he put down her case while she still looked around her at the paintings that hung where they could be best appreciated. There was a 10 Corot, she recognised, and a Monet which alone must have been worth a fortune, and she wondered if the reports of her uncle's wealth had perhaps been not exaggerated after all. Her father had sometimes laughingly referred to him as his rich brother, although he himself had been fairly wealthy. Despite the obvious richness of the place, however, Cerys felt a warmth and comfort as if the house had never known unrest or unhappiness. Her guide, she realised suddenly, had left her and gone off across the hall, presumably in search of someone to greet her. She saw him put his head round a door and a moment later he disappeared into the room beyond, leaving her there alone. She stood for several moments in the soft silence of the old house, feeling a little nervous and apprehensive now that she had actually arrived, and she was almost glad to see her former antagonist return, though his stay was brief. 'Duffy'll be along in a minute,' he told her briefly. 'I've asked Cormac to tell her.' He seemed to assume she could identify Duffy and Cormac and made no effort to enlighten her further. 'I have to go,' he added with a hasty glance at a wristwatch. 'Your blessed train being late delayed me longer than I expected and I've work to do.' She would have told him there and then exactly what she thought of his manners and his cavalier treatment of her, but he gave her no time to do either. He was at the door before she even had time to draw breath and, after a brief wave of one hand, disappeared again, banging the door behind him. Cerys let out her breath with a sigh of exasperation, vowing retaliation, and looked round in time to see a short brown-haired woman emerging from one of the rooms, a smile of apology on her face as she came across n the hall to her. 'Miss Brady, I'm so sorry. What wid one t'ing and the other we're in a bit of a state, an' Cormac's only just told me you're here.' 'I haven't been here many minutes,' Cerys assured her. The woman ducked anxiously. 'I should have been here to meet ya,' she insisted. 'It's no sort of a welcome ya've had, but Mr. Brady was needin' his medicine an' Mr. Rogan's out on some errand that wouldn't wait, an' wid one t'ing an' another well, here's yaself waitin' around out here an' no one to meet ya.' 'It's quite all right,' Cerys said, a little overwhelmed by the garrulity of her welcomer. 'I understand, and I'm afraid my train was late.' 'Aah sure, aren't they always?' the woman declared. 'An' will ya look at me now, keepin' ya standin' here like a travellin' salesman 1 I'm Duffy,' she added by way of introduction. 'Christened into the Holy Church as Mary, but no one's called me that since Duffy passed on. God rest his' soul.' She picked up Cerys's case and started up the stairs with it. 'Be careful of the catch,' Cerys warned, 'it's come open once today and scattered all my things all over the place.' A thick forefinger damped firmly over the catch and a reassuring smile flicked over one shoulder. 'We'll get Cormac to fix it for ya, don't ya worry.' The room she showed Cerys into brought a cry of delight from her and she looked around her smiling her pleasure at the rich gleam of well-waxed mahogany and glowing copper. 'What a wonderful room!' she cried, and Mary Duffy smiled her gratification at the praise. 'There's nothin' like elbow grease for makin' the is best of a room,' she said, 'an' will ya look at the view from this window?' Cerys crossed the room and stood beside her in the big window. 'It's glorious,' she breathed, 'absolutely wonderful!' The woman nodded satisfaction. 'There's no better view in the whole of Ireland.' 'I can believe it,' Cerys said. 'Those hills across there look just as if they're part of a painting almost too good to be true.' 'They're true enough,' Mrs. Duffy assured her with a smile. 'An' there's enough scenery an' things like that to satisfy ya for a lifetime if ya like t'ings like hills an' such like.' She looked at Cerys with a friendly curiosity. 'Ya'll be a town girl, Mr. Brady was sayin'.' Cerys admitted the fact with a laugh. 'I'm afraid so, Mrs. Duffy, but I love the country and this is certainly the loveliest I've ever seen.' 'The best,' the woman agreed quite complacently. Cerys looked nearer than the distant hills and the river that gleamed spasmodically between trees and by undulating meadows, to the parkland itself spread out below them. 'Is that a cottage I see just behind the trees in the drive?' she asked, and Mrs. Duffy nodded. 'The little place,' she agreed. 'It belongs to Croxley, but it's rented out now, for Mr. Brady doesn't keep a man now a keeper,' she explained. 'Cormac does the gardens wid the help of young Jimmy Docherty from the village, but there's no shootin' now an' very little fishin' either.' 'Someone rents the the little place?' 'They do that Doctor O'Rourke,' Mrs. Duffy replied, and Cerys raised surprised eyebrows. 'Doctor O'Rourke?' The woman's eyes gleamed softly as she nodded and ^ it was obvious that the doctor had at least one very ardent admirer. 'He's a lovely man,' she said, 'a real lovely man.' Cerys could not restrain a smile at the obvious heroworship. 'He sounds fascinating,' she said. 'I must meet him some time. What's he like, this doctor of yours?' 'Not good-lookin',' Mary Duffy hastily assured her. 'I never trust them good-lookin' ones at all. But he has red hair, blue eyes an' a smile as wide as Dublin bay an' just enough of the divil in him ta make him interestin'.' The description coming from the small, solemnfaced woman made Cerys laugh, and the woman joined in her amusement after a wry smile for her own enthusiasm. 'You're an admirer of the doctor's, I take it,' Cerys said, and Mary Duffy nodded unhesitating agreement. 'There's not a soul in Killydudden who doesn't t'ink the world of the doctor,' she said. 'He's a lovely man.' Tie doesn't practise from here, surely, does he?' Cerys asked curiously, intrigued in spite of herself by the much admired doctor. 'It's miles from anywhere.' 'He does so,' the woman answered, looking at her oddly for a moment. 'It's not so far, only a bare half mile from the village along the new road.' She laughed softly as if some thought had just struck her. 'I suppose to a soul used to livi'n' in a town half a mile is a long way, but it's nothin' here.' Cerys stared at her unbelievingly. 'Half a mile?' she echoed. 'But ' She bit her lip as realisation came to her, biting back the angry words that, if she voiced them, would make her appear an utter fool for having been hoodwinked so easily. But that man, whoever he was, would hear her opinion of
him in no uncertain terms at the first opportunity. 14 She turned from the window and was aware of Mrs. Duffy still xvatching her curiously. 'Will ya be comin' down to say hello to ya uncle?' she asked, and Cerys , nodded. 'If he's well enough to see me, is he?' 'Oh, he's well enough,' the woman decreed, 'just as long as he keeps quiet as Doctor O'Rourke tells him to, but he's a man for gettin' out of his diair if ya don't watch him.' Cerys smiled, taking a comb from her handbag and quickly pulling it through her thick black curls. 'Well, ; perhaps I can persuade him to behave,' she said lightly, ? although she felt the apprehension rise in her again as she thought of meeting her unde. 'Did you say Mr. l; Rogan was out?' Mrs. Duffy nodded. 'He went into Traveree,' she told her, 'but I don't suppose he'll be gone long, for it's I near dinner-time and Mr. Rogan likes his meals.' Cerys was curious and admittedly nervous about j'meeting her uncle's foster-son, for they had never met I'before and his history was such that she felt a little wary of him. Many years ago her uncle had been (r'widowed and left childless and he had never married again to have the big family he always wanted, instead pie had taken Liam Rogan under his roof and his pro tection after the boy had been abandoned by his jparents. He had been only ten years old at the time, and as far as Cerys knew, Sean Brady had taken him in pniy on a temporary basis, but the time had extended go seventeen years and during that time Liam had ieen educated as Sean's son would have been. He was jpow an integral part of the household and Sean's only He acted as bailiff tor his foster-father's estate and S the two of them were on excellent terms, so she had s ^ heard, but Cerys's imagination, firmly fixed on his gypsy origin, could only see him as a gypsy. Her father had had little to say about the matter, but Cerys had always had the impression that he disapproved of his brother's impulsive action and she rather nervously hoped the stranger would not be too bizarre. As she followed Mary Duffy down the stairs she pondered on what possible changes she would see in her unde. He had seldom left Ireland in his life, but it had been during one of his infrequent trips to England that Gerys had seen him last, some ten years ago. He had then been a tall, powerfully-built man, taller even than his brother, her father, and much bigger altogether. He had had the same black hair and darkblue eyes that Cerys had inherited and she remembered his large rough hands that had gripped hers so hard when they met. The housekeeper led the way across the hall to a door and tapped briefly on it before going in. 'Are ya ready ta see your lovely niece now?' she asked with a familiarity that was apparently allowed her. ' 'Cause here she is now.' She stepped aside with a smile and Cerys faced her unde. 'Uncle Sean?' She tried not to stare at the caricature of the man she remembered. Slumped in a wheelchair, he seemed to have shrunk and the once black hair was now almost completely grey, crowning a face that looked at least ten years older than Cerys knew him to be. 'Cerys 1' He held out both hands to her and she put her own into them cautiously, for they no longer looked strong and their touch was gentle and almost weak. He looked so frail that it was difficult for her to believe it was the same man. 'I've dianged some,' he added, seeing her doubt, and he smiled. 'Don't I get a 16 kiss now, acushia?' 'Of course. Uncle Sean.' She bent her head and kissed the shrunken face gently, tears not tar from her eyes at the dreadful change in him. 'It's lovely to see you again after so long.' 'Ten years, isn't it?' he asked, the twinkle in his eyes undiminished by his illness. 'Get a chair, child, and sit by me here.' Obediently she fetched a diair and sat beside him, still scarcely believing that it was the same uncle she remembered. 'It is ten years,' she agreed. 'I was only fourteen, I know, but I remember you quite well.' 'But not as you see me now, eh?' he asked, and laughed softly at her expression. 'I remember you too, Cerys; you were a pretty child then and you've grown into a very lovely young woman. You're a credit to the Eradys and to your beautiful mother.' 'Thank you.' She remembered her mother for a moment, and how far away she was now. No longer Mrs. Brady but remarried, in a surprisingly short time after she was widowed, and living abroad. 'You miss your father?' he suggested gently, and Cerys nodded. 'He was a fine-looking man too,' he added with a sigh, 'but it seems we're not a long-lived family at all.' It was the subject most guaranteed to bring tears to Cerys and she wished it need not have been mentioned, but recognised it as inevitable since the reason she was here at Croxley at all was because of her uncle's will. She hated talk of death and wills and such morbid subjects, but she supposed that sooner or later it would have to be discussed. Her uncle had expressed a desire that she should come and stay with him at Croxley for a while before it was too late and she had not been sufficiently hard!7 hearted to refuse him, knowing that he was a very sick man. However, if the evil moment could be postponed she would endeavour to delay it and she smiled, determinedly cheerful. 'It's very beautiful country round here,' she said, 'though the roads are pretty awful, I'm still black and blue from that bouncing around I had getting here from the station.' 'Bouncing around?' Her uncle looked at her curiously. 'Our roads aren't that bad, Cerys, surely now. The new road's as good as anything you'll have in England and far less used to spoil it.' Cerys was silent for a moment, remembering she had not meant to mention it to anyone else but the man responsible for her indignity, but it was said now. 'I don't know who the man was who brought me here,' she said slowly, 'but from his manner I should say I wasn't very welcome. He was insolent and deliberately awkward and he brought me along some awful carttrack of a road, full of potholes and bumps.' 'The old road?' Sean Brady looked at her curiously for a moment and she could have sworn that a glimmer of laughter showed briefly in the tired eyes. 'That used to be the only road there was until about sixty years ago,' he explained, 'and then they built the new village and took the road straight through it. It was sixty years ago, as I say, but in Ireland that's only yesterday and it's still the new road to us. It's straighter than the old one and cut out the curve it also cut about a mile and a half off the journey from Killydudden station.' 'Then why,' Cerys demanded, 'did that that imbecile bring me the other way? He said it was a short cut, though I suspected he was up to something from his manner. He was probably resentful because I put him in his place,' she added. 18 'Oh, you put him in his place, I see.' She thought it was all clear to him at last, which was more than it was to her. 'He asked for it,' she said in her own defence. 'I suppose there are still some of the Irish who still hate the English enough to play tricks like that, but he'd better watdi himself if I meet him again!' 'You should have let him know it was a fellow-Irishman he was teasing,' he told her. 'Kevin can be a provocative devil when it suits him, but what possessed him to bring you along the old road I can't imagine. It can't have done the springs in that old jalopy of his much good.' 'I hope they're damaged beyond repair,' Cerys murmured darkly. 'When I think of that awful journey!' She sighed and smiled at her uncle wryly. 'It was a bad journey from the start,' she said. 'Things just went wrong all along the line and then the train was late coming into Killydudden and I was just about fed up with everything by the time I got here. Then to crown it all my suitcase came open on Killydudden station and that stupid creature started scrabbling my things together as if they were rags for a jumble sale. I was furious!' 'I can imagine,' Sean Brady commented dryly. 'You've your mother's temperament, Cerys my dear. She's beautiful, but likely to explode into one of her Celtic rages at any moment, I seem to remember.' Cerys admitted the truth of it with a smile. 'The emotional Welsh,' she said, 'and I've got my Irish blood to contend with too. Uncle Sean, I don't really have much chance of being placidly sweet, do I?' 'Not very much,' her unde allowed with a smile, 'but you're a very lovely girl, my dear, I'm sure no one minds too much.' ^ They were distracted by the sound of someone coming in through the front door and a moment later a man came into the room, his eyes going unerringly and anxiously to Sean Brady. 'Father.' He seemed reassured at seeing him there and Sean Brady smiled. 'Cerys, this is Liam. You've never met, have you?' He looked at her anxiously as if he wondered what her reaction would be to the man who had become his son. 'Liam, you've heard all about Cerys.' Surprisingly, to
Cerys at least, he had grey eyes. Dark grey, it was true, but she had expected the swarthy darkness and dark eyes of a gypsy, and instead he looked far more like a country gentleman than she had anticipated. His hair was black, but so was her own, and his skin was no more tanned than one would expect in a man who must necessarily spend a good deal of his time out of doors. He was, Cerys decided with her usual impulsiveness, very attractive and not at all as she had visualised him. 'Cerys.' He took her proffered hand and smiled, showing perfect even teeth. 'You don't mind if I call you Cerys, do you?' he asked. 'After all, I suppose we are cousins in a way, aren't we?' It was, she felt, a direct challenge to her to deny his position in the household. 'I suppose we are,' she allowed, not at all averse to the idea. 'I'm pleased to have met you at last, Liam.' He seemed a little nervous, she thought, but dismissed any significance in the fact lots of people were nervous with strangers for the first time. Also his eyes seemed to be studying her curiously and with rather more intensity than was usual. 'I'm sorry about not meeting you,' he apologised, bringing up a chair to sit dose to Cerys and his fosterfather, 'but it was imperative that I get that spare part before we lost too much ' so 'I'm sure Cerys doesn't care about your technical troubles,' Sean Brady interposed, a smile taking the sting out of the words. 'What do you think of my niece now that you've met her?' The grey eyes looked across at her again for a moment in silence and she felt suddenly and inordinately shy under their scrutiny. 'Very lovely,' he said quietly. 'It will be a pleasure having her here,' he added hastily, as if there could be some doubt about his meaning, and she blinked for a moment uncertainly. 'Thank you,' she said, her eyes lowered to avoid that rather disconcerting gaze. 'I shall enjoy being here.' 'I hope you will,' her uncle told her with a smile. 'There's some lovely country round here, you must take every opportunity to see it.' 'Oh, but I must stay with you,' she started to protest, but he held up a hand. 'No, diild, you must go out and see the countryside. Let Liam be your guide, he'd be delighted, I know.' "Do you ride?' The question took her by surprise for a moment and she blinked at Liam for a second before answering. 'I haven't done very much lately,' she admitted at last, 'but I used to.' 'I was thinking it would be nice if you came out with me sometimes,' he told her. 'Only if you feel you want to, of course, but there are some lovely rides around here and I'd like to show you the countryside as Father suggests.' 'Then I'd like to come,' Cerys smiled. 'It looks beautiful from what little I've seen of it so far, and it will do me good to ride again.' She glanced at her uncle a little guiltily. 'If you're sure you won't mind, Unde Sean,' she said, 'I'd love to go riding with Liam.' 'Of course you would, child. You go.' The drawn face 21 looked sad tor a moment as it he regretted not being able to join them, but die moment was brief and a wide smile banished any trace of self-pity. 'Liam's right, there's an awful lot to see and you'll be in good hands with him. I want you to enjoy being here and perhaps grow fond enough of it not to want to leave again.' 'I love it already,' Cerys dedared impulsively, and saw the brief look of satisfaction he exchanged with his foster-son. 82