Determinedly, Muireann lifted a rake and began to muck out one of the stalls. She did some serious soul-searching there amongst the piles of steaming manure. Did she really want to revert back to her old lifestyle, a never-ending round of parties and soirees, full of dull people who were only interested in meaningless small talk, and in puffing up their already inflated opinions of themselves?
I'm happy here, she suddenly realized, and laughed aloud. Despite all the hardship, trials and tribulations she had undergone, all the hard work and sacrifices, she was indeed happy.
And I have Lochlainn to thank for that. He had faith in me, he guided me, looked after me. So now it's up to me to make sure I make this place a success, she reflected, as she finished in the stables and then went up to the house to begin the evening meal.
Brona and Sharon were already in the kitchen when she arrived. She washed her hands, then began cutting up vegetables and peeling potatoes as though she had done it all her life.
The two women exchanged glances with each other behind Muireann's back, but said nothing. They would have liked to voice their newfound admiration for the woman whom they had first believed would be vain and spoilt, but somehow it seemed rude. At least they were not reluctant to praise her amongst themselves when the tenants all gathered together at the end of the day for a cup of tea and a gossip.
Most evenings, Muireann finished up her share of the sewing and wisely withdrew, stating that she had to update the books. She liked all of the people she met at Barnakilla, and had grown very fond of Brona, Sharon, and Siobhan and her husband Patrick. All the same, she could sense their reserve in front of her.
Wiping her hand on her apron as she suddenly recalled she was meant to be helping to churn the butter that night for market in Clogher early the next morning, Muireann scurried out of the kitchen, almost barreling into Lochlainn's broad chest.
He grabbed her by the elbows as she brought herself up short and slipped, and held her to him tightly for a moment before apologizing gruffly and releasing her.
Muireann glanced at his retreating back, and ran on to the barn, trying to suppress the desire coursing through her veins.
Lochlainn entered the kitchen unobserved, and overheard Brona commenting to Sharon about how handy Muireann had become in the kitchen.
"I never would have thought she would have stuck it a day, let alone a month. And she seems to be deft at everything she turns her hand to."
"And she can read and write," Sharon remarked enviously. "I wish I could do my letters and such like as easily as she."
"I'm sure she'll teach you if you ask. She's been talking about setting up a proper school for the children as soon as things are a bit more settled. You know, I always heard Scotchy people were very cold and haughty, but she isn't, now is she?"
"Not at all. She has us call her Muireann at the sewing circles, and though we none of us are very good with a needle, she's very patient with us."
"What do you think of her making us all new dresses for the summer?" Brona asked excitedly. "Have you got measured yet?"
"Not yet, but you should see the pattern she drew for me. It's like something out of them social papers about what the Queen and all get up to," Sharon marveled.
Lochlainn listened pensively to their praise of Muireann, and then moved closer to the fire.
"So you think she's happy here? That she would want to stay?" he asked the two women.
"Heaven help us if she doesn't," Brona said. "I've heard tell that with the new government taxes, a great number of the landlords won't be able to keep up. That they're going to evict all their tenants. If Muireann goes, we'll be walking the roads just like the rest of them poor souls."
"Where did you hear that rumor?" he asked sharply.
"I heard it the other day at the market when I went to sell some of those wooden bowls and things you and the other men have made out of yew wood."
"And what did you hear, exactly?"
"They said the English government had increased the taxes and were expecting the landlords to pay by head. The men and women were to be charged one rate, and two children would make a grown-up rate," Brona informed him.
Lochlainn frowned as he did some quick calculations. "There are a hundred of us here. If that's true, Muireann would have to come up with a very large amount of cash quite soon."
Brona and Sharon exchanged alarmed glances.
Lochlainn stood up from his chair by the fire and declared, "Well, there's no sense in talking about it now. We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"
The two women nodded, but suddenly the kitchen had turned unaccountably gloomy. The women called the workers into dinner a great deal less cheerfully than was their wont. The rumor went around quickly despite Lochlainn's command not to worry. It cast a pall over the whole room.
After supper was finished, rather than lingering to do sewing or carving, one by one they all began to drift back home to their cold lonely cottages, to lie down and sleep until the rooster would summon them to another arduous day's labor early the next morning.
Lochlainn noticed Muireann had not come in for her stew. Against his better judgment, he went in search of her. He knew she had made a great many sacrifices to try to make her plans work, but what of these new taxes? Had all their efforts been in vain?
And more to the point, was Muireann happy? Lochlainn had admired for a long time how she turned her hand to anything that needed doing on the estate without a word of complaint, no matter how difficult or disgusting the task.
But she was young, wealthy in her own right. If she were ever willing to go back to her father in Scotland and confess her financial woes, she would most certainly be taken back into the bosom of her family. She could marry well, leave all of this behind, or perhaps even marry someone who would be willing to take over Barnakilla for her.
The thought of Muireann marrying again suddenly filled him with inexplicable dread. He hurried down to the milking shed, anxious to see her again.
Muireann looked up in surprise as Lochlainn declared, "I need to speak with you about the estate."
"Fine. I was just finishing here. Give me a moment," she said, hoping her voice didn't betray the strain she felt.
She completed the churning, and handed over the butter paddles to Siobhan, who had come in to check that everything was ready for the trip to Clogher in the morning.
Then she led the way up to the house, untying her apron and tugging her kerchief off to shake out her raven tresses. She felt nervous around him, and wished she could go back to the long, easy chats they had always had with each other before that fateful night which now seemed so long ago.
Only a few short days before, they had been able to work side by side compatibly for hours on end, in tune with each other's thoughts. Now he was like a stranger to her, a silent, brooding stranger.
Are all men completely untrustworthy? Muireann wondered sadly.
She led him into the study and sat at the desk. "Well, what's wrong? Is it a problem with the ledgers?"
"No, not really. It's more to do with a rumor I just heard in the kitchen about new taxes."
"It's not a rumor, it's true," Muireann said, looking away from his blazing steel-gray eyes.
Lochlainn exploded. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"We haven't exactly been on speaking terms recently, have we?" she said quietly, the hurt evident in her voice.
Lochlainn ran a finger under his suddenly too tight neck cloth. "I've been busy."
"As have I. Besides, there didn't seem much point in making a fuss at this point in time. With the trial set for the thirteenth, there's just a little more than a week until we get a clearer picture of what will happen to us. I suggest we wait until then before we panic."
"But the trial could go on for weeks. You know that as well as I do!"
She sat back in her chair wearily. "I'm sorry, Lochlainn, but the taxes are so high, I can't really give you any good news. We could sell some of the livestock, and
try to get Neil to liquidate any more shares I might own. Of course, we could always sell a field or two to Mr. Stephens."
"You can't be serious!"
Muireann waved aside his objections impatiently. "I know all about the long-standing feud between the two families, but really, it doesn't concern me. It's past history, and we need money. We can't eat the grass ourselves, can we? And what good will it do if the government arrests me for debt? So I'll sell the field if I can't find any other way around the problem."
"We could sell the tree plantation on the north-eastern side of the property," Lochlainn suggested almost desperately.
"Aye, but what will we live on if we curtail the timber business? It's the same problem with the animals. If we sell them, we haven't got anything to keep the estate profitable. I'd get a good price for the mare and stallion, but wouldn't it be better to keep them, and sell their offspring?"
"You're right, of course, but everything seems to take time, which is the one thing we don't have very much of at the moment."
She gave him a tight smile. "I know. But I don't want to tie my own hands myself further down the line by making a snap decision on the basis of only a few suppositions. Look, I know you're tired, Lochlainn. You and I have been working all sorts of ungodly hours ever since we arrived back here. Now to be told it might all have been in vain, well, it's unsupportable."
The pair lapsed into silence for a moment, until Muireann remarked quietly, "There is one other possible solution, though it is no good getting our hopes up at this point."
Lochlainn frowned. "I'm not sure what you're trying to tell me."
"I'm not sure myself."
"What do you mean?"
Muireann sighed. "I've found some property deeds for a house Augustine bought a couple of years ago in Dublin."
"A house? In Dublin?"
"So you know nothing about it either," Muireann said uneasily.
"No, not a thing," Lochlainn admitted, not caring how inadequate it made him seem.
"Well, I think it should be sold. The current tenant is listed as a Mrs. Barnet. If she's willing to take a first option out on it, the money we get would not only help us with the taxes, but also towards realizing the sum the bank is demanding as back payment on the mortgage for Barnakilla."
"It is better than selling the fields, certainly, but I have no idea what--"
"Yes, I know. Even if Mrs. Barnet were in a position to buy the place straight away, we still wouldn't get the money for quite some time. Besides, how do we know it hasn't been mortgaged already, and I just haven't been able to find the documents somewhere in this mess of papers?"
"It will all get sorted out eventually," Lochlainn reassured her, trying to sound cheerful despite the leaden weight on his heart.
She leafed through the papers once more. "Well, I think I should go up to Dublin to investigate the matter, and see what can be done."
"Surely you don't have to go now, Muireann," Lochlainn argued, loath to part with her. "Why not make preliminary enquiries by post first?"
"Aye, I will. I wouldn't like to be away from the estate too long. Not when there's so much to do. But in the meantime, there's no need for you to worry too much, Lochlainn. We're just about keeping our heads above water at the moment."
"That's so long as no unforeseen disaster occurs," Lochlainn grumbled.
"Touch wood as you say that," Muireann said superstitiously, tapping her finger on the desk. "It will be a struggle, but with the livestock, which will no doubt breed, and the occasional useful wedding presents coming in, I think we're doing fine."
"Muireann, about selling the house in Dublin . . ."
"Well?" she asked, raising her eyes from her papers to look at him.
Lochlainn had to swallow hard past the lump in his throat to get the words out. "Do you not think you might be better off selling Barnakilla, and living in Dublin? Look at the life you're leading here, with nothing but hardship and toil. You could be the belle of Dublin society if you sold this place. After all, it's only a burden to you."
Muireann sensed he was testing her. She rose from her chair and went over to where he was sitting, and put her arm around his shoulder. She sat in his lap and declared softly, "I'm the one who's been a burden to you. I'll try not to be anymore, I promise. You've been a huge help. I'm so grateful I can't even begin to tell you how much. So don't ever talk about me going to be the toast of Dublin society. My family and friends are all here now."
Lochlainn longed to believe her, but he couldn't quite suppress his doubts. Nor could he suppress his desires as he took her lips in a soul-stirring kiss. He nuzzled her ear and murmured, "Are you finished with business for tonight?"
"Aye."
"Then what about some pleasure?"
Muireann met his eyes, and melted. She rose from his lap, kissing him lingeringly, then took his hand to tug him to his feet. Blowing out the candles on the desk, she and Lochlainn walked up the stairs with their arms around each other's waists.
Once in her room, she turned to face him, and they tumbled into each other's arms, barely able to make it to the bed, so overwhelming was their passion for one another.
"Muireann, I'm sorry about the past few days--" Lochlainn began, stroking the petal-soft skin of her stomach.
Muireann silenced him with a kiss. "No more words, Lochlainn. When we talk, all we ever seem to do is disagree."
"But surely you'll regret this one day," he sighed, pressing his cheek against hers as he held her tightly and felt desire burning within him.
"I don't want to think about the future. When I'm here like this with you, Lochlainn, all I want is the here and now," she breathed, rolling him onto his back and lying atop him.
Desire raged within them both, and Lochlainn wondered how it was possible to yearn for Muireann even in the throes of their passion. Their devouring kisses, ardent strokes, all seemed so satisfying, yet frustrating at the same time.
He had been passionately involved with Tara, or so he thought. This went beyond passion, to near obsession, as he rolled her over onto the sweat-soaked sheets and tasted every inch of her flesh, until her head rolled from side to side. She clutched his hair and cried out his name, arching up off the bed so violently that she nearly hurled him onto the floor.
He hung on hard, and joined with her at last. Their climax was explosive, all encompassing, a plea for love and understanding, and above all for a future they could hardly dare to guess at, but knew they could never endure without the other.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked worriedly, rolling off her slick body some time later, still panting.
"I'm fine, really. Wonderful." She smiled up at him lovingly.
When at last she had calmed, he held her close and felt tears on her cheeks.
Muireann laughed then and kissed him, opening her arms like an enveloping blanket to warm the dark chilly night, and they settled down to sleep.
Lochlainn told himself it was too good, an incredible dream that was bound to come to an end sooner or later. Like Tara, Muireann would fly too.
He struggled hard to keep away from her the next day, but the following night, unable to sleep, he paced up and down the cottage floor until at last he flung open the door and made his way to the kitchen of the big house.
Taking a candle from a holder by the door, he searched for Muireann in the study and library, and at last made so bold as to ascend to her room. There she was just banking the fire, clad only in her nightdress. Her heavy hair fell loosely about her shoulders, and she smiled invitingly as he entered.
"I was hoping you'd come," she said with a soft smile. She ran into his arms, and wrapping both her arms and legs about him, she tumbled him onto the bed joyously.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The affair between Muireann and Lochlainn continued unabated throughout the whole of March. Both wondered how long it could endure without their having to face the consequences of their passionate actions, but neither was willing to give up the other. It be
came an unspoken rule between them never to talk about the future, just to enjoy the present as it unfolded moment by moment as they made love to each other throughout each dark but ever shortening night.
As the days passed, Lochlainn realized that he was a little intimidated by the daytime Muireann, so cool, calm and rational. He wanted, nay, needed to keep that Muireann separate from the woman he held in his arms during the night when, unable to help himself, he went to her room to seek a few hours' solace in her company.
Muireann, too, wanted to treat the Lochlainn who came to her in the night differently from the daily companion with whom she shared all of her triumphs and trials. They had to deal with a million and one problems during the day. Together they ran the businesses and tried to balance the books, but the evenings were a magical time for them. Hovering between sleeping and waking, their lovemaking took on a life all its own.
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