Eventually, Luke was able to finally escape the protection of Fallow's and its co-owners, when one of the typical black luxury vehicles pulled up outside of the store. And despite his misery and annoyance, he did make sure to thank said store owners profusely.

"I'll repay you somehow, believe me. When I can think of a way."

"Nonsense. We were only doing our job as decent, upstanding citizens."

Gus and Mick's humility was impenetrable, but Luke made sure to place them and their good deed safely in the back of his mind. He planned to make good on his vow to reward them. Especially seeing as right now, the two men seemed to be the only allies he had.

Since he was in no particular hurry to face his family, he bade the driver to take him to the Winthrop residence. Maybe there, perhaps, he could get some answers as to why Meghan was at Dashwood Manor - or, if he were lucky, she would be back at the Winthrops' herself.

At the very least, he hoped they'd be willing to speak with him. He hadn't remembered seeing Faye at the ball; she hadn't seen what an arse he'd made of himself. But then, Meghan had probably filled her in. And there were still those newspapers and wretched tabloids...

His car soon pulled up in front of the cottage, just as it had the night before. Luke stepped out, walked to the door, and rang the bell.

And who should it be but Faye herself that answered the door?

Still holding the doorknob on the inside, Faye stared for a few moments. A fleeting look of surprise passed over her, leaving a grim, slightly resentful look in its place.

"Mr. Brenshire." she acknowledged in a cold but forcibly cordial tone.

"Hello, Faye." Luke said, giving her a sheepish smile. "Do you mind if I speak with you?"

Faye hesitated, looking back into one of the rooms. Luke wondered if her other family members were in there, waiting, silent, shocked at his arrival.

Finally, Faye moved carefully around the door and stepped outside. She clasped her hands together and stood up straight, gazing at Luke diplomatically.

"Yes?"

He was quiet for a moment.

"Well, first off, it's good to finally meet you."

Faye gave him a slight nod, indifferent.

"You as well."

Luke began to feel more uneasy as he paused, looking away, trying to gather his thoughts.

"Right, thank you. I was wondering if you could help me. I'm trying to find a way to speak with Meghan...is she still at Dashwood Manor?"

"Yes."

"Yes. Alright. Might I ask why?"

He saw Faye's eyes darken at this.

"Well, I think it's very rude of you to ask why, considering it's none of your business."

Luke became even more sheepish.

"Faye...I know that I seem undeserving of any further information, but I care deeply for Meghan, and I really need your help."

"Mr. Brenshire, am I expected to believe that you care for her in the smallest way, after what you've done?"

"No, you're not. But please, I must know - is she there to avoid me, or is there another reason?"

Faye looked away.

"I'm surprised you don't know. You likely had a hand in it."

Luke was puzzled.

"Hand in what?"

Faye looked at him again, almost incredulous at his lack of awareness.

"Her kidnapping, Mr. Brenshire."

He was immediately taken aback.

"W...What?!"

The blonde was silent, studying him.

"Kidnapping?! By whom?!"

Faye laughed darkly.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. No one else does, except Meghan herself."

"But you know who it was?"

"Oh, yes. I saw it."

"Tell me. I can promise you that I'll believe."

He already had a bit of an idea...Faye was hesitant.

"I still find it very strange that you're so oblivious to the culprit, actually. For it makes utmost sense that you could've grabbed Clarissa to make Meghan run from the building, outside, where she was vulnerable, to have Alistair Payne seize her and attempt to ship her back to New York, and then give you a healthy sum for your troubles."

Luke was now burning with rage toward that sick old man. How dare he?! How dare he lay a hand on her?!

Nevertheless, Luke kept his tone even for Faye, grateful that she'd disclosed to him the information.

"I believe your account, wholeheartedly. But be assured that I had no part in it. I'd never be a part of something so evil, and regardless, Alistair had nothing to bribe me with. I've more money than I know what to do with, unfortunately."

Faye was silent again, for a moment, before finally speaking.

"It really doesn't matter whether you were involved or not. Not now. Meghan is safe, nonetheless. And you are a pig, nonetheless."

Luke's sorrow rose up again, from beneath his fury.

"Faye." he said desperately, "I know that I must seem horrible, and that I have nothing to prove otherwise. But you must believe me. Something took my mind. I thought it was Meghan I was kissing last night."

The girl looked at him, blankly.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Brenshire, but everything you've just said sounded absurd. And in any case," Faye said, "there's nothing I can do for you."

She opened the door and walked inside, throwing him a last, quick glance. And then Luke was alone, feeling an almost lethal mix of pain and anger. He carried this with him back to his luxury car. Inside it, his face in his hands, he was driven away from the Winthrops'.

That night, amid the second onset of repeated phone calls from an arrogant, foolish young man, Meghan sat in the room she'd been given, staring at the wall.

Those calls seemed more frantic - at least, according to Ganes. Luke had apparently found out about the private jet incident, and for some reason, seemed concerned about it. Meghan couldn't fathom why he would be, however.

Downstairs, before, she'd heard one of the calls - while Henry had been up in his office, informing Jocelyn of her granddaughter. Up until that moment, Jocelyn and Meghan had been talking pleasantly in the parlor, in front of a crackling fire. Then Henry had shown up in the doorway and asked that his mother come with him. She'd risen, and had winked at Meghan as she'd left the room. Ten minutes later, the phone rang.

"I must speak with Meghan!" she'd heard faintly as Ganes pressed the phone to his ear. The butler had glanced at Meghan, who shook her head, closing her eyes. She'd looked away, trying to prevent the tears from falling...

"I'm sorry, Master Lucas, but she does not wish to speak with you."

"Tell her that I'm begging her. I beg that she give me a chance."

She'd stood up then, and had left the room. While in the hall, she'd heard Ganes gently set down the receiver, breaking the connection.

Now, as that phone and others throughout the mansion incessantly rang - by now going unanswered - Meghan was at a loss as to what to do next. She was seriously considering an early bedtime. But whatever she did, she wouldn't be leaving this room. The idea of that terrified her.

She remembered another extremely recent conversation. Just after supper, while Meghan was in this very room, she'd heard shuffling as someone approached her door. She'd thought they'd keep right on going. Instead, there came a knock. It had startled her.

The first image that had come to her mind was of the worst possible scenario - a placid-sounding Alistair, requesting he be let in to breathe more poison down her neck.

Within a few seconds she realized that it could be the butler, perhaps at his wits' end, there to persuade Meghan to talk to the wretched boy already.

But neither of these were the case.

"Meghan, may I come in?" came the exhausted voice behind the door. Henry.

She'd opened the door for him.

The object of his stopping in was to discuss the disclosure - or rather, non-disclosure - of events and situations to others outside this household or that of the Winthrops'. Since Meghan would be back at Jasperstone tomorrow, Henry had suggested that it would be best not to inform anyone outside of this circle of the attempted kidnapping, or of the relation he held to her cousin. Also, no one other than her host-family was to be aware of her temporary living arrangements.

Not even those residing in New York, apparently.

"They will know soon enough, I'll venture to say." He had acknowledged. "Many people will know soon enough. But we don't want an uproar. Alistair is very persnickety about these things, and I decided that it would be better that I tell you rather than for you to hear it from him."

Meghan had nodded, extremely grateful.

"The Winthrops have been informed of this, and Clarissa is to follow the same rule. Until...progress is made, this is no business of the public." He'd half-smiled. Henry had not wanted to seem cold.

"I understand."

As he'd approached the door to exit, he'd very reluctantly told her that the Brenshires had been informed as well. Her face had taken on a distant look as she nodded. Henry had paused for a few seconds.

"Meghan, again, I'm very sorry." he'd told her, and sympathy did coat his words. "Goodnight, now."

That was forty-five minutes ago. Meghan had long finished unpacking and arranging things to her satisfaction, and she'd already done a fair amount of staring out the window. Out at the nighttime version of that perfect courtyard, at the lit fountain in its center, and she'd watched the water trickle down.

Perhaps the best thing to do really was to go to bed.

She donned her pajamas that Faye had brought, no longer needing Jocelyn's nightgown. Meghan stared at the pattern on those pajamas: cows jumping over moons. Even her St. Patrick's Day slippers had been delivered to her. Meghan set them daintily in front of the chair, next to the moccasins and the strappy heels. She was struck by the contrast the pajamas and slippers held to her surroundings. Funky and fun against classy and dignified.

Meghan shuffled to the bed and pulled down the covers. She switched off the light as she crawled in, and caught a whiff of the fancy potpourri that sat in a basket on the nightstand. She curled up into a tight ball, lying on her side.

It was unlikely that the thick down comforter would truly protect Meghan from Alistair, or from her own heartbreak. But pretending that it would was a tremendous help. Meghan burrowed down into the fabric and closed her eyes.

Hoped you liked these. :) Sorry I don't have more right now, but I will be back. I'm still writing.

Thanks very much again to all of you. Leave feedback if you'd like, I'm always happy to read it.

-rf-