Charmed by His Love

by Janet Chapman

  “I’m pretty sure it’s going to take more than a curse to kill Duncan MacKeage,” Olivia said into the silence, making Peg stop and stare down at the open drawer. “From what I understand, his entire family is … well … let’s go with charmed. And Duncan told me his father is eighty-two years old but looks and acts like he’s barely sixty.”

  “Billy was big and strong, too.”

  Peg heard Olivia walk over, then felt a hand press onto her shoulder. “You can’t love a person to death, Peggy,” Olivia said quietly, turning her around. “And you can’t—ohmigod,” she gasped, her eyes widening. “You think you’re responsible for Billy dying. Peggy, that’s crazy because it’s impossible.”

  “Okay, then,” she growled, taking a swipe at her eyes with her sleeve. “Does that mean you wouldn’t have any problem with Isabel marrying Henry when they grow up?” She smiled tightly when Olivia dropped her hands in surprise. “Or your father, Sam, falling madly in love with my mother and marrying her even though she’s already killed off two husbands?”

  “Peggy Thompson, you’re outrageous.” Olivia made a crisscross over her chest. “And scout’s honor, I absolutely wouldn’t have a problem with Henry marrying Isabel.” She snorted. “Henry might, though.” She held up her hand when Peg tried to speak. “As for your mom and Sam … well, I’d be more worried about Jeanine than Dad.”

  Peg felt her mouth twitch. “Yeah, so would I.” She blew out a sigh and went to the pantry. “Okay then, let’s forget the Robinson curse and focus on my kids getting attached to Duncan—or any other man, for that matter.” She grabbed a small plastic bin, threw in a roll of paper towels, and carried it over to the counter and set everything inside it before turning to Olivia. “Weren’t you afraid Sophie would get attached to Mac, but that she’d be crushed if things hadn’t worked out between you?”

  “Of course I was. But Sophie’s the one who kept pushing me to get a boyfriend—other than Simon Maher,” she said with a small shudder. “That’s when I realized I wasn’t setting a very good example for her. Think about it, Peg; our kids don’t do what we say, they do what we do. And all Sophie saw me doing was running out the back door of the Drunken Moose or hiding in your van to avoid talking to a man.”

  “It’s not only men you hid from,” Peg said. “Okay, okay,” she conceded, raising her hand. “I’ll go on that stupid picnic Sunday. But,” she growled when Olivia broke into a way too smug smile, “I am not going on a real date if he asks me.”

  “He scares you, doesn’t he?” Olivia whispered. “He just has to look at you with those piercing eyes and your insides clench and your mouth goes dry and your heart starts pounding, and you think you’re going to pass out the moment he touches you and miss something really important.”

  Peg blinked at her. “Are we talking about me and Duncan or you and Mac?”

  That certainly wiped away her smugness. Olivia brushed down the front of her jacket. “Yes. Well.” This time her smile was sheepish. “Honestly? I’m still afraid I’m going to pass out and miss some of the best parts. Oh, Peg,” she said, grasping her shoulders again. “Promise me that you’ll have a good time Sunday.”

  “I promise I’ll try.”

  Olivia’s hands tightened. “And promise me you’ll get over this crazy notion that you’re some sort of black widow, and that you’ll at least give Duncan a fighting chance.” She let go with a laugh. “Although I did notice he’s looking a tad beat-up today—rather like my dear sweet husband.”

  “Are you saying Mac fell down the mountain, too?”

  Olivia frowned in confusion, then suddenly snorted. “They didn’t fall down the mountain; they beat the hell out of each other.”

  “What? For God’s sake, why?”

  “Because they’re idiots,” Olivia said with a dismissive wave. “When I asked Mac why he couldn’t stop groaning this morning, he told me he and Duncan had engaged in a bit of sport up on the mountain. And then he said that if I thought he looked bad, I should see Duncan.”

  “What kind of sport? No, wait; I know! Duncan had a sword in his truck this morning, and he told us that his family goes to some games down on the coast every summer. They must have been fencing. But I thought that involved skinny rapiers or foils or something with rubber tips. Duncan has little cuts all over him.”

  Olivia nodded. “I only saw one cut on Mac, but he’s got several nasty bruises and he’s walking with a bit of a limp.”

  “Why would two grown men beat themselves up for no good reason?”

  “Because they’re idiots,” Olivia repeated. “And I guess because they feel it’s more macho than going to a gym and running on a treadmill.”

  “And you’re hoping I’ll date one of those idiots?”

  “Hey, I married one of them,” Olivia muttered, grabbing the plastic bin and heading for the door. “And just so you know, Mac told me they’re meeting up on the mountain again tomorrow afternoon to have another go at each other. So try to keep your little tribe of heathens from beating Duncan up too badly this week, okay?” She stopped and looked back, her smile smug again. “You, however, have my permission to attack him in any way you see fit.”

  Chapter Eight

  Not an hour in to the hastily thrown together campfire, Duncan was coming to realize several things about Peg and her children, which taken separately appeared benign, but as a whole were somewhat disconcerting and maybe even sad.

  Disconcertingly, the little tribe of heathens—which is how he’d heard Peg refer to them more than once this evening—were meticulously polite, considerate of both the adults and one another, and surprisingly quiet for children on their home turf. Even Pete was subdued, seemingly overwhelmed to have his dooryard invaded by a small band of strange men, and he’d spent the better part of supper sitting on a log scrunched up against his mother while his twin monopolized her other side. Peg’s oldest daughter, Charlotte—who was eight, Duncan had learned—and her sister, Isabel—who was six—sat quietly at the picnic table with Mac and Olivia’s two children, using a flashlight to pore over an atlas of the United States as they talked about the Oceanuses’ upcoming trip while basically ignoring everyone else.

  The sad part, to Duncan’s thinking, was how self-contained the Thompson tribe appeared to be, as if it were the five of them against the big scary world. But then, what was to say he wouldn’t have pulled his family into a defensive hug if he had suddenly found himself raising four children all by himself?

  Peg was unusually quiet as well, apparently also trying to come to terms with having her secure little kingdom invaded by men and machinery. He’d caught her staring up at her barren hillside more than once this evening, then releasing a soft sigh. He’d also caught her giving him sidelong glances only to look down at her hands, but not quickly enough for him to miss the hint of panic in her eyes. He didn’t know what to make of that exactly, but he did like the idea that she might be seeing him as something other than all that was standing between her and prostitution.

  Duncan figured he must have taken a blow to the head during his little exercise with Mac yesterday, because he still couldn’t believe he’d asked Peg if she’d let him take her and her children up the mountain Sunday. For a picnic? Really? People his parents’ age went on picnics, not thirty-five-year-old red-blooded males—unless they were attracted to a certain contrary, over-proud woman, apparently.

  The amazing thing was she’d said yes.

  Duncan took a swig of the kick-in-the-ass ale Mac had thoughtfully brought to the impromptu outing, and watched Peg whisper to Jacob—he’d already figured out how to tell them apart—as she handed the boy something before giving him a nudge to get him moving. Jacob took exactly two steps before he stopped and looked back at her, the firelight reflecting the hint of panic in eyes the spitting image of his mother’s.

  “Peter, why don’t you go with him?” he heard Peg say softly, peeling her other son off her side and also giving him a nudge. “Because it could just as easily have bee
n you in that water. And if it wasn’t for Mr. MacKeage, we probably wouldn’t have a beach to be having our campfire on tonight.”

  “Come with us, Mom,” he heard Jacob whisper tightly.

  Her encouraging smile turned into what Duncan was coming to recognize as Peg’s I-mean-business scowl when they still didn’t move. Pete finally grabbed his brother’s hand and, taking a fortifying breath that squared his little shoulders, started dragging Jacob around the fire to where Duncan was sitting with Robbie and Alec and Mac, leaning against some spare boulders they’d set into place with the excavator.

  “Mr. MacKeage,” Pete said, his little chin lifting exactly like his mother’s often did. “Jacob and me made you something after our nap.” He elbowed his brother. “Give it to him, Repeat.”

  Jacob thrust out his hand. “This is ’cause you’re a rescue hero,” he said when his brother elbowed him again. He suddenly lifted his bright blue eyes, making direct contact with Duncan’s as he boldly stepped closer. “All heroes have a bemlem … a embal … a badge to wear on their chests. Mom helped me draw the evascater and cut it out, but I did all the coloring and pasting.”

  “The bolt of lightning was my idea,” Pete added as Duncan took the badge, “because lightning tells everyone you’re fast and strong.”

  Staring down at the paste-stiffened construction paper covered with enough crayon to make the excavator nearly invisible, Duncan tried to say something only to have to clear his throat as he looked into Jacob’s apprehensive eyes. “This is really quite an honor, gentlemen,” he said thickly, running his thumb over the badge. He smiled, giving Jacob a nod. “I’m glad I could be of service.”

  “You gotta put it on your chest,” Pete instructed. “Mom stuck a pin on the back so you could.”

  “Wait,” Mac said when Duncan turned the badge over. “I do believe the lovely damsel whose child was saved must do the honor of rewarding the brave hero.”

  Tomorrow afternoon, Duncan decided as he shot Mac a glare, he was going to shove the cocky bastard off the mountain even if he had to go over with him.

  “Oh yes, Peggy,” Olivia chimed in, waving her tumbler of wine. “Go pin the badge on Duncan.” She stood up when Peg didn’t move and hauled the scowling damsel up off her log. “Just try to do it without stabbing him, okay?” she said, dragging Peg around the fire.

  “Aye,” Robbie said with a chuckle, nudging Duncan’s arm just as he was taking another swig of ale to hide his scowl at Peg’s obvious reluctance. “It would appear the man’s lost more than enough blood already this week.”

  “Yeah, Boss,” Alec drawled, nudging his other arm. “I believe if ye spill too much more you’re going to find yourself staggering back to TarStone. Be gentle with him, fair damsel,” he said with a chuckle. “He’s had a hard week.”

  Duncan scrambled to his feet when he saw Peg suddenly break free of Olivia and stride toward him far too eagerly. Dammit, he hadn’t done one thing to deserve this. Hell, he’d gone out of his way to be nice to the contrary woman.

  “Yes, give me that,” she said far too sweetly as she snatched the badge out of his hand. “I would love to do the honors. And don’t worry, Alec; I’m sure your boss is still numb from his swim, so he won’t feel a thing if I accidentally stab him.” She pulled back her hands. “No, wait; shouldn’t you be on your knees?”

  “In your dreams,” he muttered just before gulping down another kick-in-the-ass.

  “Excuse me? Did you say something?”

  “Mom,” Jacob whispered loudly, tugging on her sweatshirt hard enough that she nearly stabbed herself on the pin. “I gotta see ’cause I made it for him.”

  Duncan sighed and was just about to drop to one knee when Alec scrambled to his knees instead and held open his arms. “How about if I lift you up, Jacob?”

  Duncan sensed Peg go as still as a stone, and he used his eyes to motion to Robbie—who immediately pushed away from his boulder and opened his arms to Pete.

  “I could also give you a lift,” Robbie offered.

  Pete immediately walked into his embrace; Jacob stepping into Alec’s in the very next heartbeat so that both men stood up with the boys in their arms. And Duncan nearly did drop to his knees when he saw tears welling in Peg’s eyes despite her grateful smile. She gently pressed the badge to his shirt and carefully pinned it on him with trembling fingers, then cleared her throat. “Um, this badge is to honor Duncan MacKeage,” she said thickly, “for rescuing Jacob Thompson.”

  Duncan tried to say something but found he had to clear his own throat again, so he patted the badge on his chest, turned to Jacob, and smiled. “I will treasure it always, Mr. Thompson.”

  “And you gotta wear it always,” Pete added. “So everybody will know you’re a rescue hero, like on TV.”

  Well, hell; that was going to be a problem.

  Peg gave a sputtered laugh and patted her son’s leg. “I think Mr. MacKeage should carry it in his wallet just like the policemen do on TV.” She turned to Alec to get Jacob’s approval. “That way it won’t get torn or wrinkled, and he can pull out his wallet and show it to anyone who needs rescuing.”

  “But I’ll probably wait until after I rescue them,” Duncan offered. “Okay, Jacob? Pete?” he asked, turning to include him.

  “Okay,” Pete said. He looked down at the ground then at Robbie, his deep blue eyes widening. “You’re even higher than Uncle Galen.”

  “Mom,” Isabel said, pushing her way inside the circle of people to tug on the hem of Peg’s sweatshirt. “What’s the big deal? Jacob swims like a fish, so he wouldn’t have drowned. You call all of us your little trout.”

  “The deal is,” Peg said, taking Isabel’s hand and leading her away, “Jacob fell in ice-cold seawater, not the warm water of our old swimming hole.”

  Alec started to lower Jacob to the ground, but stopped when the boy suddenly reached his arms out to Duncan. “I got som’fin else to give you,” he whispered, darting a glance at his mother walking away, and then at Pete, who was running after her when Robbie set him down. Jacob wrapped an arm around Duncan’s neck when Alec transferred him over before also wisely walking away.

  “My mom gave it to me and I want to give it to you,” Jacob said, opening his tiny fist to expose a small rock. “It’s a worry stone,” he explained reverently, the arm around Duncan’s neck nudging him. “Go on, take it,” he instructed, dropping the rock into Duncan’s palm when he held up his hand. “You’re s’pose to carry it in your pocket, and when you get worried or scared or sad, you take it out and rub it.” He leaned his head closer. “But you gotta remember to take it out to rub it, or people will think you’re playing pocket pool. And Mama says only unservalized men do that.”

  Fighting back laughter, Duncan stared down at the tiny rock and nodded gravely. “I will definitely remember to take it out of my pocket first.” He ran his thumb across the stone. “Are you sure you want to give this to me, Jacob, seeing how your mama gave it to you? It must be very special.”

  The boy folded Duncan’s finger over the stone. “No, you keep it. Mom’s got a whole bowl on the counter ’cause I keep losing them.” He pressed his tiny hand to the badge pinned on Duncan’s chest. “Do you think if you didn’t catch me this morning I coulda saved myself? Or if Pete was drownding I coulda saved him?”

  “I do,” Duncan said with a nod, “if you swim like a trout.”

  “My daddy didn’t save hisself and Mama says he was big and strong like I’m going to be when I grow up.”

  Okay; apparently Jacob was over his shyness. Duncan turned to look behind him and sat down on the nearest boulder, then glanced across the fire to see Peg staring at them, both her hands clutching her throat. “Well, Jacob,” he said slowly, trying to find the right words, “sometimes it’s impossible to save ourselves, just like sometimes it’s impossible to save someone else. And … well, the way I understand it, your dad found himself in an icy river that had a very powerful current. It’s likely he hit his head and wasn�
��t even … awake when he hit the water.”

  Jacob sat up, his eyes widening. “Nobody never said that before.” He looked directly into Duncan’s eyes. “When we swimmed in our swimming hole before it got covered up with water, I tried holding my breath a long time like I thought my daddy did, but it always hurt something fierce and …” He dropped his gaze with a shudder. “And I don’t want him to hurt like that when he drownded.” He looked up. “You really think he was asleep?”

  Duncan pressed the boy to his shoulder. “I’m willing to bet my bulldozer and my excavator that he was, Jacob. Your daddy didn’t hurt.”

  “I’m glad,” the boy murmured, relaxing against him. “I’m gonna tell Mama what you said, so she won’t worry about it, neither.” He tilted his head back to look up. “And Pete and the girls. We gotta tell all of them.”

  “We can tell them together, if you’d like.”

  Jacob settled back against him again. “How come you learned I’m not Pete so fast? Everyone always mixes us up.”

  “Well, I do believe you have your mama’s smile and that Pete’s got her scowl,” Duncan said with a chuckle, shooting Peg a wink across the fire when he saw that though she was listening to what Olivia was saying, her eyes were glued on him and Jacob. “What about your sisters?” he asked. “Do you have any thoughts on how I can tell them apart?”

  Jacob sat up and turned to him in surprise. “They’re not twins. They wasn’t borned together like me and Pete.”

  “Repeat,” Pete called out, running over to them. “Mama said we can only have one more s’more and then we gotta go in and have baths.” He looked at Duncan. “You coming back tomorrow? Mr. Alec said you got a giant bulldozer.”

  “We’ll be here when you wake up, and so will the bulldozer.”

  “Come on, Repeat,” Pete said, grabbing his brother’s arm and dragging him off Duncan’s lap. “You gotta help me sneak the snails in our bath.”