Page 2 of The Homecoming (The De Montforte Brothers #6)

Chapter One

TWO DAYS LATER....

“ N erissa, mo grá . Ye look as nervous as a baby bird amidst a bunch o’ starvin’ cats. What ails ye, lass?”

The confines of the coach were cramped, and as Lady Nerissa O’Devir looked out at her homeland that she hadn’t seen in over a year and a half, the majestic rolling downs spreading out as far as the eye could see, she smoothed her skirts and tried to muster a brave face.

“It is nothing, Ruaidri,” she assured him, flashing a smile that didn’t fool him one bit.

“But I worry that I have put you ... put all of us, in danger by coming here. You were the Irish Pirate, wreaking hell against British shipping back in Boston ... you’re an officer in the American Navy . .. and I—”

“Have faith that if yer brother told us he’s ‘fixed’ things, then he has.”

She nodded, holding little Aidan close to her bosom as the coach bumped over the muddy chalk road.

Across from her, Ruaidri, handsome in his unassuming bottle-green coat and fawn breeches, his thick, wildly curling black hair caught in a queue and his tricorn on the seat beside him, held a warm body in his own lap, but it was no child.

Or at least, no human one. His charge had four legs and a wagging tail, button ears, and black eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I wish I could keep from worrying, but you have yet to meet my brothers, Charles and Gareth. You may have won Andrew over, and Lucien too when he crossed the Atlantic to bring me home, but I fear you’ll have a harder time of it with the other two, especially Charles.”

Ruaidri shrugged, laughing as the puppy licked at his face. “Well then, I hope when they see ye smiling and happy, a babe in your arms and a bloom in yer cheek, they’ll forgive me for all of it.”

“Gareth will. I’m not so sure about Charles. We were close, and he was always so protective of me.”

“And Lucien wasn’t?”

She caught his gaze across the short space that separated them, the twinkle in his eye and the easy confidence he was trying so hard to instill in her.

Truly, he had a lot more to be concerned about than she did.

But that knowledge did nothing to settle her nerves.

Lucien and Sir Roger may have cleared her name, and while she may not be exactly lauded back in England at least she wouldn’t be hanged as a traitor.

Ruaidri, though, was another matter entirely. She was far more concerned about his safety than she could ever be, her own.

Overhead, clouds moved to cover the sun, and the coach grew momentarily dark.

A few drops of rain spluttered against the window, began to roll down the glass.

Nerissa opened it despite the weather, hungry for her first scent of home.

Of the chalk mud and green grasses, the meadows and dampness and sweet, sweet wind.

On the box, the driver called something to his team, and Nerissa moved from her seat, joined her husband on his, and snuggling close to him, leaned her head against his shoulder.

His arm came around her, drawing both her and Aidan against him, and she felt his lips in her hair.

“’Tis brave you are for coming back, my love,” he murmured. “I know ye’re worried.”

She spread her hand over his chest, feeling the warmth of his body beneath her cheek, the thump of his heart beneath her palm, the child nestled between them.

“I’m afraid things will be changed. Different from what they used to be.”

“Of course, they’ll be different. Nothing ever stays the same, Nerissa.”

Her unease grew.

More clouds coming in from the west now, following them, slowly overtaking them, and the first splatters of rain against the dust-streaked window.

“And I hope the children will like the puppy.”

“Aw, now, lass, who doesn’t like a puppy?” His free hand stroked the terrier’s head. “Especially this one. Cute as he can be. He’ll win hearts, he will.”

“He’s a little devil.”

“Lad’s got spirit.”

“Maybe we should’ve kept him ... let him be your ship’s dog or something.”

“A warship is no place for a dog, Nerissa.”

She shrugged. “No place for a cat, either, but everyone seems to have one.”

“Cats kill rats.”

“So do terriers,” she shot back, grinning.

“Aye, well, ye have me there.”

“Even if he’s a nuisance, I’m sure Celsie will adore this little hooligan. She loves dogs.”

“Everyone will love him. You just watch.”

She snuggled closer to Ruaidri. The rain was coming down harder now, the grassy chalk downs beyond the window cloaked in mist and almost grey in the shadows.

At last, they were descending into the familiar village of Ravenscombe.

Passing the Speckled Hen and the villagers’ cottages, the market area, the statue of King Henry on his charger that Gareth and his friends had defaced so long ago.

She put a hand against the window, smiling.

Remembering. Anticipation outweighing anxiety, excitement pushing aside her worries.

Familiar territory, now, and memories everywhere.

Shortly, around another bend in the road, Ruaidri, who had once hated all things English and for good reason, would get his first glimpse of Blackheath Castle dominating the countryside, Lucien’s pennant undulating against the English sky.

Soon, they’d be rolling up to the massive iron-banded doors, she the disgraced daughter of one of England’s most aristocratic families, he a rogue Irishman whom most of the nobility would rather spit upon and with them, a baby and a puppy who had a history of making trouble.

Nerissa shuddered.

What could possibly go wrong?