Free Touch of Passion by Susan Spencer Paul Page B

among those present, for they were, like most Welsh, deeply superstitious. It had likely crossed their minds before now that some evildoer had gone to Elian’s Well and thrown a curse into the water, bringing all this misery upon them. Although Kian certainly didn’t deny that such curses were true, he didn’t believe for a moment that paying the well keeper a few coins to lift a curse would solve the troubles at Tylluan. But it would buy him a little time and soothe his tenants for a few days.
    â€œI should be glad to go, m’lord,” Allan offered, nodding toward the field. “Once this has been cleared and the carcasses burned.”
    â€œAye, and me with him,” said another, followed by a chorus of volunteers.
    â€œIt is good of each of you to offer,” Kian told them, “but I shall ask my brother to go.” He understood what it would mean to the people of Tylluan to have someone so close to their baron perform the task. “Dyfed will leave tomorrow morning and, God willing, be home before the week is out. Let us all pray God that whatever has been bedeviling us will be gone by then.”
    â€œNot those, Elen.” Loris waved a hand to keep the girl from picking any more thyme. “We’ve enough for tonight’s stew and I want to save plenty for drying. What a glorious day thisis.” A crisp, cool breeze caressed her cheek and she lifted her head to smile at the white clouds above. “I can scarce remember a spring here with so little rain and so much sun.”
    â€œThe rain will come, miss,” the younger girl said gloomily. “It always does. And the fog with it.”
    â€œAye, that they will, praise be to God,” Loris agreed. “We’d be in sore misery if it were not so, especially here on Tylluan’s high hill. Look, Elen.” Standing, Loris strode nearer to the edge of the garden, where a sheer drop gave way to the valley below. “I never weary of seeing it, do you?” She glanced back at the girl, who trudged unhappily over to join her, dragging her mostly empty basket along as if it were a great burden.
    â€œIt’s the same as it was yesterday,” Elen replied, “and the day before that and the day before that. Nothing ever changes here.”
    â€œNo,” Loris murmured with pleasure. “I pray it never will.”
    It had been ten years since Ffinian Seymour had taken her into his heart as an adopted daughter and brought her to live at Tylluan. Ten glorious years out of London’s dark alleys and filthy dens. And all of them spent here, in this wild and beautiful land. There had been a great deal of work for her to do in the beginning, for the castle had been in a disastrous condition and Ffinian and his sons and their men were given to living like animals, but Loris had gladly applied herself to the challenge of putting everything and everyone into order. And somehow, in the process, Tylluan had become her home. Her own beloved home, made clean and comfortable and lovely by her own hand. She was safe here, and happy as she had never dreamed she might be.
    â€œI know you can’t see Tylluan as I do, Elen,” she told the girl. “You’ve never known anything else. But you’re very young, yet, and might one day have the chance to see something more of England. And then, perhaps, you’ll realize just how beautiful Tylluan is by comparison.”
    Elen sighed aloud. “I hope so, miss,” she said. “There must be so many wonderful things in other places. Shops and carriages and beautiful things. And something exciting to do once in a while. Nothing ever happens here.” She sighed again. “Nothing good, anywise.”
    â€œWe did, too, have something good happen,” Loris reminded her. “And only a few months past. Can you have forgotten the wedding so soon?”
    â€œThat’s true, miss,” Elen agreed unhappily. “But that