Slaughtaverty 1748

Ransford Alaric Slatherty, lord of the manor, finds the children in their favourite withdrawing room. His heart is full whenever he sees his youngest son, healthy and happy, playing with the two Doyle children he's come to love as his own in the three years they'd been here.

Mairead is, as always, at her easel, attempting to paint one of the two boys who can never sit still for her long enough. He knows that she's trying to make a painting of Ransford playing the harpsichord, and for a while, the manor had been filled with the sweet sounds the boy can tease from the instrument when he's in the mood for it. Like many others in his bloodline, he has quite the talent and often soothes his father's soul by playing for him.

He also often tests the man's tolerance by making an awful noise on it. Right now, he'd given up on playing it and is, instead, wrestling with Uilliam. In all his life, which has already been far too long for him to bear, Ransford Alaric - called Alaric, not to confuse him with his father - has never met someone with a thirst for knowledge quite like this boy's. Aside from being a brilliant student, Uilliam also has a heart of gold.

Seeing him this healthy and growing stronger daily warms Lord Alaric's heart. However, thoughts of the horror these innocent children, especially Uilliam, had to endure because of his family are eating away at his mind. He is drowning in guilt. For too many years, he'd allowed sorrow and grief to blind him to the plight of the citizens of Peace Haven. He didn't realise what a miserable place he'd let it become until this new tragedy struck. He could spend the rest of his life making up for it but would still not be able to atone for his mistakes.

Merry looks up when she senses his presence, and as always, she welcomes him with the brightest of smiles. Her forgiveness is his salvation and his doom. He wishes that the children would just once scream at him in anger for all they'd been through and lost. They never do. Uilliam follows him around like a puppy, eager to learn everything there is to learn about the world, while Merry often kisses his cheek while he's working at his desk and brings him little gifts she'd made.

He couldn't love them more if he'd fathered them himself.

What he is about to do is definitely going to destroy the playful mood in the drawing room, but he loves his son. Seeing Ransford tormented and denying himself the joy of being loved is too much for Lord Alaric to stand. He understands where the boy is coming from and shares those sentiments regarding himself, but those same ideas kill him when he hears them voiced by his child.

"Oh! Well done, Merry. This is coming along nicely," he smiles, stopping by her side to admire her work. She has a good eye for composition and colour. Her depictions of the family living their lives, though not as technically perfect as the grand masters', seem more accurate and alive than theirs.

"Thank you, my lord," she smiles, pointing her paintbrush at the boys tangled on the carpet near her. "Unfortunately, I have to work mainly from memory because His Grace has fire ants in his pants!"

"Merr, I told you a thousand times," Ransford says, letting Uilliam go to look up at her with cockily raised eyebrows. "If you want me to pose without my pants, you only need to ask. You don't have to make up stories."

"Oh, ara be whist!" Merry exclaims, blushing while Lord Alaric playfully pokes his insolent son with the toe of his boot. Laughing, he holds the sheath of papers he brought with him out to the girl, and she lays down her paintbrush to take it from him.

"What is this, my lord?"

"You're seventeen now, Merry," he smiles, winking at her, hoping she understands what he's doing. A couple of days ago, he'd found her sitting in a dark window seat, heartbroken with tears streaming down her cheeks because she'd seen Ransford kiss another girl, and in a moment of weakness, he'd promised to find a way to force his son to see the light.

The manor is saturated with Ranford's love for Merry and his frustration, which is caused by his denying himself that love. The entire household - and the forest that suffers the brunt of Ransford's explosive temper - will benefit if this plan works.

"Remember, I told you I would help you find a bright and prosperous future? The time has come, my dear. This is a list of all the most suitable, eligible bachelors I know and approve of. Take your time, review their attributes, and let me know which of them, if any, you want to meet."

"You're marrying Merry off?!" Ransford exclaims, jumping to his feet, his eyes flashing silver in challenge and outrage. A lesser man would cower under those eyes, but his father meets his gaze calmly, cocking a questioning eyebrow as if he has no idea why his son is so angry.

"I'm not marrying her off," he explains patiently. "I'm offering her a chance at a good and prosperous life. The choice is hers, always. I'm merely giving her some options."

"She doesn't have to be married to have a good and prosperous life!" Ransford grumbles. "On the continents, perhaps, but not here on Peace Haven. Here, she can be whatever she wants to be."

It is true. Life on the island is very different from life on any of the continents. The rules that bind society there do not all apply here. Besides, Lord Alaric would be happy to have Merry live in the manor for the rest of her life, doing the things she loves best. Right now, those things are painting and drawing and taking care of the family members.

"I want to be a wife and mother, Your Grace," Merry snaps at Ransford, and Lord Alaric turns his face away to hide his smile. He knew the girl was shrewd and would grab the opportunity he was giving her to wake his son up to the truth of his own heart. "Am I not allowed to be that?"

"No!" Ransford growls. "I mean, yes... well... no... of course you can... no!"

"Your eloquence is astounding," Uilliam chuckles, earning an affectionate cuff to his head of unruly auburn curls, which makes him laugh at Ransford even harder.

"Thank you, my lord. I truly am honoured that you think I'm worthy of the men on this list," Merry says, looking up at Lord Alaric while she expertly ignores the rude gagging sounds Ransford is making.

"Barnaby Conyngham is quite accomplished," she mutters to herself, earnestly scanning the pages. "Oh, good! Florimond Chevrette-Landesque is on here. I met him last year at one of the balls you took me to, my lord. He is very handsome, and I see here that he is quite talented; I did think he was rather n-"

"Full of hot air and pomp!" Ransford growls, snatching the papers from Merry's hands. "Besides, I think that, if given a choice, he would rather bed me than you."

His angry words still echo in the room when - in the blink of an eye - he is gone, Merry's hair and the lace of her pretty gown stirring in the wake of his rushed departure.

"Well," she says, a little shaken by his anger. "That went well, my lord."

"Indeed," Lord Alaric sighs, stroking an encouraging hand over the back of her head.

"Thank you, my lord. Please excuse me," Merry says, pushing back her stool to stand, and, with a polite curtsey, she crosses the floor to leave the drawing room in search of Ransford.

"Is Merry chasing my cousin again?" Aridan - the only surviving child of Lord Alaric's eldest brother, Ambrose Cianán - laughs, wandering into the room. Her pretty face is lit up with amusement, and Lord Alaric's heart lurches painfully as it does every time he sees the girl. She is almost 12 years old now, filled with the promise of true beauty with her raven hair, silver eyes and gentle soul.

Aridan Slatherty

Her father was one of many victims of the poison the Slatherties' enemies have been using to try and wipe out anyone who survives the curse and grows into adulthood. He was murdered long before she was born, and her mother died in childbirth. Between them, Lord Alaric and his twin brother Fiachra Deaglan - known as Deaglan - were raising the girl. Now that Lord Deaglan is dying of the same poison, Lord Alaric is her only father.

Ambrose Cianán Slatherty

Despite all their efforts to slow down her development and keep the unavoidable changes at bay, Aridan is gradually going through the transition that will either kill, destroy or change her forever. The Slatherties spend hours on their knees praying to God to spare the girl, but she's been having bad spells. Lord Alaric fears that God has turned His back on this cursed family.

Aridan often cannot rise from her bed for many days at a time, and her healthy days gradually decrease as time passes. Lord Alaric's dread for her life grows each day. He tries to suppress it, smiling at her in welcome when she crosses the floor to wrap her arms around his waist.

"I don't want a list of women when I grow up," Liam informs Lord Alaric, rising from the carpet, gazing with wide, adoring eyes and the bravado of a nine-year-old at the girl the lord is hugging. Aridan is his other obsession. Whenever she's unable to leave her bed, the boy sits on a chair by her side, reading to her, which always succeeds in calming her when she's agitated. "I'm going to marry Lady Aridan."

Lord Alaric prevented the Doyle children from meeting the rest of the family for the first few months of their stay in the manor. They needed a chance to adjust and heal along with Ransford. Only Lord Alaric and some of their trusted allies and servants interacted with them.

Aridan has enchanted Uilliam since the first moment he met her, and it's clear that the affection is mutual. She often sits patiently, listening to him, describing the wonderful things he'd read and learned about. When the smell of baking fills the manor, she sneaks into the kitchen and steals some warm cookies for the boy.

"Oh, my! Master Uilliam, you're not even ten years old yet, and I'm on my way to becoming a woman," Aridan scoffs, slipping out of the lord's arms to ruffle the boy's hair. Her smile softens when Uilliam's face falls. "Very well, I'll wait for you to grow up a bit, then, shall I?" she laughs.

It's an easy promise to make because, like Lord Alaric, she fears she won't survive past her 14th birthday, like so many other Slatherty children before her.

Merry finds Ransford in a small enclosed part of the main garden, filled with flowers in radiant bloom. He does not appreciate the fragrance or the sight; he is aggressively tearing up the pages his father had so carefully and neatly written for her. She'd followed her heart to find him. He can never hide from her; she always knows exactly where he is. If asked how she knows, she would not be able to explain it. The reverse is true too. Whenever he annoys her too much, she runs from him, and he finds her... if he wants to.

"Now, what have these poor papers ever done to you, Your Grace?!" she scolds, bending to scoop up the scattered pieces. "And after your father went to so much trouble for me." She clicks her tongue, rising to look up at his tormented face.

"It's not funny, Merr," he growls, her amused smile causing the blood to drone loudly in his head. He needs to get out of the manor's grounds and run with the wolves or ride his horse until the anguish and rage leave his heart. His poor horse would probably die before that happens, so he'll have to stick to running.

He is mad at himself for giving his feelings away like this and childishly ripping up the papers. His father is right. Merry deserves a happy life, and if a husband and children are what she wants, then it is what she should have. She deserves it. He'd taken so much from her, and yet he selfishly wants to keep her locked up here in the manor grounds with him forever.

Sighing resignedly, he tries to smile at her. He'll tell her that Florimond Chevrette-Landesque is a good man and that he'd heard him compliment her at that same ball. At the time, he'd broken the stem of his wine glass trying to suppress the urge to rip out the man's eyes, but he couldn't tell her that part. Still, Florimond would be a very good choice, and there is no way Ransford can honestly deny that.

Merry could possibly have her pick of the elite of many countries, and not just because she has the backing of Alaric Slathery. His father might've given up his titles, but he still has all his power and fortune. Being backed by him would open many doors for her, but Merry is the object of admiration (and jealousy) at every event her father takes her to. The one she spoke about was her first ball, and though she'd tried really hard to act according to the decorum she was taught, her face shone with awe and innocence, enhancing her already startling beauty.

Merry has the most beautiful soul Ransford has ever encountered.

Whenever the girl enters a room, it becomes brighter. Her laughter is music, and the sound of her voice drives away all his self-loathing and fears. He feels like a human man when he gazes into her bright blue eyes. She is the dream that lives just out of his grasp.

He can deny it until the end of time, but the truth is that he loves her with all his heart.

"You can marry whomever you want and as many times as you want, Mairead Doyle," he tells her, proud of himself for getting this far, but then his lips involuntarily curl with contempt. "But you will always end up a widow because I'll rip the head off every single man you marry and spit in their lungs. Be sure only to marry men you hate."

"Charming," she says, her eyes sparkling with mirth. She knows that he could really do that, but she also knows that he never would... unless one of them hurt her. "You're the only man with or without a list I want to marry, Ransford Slatherty, but seeing that you have rejected me on more occasions than I can stomach, I'll have to settle for someone who is not afraid to be my husband and the father of my children."

"Merr," Ransford relents, reaching out to stroke his fingers down the side of her face, mesmerised by the goosebumps his touch teases to the surface of her soft skin. "I don't want you to die."

"I won't," she tells him, tilting her head cheekily. "Just like your grandmother didn't die, your mother didn't die, and your aunt didn't-"

"That woman is not my aunt!"

"-die. I have the same strange blood," she assures him as if he didn't already know that. "I'll live, and so will our children."

"You don't know that!"

"I do!" Merry exclaims, a frown bringing her brows together and even glaring at him; she is still the most beautiful person Ransford has ever laid his eyes on. "Besides," she continues, her frown disappearing in the pure love shining on her face, knocking the breath from his lungs. "If I died as your wife, I would die happy."

"You're an idiot," Ransford snorts angrily. "Nobody dies happy."

"Very well," Merry says, gathering her skirt in her free hand and turning away from him. "I'm going to spend all this love I have for you on Florimond Chevrette-Landesque before my heart bursts with it. If he will have me... If he also rejects me as rudely as you always do, I'll ask your father for a new list. I'll keep on trying until I-"

She is nearly at the arch leading out of the enclosure when Ransford grabs her arm, spinning her to face him, stealing the rest of her words with his lips.

Merry has only been kissed by a boy once before - almost three years ago - and that boy was also Ransford. Since then, she'd had to see him while away his time with other young women. Seeing him being flirty and affectionate with others hurt her to the core of her being, even though she knew that he was doing it on purpose to drive her away and assuage his frustrations.

She knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he loves her.

She'd known it for almost three years now, but she'd started to believe she would never be held in his arms and feel his soft lips on hers again. She would never in a million years marry another man. She would stay here in the manor, a spinster for the rest of her life, if it meant she could be near Ransford.

Surely, he must know that.

His father knows it. He was being devious bringing her that list, and she'd seen the twinkle in his eyes when he gave it to her and explained what it was. He knows his son so well.

The last kiss she'd shared with Ransford had been fleeting and light, and she'd barely registered it before it was over. He avoided her for weeks after that, causing her to regret the encounter even if it was her most treasured memory.

This time, his kiss is not tentative and gentle. His lips are claiming hers with a possessiveness that almost scares her. She is drowning in sensations her body is not accustomed to, her heart racing as she tries to keep up with his passion.

The list pieces flutter from her hand when she reaches up to tangle her fingers in his long, silky blond hair. Somewhere during the last year, it had lost its silver sheen, the colour becoming warmer as if his hair wanted to reflect his vibrant health.

Feeling his strong arms around her, Merry relishes knowing that though he has the power to put his most violent threats into action and could tear her to pieces if he wants to, she is safe in his embrace. He would never let anything or anybody harm her if he could help it. His fear stems from the things he has no control over.

"I love you, Merr," Ransford whispers, pulling his lips from hers to rest his forehead against hers, his breath shivering against her lips in laboured puffs. "I've tried not to, but I do... I love you so bloody much."

"I know," she answers, giggling when he twirls her around, pulling her back against him to run his knuckles over the top of her head. Her heart is beating so fast that she's feeling light-headed. Does she dare hope he is finally ready to stop running from her?

"I don't ever want to lose you," he murmurs near her ear when he's done tormenting her and wraps both his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. "I won't survive it."

"You won't lose me," Merry insists, turning in his arms to look up at his anguished face. "If I die, I'll just haunt you. It's as simple as that. I'm never leaving you."

"Yes, you're annoyingly persistent enough to do that," Ransford chuckles, running one hand up her arm to her neck. "Marrying you would be the most selfish thing I could ever do."

"Please be selfish, Your Grace," Merry smiles, turning her lips into the palm of his hand when he slides it up the side of her neck to her cheek. "I love you so much."

"I'll marry you just to punish you for calling me that," he grimaces, and when she looks up at him, her face radiant with laughter, Ransford brings his lips to hers again.

This time, the kiss lacks the bruising urgency of his last attempt. His lips are cool and soft, gently capturing and releasing hers in a breathless caress, causing Merry to whimper softly, parting her lips to invite him in, hungry for more of him.

Their hearts fuse together while the breeze stirs around them, the gentle fragrance of flowers drifting along, weaving a blissful veil of enticing aromas to shroud them. The last of Ransford's resistance crumbles and breaks. He no longer hears birds twittering or sees the lush leaves and glowing flowers of the small garden he'd fled to.

All his senses are filled with Mairead Doyle, the girl who'd brought him back from the brink of insanity, just to make him lose his mind in a very different way. Every day they are together, his love for her grows stronger. He can no longer tell where his soul ends and hers begins. Though he'd fought it with all his might, even gone so far as to try and fall in love with other girls, his love for the gentle young woman in his arms consumed him.

Ransford Slatherty, the heir to the Slatherty legacy, no longer exists. There is now only Ransford Slatherty, the young man who loves Mairead Doyle.

~~~