“I couldn’t accept a loan,” she said quietly. “We’d never be able to pay you back-and you’ve been so kind already that-!”
“Ciaran!” Duncan said, as if in pain. “I haven’t been kind!”
“But you have!” she insisted, failing to understand why he suddenly looked so cross.
Duncan thrust his fingers into his pockets, frowning harshly. “Let’s just leave it,” he grunted. “I reckon I’d want to see the land before I bought it at any rate.”
“And there might not be any,” Ciaran reminded.
But, there was.
“It isn’t too far, is it?” Ciaran asked fretfully, looking over her shoulder for the twelfth time in the half-mile they’d ridden from the camp.
She didn’t like leaving Aidan and Mary with the older boys, but there wasn’t any choice. Duncan didn’t want to drag the boys with them to look at the plot of land he was considering buying, and no one else had volunteered to help! Duncan suggested that she ask Mrs. Ross, or one of the other MacRaes, but Ciaran hadn’t bothered-the Scottish women had made it very clear what they thought of Mrs. Connelly over the past few weeks. Duncan might not be willing to accept any “payment” for his patronage - but that didn’t stop his friends and family from speculating how Ciaran earned her keep. No one had called her a whore to her face, but it was strongly implied. The women who had been kind and sympathetic to her before avoided talking, and the ones who had always been unapproachable now snubbed her outright.
She knew telling Duncan about the situation would only make him angry (at least, she suspected that it would - she still hadn’t seen the Scotsman’s temper!). Besides, Ciaran was certainly willing to provide the services suspected, so she really had no room to talk.
She didn’t like being alone with Duncan either, or rather, she liked it too much. They had left the wagon with the boys, and were both on the back of Duncan’s horse, Ciaran sitting side-saddle in front, being held in place by the Scot’s powerful forearms.
Duncan’s body was difficult to ignore at the best of times, but it was torture to feel his muscles ripple and flex against her skin and have to pretend that she didn’t care.
Finally, Ciaran didn’t like being trotted out to see the “claim” that Samuel Brodie was offering up for sale. She already knew how the matter would end, that it would be waved beneath her nose and snatched away. She’d rather not get her hopes up at all than to suffer the disappointment that was about to come.
“Just beyond that ridge there…”
Duncan looked at the back of Ciaran’s head, frustrated that he couldn’t see her expression. She’d been nearly silent for the entire ride. He knew that something was wrong, but he couldn’t work out what! Perhaps she was hell-bent on making it to Ken-tuh-ke? He did feel bad for interfering, but the more he heard about the arduous final journey down the river, the more determined he was that the Connellys wouldn’t go. He could picture it in his mind too easily: little Aidan bending over the side of the raft to peer into the water, toppling over when no one was looking, being lost beneath the swirling waves. The mere thought made him sick to his stomach! Besides, if they did arrive, he worried about keeping them safe. There still hadn’t been any news back from the trappers, but there were rumors of Indian raids. Staunton was hardly a major city, but it offered a small bit of protection in numbers, at least.
He was hoping she’d come around when she saw the farmland. Duncan had ridden out with Patrick that morning to see what Brodie was boasting about, expecting a log cabin and a field of rocks. There was a log, but the farmland had exceeded his expectations.
Duncan didn’t pretend that he was a farmer. He was - and always had been - a warrior at heart, but he had also been raised in the Highlands. He knew enough about the matter to tell that the soft black earth of the valley and the broad, treeless fields were as good as money in a bank.
He wondered why Brodie was leaving, whether the river that supplied the farm with its rich, silky silt often overflowed its banks and destroyed the crops. A little bit of asking around, however, had explained the situation to Duncan’s satisfaction. Brodie was a single man, and he was bored. He wanted to go back to the solitary adventure of life as a trapper, and he’d rather have a pocketful of gold now than a crop of tobacco every year.
The farm was one of the first claims in the area and had generous proportions: five hundred acres, by survey. Some of it wasn’t usable, but most of it was. Duncan knew the second he saw it that he wanted to buy, but he wanted Ciaran to feel the same way. Maybe if it impressed her enough, it would make her want to stay.
“Oooooooh!” Duncan jerked his head up sharply as a sound of appreciation seeped from Ciaran’s lips. They had just reached the top of the hill, with the farmland spread below them. Ciaran twisted in the saddle, eyes like saucers. “That isn’t…it couldn’t be-!”
“Aye,” Duncan said, his smile returning as he drank in the awestruck look on her face. “That’s the farm. It starts here…” he swept his arm to the side of the road. Everything from the hillcrest down was included and…”Ciaran?”
He blinked in surprise when she hopped off the horse and headed, pell-mell down the hillside to the one scraggly plot that Brodie had bothered to plant.
As soon as she reached it, she dropped to her knees and scooped up a handful of dirt.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” she breathed, and then crossed herself for using the Lord’s name in vain. “It’s like black silk!” she jumped to her feet, real excitement showing on her face as she spun around, “Did you ever see cabbages of that size, I ask you?” she said, gesturing to one of the crooked rows. “And the corn!!!” she walked a few feet and dug her toe into the dirt, “And hardly a rock to be found!”
Duncan grinned, “I take it then you approve?”
“Duncan, have you seen this earth? I think it would be impossible not to approve!” Ciaran exclaimed, and her skin was flushed with pleasure as she gazed around at the land.
“So you think I should make an offer?” Duncan pressed, eager to have Ciaran’s agreement, and excited by her excitement, but as he asked the question the young Irish woman turned away from him. To his confusion, she bowed her head, her smile disappeared and she refused to meet his gaze.
“It’s hard to see how you could find anything better than this, even if you did keep searching,” she murmured, her voice suddenly sad and quiet.
Duncan frowned and tried to work out what could be the matter. She had looked so happy just a moment before! Had she really set her heart on continuing with the wagon train? Surely she could see the practical benefits of stopping now?
“It really is a perfect piece of land, Duncan,” she continued softly. “You shouldn’t let it slip through your fingers.”
“But?” Duncan prompted, frowning just slightly. “I’m sensing that there is a ‘but’ coming, Ciaran,” he said gently. “If you don’t think this is the right piece of land I’ll pass it up and we can carry on to Ken-tuh-ke.”
Ciaran looked up with a start. “You would really do that if I-if I asked you to?” she gasped.
Duncan didn’t understand why her breath hitched in her throat as she asked the question, or why her eyes were suddenly bright and glistening - of course he wasn’t going to make her live here if she hated it. He only hoped she didn’t start crying. He could deal, and had dealt, with many different difficult things in his life, but female tears weren’t one of them.
Duncan cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m not going to buy the land unless you want me to, Ciaran,” he clarified, and watched a truly mystifying play of emotions transform the woman’s face. She managed to look happy and sad, disappointed and pleased all at the same time.
“I think you should!” Ciaran sniffed, it sounded dangerously close to a sob. She managed a watery smile. “I think you should buy it, Duncan. You deserve it.”
“Um… all right then,” Duncan laughed, puzzled over her odd turn of phrase. “I’ll take you back to the camp and t
hen I’ll go and find Brodie, unless you want to see some more?”
“No,” Ciaran murmured, and she seemed sad and quiet again. “I’ve seen enough.”
Duncan frowned, trying to work out what could be going through her head, and failing. He reached out to her, slipped his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up so that he could look into her beautiful green eyes.
“This is all right, isn’t it?” he pressed. “You do approve? You’d tell me if you didn’t?”
“Of course,” Ciaran whispered. “It’s a golden opportunity. I’m sorry, Duncan, I don’t know why I’m being so silly.”
“You’re not being silly,” he argued, wanting to reach for her and pull her into his arms. “You’ve been through a lot lately,” he murmured, fighting the temptation for as long as he could, until the urge to hold her, to protect her, overrode every other thought in his head and he tugged her against his chest.
It felt so right to have her there, she felt so right, tucked snugly against his chest. Duncan’s arms tightened around Ciaran’s waist all of their own volition. He wanted to keep her there just as long as she would let him. He wanted to look after her, and her children, to protect them, to love them, to love her.
“Duncan?” Ciaran murmured softly, sounding curious and confused. She lifted her head, revealing her oh-so-kissable lips, and her bright eyes flitted over Duncan’s face, moving in between his eyes and his lips.
He couldn’t resist her. He had been fighting his attraction for days, weeks in fact, ever since he’d had his first taste, his first hit of what Ciaran had to offer - before that in fact. He could make this good for her. Duncan was sure that he could, and he didn’t mean just the physical side, he could make life good for her - better than it had been at least.
“Ciaran,” he sighed, cupping her face, and then stroking the backs of his fingers down her cheeks. He couldn’t stop himself. Duncan had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t push her, but he simply couldn’t stop himself when she looked up at him, offering herself to him, whether she realized it or not. He just couldn’t resist temptation for another second. “God, Ciaran, what are you doing to me?” he growled, dipping his head and claiming her lips.
He kissed her. He kissed her as though his very life depended on it. She was so soft, so sweet and inviting. It took a moment for Duncan to feel anything aside from the crackling bliss of devouring Ciaran’s lips, but when he did, he realized that she was kissing him back. She was standing on her tiptoes, had wrapped her arms around his neck, and was answering every single one of his advances with relish and enthusiasm.
“I meant to wait-” Duncan groaned, drawing back a fraction and speaking the words against Ciaran’s skin.
“Wait? For what?” Ciaran puffed, clutching at his shirt, dragging him back down to her.
“For you to come to me,” he growled, kissing her again, hard, crushing her mouth beneath his lips.
“I did! I wanted to…” she panted. “Duncan,” she mewed. “Please, before you-”
“I want you,” Duncan confessed, interrupting her. He was already breathing hard, and staring down at Ciaran to see how she took the bald confession. He dragged his hands over her body, cupping her pert little bottom, pulling her against his burgeoning erection, forcing her to confront his arousal. She flushed a deep red, but she couldn’t be feigning the desire that Duncan saw swirling in her eyes - she couldn’t be. He wouldn’t believe it!
“Please?” she whispered, glancing at him shyly, licking her lips and sending bolts of need pulsing through Duncan’s groin.
“Come with me,” he murmured, pressing his lips against Ciaran’s neck. He took hold of Ciaran’s hand and urged her to follow him down towards Brodie’s cabin.
Duncan didn’t remember the walk to the house but suddenly, blessedly, they were standing on the covered porch. Ciaran was still pressed against his body, her small, nimble fingers roaming across his chest as he reached behind her for the door, pushing it open and then sweeping them both inside.
He didn’t register the dust, clutter, or anything else about the room save the single doorway on the right-hand wall. The design of the place was simple: a single large, open area for cooking, eating, working and sitting, and then the low bed shoved in the corner. He urged Ciaran toward it, pausing every few steps for another hungry kiss.
As soon as they were inside, Duncan reached for the front of Ciaran’s gown, scooping her breasts into his waiting palms and kneading them between his fingers and thumbs.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, almost reverently. “Oh, lass! I’ve wanted you so bad.”
Ciaran’s body tingled at the declaration, which affected her more than he could possible know. Sean and her parents had used her, the children needed her, but no one had ever wanted her before. It was fair to admit that the women on the trail were scarce and mostly spoken for, but it was also true that Duncan could have his pick, and he’d chosen her.
Only for now, a voice argued skeptically, only for your body. For the moment, she chose not to trust her doubts.
“I want to see you…”
Duncan’s rough whisper cut through the stillness, shivering into her bones, thrilling and scaring her at once.
Sean had never had a kind word for her body (whenever their coupling amounted to more than simply his lifting up her skirts and taking his rut) and Ciaran knew she wasn’t at her best. The weeks on the trail had left her thin and tan, and it was months now since she’d had a proper bath. Still, at the same time, she was curious. She wondered if Duncan would still be kind when he saw her, and she wondered if she’d be allowed to see Duncan as well.
She wasn’t brave enough to answer the question aloud, and so she shyly slipped her fingers underneath his shirt. She curled her hands, raking them up and down his chest so that her knuckles rubbed against the ridges in his abdomen and her nails raked the flat nubs of his nipples. It only took three passes before Duncan yanked off his shirt on his own.
The shutters in the room were closed. Only a few beams of light managed to slip through the chinks in the wood and fall across his body in bright slashes, casting him in shadows and light.
Ciaran drank in the sight, marveling again at his power and restraint. She was greedy to feel him inside her again, but too curious to rush.
His marvelous hands raked up and down her back, soothing and tempting her until she was ready. She didn’t resist at all as he peeled open her bodice and then pushed her gown off her shoulders and onto the floor.
Ciaran was only wearing a few thin layers of petticoat under her dress, so it only took a moment before he had her completely bare. The damp air of the afternoon felt heavy and wickedly erotic on her skin. It was novel and Duncan had made her so comfortable that, for a moment, she forgot she was naked and exposed - but then she saw the look on Duncan’s face and she remembered.
He looked horrified.
She didn’t blame him. She had forgotten how she looked, forgotten what a few cruel lashings had done to her milky skin. The bruises were all faded now at least, but Sean had still managed to hurt her from beyond the grave, still ruined her.
A sob welled up in Ciaran’s throat, choking away her breath. She felt as if she’d just been slapped, and hastily clutched for her dress. Duncan caught her hands though and firmly shook his head.
“No,” he whispered, and shocked her when he bent to press his lips against one of the silvery lines.
Ciaran pressed her eyes closed, but a salty tear seeped out despite her efforts as Duncan continued his tender exploration of her skin.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted.
“Sorry?” Duncan asked, pausing in his endeavor long enough to offer a worried frown. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re perfect…every bit of you…”
Ciaran bit her lip, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of sensation triggered by his words. She didn’t know what she was feeling at first - but then it struck her.
This must be love.
It was l
ike the feeling she had for her children: warm, fierce, and immutable - but different too, sharp, fragile, and almost frightening, but yet so very beautiful and enticing she couldn’t manage a single regret.
She loved him.
How was she ever going to bear letting him go?
She never thought she’d feel that emotion for a man. Even if there was a possibility once, she was certain Sean had stripped it away. Her heart wasn’t in pieces. It was ground to powder, along with her spirit.
“I’m glad he’s dead!” Ciaran blurted. It was an unchristian thing to say or even to think, but she didn’t care. It was true. Even if he stayed here and she went on. Even if she never had another day with Duncan MacRae, he had given her more happiness and peace in a matter of days than anyone else had in her entire life.
Duncan blinked, shocked by the outburst, then he returned the favor with his own declaration. “I wish he was still alive.”
Ciaran gasped and tried to take a step away, but Duncan wouldn’t allow it. “But-!”
“I want to kill the bastard myself.”
Ciaran shuddered at the passion in his voice, and with the certainty he actually meant it - and could have followed through on the threat.
“Duncan,” she groaned, the idea of his power making the need snaking through her body stronger. She clutched at his hips, and then at his trousers, needing him to be as naked as she was. “I don’t want to wait any longer…”
“Don’t you?” Duncan smiled, a slow sensual smile that made Ciaran breathless. She shook her head rather desperately and gave his trousers another urgent tug. “Why don’t you take what you want then, lass?” he suggested, the words coming out thick and husky.
Take what she wanted? Ciaran wondered if Duncan had any idea how novel such an idea was for her! She was a little daunted by it… but Duncan made her feel so - so safe when she was with him that she felt more curiosity than embarrassment or fear.
She shyly slipped free the buckle of his belt, remembering how shamelessly bold she had been the last time she had done so… but then she hadn’t realized what an amazing man Duncan really was at that point. She had thought he was just another Sean.
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