Charmed by His Love

by Janet Chapman

  “This is going to be the best day ever,” Isabel said, running ahead of her. “The only way it could be better was if Henry was going so I could ride with him.”

  Peg ushered the others on ahead, but stopped when Duncan called her name.

  “Where’s your new truck?” he asked, looking around, his eyes turning serious again when he looked back at her. “Please tell me it’s not taking a long nap.”

  She’d called Duncan’s mother the minute they’d returned from Inglenook yesterday, and Peg had discovered that Charlotte MacKeage could be just as strong-minded as her son. The woman had persuaded Peg to use the truck until she and Callum got there later this week and signed the title over, assuring her it was fully insured and that she preferred Peg drove it instead of Duncan because … well, had she seen the man’s pickup? “The kids and I cleaned out a spot in the garage for it yesterday afternoon, so it doesn’t get covered in all the dust you’re stirring up in the pit.”

  “I’ll keep the road watered when we’re hauling. And Peg? Thank you.”

  “For?”

  He lifted the reins he was holding. “For not making us walk those last four miles.” His eyes lit with something she couldn’t quite identify. “And for not making me have to hunt you down this morning,” he said quietly.

  Not really sure if he was joking or not, Peg mutely nodded and turned away, walking inside to the sound of his soft laughter.

  “How about if for today we forget the ‘mister’ and you all call me Duncan?”

  “Mom’s not going to like that,” Isabel said, giving him a pretty impressive scowl.

  “Your mom’s taking today off and she left me in charge, so I guess that means I get to make the rules.”

  “So when the day’s all done we gotta go back to Mom’s rules and call you Mr. Duncan again?” Jacob asked.

  “That’s the plan.”

  “What other rules you got?” Pete asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “Well, when my tribe back in Pine Creek goes on a picnic, all the little heathens have to catch their own dinner.”

  Isabel gasped. “You got a tribe of kids just like us?”

  “No, not of my own,” Duncan said with a chuckle. “I was referring to my cousin’s children. And we call ourselves a clan, which is the same thing as a tribe. So, are you all up for a little fishing?”

  “I’m not sticking no slimy worm on no hook,” Isabel said, back to scowling—until she suddenly beamed him a big smile and damn if she didn’t bat her lashes. “But if you baited the hook for me, M—Duncan, then I could catch my dinner. I love trout.”

  “Sorry, but it’s every man and woman for themselves when it comes to fishing,” he said, making sure to hide his smile when she went back to scowling. “So I hope you’re not real hungry.”

  “I ain’t afraid of no worms,” Pete said. He suddenly gasped. “Hey, can I say ain’t today if you’re making the rules?”

  Aw, hell; he hadn’t really anticipated that particular problem. “I suppose you can,” he said with a nod, “if you don’t mind sounding like you’re only four years old.”

  “He is four years old,” Isabel said, still scowling. “And so is Jacob.”

  Lord, that one was going to be trouble for her future husband. “Really?” He looked from Jacob to Pete and shook his head. “I’d swear they were older, because they usually talk and act like they’re at least six.”

  “I’m six,” Isabel growled. But then she smiled smugly. “And I don’t say ain’t.”

  “We’re gonna be five in …” Jacob looked at his oldest sister. “How many months until our birthday?”

  “Three,” Charlotte said. She glanced up at the ledge where Peg was reading, then looked at Duncan with the same serious blue eyes as her mother. “Are all the men in your clan big like you and Alec and Robbie? And strong swimmers who can go in ice-cold water like you did the other day?”

  Figuring where this was headed, Duncan nodded. “We all started swimming in cold mountain ponds around your ages.”

  “Girls, too?” Isabel asked.

  “Well, the girls like to wait until the water warms up a bit.”

  “They must be bass, not trout.”

  “Do the men in your clan live long enough to get … old?” Charlotte asked.

  Duncan stilled, just now realizing that instead of heading where he thought, the conversation for Charlotte was more about … Sweet Christ, had Peg told the girl about her family curse? “Yes,” he said quietly, “we have many clansmen well into their seventies and eighties, including the women. In fact,” he said, standing up, “when you meet my parents later this week, I think you’ll be surprised to know Dad’s eighty-two and my mom—whose name also happens to be Charlotte—is seventy-nine, because they look and act a lot younger.” He touched a finger to his lips and gave Charlotte a wink. “But let’s not tell Mom that I mentioned her age, okay?”

  Still utterly serious, Charlotte nodded.

  “We don’t got no fishing poles,” Pete said, jumping to his feet. “So how we gonna fish?”

  Somewhat relieved to be off the subject of longevity, Duncan gestured around them. “We have an entire forest of fishing poles, so I guess all we need is some string and a couple of hooks.” He bent down and dug through the sack he’d brought and pulled out a small tin box. “Good thing I brought some gear along on the off chance we didn’t care for whatever your mom packed for our picnic.”

  “But where we gonna fish?” Isabel asked. “We’re on top of the mountain.”

  “We seen a bunch of brooks on the ride here,” Jacob said. “Trout live in brooks. We can go fish in one of them.”

  “The last one we crossed was pretty far away,” Charlotte said, glancing toward her mother, then back at Duncan. “It’s the first time I’ve seen Mom reading a book in months, and she looks real comfortable.”

  This one, Duncan decided, was going to cause a different kind of trouble for her husband, and he hoped the poor bastard was as astute as he was lucky. “I happen to know there’s a high-mountain pond just a quarter mile from here,” he said, nodding over his shoulder. “So how about you go ask your mom if she’s okay with us doing a little fishing while she reads? Or,” he said when the girl hesitated, “you can stay here if you’re uncomfortable leaving her alone.”

  “Mom’s not afraid to be alone,” Charlotte said as she turned and started up the ledge. “But I’ll ask her if it’s okay if we go fishing.”

  “Tell her we’ll share our trout,” Pete said, “so she don’t got to go hungry if she don’t catch her own.” He looked up at Duncan. “You ai—is—aren’t gonna make Mom follow your clan rules, are you?”

  “Not today, I won’t,” Duncan said with a chuckle. “Now, about those fishing poles; we’ll make them the same height as each of you, so if you see a perfect stick on our hike, you tell me and I’ll cut it.”

  Charlotte came running back. “Mom said okay, but that you might want to take your sword,” the girl said deadpan, although her eyes were aglow with laughter.

  “That might be wise,” he agreed, going over to the horses and pulling off his sword. He slid it on over his shoulders and turned and smiled at the gaping children. Well, everyone was gaping but Charlotte; she just looked … Now why should wearing his sword make her appear relieved? “Okay, Thompson tribe,” he said, heading toward the trees. “Let’s go catch us some dinner.”

  Peg bit her lower lip watching Duncan disappear into the woods with his band of merry young men and women, and wondered if he honestly didn’t realize there was a reason she called them little heathens. She wasn’t worried about anything happening to them because she was pretty sure Duncan was carrying his hero’s badge—and his sword, for crying out loud. She couldn’t believe he’d really taken it with him; she’d told Charlie to tell him that as a joke. But now she was feeling guilty about lounging here in peaceful bliss; because really, what had the poor unsuspecting chump done to deserve her foisting the children off on him for th
e afternoon?

  Oh, wait, that’s right; he kept stealing kisses even after she told him to stop. And worse, he kept making her lay in her lonely bed at night desiring him.

  Speaking of kisses, it had been years since she’d felt as alive as she had the night those idiots had tried to sabotage the equipment. Lord, she’d missed having a rousing fight with a man. There was nothing that made her heart thump like a good argument if she happened to know she was safe to say and do just about anything. Like … well, like stomp on a guy’s foot and hightail it into the dark even though she knew he was going to catch her.

  Honest to God, she’d felt seventeen years old again.

  Peg closed her book, lay down, and laced her fingers over her belly with a sigh. She figured the only reason she’d dared stomp on Duncan’s foot—considering he’d just threatened to put her over his knee—was that on some deep, intuitive level, she trusted him. Just like she was trusting him with her children today. Maybe it was the way he’d reacted when they’d all attacked him the morning of Olivia’s wedding. Duncan might growl and posture and threaten like a grouchy old bear, but the guy was all bluster; a softhearted, protective cupcake disguised as a big scary man—which, dammit, only made her desire him more.

  Peg rolled onto her side, tucked an arm under her head, and closed her eyes on another sigh. Apparently she had a thing for big men, since that’s what had attracted her to Billy initially. It’s almost like she enjoyed flirting with danger.

  Nope, she just liked men, period; big, strong, broad-shouldered men.

  And maybe one overconfident, contrary man in particular.

  Yeah, well, she’d see how confident the kissing fool was by the time her little heathens were through with him. And on that note, Peg gave a yawn that ended in a smile and decided since this was her first day off in three years that she’d have herself a little nap.

  Duncan pulled plastic bins the size of shoe boxes out of the rucksack he’d taken off one of the horses and silently apologized to all the women of his clan for all they’d had to put up with over the years during family picnics, considering he’d just barely survived the fishing trip from hell. “These are the treasure boxes I was telling you about,” he said, whispering to emphasize that he didn’t want to wake up Peg as he handed them each one of the boxes. “Ye empty your pockets into them, and then add anything else you find that catches your fancy.”

  “Like what?” Isabel asked in a whisper.

  “Pretty rocks, odd-shaped twigs, pinecones …” He shot her a grin. “That poor angleworm ye refused to feed to the fishes.”

  “I heard him squeal when he saw the hook, I swear,” she whispered, her little chin rising defensively. “I’m not hungry, anyway.”

  “I’m gonna fill my box with moss, then find me a samalander,” Pete said. “And bring him home as a pet.”

  “Mr. Duncan?” Jacob said as he dug no less than ten small rocks out of his pocket and dropped them in his bin. Duncan sighed, figuring mister was forever etched in the children’s brains, because only Charlotte had successfully dropped it today. “You gonna tell Mom that I cried?” the boy asked, his big blue eyes pleading.

  “No,” Duncan said, ruffling his hair, “because then I’d have to tell her that I cried, too. And your brother and sisters aren’t going to tell, either, are you,” he said rather than asked, giving them each a meaningful look.

  All three of them shook their heads, and Charlotte added a shrug as she gave Jacob a motherly smile. “Fish that big are tough to eat anyway, so it’s good that you wanted to throw him back.”

  “You can tell Mom that I baited my own hook,” Isabel interjected. “With a grub, ’cause grubs don’t wiggle and scream.”

  “We don’t gotta tell her I fell in, do we?” Pete asked, his big blue eyes also pleading yet somehow defiant. “’Cause I saved myself and got that gosh-dang fish.”

  Yes, and the kid had taken ten years off Duncan’s life. He’d had to wrap Pete up in his jacket and build a quick fire to dry out his pants and shirt and jacket, because he’d forgotten to bring their changes of clothes and he hadn’t wanted to leave them alone to run back and get them. “I’ll let each of you decide what your mother needs to know about today’s little … adventure.”

  “But I don’t think we should tell her you cussed, okay?” Jacob said. “’Cause she might think you’re unsevralized and not let you be the boss of us again.”

  Duncan nodded gravely. “That might be wise. Okay, ye have your boxes and a little while before we have our picnic lunch, so see what treasures this grand mountain is wanting you to bring home—all while being as quiet as church mice.” While I go watch your mother nap and calm my nerves, he silently added, and never, ever underestimate her again.

  Jacob and Pete took off, actually tiptoeing as they went in search of treasure. Isabel looked to Charlotte for direction and followed her big sister up the ledge where the two girls started collecting pinecones from under the lone stunted pine.

  Duncan walked over to where Peg was sleeping and settled down beside her with a silent sigh as he gazed across the fiord at his mountain. Once he dropped the Thompson tribe back home, he decided, he was going to go find a boat.

  He looked down at Peg when he heard her stir and reclined back on his elbow beside her. “Thank you,” he said as she stretched like a lazy kitten.

  “For?” she asked, blinking herself awake.

  “For trusting me with your children enough to actually fall asleep.”

  “Only my eyes were closed; my ears haven’t slept since Charlotte was born.”

  “Have ye noticed that when ye see her as eight she’s Charlotte, but when you need her to be older ye call her Charlie? And that she responds in kind, I believe without even realizing she’s doing so? Quit your scowling,” he said with a chuckle. “That was a compliment to the both of you. She’s going to grow up to be a remarkable woman—just like her mother.” He propped his head on his hand with a snort. “And may God have mercy on the poor bastard who eventually captures her heart.”

  “He’s going to have to get past me first,” she said around her scowl. “And thank you for recognizing that she’s a lot tougher and smarter than she appears—just like her mother.” She rolled onto her back and smiled up at the sky. “And also for insisting we come up here today. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to … just get away.”

  “I admit to being surprised at how much ye seem to be enjoying yourself.”

  She turned her smile on him. “There’s something about sitting—and napping—on top of a mountain that puts things in perspective. I think it’s being able to see so far and also to feel how big the world is from up here. It reminds me how insignificant most problems are in the grand scheme of things.”

  “Aye,” he said, sitting up to rest his arms on his bent knees as he stared across the fiord. “Mountains have a magical way of calming the soul.” He turned his head when she also sat up and found her eyes widened in surprise. “What?” he asked.

  Those beautiful eyes suddenly narrowed. “Have you been talking to Olivia?”

  “About …”

  “Magic.”

  It was Duncan’s turn to be surprised, although he made sure not to show it as he wondered what in hell Mac’s wife was doing mentioning the magic to Peg. Then again, maybe this was the opening he needed to start easing her into it. “Olivia’s been talking to you about magic?” He grinned. “As in special delivery fairies?”

  “No, she was talking about …” She gestured at Bottomless. “She called it earth-shaking, mountain-moving magic that can’t be explained.” Duncan saw her cheeks darken as she wrapped her arms around her knees and watched her children foraging at the edge of the trees below them. “The kind of magic that makes anything possible.” She looked at him again. “Olivia asked me if I believe it exists.”

  “And your answer was?”

  She lowered her gaze. “I told her that I hadn’t really given it much thought.”

 
“I’ve thought about it,” he said, which lifted her beautiful blue eyes back to his. “And I’ve decided magic definitely exists.”

  “Why?”

  “Because not believing is an exercise in futility, as the magic goes about its business whether ye think it exists or not. And if ye don’t believe, then why even get out of bed in the morning? Or make plans for tomorrow? Or want, or hope, or dream, or even try? Magic is what powers life, Peg. Without it, we wouldn’t be able to take our next breaths.”

  “Olivia called your family … charmed. She said all you MacKeage men live to ripe old ages but that you look and act years younger.”

  “Aye, to our women’s dismay, we can be real bastards like that sometimes.”

  That got him a tentative smile, and then she looked away. “Olivia called the magic benevolent, with the power to overcome … bad things.”

  “That would be the business part of it, lass; the power of right over might.” He grinned. “Although might does come in handy on occasion.”

  “Olivia also said you MacKeages are rather old-fashioned.”

  “Olivia seems to be saying a lot of things to you about my family; any particular reason why?”

  “Because friends look out for each other.” She gave him a sad smile. “And because she’s worried that I’m going to die a lonely old widow like she thought she was going to before she met Mac.” She shook her head. “Are you aware they knew each other only a few weeks before they got married? Olivia was just going along, minding her business, waiting for her in-laws to sell Inglenook so she could buy it when Mac suddenly appeared as if out of thin air, and the next thing I know she’s asking me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding—that Mac gave her only six days to plan.”

  “The man does seem to make things happen whenever he appears out of thin air,” Duncan said, wondering what Peg would think if she knew how true that was. He gestured at the mountain they were sitting on. “He certainly didn’t waste any time getting the resort started. He called me on the Wednesday before his wedding and asked if I could start the road the following Monday.”