Lochlainn drove the cart up to the stable block at about midnight. After helping Patrick move the cows into the stalls, he went back to Muireann, still sleeping on the box, and lifted her down into his arms. He swung her in through the kitchen door, and took the stairs two at a time. He undid her cloak and the top buttons of her gown, and pulled the blankets over her.
Returning to the kitchen, he drained off the rest of the water in the boiler into a hot water bottle, and put it upstairs in her bed.
"Good night, my flower," he whispered, kissing her on the forehead.
Muireann's eyes opened briefly. "And you, Lochlainn. Don't be pacing up and down all night pining for what you can't have."
Her words hit him like a dousing of cold water. Unable to help himself, he kissed her on the lips one last time, and tiptoed out of the room silently.
Once in the privacy of his own cottage, Lochlainn recalled her words, and knew she was right. She was so far above him, it was pointless ever dreaming of her in that way. But though he tried to argue the point in his mind rationally, and logically, he could hear the sound of his heart throbbing. Why did the steady double beat suggest to him the name of the vibrant woman with dark hair and amethyst eyes who had just come into his life?
Lochlainn knew he was being ridiculously fanciful, but all the same, he sat by the fire and wondered at the keen pains he was experiencing, like sharp arrows in his heart.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
By the end of her first month at Barnakilla, Muireann began to feel that things were on much more even keel at the estate. Though the court cases against Mr. Blessington the accountant and Mr. Henry the lawyer were still pending, at least she had a specific date calendared, the thirteenth of March. She hoped the estate would be fairly solvent once some of Barnakilla's money was returned to its rightful place.
Even more gratifying was the fact that all of her work schemes and enterprises seemed to be bearing fruit. They had meat and fish in plenty from the hunting, and the butcher had increased his order steadily over the past weeks. The fresh and smoked fish and meat were also selling well on the market stalls. Colonel Lowry and Mr. Cole had also decided to help the feisty young widow and fill their bellies at the same time with her high-quality produce.
The timber business was going very well, with the trees being cut and rolled down to the dock without very much difficulty, to await eventual transportation to Scotland and abroad. Deliveries to the town of turf and wood had also increased steadily since they had gone into business, so that Muireann eventually ordered Patrick to buy two more carts if he could get them at a good price.
Lochlainn's furniture was exquisite, and he and Ciara had made the ultimate sacrifice by selling off all of the pieces he had made from their own home.
"But Lochlainn, that sideboard. I love it! Please, don't sell it!" she had argued, tears pricking the back of her eyes inexplicably.
"You sold everything you had," Lochlainn reminded her, and ordered the furniture all to be loaded on the cart.
Though Muireann knew Lochlainn would be cross when he eventually found out what she had done, she waited until Lochlainn's back was turned later and asked Patrick to take the sideboard off the cart and put it in her room upstairs. It was so lovely, with its carved acorns, she couldn't bear to let it go.
Many of the women had proven themselves excellent hands in the kitchen and at sewing and knitting, and were educating the others. They all gathered in the kitchen at night after supper, and stitched together huge quilts from any scraps they had, or made bibs and baby clothes. Their baking was also particularly fine, and many Enniskillen residents said it rivaled that of the bakery. Muireann had little chance to judge, since they couldn't afford to eat any of what they made themselves at the farm, but she was pleased with the praise.
Lochlainn instituted woodworking classes, which he held in his own cottage, though Ciara complained about the bits of wood and sawdust everywhere, so much so that Muireann made room for the men in the bright warm kitchen as well.
Once a week they did the wash and made candles, and waited for some warmer weather to herald the arrival of spring. The cottages were all being repaired one by one, and some of the more experienced builders looked over the mansion and made a list of the most urgent repairs.
The women with no specific skills did the laundry, washing up, and child-minding tasks, and also scrubbed the old house from top to bottom. It seemed odd to Lochlainn that Muireann was content to be living in a nearly empty house, but Muireann was too busy and often too tired to care.
In truth, she was hardly even sleeping, for as much as she hated to admit it, she was terrified of the nightmares she experienced whenever she shut her eyes.
Lochlainn became concerned when he found her dozing in her chair early one afternoon.
"I'm sorry," she said with a yawn, looking around the study blearily. "I just can't seem to settle down at night. It's a strange place, I suppose, and with so much going on in my mind, I can't really rest."
"Are you unhappy about being alone?" Lochlainn probed gently.
Muireann looked up at his handsome face, and wondered if he recalled the nights they had spent in Dublin together as vividly as she did. But that time seemed so long ago now. It was ridiculous to assume that he could possibly remember it after all they had been through since.
"There is that too," she admitted reluctantly. "This house is so big and draughty, and it certainly rattles."
"Would you like to come back and stay at the cottage with Ciara and me for a few days? You'd be more than welcome. I'm sure my sister would love the company."
Muireann smiled tightly. "I wouldn't like to inconvenience you. I'm sure your sister would not be delighted with an unwanted house guest, especially me."
So far, the two women had managed to be civil to one another, but no more, despite all of Lochlainn's efforts to get them to be friends.
"Would you like me to move up here for a few days, just until you feel a bit more settled?" Lochlainn offered, secretly looking forward to the chance of being alone with Muireann again.
"No, really, it's very kind of you to offer, but I'm a grown woman. It is silly to be uneasy in my own house. At my age I shouldn't be afraid of a few nightmares."
This was the first time she had mentioned nightmares. He recalled the night she had spent at his cottage tossing and turning.
"You never had nightmares in the hotel or the inn."
"I know. But I doubt it's anything to worry about. Probably just something I ate before bed." She gave a wan smile, and turned her attention back to her ledgers.
Lochlainn detected her nervousness, but decided not to pursue the matter for the moment. "The next time I'm in town, I shall ask Dr. Fredrickson for a sleeping draught for you."
Muireann blushed. "No, really, I'll be fine. I'm sorry I even mentioned it."
Lochlainn replayed the conversation over and over in his head as he went out to the sheds to work on a table Colonel Lowry had commissioned. When he stopped work for a short rest, he went over to his cottage and took some blankets and a pillow off his bed.
He crept into the kitchen, and seeing Muireann wasn't around, he tiptoed up the stairs, and opened the door of the room next to Muireann's own. It was a large lofty chamber with peeling gold-flocked wallpaper. He made up a small pallet for himself in the room, and asked Sharon and Brona to light a fire in it to help take the chill off.
Next he headed into town to get some flour, salt, sugar and vegetables. But his first port of call was the doctor's surgery. There he managed to get some sleeping powder by explaining to the doctor just what a strain Muireann had been under recently.
"I know people shouldn't take too much of this sort of thing, but she's been overdoing it lately. She needs her rest. She hardly eats or sleeps, and she does as much work as any man on the estate."
Dr. Fredrickson frowned. "If she's working that hard, it's a wonder she doesn't fall into bed exhausted every night."
"I suppose you're rig
ht. She probably just has far too many things preying on her mind."
Lochlainn brought the medicine home, and managed to slip it to her in her stew when she wasn't looking. He was relieved to see her with her head down on her desk an hour later. He gently lifted her and carried her up the stairs to her own bedchamber. He laid her on the four-poster and pulled the covers up over her, desperately resisting the temptation to get in beside her as he had done in Dublin. What would she think if she woke to find him there?
He kissed her brow softly, and crept out. He went into his own room to stoke the fire, and looked over some estate papers there rather than down in the study in case she should need him.
Lochlainn did hear whimpering sounds in the middle of the night, but Muireann quieted after a while, so Lochlainn didn't feel it was urgent for him to go in to her. At length he gave up his vigil, satisfied that his little plan had worked, and slept the sleep of the dead for the rest of the night.
Muireann awoke the next day feeling far more refreshed, and went down to breakfast almost skipping, she felt so cheerful. Lochlainn was relieved to see her looking so much brighter, and resolved he would give her more sleeping powder that night as well.
Just as she was finishing her morning chores, Mark came running into the kitchen.
"Muireann! Muireann! There's a ship pulling up to the dock!"
Muireann dropped her axe, which she had been using to chop firewood despite Lochlainn's protests that it was not a job for a lady. Throwing a shawl over her dark navy gown, she ran to the shore.
There her cousin Michael was just disembarking. He hugged her tightly and swung her around as she flew into his arms.
"I see you got my letter," she laughed, as she noted all the animal pens which had been lashed to the decks.
"I did indeed, though of course your father had already promised to send over your stallion and mare just as soon as you got yourself settled," Michael replied easily, taking in his cousin's thinner appearance. "I'm very sorry for your trouble."
Muireann waved his condolences away. "He's gone. There's nothing more to be said. I just have to get on with my life. This place is going to thrive now that we have more livestock," she said as she strode up and down the pens and counted the cows, sheep and hens.
"You haven't left Fintry without a single animal, have you?" she giggled a short time later, viewing the menagerie with delight.
"Not at all. Neil and I skimmed a few of the animals from each of our estates. You paid for them with the money from the stocks and shares Neil could liquidate for you at such short notice. I didn't tell anyone anything, I swear. But some of the old aunts and uncles sent you the hens and geese as wedding presents, and many of the rest sent cash without having to be told anything."
"Mother and Father and Alice don't suspect there is something amiss?"
"They did want to come themselves, of course. But with Alice expecting, and your father's gout beginning to trouble him again, it didn't seem a good idea. You know full well how rough the sea can be at this time of year, though I must admit we did have a remarkably good crossing.
"Neil would have come himself except that he has a mountain of papers to go through on your behalf, and several very important court cases pending which prevented him from getting away even for a few days. But he sends his love and promises to contact Anthony Lowry in Dublin over your lawsuit on the thirteenth of March," Michael told her.
Muireann smiled at the young man with bright red hair wanly. "I do feel awful about deceiving them all into thinking that everything is fine here. But what else can I do? You know what they're like."
"I know Uncle Alistair, at any rate." Michael laughed bitterly. "He's completely intolerant of failure, and he always did have very set notions about how you were to be brought up and to behave. He would take one look at your dress, your hands, and he would insist on you coming back to Fintry, even if he had to drag you back on board the Andromeda."
"I don't look that bad, do I?" Muireann asked worriedly.
"All things considered, no. But I can see these are not the hands of a genteel Graham sister," he said as he took her hand in his own briefly before tucking it into the crook of his arm to escort her around the ship.
"Neil took the liberty of ordering you some essentials if you're to start your spring planting soon. And he also provisioned you with staples: oats, flour, sugar and so on."
"His idea of staples seems quite odd," she laughed, spotting several crates of wine and a chest of strawberry preserves.
"He's only trying to be kind. He has no way of knowing how bad things are here."
She grinned as she espied the huge container on top. "Well, at least there's lots of coffee, so not all is doom and gloom."
"Neil said if the ship sank, that was the only thing I should trouble to save," he joked.
"That's very kind of him. He knows what I'm like without at least three cups of it a day." Muireann chuckled.
She romped playfully around the deck with her old school fellow, chasing after the canister, which he dangled just beyond her reach.
Just then Lochlainn came on board, and she introduced him to her cousin. She noticed Lochlainn was looking particularly gloomy, and he seemed to eye her tall handsome young brown-eyed cousin rather suspiciously.
"Look at all the things Neil has sent out of my share money."
Lochlainn stared at the coffee and preserves, and her cousin Michael, so suave and sophisticated in his expensive clothes, and felt that Muireann was suddenly slipping away from him.
"How nice," he said noncommittally.
"Well, playing hide-and-seek won't get the work done. Lochlainn, muster all the men to get the animals off and into the stables. Then we can prepare to load the timber."
She turned to Michael. "How long can you stay?"
"We'll have to go by the end of the day, I'm afraid. This is one of Philip Buchanan's ships. Neil could only get hold of it because his brother left him in charge while he's away in Canada.
"We would have come sooner, only the ship's been busy bringing supplies to the Western Isles. We have to get back for another regular run. Neil says to let him know what else you need, and it will be sent when we pick up the next load of timber."
"Here are all the ledgers for the cargo, and the sums from the shares. And this is the money left over," he said as he handed her a small leather pouch. "Neil also says you're to keep track of the timber in this book, so that everything is decent and above board."
Muireann flipped the books open and consulted Lochlainn about them for a moment.
"It all looks very impressive," Lochlainn said, unable to take his eyes off the splendid livestock coming down the gangplank.
Muireann's stallion Bran was jet black, and easily the largest horse Lochlainn had ever seen in his thirty-six years. The mare, Misty, was remarkably similar, and it didn't surprise Lochlainn to discover that they were both one-half Arabian. Then there were the ordinary dray horses, all very heavily muscled and extremely well built, with glossy coats which bespoke lavish care.
The cows were mainly Friesians, but there were also a pair of Simmentals and two Charolais.
The sheep were all Leicesters or Cheviots, and there was even a pair of goats and a large Berkshire boar and sow.
As for the poultry, they were also of the highest quality. Lochlainn was certain the estate would double its egg production in no time.
"Can you supervise the livestock getting good homes, while I take care of the timber?" Muireann requested of Lochlainn.
"Aye. Patrick, you help Mrs. Caldwell with the timber over here. I'm going up to the stables."
Lochlainn tried not to feel as though he were being left out, but all the same, he was worried. What if Michael tried to persuade Muireann to go back with him to Scotland, and leave things in the hands of her estate agent? He felt his chest constrict so tightly that he could barely breathe.
He knew it was wrong, but he simply couldn't help himself. He and Muireann ha
d worked side by side night and day ever since they had met in Dublin. The more he got to know her, the more he knew he desired her. Even the slightest touch of her hand, or glance from her incredible amethyst eyes, was enough to fill him with the most aching passion.
He had long ago ceased to think about Tara except as an unpleasant reminder of how fickle women were generally. He knew Muireann might prove to be the same. But for the moment he could find no flaws in her, and the attraction between them was growing by leaps and bounds.
Once all the animals were safely penned, Lochlainn went down to the dock to help supervise the rest of the timber loading.
He came up behind Muireann and put his arm around her.
"Why don't you go up to the house to get warm?"
Call Home the Heart Page 16
