All You Could Ask For

by Angeline Fortin

  Though he would have denied it, he felt his spirits lift immeasurably at Moira’s sound scolding. Aye, he was alive though he barely felt so at times. It was as if his body had survived but his spirit was still deadened within him. Still, she was right, rather than hide out from the uncertainties ahead, he should embrace them. He could live in the way that he did indeed know Jason MacKenzie would have if he had been the one to survive. Jason would have lived with his whole heart. He would have embraced every new experience as if it were a gift. Jason would have taken his regrets and made the world right. God, he wished Jason were here.

  Vin sighed heavily.

  While he didn’t have those same kinds of regrets—he’d never regretted a moment of his service to the Crown until the moment of his capture—he could still spend the balance of his life living it to the fullest. And it could begin tonight with becoming part of his loud, boisterous, rowdy family once more. Moira was right; he deserved it as much as they did.

  Rising to his feet, Vin awkwardly straightened his ill-fitting dinner jacket, squaring his shoulders with resolve. “Do I look all right? It doesn’t fit well.”

  “Well, you’re a bit scrawny these days,” Moira answered honestly. The scowl eased from her brow and a new twinkle gleamed in her eye. “But I’m sure all your big, brawny brothers will refrain from beating you into the ground…for tonight at least.”

  Vin spread his arms wide looking down at himself before lifting a wry brow at Moira. “You should have seen me a month ago.”

  Moira shuddered at the thought but remembering the lean muscle that lay below his clothes felt another shudder with an entirely different feeling. Vin might not be as thickly built as he once was, but his body was still beautiful. Without all the bulk, his body was more like it had been in his early twenties, all long limbs and lanky grace. Shaking away the misplaced thoughts, Moira rose shaking out her skirts, moving to bypass him and head to the door. “Shall we go down then?”

  Vin caught her arm as she passed and turned her to face him. The top of her head was just below his chin, and the arm that minutes ago seemed an extension of a voluptuous body suddenly seemed small and delicate under his hand. Unconsciously, he ran his palm down the silky softness over her elbow and down to her hand savoring the feel of skin against skin. Taking her hand in his, he raised it to his lips in a gesture that was rusty for lack of practice and kissed it lightly before bending to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, lovey.”

  At his gruff whisper, she lifted her head. Their faces were just inches apart and Vin was caught by the moment, staring into soft brown eyes that were filled with feeling. He’d never before noticed how thick and dark the lashes were that surrounded those eyes. And now, on closer inspection could make out a freckle or two on her nose. Her lips were full and red. When her tongue darted out to wet them, Vin felt his stomach knot. Luscious, he thought.

  Moira could feel his gaze like a caress. She could feel it settle on her lips so fully that they tingled in response. One kiss, her heart begged as she swayed slightly toward him before catching herself and pulling back with a frown.

  She wouldn’t do it. She might cast lures and attempt to attract him, but when that first move came—if it ever did—it would be his, not hers.

  “You’re welcome, Vin,” she replied softly. “Come, your family awaits you.”

  Chapter 9

  Every man dies. Not every man really lives.

  ~ William Wallace

  They could hear the beginnings of the cacophony that was the MacKintosh clan before they even made it halfway down the stairs. Though his step did not hesitate, Moira could feel Vin’s arm tense in expectation as they approached the drawing room on the main floor. It was the ruckus of a dozen and more people talking over one another, punctuated with laughter and an occasional shout.

  As one might expect, the fracas that ensued when more than a trio of the brothers gathered could easily overwhelm or simply terrify those unaware or unprepared. The large MacKintosh clan was comprised primarily of men who were still young lads at heart. Because of that, they still had a tendency to collapse into fits of physical confrontation and revolt against the hierarchy of their familial fiefdom.

  Moira loved the melee. Having just one brother herself, she’d never experienced anything like the clan before her first visit to Glen Cairn as a child. She thought it all pleasantly chaotic but even she could admit that an absence from the experience tended to dull one’s resilience and tolerance. One must readapt and that was the struggle Vin would face shortly.

  Just short of the door, Moira paused ,drawing Vin to a halt with her. “If possible,” she teased softly, “a smile might be in order when you go in.”

  Vin didn’t take up the challenge, but instead regarded her seriously. She couldn’t know, of course, the demons that haunted him, how her own brother haunted him. He rarely found a moment of peace, much less humor. Happiness and laughter were foreign things to him now. They were first things Vin wanted to find again but they weren’t with him yet. “If you only knew, lovey, I would offer a limb in sacrifice for some levity in my heart. Sung Li says the time will come when what has occurred doesn’t constantly linger on the edges of my mind. When the past no longer haunts my days…” or nights, he added silently. “I will try. That is all I can promise.”

  Moira felt her heart compress in regret for she hadn’t imagined he carried his imprisonment with him constantly. She thought it only a burden of nightmares gone with the morning light. She chastised herself; did she honestly believe the scars on his back were the only ones that he carried with him? After what he revealed that morning? He was a haunted man. That much was clear. She could even feel the weight of speaking of it pressing down on him. “I’m sorry, Vin. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Nay, you’re right, of course,” he assured her, surprising himself with his willingness to talk to her when words normally came haltingly to his lips. “It will do much to ease everyone’s mind if I at least appear to be the same old Vin.” He squared his shoulders and turned toward the door. “Shall we brave the mob then?”

  “After you,” Moira gestured him forward.

  The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly as he stepped to the portal.

  It took a moment for his presence to be noticed as he neither spoke nor moved past the door. The detection, when it came, arrived in the form of a feminine scream that halted all conversation. Eyes from around the room turned not to him but to his lone sister, Fiona, as she wavered unsteadily, her skin as white as her debutante’s gown. Her eyes fluttered and rolled and several nearby men leaped to catch her imminent fall.

  “Och, Heather Blossom, you’re not going to faint, are you?” Vin’s crusty voice cut across the room and more than a dozen pairs of eyes shot like bullets in his direction.

  For a long, stunned moment, silence and disbelief choked the room as most of its occupants stared at Vin until Francis’ voice broke in. “I told you I had a surprise for you!”

  Fiona, the first affected, was also the first to recover. Her cheeks flooded with color as she straightened and raced with a squeal into her brother’s arms, throwing her arms around his neck. “Vin, Vin!” she cried over and over, as he held her clumsily to him.

  Gasping for air from her near strangulation, Vincent set Fiona back on her feet and stared down at her radiant face. He almost hadn’t recognized her. He cast a thankful glance at Moira for her whispered hint. Gone was the knobby-kneed lass of twelve years who had been the terror of their household and in her place was a lovely young woman. Tears sprang to his eyes before he blinked them back. He had missed so much if that little brat had time to become a lady in his absence. “Did you miss me, Blossom?” he choked out as she squealed and hugged him again.

  He tucked his sister in one arm as a swell of stomping boots approached. Caught up in the strong arms of seven of his younger brothers, Vincent was passed around for hug after back-pounding hug from Jamie, Sean, Colin, Tam, Ian, Connor and Dorian. Changes and
more changes. Young lads become men, every one of them. He hardly recognized any of them. Vin thought it a miracle any of them had recognized him.

  Then a deeper, even more emotional voice cut over the din. “As I live and breathe! Is it truly Vincent MacKintosh?”

  “It is! It is!” Fiona declared happily, clapping her hands.

  Brother to brother, Vincent faced Richard with deep affection noticing the years on the man’s face, the tears in his eyes. Vin almost truly smiled and then each man pulled the other into an embrace. Richard, his brother who had been captured with him but managed a successful escape. For years after that escape, Vin wondered if his brother yet lived, whether he had made good on that getaway. He had never known until Temple had found him. Though he wouldn’t have wished him back, Vin missed Richard after his escape, missing the one family member he’d had with him.

  They remained in that embrace for several long minutes. Vin could feel the emotion pouring from his brother as Richard stifled the sobs of anguish and relief and joy at finding his Vin alive and well in front of him. When they finally parted, Vin caught a glimpse of Moira standing nearby with tears in her eyes and he nodded, recognizing she had been right. They all needed this.

  Richard clasped Vin’s shoulders and released a watery chuckle. “Good God, old man, didn’t they feed you after I was gone? As I remember it was all beef and brandy while I was with you!”

  “I guess they didn’t like me as much as they liked you,” Vin returned the quip, stepping back though the urge to embrace his brother once again was incredibly strong. Giving in, he hugged Richard once more fiercely before moving away. Not wanting the conversation to fall into his experience with imprisonment, Vin quickly added, “I hear you wed wee Abby Merrill.”

  “It’s true,” Richard turned and held out an arm for his wife who came to them and hugged Vin as well.

  “My, but you’ve become a beauty while I was gone,” Vin whispered to her as they embraced.

  “Welcome home, Vin,” she returned, her tears of joy flowing freely down her cheeks. “I am so happy to have you here safe and sound. Richard has never forgiven himself for coming back without you.”

  Vin released her and met Richard’s eyes once more, noting the sadness and regret there. He could feel that emotion coming in waves off him and gave him a nod that spoke volumes. A reluctant smile lifted the corner of Richard’s mouth.

  After that, there was little time for deeper thought. Vin was passed around and introduced to his other new sisters-in-law, Ilona and Coline, who married his brothers Sean and Colin the previous year. Thankfully, none of the others had wed, sparing Vin more introductions but just noting the changes time had brought to each of his brothers was enough to remind Vin of all he had missed.

  Since Fiona was still lingering at his side, Vin offered his arm to her and she rushed back into his embrace, stroking his hands and arms repeatedly as if to assure herself that he was really there. He supposed he never thought to wonder how his disappearance would affect the youngest of his siblings. She’d been but a girl when he left but one who had already been dealt the deaths of both her parents before Vin too had ‘died’.

  “Vin!” Fiona cried again. “I can’t believe you’re alive!”

  They all echoed that sentiment as the group moved into dinner.

  * * *

  By the time dinner was over, Vin was exhausted not only physically but also mentally. He had been peppered so constantly with questions and information through the entire meal he’d barely had a chance to eat. His responses were clipped and awkward, and at times, he simply wanted to flee the room to escape the constant barrage of inquiries regarding the years of his imprisonment. They wanted answers he simply could not give.

  As if sensing when he was reaching a breaking point, Moira would step in and change the subject giving him brief moments of sweet relief before the interrogation would begin again.

  After dinner, his younger brothers challenged him to a few games of billiards carrying him along to that room with the intent of leaving the ladies behind. Vin felt such a departure would be unfair to Fiona and as if sensing his feelings, Francis insisted everyone join them there for the evening.

  It began well enough, with joking and taunting while the lots were drawn to see who would play whom. All the younger lads talked one over the other to be the first one to tell him new stories and anecdotes of the past years. Who had wed, married and died. As Moira had warned, he discovered that his siblings, most especially the younger ones, were all vastly different people from those he left behind.

  James drew the first game against Connor so Vin leaned against the fireplace mantle, listening with half an ear while Ian and Tam told him some ribald tale of their late-night carousing.

  Then, the first ball struck the others.

  Vin flinched so violently he nearly spilled the brandy he was cradling. The smack of the balls was so reminiscent of the crack of a whip, he could almost feel the lash biting into his back.

  “Come on, Vin. You used to do stuff like that all the time,” Ian said when Vin did not laugh at his tale.

  Tam joined in, “Aye, used to be the devil himself from what I’ve heard!”

  The pair laughed raucously at their humor.

  Once again, a ball was launched across the table to collide with another and even knowing that it was coming did not prepare Vin for the impact he felt. He could feel the bindings at his wrists cutting into his flesh as his body reeled from the next stroke of the whip. Blood drained from his face as he felt nausea roiling inside of him.

  Crack!

  A cold sweat broke out over his entire body. Vin clutched the mantle tightly, closing his eyes as the sounds of joking and laughter receded behind the rush of blood in his ears.

  Smack!

  His body arched against the slice of the whip and a moan escape his lips.

  “Vin! Vin?” Cracking his eyes, Vin could see Richard looking at him with concern. “Bloody hell! Francis!”

  Vin felt his older brother’s strong hand on his arm. “I’m fine,” he mumbled.

  “Didn’t do nothing, Francis,” Ian told him. “I mean, used to be he could take a joke.”

  Vin bristled hearing that comment. All evening he had been peppered with comments like that from the lot of them. How he used to smile, how he used to laugh. How he used to think everything was so bloody funny. Each time, it had pushed his irritation to the brink.

  Now rage bubbled up irrationally inside him and exploded. “Shut it! Just shut it!” He grabbed one of the billiard balls off the table and flung it into the fireplace. The room fell silent as everyone turned to stare at him. His anger was not focused on anyone; he could not look at any of them! “Stop telling me how I used to be!” he railed. “All of you! I’m sick from hearing it! You think I don’t know? You think I’m too blind to see it without you pointing it out?”

  “It’s all right, Vin,” Francis said softly.

  “Nay, it’s not all right!” The anger fled from him, leaving Vin deflated and perhaps a bit embarrassed by his tirade. “I’m sorry, brother. Sometimes I don’t think it will ever be all right again.”

  Vin stalked from the room, only stopping short for a moment when Moira caught his eye. She was standing to the side with her hands clasped over her chest, looking as devastated as she had that morning when he’d confirmed Jason’s death. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed silently, her eyes filled with despair for him.

  “So am I,” he returned and strode from the room, leaving his family behind in stunned silence.

  Chapter 10

  In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.

  ~ Robert Frost

  The next morning Vin felt as if he’d never be able to face his family again. They had only been reminiscing and catching up on all the changes the last five years had wrought. He hadn’t mistaken the joy they had shown when he had finally gone downstairs. They had been thrilled with his appearance.

 
; Vin supposed the thrill was gone for most of them. What a fool he’d made of himself! One and all, they’d done nothing to deserve such recriminations as he rained on them. Burying his head in his pillow, Vin wished he could just hide himself away forever just as Moira accused him of doing.

  He hadn’t lied though when he said he thought nothing would be all right again. Everything seemed foreign to him right now, as did everyone. He didn’t know his family anymore and they didn’t know him. They didn’t know of his nightmares. They didn’t know of the ghosts that haunted his waking moments. They didn’t know how certain sounds or smells could put him right back in Egypt.

  Well, they did now, he snorted self-disparagingly. Most likely, they would walk on eggshells with him now, if they didn’t avoid him all together. It wasn’t going at all as he thought it would. Moira’s push for him to embrace his life had fallen at the wayside within the space of one evening.

  “You know, I don’t think this room has changed at all since we were children.” Vin levered his head off the pillow to find Francis standing at the door, his expression thoughtful as he surveyed the room.

  “It’s the only room that hasn’t,” Vin grumbled. It was true. There was nothing of the house that was the same as he remembered. He could only assume Eve made those changes when she became countess. Women did love to redecorate. It was one of his strongest memories of his mother. Each time they’d go away in the summer, they’d come back to unfamiliar rooms. At least Eve hadn’t changed this room. His room. He had taken an extraordinary amount of pleasure in its familiarity since his return. The dark paneling contrasting with the creamy walls above it. The heavy furniture and green and tan upholstered furnishings. It was comfort and more his home than any other room of the house. It made him recall years and memories far removed from the ones that plagued his nights.