“Sure. Very soon is about now.” She smiled faintly and went to get the pot of coffee, pouring some in each of their cups.
Putting the pot on a trivet in the middle of the table, Belle added cream and sugar to her cup. Stirring it slowly, she asked, “Have you and Bennet had some argument I don’t know about?” She noticed her aunt blush a little. “Auntie, I only ask because I thought it might help explain his persistence here.”
“After my husband died, he came calling quite often. After a decent interval, of course. Then he asked me to marry him.”
“And you said no.”
“Oh, I said yes. It was quite nice for a few days, and we didn’t tell anyone, but then I noticed how he always asked questions about this property, this house. I finally got snappish and told him to forget about this place as it is yours and Abel’s. He then went on about how he was sure we could convince you two to sell it. Went round and round on that for a while and finally I took back my yes because it became clear exactly why he wanted to marry me.”
“I am sorry, Auntie.”
“Don’t be. I actually felt relieved and soon realized I had said yes because I was lonely, not because I was in love. It was actually a close escape. But why do you ask?”
“It is just that he is persistent to the point of being obsessed, and it just doesn’t seem right. He offered money to start with, and I said no. Then he just pestered, causing constant minor annoyances. Now it appears he would like to get me in legal trouble, and I suspect he already knows of some way that could aid him in getting his hands on this house if he accomplishes that.”
Mary shook her head. “I don’t know what to say, or even what to do.”
“We’ll have to think on it. Now that there appears to be a growing interest in going to stay by the ocean when the weather warms, he will only get worse. Geordie actually overheard the man laying out his plan for some grand hotel, and he obviously plans to add this to his holdings.”
“Fool. This summer there may be people all eager to go stay by the shore. Next summer they will want to run to the hills. The summer after that? Who knows.”
“I know. People with the money for such things can be fickle in their choices.” She sipped her coffee. “I was hoping I would see some way to fight him, but no, nothing comes to me.”
“Nor to me either. Shall have to think on it more.”
“And I should try to get something together for the midday meal.”
“I can give you a hand.”
They finished their coffee and then got up to sort out what they could serve for a hearty lunch. Mary checked the icebox and set a lump wrapped in paper firmly on the counter. “This should do. Salted beef.”
Belle got out some onions and began to peel them. They soon had the meat boiling and the vegetables readied to be added when needed. It would not be done until a little later than she usually had lunch, but she had the roast she was cooking to make up for it, Belle decided.
She and her aunt had just sat down to have some more coffee when Geordie walked in. He nodded toward the coffeepot and Belle nodded back, so he poured himself a cup and sat down.
“Something smells good,” he said. “What are ye making?”
“Corned beef. So, lunch might be a little late. Ever had it?”
“Aye. Mrs. O’Neal has made it at times. Salted beef, she called it.”
Belle nodded. “I have heard that name. Salted beef is what Auntie calls it. It certainly is more fitting. I have a weakness for whatever is left over. Chop it all up and fry it. Good for breakfast the next day.”
“Like that at our house, though there is rarely much left over. Lots of times Matthew and his family join us. Then there is the ever-growing crop of children. And the three orphans who were taken in, one being Iain’s wife’s nephew and the two Matthew’s wife collected from the war. Then there are the Powells and their growing families. Huh, ye were right when ye said we are building a wee village.”
Mary laughed. “Not so ‘wee,’ is it?”
“Nay”—Geordie grinned—“and I suspect it has more growing to do.”
Chapter Eleven
Geordie built a fire in the fireplace in the sitting room, hoping it would ease the damp in the house. Mehitabel sat on the well-cushioned settee in front of the fire and picked up some sewing out of a bag next to it. Geordie sat down beside her, looked at the badly torn small shirt she held in her hands.
“Abel is a little rough on his clothes, aye?” Geordie asked, and winced a little as he thought on what Mrs. O’Neal would have to say about that.
She smiled. “Very rough on his clothes. He got caught up in a tree when wearing this. He was climbing the tree and ended up hanging from a branch by this shirt. Auntie stood under him in case the shirt finished ripping while I climbed up to get him.” She shook her head. “And I hate heights. Fortunately, Abel is a skilled clinger, so once he had a good grip on my back there was no trouble getting him down.”
“How old is he?”
“Almost nine. Small for his age, but my father was short and slight of build.”
“He spends a lot of time with your auntie.”
“I know. At times like now, that is actually a help but it is mostly because the school he attends is nearer to her home than mine and, well, I think she is often too aware of how empty her house has become. Uncle died several years ago when his fishing boat went down, her youngest sons now work for Bennet, her daughter got married last summer, and her eldest son is at Harvard. She claims Abel gives her something to do other than sitting in a rocker and knitting.”
Geordie laughed. “I only talked with her for a few minutes, but I just cannae picture her doing that.”
“Neither can I, especially because she doesn’t knit. She does tat, make lace, though.” Belle pointed toward the long, low table in front of them with a lovely cream cover on it. “This cloth is some of her work.”
“Verra nice. My mither occasionally did some, but mostly before she had so many boys running around. Robbie did weaving before he got hurt. He made most of the carpets in our house. He loved doing it and he was verra good.”
Belle put her hand on his arm and, moved by the sadness in his voice, gently rubbed it. “I never make promises about healing, but I do believe his hand will be greatly improved. I did nothing to fix it as he was not wounded there, but my cream seems to be doing better than I ever expected.”
“Robbie actually thinks it is the way you have it rubbed into his hand, so I have been doing the same.”
“Huh.” She sat back and thought about that. “I will have to see to that tomorrow.”
He turned so that he faced her, and settled his arm along the back of the settee behind her. “What will ye have to see?”
“Just if massaging his hand really helps in some noticeable way. If it helps it regain its limberness and strength.”
“He says it does, and he would know.” He kissed her ear and felt her shiver.
She briefly eyed him with suspicion, which increased a lot when he just smiled. “He would know if it felt better, yes. But I want to see what I feel as I do the massage.”
“Ah, weel, it is true I dinnae ken what is what under the skin, but it felt more normal to me than it has since he got hurt. He also held his spoon and fork more firmly than he has since he was hurt.”
“A good sign. But, since I do know what is under the skin, I still think I will check.”
“Weel, if ye must, I will allow it,” he said as he tightened his hold on her and tugged her closer.
“You will allow it?” She glanced at his arm. “And just what are you up to now?”
“Weel, I have been thinking about the day Robbie had his tumble, the day I helped ye down from the apple tree. That was almost a week ago.”
He could not tell if the look she was giving him was one of annoyance or amusement. She put her hands against his chest but did not push him away. He could remember the sweetness of her kiss and how right her slim body felt pr
essed against him. Alert for any sign of unease or rejection, he kissed her.
As before, she softened against him, her body relaxing in his hold. When he ended the kiss and turned his head to kiss her neck, she slid her arms up and around his neck, bringing them even closer together. He nipped at her lips, and when they parted a little, he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth. Geordie could tell she was new to such kisses, so proceeded gently until she began to mimic him.
Her body began to go down beneath the gentle press of his weight. Geordie savored the feel of her slender warmth beneath his body. She even shifted as he moved over her so that he was nestled very comfortably between her thighs. He had to grit his teeth to push aside the strong urge to rub against her.
“What are you doing?”
Belle had to bite back a screech and fight the urge to shove Geordie away as she heard Abel speaking right near her ear. She calmly pushed Geordie aside and pushed herself up until she sat with her back against the arm of the settee. “Where did you come from?”
“Auntie’s. School ended early today because our teacher got sick. She threw up right in front of the class,” Abel said gleefully and smiled. “I thought we could put the boat in the water today.”
“Ye have a boat?” asked Geordie, pleased to hear that the fierce need he had felt had not roughened his voice.
“Just a small boat with oars. To save having to pull it in or out of the water because of the weather, we have a post and anchor we put with it. Used to just pull it up on the beach but it’s been floated off by waves before and was hard to drag into the water on many days. Why? Do you like boats?”
“Dinnae ken. Have not really been on one save for the trip over here and I dinnae e’er want to do that again.”
“We only use the dingy to travel up and down along the beach, maybe do a little fishing.”
“Weel, I rather like fishing. Certainly like eating fish.”
“Then perhaps we can do that before you head home.” Belle looked back at her young brother. “Why do you want to do that now?”
“It is nice out and summer is coming, so why not get it done? Then the next time it is nice and sunny we don’t have to bother.” Hands on his hips, Abel stared at the front door as if he could see right through the wood to the boat waiting for them. “We can just go and use the boat.”
Belle sighed. “I suppose we can.” She stood up and took the boy by the hand. “We will get that done now then. Coming, Mister MacEnroy?”
“I believe I will.”
They were headed for the front door when Belle heard a sound as they walked by the infirmary and she abruptly stopped. She let go of the boy’s hand, whipped toward the door, opened it, and marched in just in time to find the two young men in there trying to quickly hobble back to their beds. Belle put her hands on her hips and glared at them.
“What the devil are you two fools doing? Was there a word in the order ‘Do not put any weight on that leg!’ that you did not understand? I am sure Abel here would be happy to explain it all to you.” She ignored Abel’s giggles.
“We hobbled with skill,” said Will as he settled down on his bed and pulled the covers over himself.
It was difficult but Belle bit the inside of her cheek to banish the urge to laugh as she went and gently pulled Will out of his bed. “No, you will now sleep next to Robbie, as it will be a shorter distance for you to hobble. But, do try to stay in the bed. You are slowing your recovery every time you try to walk around. Or feel the inclination to ‘hobble with skill.’ I will be back soon to check over your wounds.” She ignored their groans as she marched out. “Now we can go out in the boat and put Abel to sleep.”
“He sleeps when you go rowing?”
“Almost always. Even when he was a baby, my father would bundle him up when he would not sleep and take him for a little ride along the shore.”
As soon as they were back inside she ran up to her room to change into a dress. When she went back down the stairs she realized she did not smell coffee. She quickly hurried into the kitchen. Geordie was already placing their cups on the table.
“I hope ye dinnae mind but I made cocoa instead,” he said as he pulled out a chair for her to sit in.
“Oh, no, I don’t mind at all. I never say no to a cup of cocoa. Best you have it now, you may not be able to lift the cup after you have tried your hand at rowing.”
“That bad? I cannae believe ye do it regularly come the warm weather.”
“I am not sure I would say regularly, but a lot, I suppose. I also like to eat fish,” she added with a smile.
“Should I have made some for Robbie and Will?”
“Might be something they will appreciate.”
“I would appreciate some, too,” said Abel.
“Should probably take them some cookies or a piece of cake, too.”
“Ye have cookies?” asked Geordie.
“I do. I always have some. Young brother, remember? I also have some blueberry cake. I made those sweets I spoke of.”
“A berry cake but not a pie?”
“I can make a pie, too, but I didn’t this time.” She got up and went to the stove to heat some more milk. “Just not sure which to take into my patients.”
“Which one will make more crumbs?”
She laughed as she took a few plates out of the cupboard. “Good thinking. Don’t really want to hear the whining if their beds end up full of crumbs. I just hope they are awake.” She set pieces of cake on the plates and set them on the tray with the cocoa she had made, then made some for Abel and also got him a few cookies. After tossing napkins and some tableware on the tray, she took it out of the kitchen and headed for the infirmary.
Geordie got up and followed her, wanting to have a look at Robbie. Will was seated on Robbie’s bed as they played cards and Geordie thought the young man was fortunate he was quietly handed his cup of cocoa. The look on Belle’s face made him think she would have liked to pour it on his head. Will at least had the grace to look properly abashed.
Standing back, she crossed her arms over her chest and asked Will, “How is that throbbing in your leg?”
“Not bad,” he mumbled in response.
“Well. Let’s wander back to your bed and have a look.”
She held his arm as he hobbled back to his bed, taking note of every badly hidden wince and every grimace, thinking it had been a very good idea to place him closer to the other patient occupying a place in the infirmary. She was not terribly angry with him but annoyed by this I can take it male attitude that seemed to make him think he could just ignore her advice. It would make her truly furious if she thought there was any of that she’s a woman, what does she know? attitude, but she had never gotten that feeling from any of these young men.
Once he was back on his bed, she unlaced the leg of his pants, rather sorry she had taken the time to add the lacing to save him embarrassment over having his pants yanked down by a woman, and opened it to look at the wound. The wound did not show any signs of an infection, although it was red. She suspected that was caused by stress on the healing wound, but she would not let him go back to work yet.
“Still doesn’t look infected but it is looking stressed.”
“Stressed? How can a leg be stressed? It has no emotions, no feelings.”
“Really?” She put one finger on his wound and pressed, causing Will to suck in a breath and push her finger away. “Punished and irritated by all the skillful hopping around you have been doing. You could pull out the stitches, and you are definitely making it struggle hard just to stay together.” A bit more gently she felt all along his wound. “So, if you don’t want to be hobbled for life, do try to do as I ask.” She turned and started to walk out of the infirmary.
Geordie looked at Robbie and raised his brows before looking back at Will. “Have ye kenned her for long?”
“Since I was seven. We walked to school together. Actually, about five of us walked to school together. She was bossy
back then, too,” he finished in a loud voice.
Geordie grinned and turned to walk out of the infirmary, only to have to step aside to let Belle walk back to Will’s bed. “Might be wise to listen to her. If nothing else, she has the knowledge to cause ye a lot of pain without causing another injury.”
“And embarrassment,” he muttered as she struggled to lace his pants back together.
Belle nodded. “That too. Doctor’s orders. Try to follow them.”
“I can see those two are going to try to be a lot of work,” she added as she headed back out with Geordie.
“I can have a talk with Robbie.”
“Thank you. If you think it will help, have a nice long talk. Might knock some sense into his noggin.”
“Might. No promise of it. The trouble is, he feels little pain after years of having constant pain.”
“And that pain could return if he is not careful to obey instructions.”
“I will try to stress that. A brother is often ignored when he gives advice, especially an older brother.”
“Huh. Well, that does not bode well for anything in his life, does it, especially since he has six of them. All older?” She sighed and shook her head when he nodded. “Maybe you shouldn’t waste your breath.”
“He might listen.”
“Or he might not. I’d lay money down on the latter. Younger siblings don’t often obey older ones.” She raised her voice so it would reach the boy skipping ahead of them, now wide-awake and dressed to go out in the boat. “Not even when they have been told to do so.”
“Depends on who gave the order,” said Geordie, grinning at the boy who was so blatantly pretending not to hear what was being said.
“Our father when he was sick for a while. We thought he had caught what our mother had, so he was setting the rule for the future to help me. Auntie says the same thing. And she agrees with me when I say I think Dad did get what our mother had and, although he improved and seemed well for a while, it left him with a weakened heart.”
“Quite possible,” he said as they went down the steps. “Where is this boat?”
“Just down the beach a little ways, tucked up against the dune. We hid a small shed there.”
The Scotsman Who Swept Me Away Page 12