"There was no need, really. I am home," she said, as she went out into the bright sunshine to show the boys around the estate.
She introduced the Stephens boys to some of the children their own age on the estate, and they all played blind man's bluff in the fields, and held three-legged races. Some of the workers also brought out their musical instruments, and the singing and dancing began.
Since the following day was May Day, and she could see they were all in high spirits after their special treats, Muireann declared a half-day holiday for all the workers for her birthday, and the whole day off the following day.
"It's the least we can do after they've tried so hard to fit in with my plans," she told Lochlainn as they stood on the lawn at the back of the house and watched all the women dance a reel.
"They were happy to do it. You're their landlord now, and certainly the best one I've ever seen," he said sincerely.
She laughed. "Well, I couldn't have done much worse than some people we could mention."
"A damn sight better, as well you know. Most landlords are ruthless. But you gave these people a home. You trained them, had faith in them. They'll never forget that, Muireann."
"I wouldn't be so sure I'm not ruthless, Lochlainn." She smiled up at him, though the expression in her eyes was anything but cheerful. "Barnakilla is my very own home now, that I've made into something beautiful and worthwhile with my own two hands. Now that I've made it my own, I mean to make it stronger every day. I'll fight tooth and nail if I have to, do whatever it takes to keep it," she warned.
Lochlainn shuddered then, and prayed she would never be forced to put her words to the test.
He tried to cheer himself by offering his arm and whisking her down the dance set, noting how light and graceful she was on her feet.
He thought he could detect a note of false gaiety in the proceedings, and knew in his heart that Muireann was right. Things were going well, but they would need to get a lot better if her plans for the future were ever to bear fruit.
Once they were finally alone that night, Lochlainn gave her the present he had made for her specially, a small carved box inlaid with a huge variety of veneers. On the box was a picture of a waterfall, with a heron, made out of inlay and brass.
"Oh, Lochlainn, it's exquisite!" she breathed, tears shimmering in her eyes. "I've never seen anything more lovely in my life. It's just like the waterfall at Glencar. Not that I needed reminding, but now I shall be able to treasure the memory always."
"I'm glad you like it," he murmured, planting a kiss on her forehead.
"I'm only sorry I haven't got anything valuable to put in it," she sighed.
Lochlainn stared at the floor silently. He cursed himself for being a clumsy fool. The gift had only served to remind her of all she had lost.
"But you needn't have gone to so much trouble. Tadhg was already a wonderful present, and the coffee, of course." She kissed him full on the lips.
"I have one more gift for you," he said with a grin.
"Oh, and where might it be?" she teased as she put her hands in his pockets suggestively.
"Well, then, that makes two more presents," he said with a grin, "but you have to have the first you before I'll let you have the second."
Just then there was a tap at the door, and Brona and Sharon brought in one of the large bathtubs from the scullery while several other of the kitchen women brought a number of steaming kettles of water into the room.
"My very own bath?" she exclaimed. "No, really, it's too much trouble for you all."
"Not in the least," Sharon reassured her. "Happy birthday, Muireann, and many more. Enjoy the bath without having to take it in the draughty old kitchen with one hundred women screaming to get their turn."
"Oh, Lochlainn, it was kind of you to have thought of it," she said, stretching up to kiss him on the cheek once they were alone again. "Will you share it with me?"
"Of course. You might even bathe that smelly brute as well, while you're at it," Lochlainn laughed, looking at Tadhg, who gazed from one to the other in confusion with his big sherry-brown eyes, wondering what interesting thing he had done now to please his master and mistress.
Lochlainn toyed with the idea of trying to fit himself into the large tub at the same time as Muireann, but he wanted her to enjoy the special treat as much as possible.
Restraining his passionate urges, Lochlainn read to her from a book of Renaissance poetry Muireann had found in the library and kept, while she soaked for ages in the tub until she was completely wrinkled.
Muireann was pleased to discover they had similar taste in poets, and they discussed their favorite authors as she lay back in the tub drowsily.
"Look, there's even some Drayton in here," Lochlainn said enthusiastically as he leafed through the tome.
"Read one, then," she suggested, as she squeezed a wet soapy sponge over one arm languorously.
"What about Sonnet Number 61?"
"Lovely."
Lochlainn recited in his clear deep voice,
"Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part;
Nay, I have done, you get no more of me,
And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart
That thus so cleanly I myself can free:
Shake hands forever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we one jot of former love retain.
Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath,
When, his pulse failing, passion speechless lies,
When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And innocence is closing up his eyes,
Now if thy woudst, when all have given him over,
From death to life mightst him yet recover.
It was an unfortunate choice, for it only served to remind Lochlainn of all his fears and insecurities over his relationship with Muireann. She would be leaving all too soon for Dublin. What would he do then?
"Why don't you read another one to me. I'll be out soon." She smiled up at him, but wondered where he had gone off to again, that secret place of his she never seemed to be able to reach.
"I'll pick a more dramatic, less unhappy one, shall I?"
"Aye, Number 63 is good too."
He flipped through the pages and read aloud,
"Truce, gentle love, a parley now I crave,
Methinks 'tis long since first these wars begun:
Nor thou nor I the better yet can have;
Bad is the match where neither party won.
I offer free conditions of fair peace,
My heart for hostage that it shall remain;
Discharge our force, let malice cease,
So for my pledge thou give me pledge again.
Or if no thing but death will serve thy turn,
Still thirsting for subversion of my state,
Do what thou canst, raze, massacre, and burn,
Let the world see the utmost of thy hate;
I send defiance, since if overthrown,
Thou vanquishing, the conquest is mine own."
"I hope that doesn't remind you of our relationship," Muireann said with a small smile.
"No, not really. Though we have fought in our day, I don't thing we could ever destroy each other, not like that. We're far too sensible." He smiled thinly, again thinking of what he would ever do the day their relationship was at an end.
Raze, massacre, burn...
He would be distraught, surely, but he knew he would simply have to be grateful for the times he had had with her, and enjoy them while they lasted.
He rose from his chair heavily, and reached for an ewer on the small table by the bed. He poured some hot and some cold into it from the buckets, and the told her to lean forward in the tub while he washed her hair.
Eventually he rose from his chair and reached for an ewer on the small table by the bed. He poured some hot and some cold into it from the buckets, then
told her to lean forward in the tub while he washed her hair.
"I've always wondered what it would be like to do this," he said softly as he rubbed her scalp with lingering, sensual strokes of his strong fingers, before requesting, "Sit up."
His sudsy hands continued up and down her back until she sighed with absolute abandon. Her blood felt as though it were on fire, and his every touch, every kiss, threatened to set her soaring. He rinsed her hair carefully, making sure no soap got into her eyes, and wrapped a towel turban-like around her head.
Knees trembling, Muireann rinsed herself off one more time and then hauled herself out of the tub. She pulled on her dressing gown, and added more hot to the tub from the containers the women had brought.
"Your turn," she said huskily, with a glint in her amethyst eyes.
She lathered his head and back in imitation of what he had done to her, though Lochlainn protested, "It's your birthday. There's no need to fuss over me."
"Oh, but there is. You deserve to be spoiled now and again as well, you know," she whispered in his ear as she rinsed his hair and began to scrub his back and then his chest.
Her hands dipped lower down in the tub, fondling him boldly until he was certain he would lose control.
"My love, it's wonderful, truly, but I want you to have a special night. That will be impossible if you don't stop now," he said in a tight voice, tugging at her wrists urgently.
Muireann kissed him lingeringly on the lips. "I've already had a wonderful day and night. Every night with you is special. You should know that."
Once again Lochlainn began to wonder whether she had a wanton nature as he rose from the tub and she moved to dry him off. She led him to the bed by the hand, and patted it invitingly, before moving away from him slightly to remove her robe and place it on the back of her chair. He reached over to snuff the candles but she urged, "No, I want to see you, taste you."
Lochlainn was mildly shocked, but was soon carried away on the whirling eddy of his own desires as Muireann led him down avenues they had never explored before. He struggled to match her kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke, with every caress of hand, mouth and tongue heightening his desire to fever pitch, until at last they joined as one.
Their cataclysmic conclusion shook both to the very core of their beings. They collapsed exhaustedly onto their backs and lay there with the chill spring air cooling their naked bodies. Muireann eventually moved to pull the covers up over their glowing flesh, and she gathered him close, so that his head rested on her chest.
"Thank you for today, and tonight. It's been marvelous," she said, stroking his thick dark hair back from his brow lovingly.
Lochlainn felt himself drifting off into a deep sleep. "It's been wonderful for me too,"
"I love you, Lochlainn," Muireann declared softly.
But Lochlainn never heard the words he had been longing for ever since he and Muireann had first met. He was already sound asleep in her warm embrace.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The sheep shearing commenced on the second of May, and it was certainly backbreaking work for the many who weren't used to the dipping and cutting. Muireann and Lochlainn worked side by side, and for a time he hoped that she might have relinquished the idea of going away.
But two days after the shearing was finished, he came into her room to find her packing.
"What's all this?"
"I know you don't approve, but—"
"I just don't want you heading off on a fool's errand. You've tried all avenues of inquiry and are none the wiser. I think the house must have been sold already, or is mortgaged or even been foreclosed upon."
"I need to know for certain."
"Can't Anthony handle—"
"I need to meet with him in person as well. So it will be killing two birds with one stone, Lochlainn. Please stop worrying."
He looped one arm around her waist. "I can't help it. Just when I start feeling like everything is on an even keel and we're making headway against the winds of fortune at last, some tempest blows us backwards."
She shook her head. "I would love it for things to be more stable for us all as well, but life doesn't stand still, you know. The only thing certain in this life is change."
He sighed and held her close. "The more we have, the more we risk losing."
She nodded, and held him close. "Ironic, isn't it. We were unhappy when we had nothing. Now we share so much, well, it would seem too cruel a blow to lose any of it, especially when we've worked so hard to accomplish what we have so far."
Lochlainn wasn't sure if she was only talking about the estate. But with the way she was pressing her body against his, he didn't care.
"Trust me, I won't let one iota of it go without a fight, love."
She raised her hand to stroke his cheek. "You know I won't either. Trust me, darling?"
He pressed her hand to his lips, then gathered her into his arms. They sank onto the bed amid her valises, all thoughts of her journey flying straight out of their heads as they began to meld and merge into one.
The next day, heavy-hearted, Lochlainn rode on the cart with her to Enniskillen, where she was to board the coach for Dublin.
"Have you got everything you need?" he asked quietly.
"Aye, I do, but you'll have to look after Tadhg for me while I'm gone. I'll miss the little tyke."
"And he'll miss you. We all will," he said, forcing himself to smile, though his eyes remained serious.
Muireann stroked his cheek tenderly.
"I'll be fine. Don't look so worried."
"I know. I just think perhaps I should go with you, to look after you," he said, chewing his lower lip nervously.
He tried to ignore the voice inside his head that said he would never make love to her again. He had done so passionately, desperately, the night before. He tried to block out the persistent thought that he would never see Muireann again.
"No, Lochlainn, really. Anthony Lowry will be there to look after all my business interests in Dublin. I need you to do the same for me here. I'll be home as soon as I can, I promise." She squeezed his hand tightly.
"I'll be counting the days. Write to me?"
"I will," she promised for the hundredth time.
He helped her up into the interior of the coach. He wrapped her traveling rugs around her legs as if she were the most precious treasure. He held her hand tightly as it rested on the ledge of the door, and then impulsively jumped onto the step and gave her one last kiss through the open window.
Muireann blushed to the roots of her hair, but she was fairly sure no one had noticed.
"Goodbye! I'll see you soon," she called.
The coach moved off from the depot.
He waved seemingly cheerfully until the carriage went out of sight, then released a ragged sigh. Lochlainn wondered how he would live without her by his side day and night. He knew he would count the hours until she once more returned to his arms.
If she ever returned…
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Return she did, but the Muireann who came home to Lochlainn and Barnakilla five weeks later in the middle of June proved to be a very different woman from the one who had gone away on that idyllic May morning after the blissful night of passion they had shared which Lochlainn had hoped would never end.
Muireann arrived back at Barnakilla in the middle of June, thinner and paler than ever, with a young man and an even younger woman in tow. Both of them were quite attractive in an earthy sort of way. Muireann simply introduced them to the rest of the workers as Emma and Sam.
"They're going to be teachers," she announced to everyone at dinner on the day she arrived home. "I want schools for all the children, and even reading and writing classes for the adults. The time you spend in class will be charged at quarter rate against your rents."
Lochlainn, delighted when he heard Muireann had finally returned to Barnakilla, had envisioned a romantic reunion, a chance to be alone with her, to greet her warmly and intimatel
y.
His hopes were soon dashed completely. Since so many people were crowded into the room to hear her surprise announcement, there wasn't a chance of a quiet word with her at all, let alone anything more personal.
When Muireann finally did take the trouble to look at him directly, it was a hollow, vacant stare, almost as though she were looking through him. And over the next few days, as she organized and set up the new school in two of the cottages that had just been built near a small wooded glen, she seemed to avoid Lochlainn and take an inordinate interest in Emma and Sam's welfare.
Sam was a very good-looking young man, only a couple of years older that Muireann. Lochlainn felt jealousy burn furiously within him, yet he could see nothing wrong with the quiet, withdrawn chap. He behaved circumspectly at all times, and certainly did not seem flirtatious in the least.
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