Son of a rogue and a gypsy, Hero Fiennes Tiffin was a notorious rake until a shattering betrayal left him alone and embittered in the Welsh countryside. Desperation drives quiet schoolteacher Josephine Langford to ask Hero Fiennes Tiffin to help sav...
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For the Morrises, Sunday was a day for the family as well as the Lord. Usually that included a walk after the midday meal. Sometimes Marged came, but more often she stayed home, saying frankly that she liked a bit of quiet now and then. For his part, Owen enjoyed the time alone with his children. If a man didn't make the effort, it would be easy to miss the growing years.
It was a very Welsh sort of day, with showers and sunshine taking turns. At the urging of Owen's older son, Trevor, they took a different track into the hills. Few people came this way, for it ran by Lord Michael Kenyon's estate, Bryn Manor, where visitors were not welcome. Surrounded by a stone wall, the estate was very different from Westgate, which was criss-crossed by public pathways. However, Owen knew that as long as they stayed off Kenyon property there would be no problem, and the track was a lovely one on a spring day.
Megan, very much the little lady, walked with her father while the boys raced back and forth like a pack of puppies. It did Owen's heart good to see little Huw larking about with his own boys. Since leaving the mine, the child seemed to have grown three inches, as well as putting on weight and achieving healthy color. According to Marged, he was an apt pupil, approaching every new lesson with the same hunger that he showed at the kitchen table.
As the trail wound upward, Owen asked Megan, "Your birthday will be here soon. Is there something special you would like?"
She glanced at him askance. "A kitten."
He raised his brows. "We already have a cat."
"But I want a kitten," she explained. "Of my own."
He hid a smile. "Kittens turn into cats," he warned her, "and if you get one, you'd have to take care of it yourself. Still, you'll be ten —almost grown up. If you're sure that's what you want, I'll talk to your mother. If she objects—was Megan cut him off with an unladylike crow of pleasure. "Mama said to talk to you, and if you didn't object, it would be all right. Ethelwyn's cat just had kittens. In a fortnight, they'll be ready to leave their mother."
Owen grinned. He'd never had a chance. Not that he could deny Megan anything, since she looked so much like her mother.
Contentment was shattered when Trevor bolted out of the woods. "Dada, come quickly, it's Huw," he panted. "He wandered off to pick daffodils for Mama, then came racing back like the devil was after him. I asked him what was wrong, but he just cries and won't answer."
Owen increased the length of his strides. A few minutes of walking through the trees brought them to the other two children. Huw was sobbing frantically, daffodils clutched incongruously to his chest. Patting him ineffectually on the shoulder was Owen's younger son David, who greeted his father with relief.
Owen scooped Huw up in his arms and made soothing noises. For all his new growth, he was still only a tiny lad. When the child's tears had abated, he asked, "What's wrong, boyo?"
