Song of Rhanna (The Rhanna series)

by Christine Marion Fraser

  Torment and indecision pulled at him till finally an unutterable sense of peace flooded his being. He didn’t know if it came from within himself or from the haunting serenity of wild lonely places but it was powerful enough to make him get stiffly to his feet and make his way back to the croft, utterly spent in mind and body . . . He would go and see Rachel tomorrow, try to pretend that nothing had happened – it was up to her now to prove to him that she had put Lorn McKenzie out of her life for good.

  But to his surprise Rachel was waiting for him in the warm kitchen of Croft na Ard. Apprehensively she looked at his white, tired face and self-loathing flooded her being. Dear, kind, gentle Jon, he had given her his life and this was how she had repaid him. In an agony of shame she went to him and put her arms around him. He held her at arm’s length and looked deep into her eyes. In a calm, steady voice he explained that he had come home unexpectedly and not finding her at Fàilte had gone for a long walk, intending to see her in the morning. ‘And instead I find you here to welcome me back, liebling.’ His voice became husky with emotion. ‘Did you use these strange powers of yours to tell you where to find me?’

  She was stunned. Nervously she played with the buttons of her dress. She had expected accusations, an outpouring of anger, yet she might have guessed there would be none of that. This was Jon after all, and he was pretending not to know, protecting her as he had always protected her – only this time she didn’t want his protection – would have welcomed anger, recriminations. She wanted to beat her fists against his chest, to scream the truth at him, make him face the fact that she was imperfect, human, weak. But she couldn’t scream. The silent protestations beat inside her head and she knew that would be her punishment, to keep up the pretence for his sake, to go on as if nothing had happened. And he thought he was being kind, behaving as if everything was as it had been; he wasn’t to know that she had witnessed his departure from the woods by Sliach so he was letting her think that her so-called secret was known only to her and Lorn.

  Anton came into the room, tying his dressing gown round him. ‘Where have you been all this time, Jon?’ His keen blue gaze took in the two white faces. ‘You look done in and in need of your bed – Rachel has been waiting for hours—’ He halted, wondering suddenly why Rachel had put in such an unexpected appearance in the first place. What had made her decide to leave the cottage and come here – and the children? Who was looking after them? He put the question to her and was quick to note the colour staining her cheeks.

  ‘Lorn came by – I – left him to see to them,’ she spelled out with her fingers, and Anton, who understood a good deal of the sign language, nodded slowly. The atmosphere was charged with tension and Anton knew something drastic had happened to put that look of strain on Jon’s face, guilt on Rachel’s. He took a deep breath. So he had been wrong to dismiss that chance sighting of Rachel in Lorn’s arms. He could only guess at the outcome. One day perhaps Jon might tell him about it; yet in his own way Jon was deep, and where Rachel was concerned he was fathomless! If the haunted expression in Jon’s eyes had been brought about by something she had done then it was quite likely it would remain a secret between the two forever.

  Without another word he went to measure milk into a pan which he heated on the stove. ‘A hot drink for you, my friend, then a good night’s sleep.’ He looked kindly at Jon. ‘You can lie in as long as you like but no such luxury exists for me – I have to be up to see to things and also to make sure that my little sleepyhead rises in time – if it wasn’t for me all her patients would be dead from neglect and that is the truth!’

  Jon forced a smile and took the steaming mug of brandy-laced cocoa which Anton held out.

  ‘Will you be around tomorrow?’ Anton looked from one to the other. ‘I know the arrangement was that you were both to stay here, but until Ruth comes home the children will have to be looked after.’

  Jon passed a hand over his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not thinking straight. Of course Rachel must fulfil her promise to her friend. I will go and stay with her at the cottage till Ruth comes home and then we will come back here – if that is all right.’

  ‘Babbie would be most annoyed if you didn’t. I had planned to take a day or two off so that we could all explore the island together – I have lived on it for many years and never seen half of it. So, it is arranged, you go and be driven mad with the children for a few days and then you come back here to relax.’

  Rachel turned away, feeling that, hospitable as Anton was, it was for Jon’s sake, not hers; yet she was sensible enough to realize that her view of the situation sprang from her feelings of guilt. She made her way up to the cosy little guest room that Babbie had prepared earlier. The corner of the fluffy quilt was thrown invitingly aside, the soft, pink glow from the bedlight, which in common with the rest of the house got its power from an outside generator, poured over the spotless white pillows. Rachel looked and she shivered. How could she lie in Jon’s arms knowing what she did? He would take nothing that wasn’t offered and at the moment she had nothing, absolutely nothing to offer him. She undressed and got into bed, gratefully hugging the hot bottle thoughtfully provided by Babbie. Her whole being was tense, listening, waiting to hear Jon’s step on the stairs. But the hours of night crept slowly past and he didn’t come.

  At daybreak she awoke from an uneasy sleep to see him standing by the window. The bright light of dawn filtered over him. A dark stubble lay over his face, he looked haggard and utterly weary. Her heart went out to him. What had she done? Oh, what had she done to this dear, unselfish husband of hers? She wanted to reach out, to touch him, to let him know that she was sorry and would be every waking day for the rest of her life.

  But somehow he was unapproachable that clear, bright spring dawn. He stood at the window, tall, thin and gentle looking, yet with a very strength about him that robed him in a mantle of dignity.

  ‘I am sorry, liebling.’ His voice was quiet, level, his gaze directed unseeingly over the deserted, dewy morning fields. ‘I was weary from all my travels yesterday and fell asleep by the fire. Do not worry, it will never happen again – I am all right now.’

  He turned his gaze back into the room and looked at her lying against the pillows. How eagerly he had looked forward to a night in her arms after so many endless nights away from her. She was watching him, her eyes big and troubled in the smooth cameo of her face. She had never looked more lovely, more desirable – and something else. For the first time he saw uncertainty in her expression, humility in her attitude.

  With a little sense of wonder he realized that it was, after all, he that she looked up to, he above all whom she turned to for guidance and for the kind of steadfast devotion that he alone could give her. He also saw love in her look. Not the wild, passionate love that she must have given to Lorn McKenzie, but a deeper, steadier, more spiritual love – a special love that was for him alone. His heavy heart lifted a little and he smiled at her. ‘It is early yet, liebling, I will go downstairs and make us a nice cup of tea. We will drink it together while we talk about all the nice things we are going to do when we come back to Anton and Babbie – though of course we must work out a schedule that leaves you time for your violin practice. No doubt you have been neglecting it without me here to keep you in order.’

  Her trembling limbs relaxed. She nodded and lay back. She would like that, how very good it would be to lie here in this safe haven, drinking tea with Jon, listening to his quiet, steady voice outlining all the things they would do to fill the spring days that lay ahead of them – for he would be describing a dream that could never be fulfilled – she couldn’t stay long on the island once Ruth came home – not now . . . But she would let him talk – it would keep her mind off Lorn – and – she shivered – would help her to turn her thoughts away from Ruth, from the terrible wrong she had done to the girl who had been her most enduring friend from childhood . . . Lorna and Douglas burst suddenly into her mind. She had enjoyed looking after those two adorable c
hildren – they had made her forget herself – her ambitions . . . Jon was at the door and she surprised him by sitting up and holding out her arms to him. With a sense of wonder he went to her, a little taken aback by the fierceness with which she kissed him. Her lips were very sweet, very insistent, her breasts in his hands were full and ripe and tantalizing. A flush spread over his thin face. The intoxicating magnetism of her nearness swept away all his reserve and as his mouth came down on hers he almost forgot the terrible doubts and fears of the last nightmare hours. She pulled back from him, her hands spelled out an urgent message, ‘I would like to have your baby, Jon – so please – be as wild as you like with me.’

  Trembling, he slipped the satin nightdress off her shoulders. Her lips were parted showing her teeth and the pink of her tongue. ‘Liebling, oh, my liebling,’ he murmured shakily, ‘I love you and I know now that you love me, in spite of everything you love me.’

  He pulled her in close to him, a new mastery in the arms that held her, a sureness in the hands that undressed her, a fierce possessiveness in the mouth that kissed her. She reached out and urged him to kiss her harder still. The gentle Jon that she knew was gone, replaced by a being whose passionate demands made her experience a new and beautiful thrill of wonder – and a love that reached down to pluck away any last romantic regrets she might feel for Lorn McKenzie – the ghost of Lewis hovered – but only briefly. In those exalted moments with the man who was her husband, the ghost of Lewis was allowed to go to its rest – firmly and for all time.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ruth came home, thinner but otherwise well and in high spirits. Her delight at being back with her children and husband made Lorn cringe with self-hatred. He had betrayed her trust and felt no satisfaction in knowing that he had cut off his relationship with Rachel. It would have complicated things too much if he had allowed it to carry on. His mouth twisted bitterly at this. What kind of fool was he? Things were complicated. What had been done could never be undone. He had spent sleepless nights and days in torment, wondering how he could face Ruth and behave normally. And now she was here, her sweet face breaking into smiles as she came over the threshold to cuddle the children to her breast.

  Plunking herself down on a chair she said with a sigh, ‘Oh, it’s so good to be home. I just want to sit here forever and take it all in. I loved it before but now I really appreciate all the lovely things I have in my life.’ She looked at her husband. He seemed thinner, anxious looking. She threw him a half-shy smile and held out her arms. ‘Come here, Lorn, I’ve missed you, darling, more than you’ll ever know.’

  He went to her and buried his face in the warm hollow of her neck, his heart too full for words. Taking his head between her hands she kissed his mouth and laughed.

  ‘What’s wrong, Lorn? Don’t tell me you’re too shy to speak to your very own wife?’

  He shook his head, his face serious. ‘Not shy, just glad to see you back, Ruthie.’

  The children were watching, so overcome with shyness they hadn’t uttered a single word since their mother came through the door. She laughed gaily, a musical sound that tore Lorn’s heart in two. ‘What on earth is wrong with everyone? My husband is lost for words and my children have lost their tongues! What kind of welcome home is that?’

  A slow smile spread over Lorna’s face. Going to the hearth she retrieved the slippers warming there and kneeling by her mother she took off her shoes, replacing them with the slippers.

  ‘That’s better.’ Ruth kissed her daughter’s upturned face. ‘Now I feel I’m really back – except—’ she looked round – ‘where are the animals? I thought I would be eaten alive the minute I came in.’

  ‘That’s why I put them in the parlour – I didn’t want them hurting you. Lachlan says you’ll be sore for a whily.’

  ‘Och, to hell with my sore belly!’ Ruth was in an abandoned mood. Her cheeks had turned pink, her eyes sparkled. ‘Let them through. I don’t care if they eat me alive.’

  Lorn opened a door and a pile of hairy bodies descended, Ben to sweep a cup off the table with his tail, to howl with pleasure and place his paws on Ruth’s shoulders and lick her ears resoundingly, the cats to purr and mince round her legs, thereafter to arrange themselves decoratively about her person. The children screamed in delight and clapped their hands. Ruth looked at Lorn, her hand closed over his. ‘That’s more like it. I’m really and truly home now – and I’ll never go away again.’

  Lorn could hardly bear to look at her, certain that his guilt must surely show in his eyes. He wanted to hold her, to stroke her hair, to tell her how good it was to have her home, but he couldn’t bring himself to do any of those things. He had ruined everything by his foolishness and he wondered if he could ever feel natural with Ruth again.

  She was watching him, a little strangely he thought, and though he wasn’t exactly glad that Rachel appeared at that moment at least she created the diversion he needed. Ruth was profuse in her thanks to her friend, taking her hands and holding them tightly. Rachel looked at the honest sincerity in the lovely big eyes and died inside with shame. She was unable to put on any kind of act and after she had seen the family settled at the tea table she took herself off to Croft na Ard, indicating that she would come back next day to help out.

  Ruth said nothing, taking Rachel’s strangeness as a sign that Lorn had given her a bad time with his moody tempers. Yet she had thought that they had come to terms with one another, though perhaps, she reflected, he had been worried about her and had taken his feelings out on Rachel.

  Ruth sighed a little as she ate the delicious cheese soufflé Rachel had prepared specially for her. She decided that it hadn’t after all been a good thing to ask her friend to stay at the cottage. Lorn had been right after all. None of them had enjoyed the visit greatly and her taking ill and having to go to hospital had complicated matters still further. Rachel certainly had not had the kind of relaxed holiday she had so badly needed and some of Ruth’s happiness left her as she reflected it was all her fault – she had to go and take ill just when everything seemed to be working out.

  That evening, when the children were in bed, she sat with her husband in the kitchen. She lay back in her chair, relaxed, annoyed at how weary she felt and how insistently the idea of bed drummed in her brain.

  ‘You’ll be tired for a good whily to come.’ Lorn spoke softly, his face turned away from her, his features indistinct in the firelight, for gloaming was settled over the countryside and they had not yet lit the lamps.

  ‘Ay, Lorn, I know that, but I have to get back to normal, there’s the bairns to see to and . . .’

  ‘Weesht, Shona’s going to come over to help out. Also Rachel will be here every day till she and Jon leave.’

  She examined her hands. ‘She’s been good, hasn’t she, Lorn? I don’t know what I would have done without her. The house is like a new pin and I’m thinking ’tis a good job I came home when I did or you might have decided you didn’t need me here – even the bairns were shy of me, as if they couldn’t decide whether to come to me or Rachel.’

  An angry flush spread over his face. ‘Don’t say things like that, Ruthie. I’m glad you’re back – you’ll never know how glad.’

  She studied him tenderly and giggled. ‘All right, Lorn, you don’t have to be so – so angry about it. No wonder poor Rachel isn’t herself. No doubt you’ve been shouting your head off at her too – ordering her to do this and that.’

  He moved restlessly, glanced down at his hands, seemed about to say something then thought better of it. For the next half hour he regaled her with all the latest village gossip, feeling himself relaxing as he talked of everyday things that were safely outside the family circle. He told her about Old Bob’s win on the pools and she threw back her fair head and laughed in delight. ‘Dear Old Bob, I’m so glad for him – but what will he do with all that money?’

  ‘He doesny know yet, he still hasn’t gotten over the shock – mind you, he did say something about looki
ng for a wife. The cailleachs are already fighting each other for his attentions and Behag has marked him down as a bad lot. She says his fortune will only lead him to sin and that he will likely take himself off to Lochgilphead or Oban to go crazy with drink and wild women. Old Sorcha actually puffed her way up to his cottage to present him with a home-made cake and while she was there she offered to make his tea for him.’ Lorn chuckled. ‘According to Sorcha she was shown the door and given her marching orders. Bob’s no fool and won’t be taken in by the gold diggers – besides, he already has his eye on your Aunt Grace. He’s paid two visits to her house in one week, all tooshed up and wearing his best kilt too.’

  Ruth’s eyes were sparkling. ‘But Captain Mac already has his eye on her. He was paying her a lot of attention at Father’s wedding.’

  ‘Ay, and he was hopping mad because Old Joe sat beside her for most of the evening spinning her tales about fairies and mermaids till she was green about the gills.’

  Ruth clasped her hands. ‘Sparks will fly before the year is through. Fancy Aunt Grace with all these men chasing her. She’ll be wondering if she’s done the right thing coming to live on Rhanna.’

  Lorn laughed, forgetting himself in the lightness of the moment. ‘It would seem the island is full of old studs all after the same mare. But never you fear, Aunt Grace is enjoying every minute. I saw both Captain Mac and Joe at her door the other day and she was positively revelling in the dirty looks they were drawing one another, no’ to mention the ogling glances they were giving her.’