His Heart's Home

by Sterling, Stephanie

  “It…it won’t?” she said, further perplexing Duncan when her expression remained grim and frightened. Her voice sounded strangled and beaten when she asked him, “You mean…you’re sending us back?”

  Duncan sighed heavily, “No. I’m not sending you back. I told you. I’ll look after you and the children.”

  “And you don’t want-?”

  “Payment isn’t necessary!” he barked, cutting her off before she finished and made him feel even worse.

  “But…” she blinked rapidly, as though she were having difficulty comprehending his words, “But, why would you do that?”

  Duncan shrugged his shoulder. “Because I want to, Ciaran!” he snapped, a bit more harshly than he’d initially intended, but nearing the end of his rope. “Hasn’t anyone just…done something nice for you before?”

  Her baffled silence was his answer. Duncan’s heart started melting again.

  He reached for her. This time, when he drew her unresisting body into his arms, it was all about comfort instead of lust.

  “No one ever has, have they?” he asked, unsurprised to feel her shake her head.

  There were so many things Duncan wanted to ask her, but he sensed that now was not the time. Ciaran was obviously still reeling from all the changes in her life. He hoped, in the end, they would be for the better, but she needed time to adjust.

  Duncan laid a kiss on her forehead and silently swore he wouldn’t accept anything more until Ciaran came to him for the right reasons. It still hurt him that she had given her body as compensation. He wanted so much more! But he understood her a little better now. He forgot sometimes how lucky he had been. It was true that he’d lived though horrors and he had lost more loved ones than any man should have to bear - but at least he’d had them to begin with. He couldn’t imagine a couple more loving than his mother and father had been, and couldn’t remember a time when he had been without friends and family ready to throw down their lives for his own. It was going to take time to teach her that life could be better than what she’d known in the past.

  He had a feeling she’d be worth the wait.

  ..ooOOoo..

  “Are you hungry?”

  Duncan blinked into the dim light of morning and rubbed his eyes before answering the hail. It felt so early - but then, he hadn’t had much time to sleep. His time on watch stretched until after midnight. Then, he had been undecided about where to sleep. He couldn’t very well bunk down inside the wagon with Ciaran and the children, but if he was meant to be protecting the little family, it didn’t make sense for him to stay by the Rosses on the other side of the camp. In the end, he had compromised, spreading his blanket next to the fire almost halfway between the two. Ciaran had sought him out, however. After the haze of sleep cleared out of his mind, he finally registered her voice.

  “I brought you breakfast,” she said meekly. “And if you want to change, I’ll launder your shirt. There’s a creek just over the way, and I don’t think we’re leaving until late…”

  “Oh aye?” Duncan murmured, as he yawned and stretched. He was still feeling battered and bruised from the day before, but he was going to try and make the best of things. He thanked Ciaran as he took his breakfast from her. She offered him a timid little smile and asked again about his shirt.

  “I’ve got other things to wash too,” she added quietly.

  “Aye, alright, if it’s no trouble?”

  “Oh, it’s not,” Ciaran assured him, with a quick shake of her head.

  Duncan put down his breakfast for a moment and causally pulled off his shirt. He heard Ciaran’s sharp intake of breath and swallowed a smile. He wasn’t a vain man, but he knew he wasn’t in bad shape for his age, and surely there was no harm in just letting Ciaran see what she was missing? It was a little mean of him to tease her - but then he also wanted to prove to Ciaran there was nothing frightening about his body.

  “How is-how is your arm?” she asked, fiddling with the warm shirt that she now held in her hands.

  Duncan glanced down at the bandage that was wrapped around his bicep. He had almost forgotten about the injury to be honest. He’d had much worse in the past after all. His mind instinctively drifted back to Scotland.

  “It’s fine,” he murmured, picking up his breakfast again. “It’ll just be another scar in a few more days.”

  “Well, if you need it re-bandaged just let me know,” Ciaran said, blushing a little and staring down at her hands as she spoke. Duncan thanked her again, before she made her excuses and darted off to do the laundry.

  He watched her walk away, once again hypnotized by the graceful movement of her fine figure. He loved the way she moved, like she was a dancer. He could watch her for hours without becoming bored. Unfortunately that wasn’t an option today. Ciaran had disappeared out of view, but he could remember what he had seen.

  He could remember what he had felt too the night before: holding her in his arms, crushing her generous breasts, stroking her silky skin.

  Duncan groaned and dragged his mind away from that avenue of thought - he ate his breakfast and tried to anyway. It was hard to forget how exquisite she had been though. Now that he knew why she had done it he shouldn’t find it all still so arousing - but he did.

  He felt guilty too. Was he betraying Aileen? When he let himself stop and ask that question the answer seemed to be an obvious ‘yes’, which was why he tried not to stop and think about his late wife too often.

  A very welcome distraction suddenly appeared in the form of Avery Connelly.

  “Hey lad, can you pass me my pack?” he asked, pointing to his bag. The boy silently handed it over and Duncan got out a clean shirt and pulled it on.

  Avery kept on staring at him without saying a word until he finally found his voice and blurted, “Ma says you’re going to look after us, are you?”

  “Well, I’m certainly going to try.”

  Avery considered this answer, and the uncertain blankness on his face slipped into a defensive frown. “We don’t need you!” he answered harshly. “We don’t need anybody but ourselves!”

  Duncan nodded slowly, not wanting to upset the child any more than he already was. “I know that,” he replied calmly, “But we can’t get it through Monsieur LaSoeur’s head.”

  “He’s wrong!” Avery insisted.

  The corner of Duncan’s mouth twitched in a playful grin. “Aye-Well, of course he is. He’s French!”

  Avery didn’t catch the humor, and his expression didn’t change. “I’ll be a man soon,” he argued doggedly. “I’m almost twelve, I can look after my brothers and Ma.”

  Duncan nodded. The boy had probably tried. He thought of the beating that Ciaran had suffered, and imagined the children had probably caught the wrong end of Sean’s temper as well. Duncan remembered how his own older brother had always looked after the rest of the MacRae children, always taking Duncan’s place in a fight, always covering for Ewan, always soothing things over with Maisie and taking blame that wasn’t his. No doubt it had been the same for Avery, but worse. Thomas had never had to defend his siblings from his father at least.

  Duncan couldn’t help but feel sympathetic, and decided to forgive the boy for his brusque manner - and to hope he could win him around. To that end, he shifted tactics.

  “Aye,” he said simply, acknowledging the boy’s claims of protection, “And that’s why I’m hoping you’ll help me out!”

  As he’d intended, Avery was taken by surprise by the declaration. “Help you?” he echoed.

  Duncan nodded again, “You’ve got a lot of brothers and sisters,” he explained, “I don’t know if I can keep up with them all myself - not unless you show me the ropes. I bet you always know if Ryan’s off getting in trouble….” Avery nodded slowly, “Or if Aidan’s wandered off?” Another nod. “And I need someone to help me handle your mother.”

  “Handle mother?”

  Duncan could have kicked himself as he watched the boy’s wary expression crumple back to a fro
wn, informing him he’d just lost back all the ground he’d gained. It was a stupid choice of words.

  “Help her!” Duncan corrected quickly. “Keep her happy, I mean!”

  Avery’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”

  “Because…” the Scotsman paused again. Avery was no fool - and he was nearly twelve. What’s more, his experience had been with men like Sean. It wouldn’t do to lie - but that didn’t mean that he had to confess everything either. Duncan decided on the barest truth. “Because I like your ma a lot.”

  “Aye, I know you ‘like her’!” Avery muttered darkly, and shocked him further with what he said next. “Is she going to have a baby? Is that why papa had to die?”

  “No! She’s not having a baby!” Duncan sputtered, happily too off-balance from the second part of the question to feel a pang for the fact he’d never have a child of his own. “And what do you mean? What does that have to do with your dad?”

  Avery shrugged his shoulders - but Duncan sensed there was something more.

  “Did your mama die when she was having a baby?” he nudged gently.

  “When Ma was…” Avery said, confusing Duncan by the way he spoke as if “Ma” was one person and “Mama” was somebody else. It was explained a moment later, however. “When Ma was having Liam…Mama fell and died.”

  Surely he didn’t mean…

  “Your Mama died and then your Papa married Ciaran and-“

  “No,” Avery said, “It was when Ma was pregnant. Mama and Papa had a fight…and Mama fell down and died.”

  Duncan hadn’t thought anything else about Sean would shock him, not after the things he knew Ciaran had been through. Had he really murdered his own wife?

  “How old were you then, lad?” Duncan asked quietly.

  Avery shrugged. “Five, I guess.” He looked as if he was regretting the conversation, and Duncan decided not to push any more. The boy had been so young he might not remember. No doubt events were muddled in his mind - besides, it could have been innocent. Lots of people were injured by falls. That was how his own mother had died.

  “Well, I’m sure that made you sad,” Duncan said at last. “I bet your Mama loved you a lot.”

  Avery nodded, looking very young again. “Yes but-but Ma is good to us too.”

  “I know,” Duncan said, pleased by the youngster’s loyalty. “She loves all of you too - and she’s going to need you a lot now that your papa’s gone. That’s why I think we should work as a team.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Avery asked.

  “Well…looking after your brother’s mostly,” Duncan told him. “Aidan can’t go running off again, and you have to teach Ryan and Liam how to help.”

  “And I’ll have to shoot the gun if the Indians come back,” Avery said, very seriously, remembering his duty from the day before.

  “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

  “Er…not very well,” Avery admitted, embarrassed. “Pa only took me shooting once or twice.”

  “Well, we’ll have to remedy that, won’t we?” Duncan said, thinking that lessons might be a good way to bring the boys around. “You weren’t raised in the woods, were you? There’s a lot you’ve got to know.”

  Duncan spent the rest of breakfast chatting with Ciaran’s oldest son, veering away from personal topics and talking about plans for “lessons” instead. By the time the boy was called away, he had the sense that, while they weren’t exactly friends, Avery had taken the first step down a road that led to trust. There was something to build on, at least.

  Duncan rinsed his dish in the creek, stealing a glance at Ciaran as he did. She was still busily washing the clothes, oblivious to his gaze, how even the sight of her was enough to make him burn.

  When he returned to camp, the men were assembling. A few of them had shovels, and were preparing to start the grim task of burying the dead.

  It was grueling, gruesome work, but finally, it was done. They marked the graves with crosses made of sticks, and then returned to camp for dinner and to prepare to depart.

  The Munro’s and the Claiber’s were leaving the following day, heading back the way they’d come. The entire wagon train had agreed to follow them back to the river, keeping them safe until they were out of Indian territory and back on their way, but then they were heading back to Carolina, a little wiser and worse for wear.

  Since they weren’t going to settle on the frontier, they didn’t need all of the supplies they’d brought and could move faster without the extra bulk. What they needed was cash, and Duncan was one of the few from the caravan who had any left. He passed the evening trading, managing to pick up a pair of cows, a sow, three more chickens and half a cartload of staples, timber, and other supplies. He loaded them into Ciaran’s wagon, along with what he’d managed to salvage from Sean, feeling much more prepared to provide for a family than he had the day before.

  ..ooOOoo..

  Ciaran didn’t know how long it was going to take for her and the children to get used to having Duncan around, but she hoped it happened sooner rather than later. She had mistakenly thought it would be so much more relaxing than traveling with Sean. They didn’t have to worry about Duncan’s temper and he didn’t appear to be prone to violent mood swings.

  The boys were still wary though, given their experience with their father that was hardly surprising, but Ciaran was pleasantly surprised to see Duncan didn’t blame them for their suspicion. He seemed to be trying everything in his power to put them at ease.

  Why couldn’t she relax around him then?

  One of the reasons, it had to be said, was his unfailing kindness. She still didn’t understand why he would be so nice to them all without getting anything in return. She still wasn’t sure if she genuinely trusted his altruism, but she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for the time being, to wait and see what happened next…

  The other reason why Ciaran couldn’t relax was because she couldn’t forget how it had felt to be with Duncan. She got a strange ache deep inside just from looking at the man. They had been traveling together for a few days now, and he hadn’t broken his word. He hadn’t tried to have her again. Ciaran still caught him staring at her hungrily every now and then, but he didn’t act on the lusty desires she could see reflected in his eyes. The first time might have been nothing more than a fluke… but what if it hadn’t been? Simply recalling the powerful movement of his body made Ciaran want to test Duncan, just to see if it had really been as good as her memory told her. She didn’t have a clue how to do that without throwing herself at him again though, and the way things had ended last time didn’t exactly encourage her to try again.

  “Ma! I want to go with Mister Duncan and Avery and Ryan!” Aidan whined, looking longingly in the direction that the others had gone some hours ago.

  Ciaran looked up from the supper she was fixing over the fire. She smiled at her son in as consoling a manner as she could muster. To be honest, she didn’t like the thought of any of her children playing with guns, but she knew it was necessary.

  “You’re too little, sweetheart,” she said gently. “Mister MacRae’s rifle is bigger than you are!”

  “But I’m as brave as Avery and Ryan! And Mister Duncan likes me best,” Aidan pouted.

  “Hey, you’re not meant to tell people I have a favorite, lad,” Duncan chuckled, appearing with the boys, and ruffling Aidan’s hair affectionately. Ciaran’s heart squeezed painfully as she watched the tender, artless gesture. He would make such a wonderful father. “And besides,” Duncan continued, winking, “I had to leave you and Liam to look after your ma and sister.”

  “Oh,” Aidan nodded, his eyes grew wide, and then he beamed happily. “We did a good job!” he said eagerly.

  “Aye, you certainly did,” Duncan laughed. Ciaran’s toes curled as her skin prickled with awareness. It was so attractive, the way he handled the children.

  Sean had never behaved so easily with any of the boys-not even on his good days-and th
ey had been his sons. It was wonderful to see Duncan patiently try to win them around, restoring their trust in people. He had already gone a long way with Aidan. Without really thinking about it, Ciaran smiled up at him over the top of the little boy’s head, and blushed when Duncan smiled back, blue eyes twinkling.

  “Supper’s almost ready,” she murmured, lowering her eyes and returning her attention to the food.

  The boys talked while Ciaran put the finishing touches to their simple meal. The older two boys were telling their younger brothers all about the shooting lesson they’d just had with Duncan. They were still wary of the Scot, but it was easy to see and hear a real difference in them since Mr. MacRae had started traveling with the family. They talked more openly, and they talked like children. What was more, they didn’t go slinking off at every possible opportunity. Even Aidan hadn’t been getting lost so often.

  “Well, I hope you’re all hungry,” Ciaran said, calling everyone over to eat around the fire. She dished up the food and they said grace, and then Avery started boasting about how much better he was at shooting than Ryan.

  “Well you aren’t better than Mister MacRae!” Ryan huffed, attempting to bring his brother down a peg or two.

  Avery pulled a face. “I will be one day!” he declared.

  “Avery!” Ciaran sighed.

  “But I want to be the best, Ma! And it’s easy to beat Ryan.”

  “Ugh! I’m going to get you!” Ryan yelled.

  He launched himself at Avery but Duncan caught him gently by the arm before any meals could be sent flying. The Connelly’s froze. Each one of them stared, riveted by fear, at the Scottish laird, waiting to see what he would do next, hardly breathing. Duncan was the only one who didn’t seem to notice the sudden terrifying tension.

  “Just ignore him, lad,” he advised, letting go of Ryan’s arm once the boy had sat back down. “My brother started out a better shot than me, but I caught him up in the end. Besides, you don’t want to leap around and ruin your Ma’s delicious meal, do you?”