Call Home the Heart (11 page)

 

 

All this time Lochlainn had been watching her warily whenever he had
the opportunity, popping his head above the screen to keep an eye on
her every movement. As he finished shaving, he remarked to himself
that if Muireann were indeed mad, she was certainly the most
practical insane person he had ever come across.

 

 

Muireann could see he was in one of his odd moods again. She had
grown quite used to his frosty demeanor, and was bold enough to
observe softly, "You're awfully quiet this morning, Lochlainn. A
penny for them?"

 

 

"They're not even worth that, my dear." He smiled as he fastened his
shirt and waistcoat.

 

 

 He fussed with his stock for several moments as she watched
him, a puzzled frown marring her lovely face.

 

 

At last Muireann reached up and brushed his fingers aside, and
offered, "Here, let me." She tied it expertly with her small nimble
fingers, explaining, "Papa used to have trouble all the time too."

 

 

Lochlainn couldn't resist her nearness as her amethyst eyes shone up
at him. He kissed her on the lips fleetingly, before releasing her
to put on his jacket. Odd she might be, he commented to himself, but
really, she was the most charming woman.

 

 

But there was little time for further reflection on Muireann's
behavior. Not when the coach was about to leave. Lochlainn gathered
up his things while Muireann checked the room to make sure they had
left nothing behind.

 

 

Then she paid the hotel bill while Lochlainn loaded their bags on
top of the waiting coach. She stepped out into the bright crisp
morning air. Lochlainn stared at her as a ray of sunshine lit her up
in the hotel entrance. She was a most arresting sight, he thought as
his heart turned over. Every man in the quiet street turned to look
at the illuminated figure, standing above the throng like an angel
from on high.

 

 

Muireann, completely unconscious of the effect she was having on
Lochlainn, hopped up into the carriage, where she made a small nest
for them with the traveling rugs. She assumed there would be other
passengers, but due to the early hour and the poor weather
conditions over the past few days, they ended up with the whole
carriage to themselves.

 

 

Lochlainn wondered if he should sit across from Muireann rather than
next to her, but it seemed ridiculously formal. After all, they had
shared a bed, and it was certainly very cold. So he sat next to her,
with both of them tucked securely under the rugs. Lochlainn passed
the time by regaling Muireann with tales of his experiences in
Australia. He also asked her about her life in Fintry.

 

 

The information that she gave Lochlainn about the things she had
been accustomed to doing back home made him feel terribly
inadequate. Not for the first time he wondered what her reaction
would be when she arrived at Barnakilla. Would she hate him for
having been so economical with the truth?

 

 

He wanted to warn her, and debated doing so in his mind whenever
there was a lull in their conversation. But it was just so good to
talk to someone about the things that mattered to him, the things he
was interested in, as if he were someone important in her life.

 

 

Even their silences were comfortable, for example while Muireann
gazed out the window admiring the view, or when they ate their
sandwiches side by side, washing them down with some milk they were
able to purchase at a small farmhouse when they made a brief rest
stop to change horses.

 

 

Whenever Muireann laughed, she sparkled like a rare jewel. Not for
the first time, Lochlainn compared her to Tara, who had remained
cool, aloof, and had seldom smiled, let alone laughed. She had been
incredibly alluring, but in a frustrating sort of way.

 

 

Muireann was also enticing, Lochlainn had to admit. It was amazing
to him that she was full of joie de vivre even after all that had
happened to her. Or was she simply trying to block out all she had
endured, pretend it had never happened?

 

 

"You're doing it again, Lochlainn," Muireann remarked at one point
as they neared Enniskillen.

 

 

 "What's that?" Lochlainn asked, puzzled, his steel-gray eyes
glancing down at her lingeringly.

 

 

"Going off into that grim dark little world of yours, where I can't
reach you."

 

 

Lochlainn stared at her for a brief moment before looking away. He
told himself he simply couldn't kiss her again, though every fiber
of his being yearned for her.

 

 

"I'm sorry, there are just so many things on my mind."

 

 

 "I know. I can see that. I just wish you'd tell me what they
are. A problem shared is a often a problem halved."

 

 

"I'm not sure what the problem is myself," Lochlainn admitted
honestly. "I'm very confused."

 

 

"I know I'm young and foolish, Lochlainn, but I do want to help
Barnakilla as much as I can. And you did promise to be honest with
me," she reminded him, taking his hand for a moment.

 

 

"I did indeed. I promise I shall keep nothing from you about
Barnakilla," he replied, neatly sidestepping the issue. He scolded
himself inwardly. In future he would simply have to keep his mind on
his work and not on his new employer.

 

 

"We'll look over the papers whenever you feel up to it, Muireann, I
swear."

 

 

Muireann lapsed into silence again, until Lochlainn reached out and
took her hand in his both of his own, enjoying her spontaneous
gesture of affection, and wishing to prolong the pleasure.

 

 

"You re very good with people, you know," he said suddenly. "You
notice things about them. You, well, charm them might be a good
word, if it didn't sound like something deliberate or coquettish.
You're so natural, it just puts people at their ease."

 

 

Muireann blushed. "I'll take it as a compliment, though I'm sure I
don't deserve it."

 

 

"But you do. That's the other odd thing about you. You're perhaps a
bit too honest and open in your dealings with people."

 

 

"Oh dear, didn't I drive a hard enough bargain with the man in the
shop and the owner of the livery stable?" she joked.

 

 

"No, I'm not talking about that. I just mean that you and I only met
each other three days ago, and here we are conversing like old
friends. You're my employer, and Paddy's, yet you treat us like your
equals, members of your own family."

 

 

Muireann blushed and avoided his gaze as she declared, "Well, you
are my family now. I have no other here." She paused for a moment
and sighed. "People are dishonest with each other all the time. I
try to be honest, and I think you do as well. Just because I've been
badly disappointed though, doesn't mean that I'm willing to stop
trusting everyone entirely. I'll trust you for as long as you prove
yourself to be trustworthy, Lochlainn.

 

 

"But if I find you've betrayed me as well, our friendship will be at
an end. But that's better than always being suspicious of people and
fearing the worst. I find if you expect the worst from people, they
inevitably live up, or down, to your expectations."

 

 

"Beauty, intelligence, and a philosophical disposition as well."
Lochlainn smiled slightly, kissing her hand. "What more could a man
ask for?"

 

 

She suddenly looked desolate. "I don't know."

 

 

Her pained expression snapped Lochlainn's resolve, and he pulled her
to him for a real kiss on the lips, which deepened as the carriage
lurched on the road. Muireann looped her arms around Lochlainn's
neck and pressed herself against him. Her whole body arched toward
him like a flower opening itself to the vibrant rays of the sun.
Though his hands on her ribs hurt terribly, she needed to feel his
strength and warmth flow through her.

 

 

Lochlainn twisted his mouth against hers, devouring her lips, his
tongue exploring the moist cavern of her mouth, mingling with her
own. It was like sipping a heady wine.

 

 

Lochlainn's heart hammered in his chest as Muireann hugged him to
her, and ran her fingers through his hair. Tara certainly never
kissed like this, he reflected as his loins tightened alarmingly.

 

 

Finally Lochlainn knew he couldn't hold back any longer. If he
didn't stop now, he knew he would try to lift her skirt. That was
completely unthinkable. Muireann was his employer. She needed his
help, not his lovemaking. If he offended her, she could dismiss him
from her service any time she liked.

 

 

Suddenly Paddy called down from the driver's box that Enniskillen
was within view. Lochlainn moved away from Muireann to open the
window.

 

 

 A blast of icy cold air quenched his passion for a moment, and
he let the freezing wind cool his flushed face. Turning to Muireann,
who sat now with her hands pressed tightly in her lap, he said,
"There it is!"

 

 

Muireann rose to look out of the window. Despite her mixed emotions
about the kiss she had just shared with Lochlainn, she smiled.

 

 

It was lovely. The whole countryside was like a sparkling blue-green
jewel etched with white frost.  For a brief moment she was
distracted from her worries. But she knew the kiss had been wrong.
Her only excuse was that the fiery sweetness had carried her away
utterly.

 

 

However, her duty lay before her now all too clearly as the coach
pulled into the depot. She was responsible for Barnakilla. Though it
felt like a heavy burden on her shoulders, she knew she would have
to carry the load herself. The utter powerlessness she had felt
after her marriage to Augustine, when she had discovered abruptly
just what a monster he was, had been enough to make her cautious
about putting herself in the hands of any man ever again.

 

 

Of course she longed to be held, and comforted. The kisses she and
Lochlainn had shared had been nothing like those she had encountered
before. She had been kissed a number of times in the past, but never
had she felt she was missing out on anything when the kisses had
ended. With Lochlainn, his lips held all sorts of unspoken promises
which she could only guess at.

 

 

But to wonder about him in that way would be to court disaster.
Lochlainn was the most handsome, exciting man she had ever met. But
he was her estate agent. She had to trust him with her business
matters. Her growing feelings for him couldn't be allowed to get in
the way of the work that was ahead of them. At any rate, he would
probably be horrified if she admitted that she wanted him
desperately. What would he think of her?

 

 

She was certainly aware of the stereotype of the young widow. The
last thing she needed was unnecessary gossip, especially with the
way Augustine had died.

 

 

Lochlainn had just been trying to cheer her up, to comfort her in
her time of loss and confusion, she reasoned. She shouldn't be
foolish enough to read anything more into it.

 

 

Besides, she had to be strong. Muireann vowed that no matter what,
she would never show how weak she was, and never, ever admit the
awful truth, which she mournfully tried to push to the back of her
mind: she was falling in love with Lochlainn Roche.

 

 

I have to leave the past behind. This is my future now. I have to
succeed on my own, she vowed as she folded the rugs up into a
bundle, and stepped out of the carriage decisively.

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

 

Muireann and Lochlainn unloaded the carriage together, and walked to
the west end of the town in the hope of getting a lift on a cart
bound for Donegal, which would at least take them part of the way to
Barnakilla.

 

 

They left Paddy with the coach driver to make the trip back to
Dublin. Muireann gave him permission to stay away for as long as he
was needed.

 

 

"And make sure they pay you good wages," she advised as she waved
goodbye to him.

 

 

"I will. Thank you!"

 

 

The sky was darkening rapidly. Muireann began to shiver, but she
refused to let Lochlainn see she was suffering. So she simply
wrapped her cloak more tightly around her and said, "Come on, let's
walk."

 

 

"But it's freezing!" he exclaimed, shouldering his own bag.

 

 

"It will be worse if we stand around doing nothing," Muireann said
as she began to trudge up the road.

 

 

 Fortunately, most of the snow had melted, so the road was
slushy but not too dangerously slippery. After about a mile, a cart
coming along the road shone its beams on them, and for a few pennies
the man agreed to take them straight to Barnakilla.

 

 

Since it was a bright moonlit night, Muireann was able to see
Barnakilla from the bottom of the long avenue as the cart neared her
new home. The trees were completely bare, giving her an unimpeded
view of the mansion.

 

 

At first it didn't look too bad. Quite grand, in fact. The front
entrance was large, with a portico held up by four stout pillars.
Muireann could see it had once been a traditional early Georgian
house, square, with tall, elegant windows, which had been added to
over the years.

 

 

There was a small terrace running down one side of Barnakilla,
accessible by a pair of French windows, and a long wing at the back.
A second terrace led down to what no doubt had once been a
magnificent lawn, now wildly overgrown, which was evident despite
the winter weather blighting most of the Irish vegetation at that
time of year.