Duncan

by Jo Jones

  “Um-hmm,” Molly muttered, raising her tear swollen face from the depths of Duncan’s shoulder. “I was scared, Mamma. I hid behind a tree. Then Duncan came for me.”

  “Yes.” Lainey raised her gaze to the Scotsman. “He did.”

  She couldn’t be sure of what she saw in those deep blue depths, but for a moment her Highlander had dropped his guard to reveal a vulnerability that touched something deep inside her. A strange recognition of something she couldn’t quite bring into focus.

  She looked away, shaking off her wild thoughts. The day’s events had obviously taken their toll on her. And when, for goodness sakes, had she started thinking of Duncan as her Highlander?

  “Come on, sweetheart.” Lainey raised her arms to take Molly. “We’ll get the truck then I’ll fix you a spot on the porch, so you can see me and I can see you, while I fix the corral and round up the stock.

  “Duncan will carry me, Mama. We gotta go check on Patches. She’ll be scared stiff.”

  “Oh.” Lainey lowered her arms, a little unnerved. “Okay.”

  The sudden rush of jealousy over Molly’s fascination with Duncan felt ridiculous. But it had always been just the two of them. Even when Mark had been part of the picture, he’d been disengaged. Lainey suspected he’d resented being stuck a ranch in the middle of nowhere and probably felt the same about his relationship with her, and maybe even Molly, long before the divorce.

  No matter, she supposed. They’d take Duncan to town tomorrow and never see him again. How attached could Molly get in the space of a day?

  Her own pang of regret would surely fade as well. It was probably nothing more than having someone to lean on during a stressful time. And maybe a few nerves over the realization that she might have been here alone with Molly when whoever did this arrived. Along with the possibility of it happening again when she and Molly were alone. How would she protect Molly then?

  ~

  Duncan convinced Molly to go to the barn with Lainey to milk the cow, instead of him, with the assurance that Patches would come to her and her ma much sooner than she might to a stranger.

  He hadn’t missed the hurt in Lainey’s eyes when Molly had taken her comfort in his arms rather than hers. Even a long-dead ghost could ken that Lainey needed this time with Molly.

  Despite the stubborn independence he’d observed in Lainey, he felt certain he was by far the better suited for mending fences. But he would no’ be telling her so.

  Truth be told, he wished to help her, to set her world right again. Something about the lass pulled at him. He yearned to gather her close, as he’d done Molly, but for far different reasons. What man, blood flowing through his veins, or even the mere phantom of one, could see Lainey and no’ be drawn to her? No’ want her for himself?

  ‘Twas no denying he wanted her and for far more than the brief desires of a temporary body, though he couldna deny those plagued him, as well.

  Wishing to divert his thoughts and energy, he headed for the strung out mess of broken posts and tangled wire. He had to admit this kind of fencing was nothing like anything he’d experienced before. ‘Twas a far different undertaking than piling rocks and he wasn’t convinced ‘twas an improvement.

  Mayhap the availability of materials dictated the style. Tree posts were readily available. Rocks were no’, at least no’ in the size and quantity Scotland provided. The thorny wire was a puzzlement, to be sure. He studied a small section of still-standing fence to see how it all attached and went to work.

  Setting a thick post into the hole he’d dug, he tamped the dirt firmly around it, letting a myriad of frustrations drive the power behind each blow.

  What sort of madness had he succumbed to? Less than two days remained ‘til Soni came for him. ‘Twas folly to think he could accomplish a heroic deed in that amount of time and woo a lass to boot.

  And for what? So he could leave her?

  He wanted Lainey. But he also wanted more for her than he could offer. Besides, he doubted Soni would think kindly of such frippery. He suspected her ability to offer the whole of the Seventy-nine their boons had been a challenge for her, though she’d been unwilling to reveal it as such. Sweet Soni. He could no’ let her down, nor risk his prospect of confronting the prince.

  Lainey is but a fancy, Duncan Macpherson. Her and wee Molly. Best ye set yer daft notions aside.

  Unaccustomed to the heat of this climate, or the path his thoughts had taken, Duncan removed his sword belt and pulled off his shirt, setting them aside as he pounded posts and strung the prickly wire until he was sure he’d set his mind in order.

  ‘Twas an fascinating boon the Muir witch had blessed him with; this body that healed itself instantly. Mayhap she’d seen the results of handling the prickly wire before.

  By the time the fence was repaired and he and Lainey had driven the stock inside the corral, with Molly watching grudgingly from the porch, the sun had dropped behind the hills to the west. The glow it left lit the backs of storm clouds with a smothered, rusty halo.

  Lainey boarded up the last of the broken windows in the house, while he secured the wobbly porch rails. The broken slats could wait.

  They gathered their tools and walked with Molly into the yard, letting the increasing wind cool them as they surveyed the remaining damage.

  Duncan watched Molly limp off to check a potential hiding spot for Patches. He turned his attention to Lainey, fascinated as he watched her look of devastation slowly turn to determination. The lift of her chin, the set of her pretty mouth and the slight narrowing of her eyes revealed the same strength he’d witnessed since he’d first glimpsed her, bursting like a wild thing from her lorry.

  He felt certain she was unaware of the effect she had on him. The rag holding her hair had loosened, letting copper coils drift around her face. He clenched the hammer he still held to keep from reaching out to brush the strands aside. Never had he longed to touch something more.

  Lainey peered up at the evening sky. “Must be a high wind up there,” she mused. “It’s herding those clouds into what looks to be a nasty storm.”

  She hooked a thumb into her back pocket, drawing his gaze to the taught perfection of her bottom. Not that he hadn’t already admired her shapely curves already.

  “It’s been raining to the east for a while now,” she continued. “We’ll get rain, for sure. Maybe even a gully-washer. I could definitely use some fresh water in my ponds in the back sections.”

  Duncan only half listened. This would no’ do. What kind of man couldn’t control his own thoughts? He must search out whatever deed needed doing so Soni could take him away before he turned into a blackguard himself. It made no sense that he’d become so attached to these two lassies so soon. ‘Twas time to move on, and quickly.

  Soni had been wise with her time allotment after all.

  “Aye,” he responded, more tersely than he’d intended. “Ye’ll be needin’ to get Molly inside before the squall hits.” He reached for the hammer in Lainey’s hand, pausing a fraction longer than proper when their fingers touched. “I’ll return these tools to the barn and gather up the last of the boards and fence pickets before the wind makes weapons of ‘em.”

  Lainey’s smallest finger tangled, unexpectedly, with his when he took her hammer. ‘Twas senseless to think it more than an accident. By the stars, he would stop acting the lovesick fool! He whirled on his heel and headed for the barn. “Ye’ve things to do inside, I ken.”

  “Duncan?”

  He stopped but did not turn. “Aye?”

  “You’ll come in for supper in a bit? It’s the least I can do to thank you for your help.”

  He was ravenously hungry. For far more than her table would offer.

  “Molly will worry if you don’t.”

  “Aye,” he replied, letting desire override his good sense. “I’ll come.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lainey sat a pitcher of milk on the table, her attention focused on Molly whose nose pressed the glass of one o
f the three unbroken windows in the house. She didn’t have to see her daughter’s face to know her brows were scrunched with worry. They’d been that way for the last hour.

  “I still can’t see him, Mama. What if Duncan and Patches are both lost?”

  “They’re fine, sweetheart. They’ll each be along when they’re ready.”

  “But what if we need to go to the cellar and they won’t know where we are?”

  “I don’t think we’ll need to use the root cellar tonight, Molly. The storm doesn’t appear that bad.” Not yet, anyway, she thought, though it seemed to be trying hard enough.

  “Patches knows how to find it from all the times we play in there,” Molly continued, “but Duncan doesn’t. I don’t want to go without him,” Molly muttered.

  Lainey’s concern over Molly’s growing attachment to Duncan had escalated for reasons that had nothing to do with him. Seeing Molly’s instant connection to Duncan revealed how desperate she was for acceptance from someone besides her mother. Could she have been doing wrong by Molly, living out here, so isolated from the outside world?

  This ranch was Lainey’s family legacy, and she loved every weed and grain of sand on the place. She’d always thought it protected Molly from the unkindness of others. But what if living out here hadn’t protected her at all? Molly would start school in the fall. She’d be thrown into new situations and maybe by keeping her so isolated, Lainey had actually set Molly up for greater hardships dealing with new people and circumstances.

  A flash of lightening lit the room. Lainey automatically counted the seconds before she heard the rumble of thunder, wishing everything in life could be that predictable.

  “Come finish setting the table,” she reminded Molly, placing napkins and silverware on the bar.

  Still sporting a worried frown, Molly set things out. “Why did mean people come here and beat up our house and tear up everything outside?”

  Lainey had no idea how to answer. She didn’t want to frighten her, nor did she want to lie to her. “I don’t know, honey. I guess some people don’t have any respect for other people’s property.”

  A brilliant flash of lightning and a deafening boom hit almost simultaneously, rattling jars and dishes. Molly jumped, reflexively hunching her shoulders. “That one scared me a little,” she said, her voice small as she sat the last fork beside a plate. “Will they come back?”

  “The thunder and lightning?” Lainey asked, thinking how close that last one must have been. “I thin—”

  “No,” Molly raised her anxious gaze to her mother, “the mean people.”

  “Ohh, honey,” Lainey’s heart twisted as she knelt beside her. “You know I would never let anyone hurt you.” She pulled Molly close, needing comfort as much as she needed to give it.

  “I’m glad Duncan came to live with us.” Molly’s muffled voice came from the depths of her mother’s embrace. “He’ll protect us.”

  Lainey felt the air leave her lungs. “Molly, he—”

  “Duncan!” Molly cried as the door opened and closed. She pulled away from Lainey and ran as fast as her stumbling gait would allow, jumping awkwardly into his arms with absolute faith that he’d catch her.

  In that instant, Lainey knew Molly’s heart would be shattered when Duncan left and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

  When Mark left, they’d hardly noticed. For months before the divorce, he’d done little more than come for clean clothes. Molly couldn’t mourn for something she’d never had with her father. But she would clearly grieve for Duncan after having him for less than a day.

  “It smells good in here,” Duncan commented through the mass of Molly’s curls pressed to his cheek.

  Lainey smiled, watching them from the kitchen, noticing the contrast of Molly’s red locks against Duncan’s dark auburn.

  “Mama’s cooking brownies,” Molly leaned back, grinning her delight.

  “Brounies?” Duncan’s eyebrows shot up. “Like the little people in Scotland?”

  “No,” Lainey. “It’s just…cake.”

  “Auch,” he gave Molly a squeeze and ruffled her hair. “‘Tis worried, I was.”

  Molly laughed and slid her arms around Duncan’s neck in a tight squeeze.

  Lainey turned away to face the sink, wondering how they’d all fare when she took Duncan to town tomorrow.

  Her dim, disjointed reflection stared back from the splintered glass in the window. It had fractured, something like a car window, but not broken out. Shattered but intact, she mused. That described her situation perfectly.

  She had to admit she too, would miss the Scotsman. It was nice having someone stand beside her, sharing, even for a few hours, part of her burden.

  And, just between her and her shattered reflection, it had been a rather nice surprise to feel such an unusual depth of attraction for a highly unusual man who’d turned out to be more than good looks and a sexy brogue.

  “You must be starving.” She turned, forcing a smile, hoping he hadn’t sensed her foolishness.

  She regretted not having more time to learn if her instincts about him were right and if what she thought she felt was real.

  No matter. Tomorrow his larger-than-life presence would be gone and she’d come to her senses. She only hoped Molly would understand bringing a stray man home was nothing like bringing a stray cat. You didn’t get to keep them.

  Even when you wanted to.

  “Hungry? Aye, lass.” Duncan held her gaze, steady and piercing. “Verra hungry.”

  Lainey jumped when the timer on the oven shrilled. She turned away thinking she should be grateful. Pretending there could be anything more than simple gratitude between them was absolute madness.

  She sat the pan of brownies on the counter to cool and put sandwiches and potato salad on the table as Molly tugged Duncan to a chair. “Can I say grace, mama?”

  “May I,” Lainey reminded her, surprised by the request. She usually had to badger her to pray. “Of course you may.”

  Molly ducked her head and folded her hands in her lap. “Thank you for this food, and for the rain, even if the thunder scares me, sometimes. And don’t let the mean people come back, and thank you God, for bringing Duncan to live with us. We need him and he needs us. Now he won’t be lost anymore. Amen.”

  Lainey’s heart sank. Molly did think she could keep Duncan. She’d talk to her about it…after dinner. Another disappointment to add to Molly’s long list. The hollowness she’d had in her stomach shifted. It no longer represented hunger. It was dread, pure and simple.

  She raised her head to find Duncan’s gaze focused intently on her, his expression impossible to read.

  “What are yer plans, lass?”

  He’d caught her a little off balance. “My plans? For…?”

  “For dealing with the wretched lot that did this to yer property,” he waived a hand around the room at the devastation.

  Pasting a smile on her face to ease Molly’s fears, she scooped some salad onto Molly’s plate and passed the bowl to Duncan.

  “Well, I’ll go into town tomorrow and order new windows and replacement parts for the windmill. I’ll need more fencing materials for the corrals and picket fence. And as soon as I get out on the road where I can get reliable cell service, I’ll make yet another call to the authorities in Little Field who’ll take my report and promise to send someone out to investigate, while reminding me how far it is out here.”

  “They wilna help you?”

  She shrugged. “It isn’t that they won’t. I think it’s more an issue of distance and personnel.”

  “This…sort of thing. It’s happened before?”

  She glanced quickly at Molly who appeared engrossed in eating, not listening, but she still wasn’t willing to discuss the entire truth in front of her. “Just some minor things, here and there,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.

  Duncan took a bite of his salad. “‘Tis good.” He grinned, scooping more onto his plate. “Are ye good at
it, then?” he asked, adding a sandwich to his plate. “The fixin’ of things? Yer windmill and such?”

  “I…have to be.”

  “Ye’ve no one to help ye?”

  “Nobody wants to work for mama,” Molly interjected.

  Duncan’s brows bunched as he looked at Molly and back at Lainey. “Why would they no’?”

  Lainey didn’t want to discuss her theories about Mark’s hand in warning people off in front of Molly.

  “It’s just been…difficult to find someone. My ranch is a long way from town and the work is hard for what I can pay.” She passed Molly a sandwich. “Anyway…” She smiled, hoping the look she gave him conveyed her desire to change the subject.

  Duncan must have understood. He picked up the pitcher of milk. “Might ye like more milk, Molly? ‘Tis bonny for helpin’ a wee lass grow into a fine strong woman, like her mother.”

  Molly grinned and held up her glass.

  “I’ve one more day, I ken,” he moved to Lainey’s glass and filled it without asking if she wanted more, “until I’m summoned for a much anticipated visit with…an old acquaintance. Would ye be willin’ to let me help out until then?”

  Another day? Lainey’s immediate, greedy desire to say yes surprised her, even while she thought of a dozen reasons she shouldn’t accept.

  She lifted her glass and took a slow sip of milk. “I’d be very grateful.”

  ~

  Duncan thanked Lainey for supper by offering to clear the table while she prepared Molly for bed. For just a moment, sharing conversation with them over their meal, he’d felt as if he could belong here. He didna, of course. He didna have the right or the time to claim them for his own.

  His wishes crashed and thundered against his reality as violently as the storm raging outside. Thunder boomed and rolled across the sky, rumbling its discontent through the mountains, reminding him that tomorrow would come too soon and if his deed of bravery was no’ accomplished, he’d be leaving them defenseless against any possible dangers.

  Soni had said the 79 would pass from Culloden, regardless. But if he didna earn his boon, would it just be to another empty, aimless, place? Wherever Soni decided to put him, he knew he’d grieve for what he’d tasted here, and lost.