Mary nodded, understanding that her friend was reluctant to talk. She leaned in closer to Eileen and whispered, “Eileen, there is talk going around that Donald Brincairn was not Soren's father. I thought ye should know.” She hadn't counted on Gallagher's sharp hearing.
"What is that ye speak of?” Gallagher stared hard at Mary, his gaze fierce.
"Are ye spreading tales, Mary?” Allen frowned at his wife, his bushy blonde brows drawing together.
Mary drew herself up quietly. “I just thought Eileen should be warned, that's all."
"Warned about what?” Gallagher had been thinking about this all morning. He hadn't expected it to happen this way, but he had already decided to do this. He had wanted to discuss it with Eileen first, but since it was here, there was no point in not proceeding as planned.
Allen scowled at Mary, and then turned back to Gallagher. “There be rumors going around that Soren was not your father's child,” he replied heavily.
"I'm afraid those rumors are true,” stated Gallagher flatly. His gaze swung to Eileen and he saw her already pale face go whiter with shock. “The circumstances are not for public fodder, although I know they will nosh it about like cattle with their cuds, but tis no matter. I'll be adopting Soren as my own child. He will be an heir to his share of the Brincairn legacy.” Ignoring Eileen for the moment, he concentrated on Allen. “I'd consider it a great favor were ye to spread that news about and let them think what they like."
Allen eyed him thoughtfully. “Consider it done.” He and Gallagher both looked up when Eileen ran out the back door of the cottage with a strangled sob.
"Wait,” commanded Gallagher, when Mary started to follow her. “I'll see to my wife.” He spoke gently to Mary, then turned and stepped outside, his eyes swiftly searching the grounds for Eileen.
Eileen fought for control as she leaned against the back wall of the barn. Her trembling knees refused to hold her up, and she sank to the ground, burying her face in her hands as she drew her knees protectively up to her chest. What had Gallagher done?
The implications were beyond her at that moment, she only knew she had been betrayed! Soren's secret was no longer safe! Harsh sobs clawed at her chest, and she felt ready to burst as anger washed over her in dizzying waves. All that she had planned was for naught! The anguish and horror she had gone through for four miserable years was all a waste! When she and Gallagher parted in a year, Soren would no longer be the old Laird's heir! With everyone knowing that Soren was not Donald's, all was lost. Her son would never be able to have what was due him ... and it was all thanks to Gallagher! Once he cast her off, she and Soren would have nothing ... nothing!
When the face of her tormentor appeared in her line of vision, Eileen lashed out. She caught him across the chin with her fist. When he fell back, she screamed her fury and jumped forward, landing on top of him and pummeling him for all she was worth. “I hate ye, ye selfish bastard! Ye had to do it, didn't ye? Ye had to take Soren's legacy away from him. Ye are no better than your father!"
She fought like a wildcat, panting and screeching until Gallagher finally had her pinned on the ground beneath him, her small fists captured in his own above her head. She panted with impotent fury as the tears gushed down her cheeks, and she wept noisily, all her heartbreak and rage pulsing over him like a wild hurricane at sea. She couldn't seem to get control of herself, and Gallagher began to get worried as she finally just wept brokenly, too tired to fight anymore.
"It's not like that,” he finally ground out, his face pale. “I know this is a shock to ye, but I've been thinking about it all morning. I think it's best that people know Soren is not my father's."
It was as if she didn't hear him. Her body was now limp, and he released her, her fingers sliding from his hands as if they had no bones inside them, flaccid ... useless. When he cautiously sat up, she turned to her side and curled into a small ball, hugging her knees and sobbing weakly. Her sorrow was so deep it shut him out completely, and Gallagher was flummoxed. He reached out and touched her wet face, sliding his finger gently down the side of the soft flesh. “So soft, yet so strong,” he murmured. “Beautiful, like the fair thistle, yet too prickly to grab hold of. Ye are a puzzle, Eileen Brincairn, I'll grant ye that."
"Leave me be,” she whispered brokenly. “Just go away and leave me be. When we reach Castle McCrae, I'll take Soren and Melba and go home to McKenna. Ye have no need of me any longer ... ye Brincairns have won. At least, I know Morg will not turn my son and I away.” Her eyes opened to stare at him, and Gallagher thought he had never seen such abject misery in all his life. It touched him to the core, shocked him with the rawness of it, and he felt like kicking himself for not telling her his thoughts before.
"I'm not releasing ye."
She stared resolutely up into his face. “I'm not asking for your permission."
He returned her stare, his gaze probing. “Nevertheless, ye cannot leave without it."
"I can, and I will."
"Ye are a stubborn lass, aren't ye?” He gathered her up into his arms and sat her on his lap. She offered no resistance, just sat with her hands in her own lap, staring off into the distance. It was as if she had shut him out, and he couldn't get a reaction from her anymore. Such a difference from the clawing, spitting wildcat he had encountered earlier.
"Ye don't need me anymore,” she replied wearily. “Ye have what ye want. All that was mine is now yours ... except my son. Ye cannot have my son."
Gallagher shook her slightly. “Stop it, Eileen! I'm not letting ye go, we made a deal. Ye have to stay with me for at least a year!"
She looked at him, finally, and the hopelessness he saw in her purple gaze scared him. “I don't have to do anything, Gallagher. Ye have no more power over me. I'll not be a pawn anymore, and there's nothing ye can do about it. Even the King himself would not force me to stay with ye if I chose not too.” She pushed his hands away and rose unsteadily to her feet.
Gallagher stood also, trying to take her cold hands in his. “We need to talk about this, Leeni,” he said softly. “I ... I don't want ye to go.” His eyes darkened as he stared at her, trying to understand his feelings for this woman child, so innocent, yet so worldly.
She folded her hands beneath her arms so he couldn't take them. Staring at him, her eyes huge in her pale face, she asked one simple question. “Why?” She hadn't missed his casual use of her name, but she didn't care. She was too tired to care. When he didn't answer, she turned and walked back to the house.
Brooding, Gallagher watched her walk away. He needed to think. Her reaction had caught him off guard, and he needed to figure out where to go from here. He knew one thing, though ... he didn't intend to let her go!
* * * *
They bedded down in Mary and Allen's stable that night, on a soft bed of hay. Gallagher insisted she lay beside him, and she had done so, without question. Yet it was as if she had turned off all feelings, and it frustrated him that she appeared to no longer have any reaction to him. What had he done to her?
Eileen felt numb and cold inside, not even the warmth of Gallagher's body seemed to faze her. She stared blankly at the barn wall in the dark, seeing nothing, her mind refusing to acknowledge his presence.
She had no idea why he didn't want to let her go, but she had no faith that he would be so generous when the year was up. That is, if he even thought he was being generous. Most likely, he had some ulterior motive that he hadn't made her aware of yet. It was that way with all men. Schemers, connivers, all of them! Willing to use women for their own end and then discard them. Donald's harsh words echoed in her mind. “Ye are free to go, I'm finished with ye."
She had tried to defeat the Brincairns, but she had failed miserably. Even Dungally and Jaime had turned against her, going to the King behind her back to get Gallagher his inheritance back. Dungally had told her to trust Gallagher. He had been wrong, she thought bitterly. He had betrayed her and Soren.
She lay there listlessly, the thoughts
droning through her mind, over and over, keeping her from sleeping. When she felt Gallagher's hand on her shoulder, turning her to her back, she knew she was about to be betrayed yet again. Obviously, he wanted to use her body. He had made that plain already, and his promises were merely ashes in his mouth. She had known he wouldn't keep to them.
She was greatly surprised, however, when he tucked her head in the crook of his shoulder and began to talk.
"When I was a young lad, my mother used to tell me to go out into the world and find love,” began Gallagher, his deep voice resonating in the chest beneath her chin. “She always said that love would never exist in Castle McCrae as long as Donald Brincairn was alive ... she was right."
He went on to tell her all about his mother, how lovely and gentle she was, and how she was like a fragile flower in a hostile environment.
Eileen listened in spite of herself, fascinated at the gentle thoughts he expressed and the tenderness in his voice as he spoke of his Mother. He told her how he had come to leave Castle McCrae, but that he had always known he would return one day. His words were earnest, and Eileen was touched, the coldness inside her thawing a little as his obvious love for his mother and his home shown through.
Finally, he turned to face her in the moonlight, his eyes dark and probing as he searched her face. “Eileen, we've gotten off to a bad start, lass, but I'm asking ye to trust me. I know it's asking a lot, but I hope you'll try ... just a little."
He stared down at her, and her glance slid to his well-shaped mouth as he spoke. “I know ye feel betrayed, but I was honest in my words. I've no intention of cutting Soren off as ye may be thinking. With your permission, I'd like to adopt him, as I said in the house.” He paused, and then went on. “Leeni, can we start over? I'd like to make this a real marriage."
"But, Gallagher...” she began.
He shushed her with a finger on her lips.
"Ye can take your time getting used to me. Ye suit me just fine, Leeni. I think we could make a go of it, if we are both willing to try. Will ye at least think about it?"
Eileen trembled beside him. One of those sudden bursts of pure knowledge flashed through her, and she knew he was sincere. But would it last? These powers of insight were so unusual that she didn't totally trust them, especially when it came to people's feelings. Knowing she was having a son when she had been with child was different than this, this was pure emotion ... and emotions could change. Besides—what about love?
"But, ye don't love me, Gallagher,” she finally said softly. “And I'm not sure I know what love is—and besides, I have no real knowledge of men. How can I be sure ye won't get tired of me and discard me?” She paused then, her face flushing ... “And what if ... what if I ... can't pleasure ye?” She hid her face in his shoulder; abjectly ashamed of what she was and the way she had been used. She had nothing of personal value to offer this man—her virginity was already taken. It had been ruthlessly ripped away from her on her wedding night.
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Chapter Seven
"Discard?” The word was softly menacing and it rolled off Gallagher's tongue like something foul tasting. “What do ye mean, discard?"
"Aye, discard,” she replied, the old bitterness returning. “Like your father did when he was finished with me. He told me to go after Soren was born, that he was done with me."
Gallagher was outraged, but he could well believe her. His father had been a cruel man. It was the very reason Gallagher himself had left home. He simply couldn't take his father's careless cruelty concerning his mother.
"I'm sorry for the indignities ye have suffered at the hands of my father, but as I said before, I am NOT my father. I have no intention of discarding ye. I've asked ye to be my wife, and I do so with honorable intentions.” He traced the curve of her lips with his finger, fascinated at the beautiful lush color, just begging to be tasted. Gallagher enjoyed kissing. He enjoyed the smile of a woman, the beauty it brought to her face.
Eileen was still embarrassed. She asked in a moment of rare vulnerability, her uncertainty and self-deprecation showing in her wondrous eyes, “Why would ye even want me? I'm ... used. I have nothing to offer ye.” She turned away in shame, lowering her eyes.
Gallagher's next words were laced with steel. “Don't ever refer to yourself in such a manner again. Tis not your fault ye were mistreated as ye were.” He lifted her chin, but she refused to open her eyes.
"Look at me!"
When she finally looked hesitantly up, he smiled down at her, the kindness of his nature apparent in that smile. “Ye are a lovely lass. Ye have everything to offer that a man could possibly want. Don't disparage yourself again."
He still hadn't mentioned love, and Eileen sighed with resignation. Apparently, he wasn't going to acknowledge that question. Of course, he didn't love her—and apparently, he didn't care whether love was part of the equation or not. “I'll think about it,” she replied finally, turning away so he couldn't see her face. “That's the best I can do at the moment."
But Gallagher wasn't finished. He wasn't about to stop at this point. Having wrung a small concession from her, he wanted to press home his advantage. He gently pulled her shoulder down and turned her back to face him again. “Let's seal our words with a kiss,” he insisted, looking down at those captivating petals once again.
Eileen watched in fascination as the dark head began to lower to hers, and she found herself half repulsed, half anticipatory. Her small hands came up to form a barrier against his broad chest, but she allowed him come down gently and take her soft lips against his own. At least, Soren's father had never attempted to kiss her; only her husband had done that. But his mouth had been cruel and ravaging—repulsive.
Gallagher's mouth was coaxing, tenderly evoking a small response from her, and she found warmth slowly spreading through her body. The chill was finally leaving her, and her heart was gladdened. When she began to feel his weight pressing on her and his lips becoming more demanding, the old panic returned, and she pushed desperately against his chest. Unable to control the rising fear, she panted when he finally lifted his head. Desperately, she tried to get a hold of her emotions once again, trying to control the horror. She kept her eyes closed, unwilling to see the disappointment she knew must be gleaming in Gallagher's smoky eyes, and she turned on her side away from him.
Far from disappointed, Gallagher was triumphant, and he allowed her to retreat from him, giving her that concession. He felt she had responded to him, and it gave him hope for the future, even though she had eventually panicked. Smiling to himself, he pulled the blanket up over both of them and tucked her in against his body to keep her warm. She was going to be his; she just didn't know it yet. He was a patient man; he would take his time and woo her, make her fall in love with him.
Briefly, he thought of his mother. He was sure she would have liked this lass he had set his heart on. He didn't know if he had fallen in love with Eileen or not, but he suspected he was halfway there. He certainly burned for her, more than any woman he had ever met.
He could feel the soft curve of her buttocks between his thighs and he was as hard as ever. A condition that didn't seem to be leaving him much lately! With a heavy sigh, he wondered how long it would take before he could sink his hard length into her softness.
Eileen fretted in the darkness, sleep eluding her. Could she trust Gallagher? Her flash of insight told her she could, but would it last? And how did she really feel about him? Why was she even considering his offer? She found herself almost wishing it was sincere and that they were a normal couple in love, but Canton had ruined all that.
Canton and Donald together had scarred her emotionally, and she wasn't even sure how she was supposed to feel. Gallagher attracted and scared her at the same time. His touch made her breathless and afraid yet awakened feelings she hadn't known existed. She didn't think they were love though ... more like animal lust!
Restlessly, she stirred, pushing back against him unconsci
ously and feeling his hard length against her buttocks. Quickly, she scooted away, as far as his arm would allow, and tried not to think of the long length she had held in her hand that morning. Her face burned in the dark with embarrassment. She had actually touched him there!
She shied away from those unmanageable thoughts and decided she would keep her guard up for now. She would see how Soren liked him. It was way too soon to make any commitments, and her fragile emotions couldn't take the strain of another disappointment. Trust would not come easy to her. No—not easy at all.
* * * *
Jamie stared into the brightly dancing fire, the tankard of ale at his lips, brooding. He wondered if Eileen was allowing Gallagher the privileges of her body. He burned with jealousy and hidden desires, mentally cursing fate for the hand it had dealt him. He was so engrossed in his restless thoughts that he barely noted Dungally dropping down beside him.
"What's eating ye, lad?"
Jamie started and glanced sideways, schooling his face to his normal impassive expression. Rigidly getting himself under control, he spoke lightly. “Mayhap I should have dueled Gallagher for her hand,” he laughed as he spoke, trying to keep the bitterness out of it.
Dungally looked shrewdly at him. “Lad, I know ye've had a hankering for Eileen all this time, but ye know it wasn't meant to be. Let it go."
"Aye,” agreed Jamie. “Mores the cursed luck.” He stood up and stalked off into the darkness, its enveloping blanket a welcome shroud to hide him from Dungally's sharp eyes. It wouldn't do to appear too morose over the whole thing. After all, it might get back to Gallagher, and that wouldn't be good. He just wished he had had the guts to have the King order him to marry Eileen. If it hadn't been for her reticence, he would have. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it, knowing she wasn't in love with him. She had been through enough as it was.
When an arm caught him about the throat he didn't have time to protest before he was knocked unconscious, and when he awoke, he was facing Canton McAlester. Groaning, he put a hand to the side of his temple, then stared across the firelight into the menacing, brutish features of the man he had helped Eileen defeat. “What do ye want with me?” He asked groggily.
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