“Well, I thought you might have been a little bit happier,” he said slowly, frowning.
“I am happy that you bought the land!” Ciaran blurted.
Duncan looked at her, and raised one eyebrow. “Yes, but-did you read the whole thing? The light’s not very good. Here come closer to the fire,” he urged, but Ciaran wouldn’t budge.
“I saw everything,” she assured him, which wasn’t exactly a lie.
Duncan looked more disappointed than ever. “I thought you’d be pleased,” he said coolly.
Ciaran bit down on the top of her thumb. Obviously she was missing something important, but what, and how could she find out what it was without betraying the shameful secret of her illiteracy?
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Duncan demanded, starting to sound cross.
“About what?” Ciaran squeaked.
“About what? About the fact your name’s on the deed!”
Her name was on the deed?
Ciaran gasped, disbelieving. She wished she really could tell what the deed said, so she would know if it was a lie. “It is?” she choked out.
Duncan nodded and handed her the parchment again. Ciaran held up the paper to the light, looking for anything unfamiliar.
“Ciaran?” there was an odd edge to Duncan’s voice as he slipped closer on the bench.
“I see it!” Ciaran lied. She smiled broadly at Duncan, but the expression faded when she saw his own disapproving smile.
“No you don’t.”
“I…don’t?” she asked, horribly confused and disappointed, “But-!”
Ciaran’s voice trailed off when Duncan plucked the deed out of her hands and turned it upside down, or, more likely, right side up.
“Can’t you read it, Ciaran?”
Panic gathered in Ciaran’s chest, along with a mighty sob she fought to hold down. She couldn’t bear to admit her ignorance to Duncan. She was already a disappointment in so many ways!.
“Of course I can read it!” she insisted, hefting up her chin as though she was offended, “I just-!”
“It’s okay if you can’t!” Duncan assured her quickly, and she felt another pang of humiliation. Somehow, the deep compassion in his eyes was even worse than Sean’s sneering contempt had been.
“But I CAN!” she continued defiantly, but was undone by Duncan’s reply.
“What does this say, then?” he asked, pointing to the first line.
Ciaran turned away. Caught in the lie, she could think of nothing else to do.
Duncan wouldn’t let her avoid him, however. He tucked the Deed safely away, and then wound his arms around her waist, drawing her stiff, resisting body back against his chest.
“It’s alright, luv,” he whispered tenderly into her hair. “I doubt any more than a handful of the lassies with us could do better, or a handful of the men. I just wasn’t thinking. Don’t let it worry you. It doesn’t matter.”
“But it DOES!” Ciaran sniffled miserably, unable to resist the soothing ministrations of his hands for long. She curled into his warm embrace, “You’re fine and powerful and educated and I’m…no more than an ignorant peasant!”
“Shhhhh!” Duncan said harshly, covering her lips with his finger, “I won’t be hearing that. You’re none of those things, Ciaran Connelly. You’re the mother of four fine boys and a bonnie wee girl, and the mistress of the grandest farm in the Shenandoah!”
Ciaran couldn’t help but smile a little at his words, still overwhelmed by his massive gift.
“Why did you do it?” she whispered. “You’ve already been so kind.”
“Ach!” Duncan chided with a very Scottish sound. “I’ve already told you I’m not kind…” his voice dropped lower, “At least, not as kind as I want to be yet.”
“I-” love you, Ciaran finished in her mind, but was quick enough to swallow the words. She knew better than to speak them aloud unless Duncan made a declaration first. “I want that too,” she finished instead.
Duncan kissed her again, and then looked regretfully at the sleeping children.
“Soon…” he promised her. “Very soon.”
..ooOOoo..
“Why do we have to sleep next to the roof? I don’t want to sleep with Liam! Why do we have to climb up a ladder?”
Ciaran tried her best to shush her oldest son, who was far less impressed by their new home than she’d hoped he would be.
Ryan was equally churlish. “Our house in New Bern had stairs!” he declared, “And a banister!”
Liam, at least, was enchanted, “I want to climb the ladder!” he announced, and promptly shimmied up the simple wooden trellis to the loft above the great room.
Avery and Ryan both looked disgusted at their brother. Duncan laughed at their dismay. “I promise we’ll have stairs soon!” he said in a serious tone, “And a banister if you want it-but we’ve got to get a proper roof first, right? And a room for your baby sister? At least you don’t have to sleep outside!”
“Might as well have,” Avery muttered under his breath, earning a sharp, horrified jab in the ribs from his mother, who was heartily embarrassed by their lack of gratitude. For her own part, she was still overwhelmingly impressed with her brand new farm.
“That can be arranged if you like, Avery,” Duncan said. He didn’t raise his voice or show any outward sign of annoyance. In fact he was still smiling when he spoke. “I’m sure your brothers would love the extra room.”
“Ma!” Avery whined, turning to his mother for support, but Ciaran felt her son had brought any punishment Duncan wanted to dole out on himself. He only had himself to blame.
She knew Avery was taking liberties he never would have dared with his father. He was trying to test where Duncan’s boundaries were, and so she kept out of the discussion, although she was still horribly embarrassed her son had given Duncan a reason to be displeased with him.
Seeing there was no help to be had, Avery very wisely kept any further disparaging thoughts about the farm to himself.
They didn’t have very many things to move into the farmhouse and once everything had found a place to live Ciaran set about dusting and washing and scrubbing. She spent the remainder of their first day cleaning the dirty cabin to make it more inhabitable. Duncan, meanwhile, busied himself by making a list of all the repairs and improvements that needed to be made to the building, while the boys tried to keep out of the way as much as they could, lest they be called upon to help with the chores.
Dinner that evening was served around a real table with real chairs to sit upon for the first time in weeks. Ciaran glowed with modest pride as she dished out her meal. She wouldn’t ever be able to thank Duncan enough for giving her family a home again. Even the older two boys had started to come around. Avery and Ryan spent much of the meal trying to persuade Duncan they were clever enough, strong enough, and old enough to build on an extra room to the farmhouse they could have as their own bedroom.
“We’ll see,” Duncan murmured, and that was about as much commitment to the idea they could draw from him.
After the meal was eaten and the dishes had been washed the Connellys sat down around the fire and listened to Duncan tell stories from his childhood in Scotland until the boys started to doze and Ciaran declared it was time for bed. This prompted half a dozen sleepy protests from all of the children, but she managed to shoo them all off up into the loft to change for bed, following a little while after them to make sure they said their prayers and to kiss them goodnight.
Duncan was left holding Mary as the boys were put to bed. The baby girl had taken quite a shine to the Scot. She would settle for him sooner than she would for her own mother. Ciaran told him that he was a natural. Duncan had smiled, albeit a touch sadly, and then teased that he just had a way with women.
“Well, that’s true enough,” Ciaran admitted, smiling down at the pair of them. “But I still say you’re a deft touch with the wee ones…” She stepped behind him and Mary, bending down to slip an arm around his neck, thrilled and
faintly frightened by her own boldness.
Duncan reacted well. He bent his neck and kissed her forearm, encouraging her to linger. They both stared down at little Mary for a few minutes, until Duncan stood and announced that it was time for them to go to bed.
There wasn’t a cradle for Mary yet, and she was too large for the Moses basket she’d spent most of the journey in, so they had no choice but to bed her down in one of the boxes they’d emptied that morning. She had grown so much. When they left North Carolina she’d been a tiny, six-month old who could barely wiggle and coo. Now she was jabbering incomprehensibly whenever she was awake and, if left on her own on the floor, could push up onto her hands and knees and try to struggle forward.
Duncan remarked on the rapid changes, lamenting that it had gone too fast, and was met with Ciaran’s amused snort.
“Well, I know I won’t cry when she can walk on her own a ways!” she said, “My back is nearly broken! Besides…” she added as she tucked the blankets around her daughter. “There’s sure to be another one come along soon enough.”
Ciaran was met with silence. She wondered if she’d said something wrong. It was shamefully bold to assume Duncan would keep taking her to bed - but he had asked her to stay at the cottage, and he had put her things in the bedroom (along with his) and she did know men well enough in general (and Duncan in particular) to know that, even if he intended the contrary, it wouldn’t be long before he reached for her in the night.
What was the problem then? Was it that Duncan didn’t want another baby - surely he knew that was the natural consequence of what they did?
She decided it was better to let the matter pass without comment.
Duncan carried Mary’s box into their bedroom, and then stripped away his clothes. The sight was so distracting that Ciaran was still completely dressed when he crawled into bed.
“Need help with that, Lass?” Duncan asked, his husky tone implying the kind of “help” that was on offer.
Ciaran shook her head, “I thought you were exhausted,” she commented, finally wriggling out of the dress and then, to Duncan’s disappointment, back into a nightgown. He reached for her as she joined him on the mattress, his hands slipping under the thin cotton and shucking it away before it even had a chance to warm the cotton with her skin.
“Duncan!” she gasped, surprised but pleased.
“This is how I want you,” he murmured back, drawing her flush against his body. “Well…almost….”
..ooOOoo..
Ciaran awoke to the sound of the rooster the following morning, and to sunlight streaming through the open shutters of the room. It was early yet. From the angle of the light, it couldn’t be more than six o’clock, but she felt gloriously rested. After months on the trail, a night in a bed was like bunking down on a cloud - besides which, Duncan had worn her out nicely before they tried to sleep. He was already gone. No doubt his leaving was what had woken her. It was sweet he let her linger in bed, but she knew she had work to do!
She relished a few final moments of lazy comfort, and then pried herself out of bed, picking up Mary before she could start to whimper, and letting the baby feed as she started on her day.
Ciaran paused in the doorway of the great room, looking on the small, tidy space with satisfaction. The pieces of her spinning wheel were in the corner - she’d want to get it set up as soon as she could - and the few chairs and little table they’d brought from North Carolina was set up by the fire.
Brodie had left a sturdy countertop and a wooden bench. There wasn’t any more furniture to speak of, save the bed and a wooden chest, but there would be someday. Ciaran felt a bubble of optimism, already able to picture the cabin transformed into a proper house, with plaster on the walls, and a china hutch. It felt extravagant and wishful - but then, Duncan had already made so many of her dreams come true - what was to say he wouldn’t manage that many more!
Ciaran did worry a little bit that she wasn’t fulfilling any of Duncan’s dreams, but as she didn’t know what those were she didn’t really how she could help him. Sometimes she wished he would open up to her, just a little bit more than he did… but… if she supported him in his ambitions, if she kept a lovely little house for him and warned the boys to mind him, if she warmed his bed (enthusiastically!) every night, then maybe that would be enough?
Ciaran smiled to herself happily, and actually believed that it might be enough for Duncan. They might really build a wonderful life together.
Ciaran didn’t know it, but Duncan was of more or less the same opinion, except for the fact he thought he knew they could build a wonderful life together. Ciaran had given him things he had never thought he would have. For a start, he adored her children. He really thought he could come to love them as his own - he was already halfway there. If they could just accept him as much as he wanted to be accepted then that would be enough. He had long ago abandoned the hope of ever fathering any children of his own, but he could be a father to Ciaran’s children.
And then of course there was Ciaran herself. Duncan was still a little confused about what he felt for the lovely, luscious Irish woman. He was afraid of calling what he felt love, because it felt like he was betraying Aileen, but it was definitely something more than lust.
He liked that she needed him. He liked it a lot. He wanted to protect her - to look after her and her family. It made him feel like he was worth something. He wasn’t the second son, the substitute husband, the replacement laird, but with Ciaran he was first and that made him feel extraordinarily good.
Sitting by the fire a few days later, once life had started to settle into a routine of sorts, Duncan was watching over Mary as Ciaran cleared up the dishes after supper. The boys were outside playing and the world felt right for a change. An almost unknown feeling of contentment settled over Duncan’s heart. He hadn’t felt this way since-since… it was hard to remember that far back.
Did he have Ciaran to thank for this - had she saved him as effectively as he had saved her?
“What are you thinking about?” she asked curiously, catching the strange look that had passed over his face.
He gave his head a little shake and smiled. “That it’s strange how things work out sometimes,” he mused quietly.
Ciaran raised an eyebrow, but went back to washing the dishes. Still smiling to himself, Duncan turned his attention to Mary. She had been a rather sickly little baby when he had first seen her, but now she looked plump and healthy and happy.
“I wonder if you’re going to be a Maisie or a Cora?” he wondered aloud, grinning and bouncing the baby on his knee.
“A what?” Ciaran giggled.
“I have two sisters,” Duncan explained. “A princess and a tomboy, they’re as different as chalk and cheese,” he chuckled. He eyed Mary thoughtfully. “I think I’d like it best if you could find a happy medium between the two, Mary.”
Mary seemed to be listening attentively to every word Duncan said. Her huge blue eyes were focused on his face. She clapped her chubby little hands together clumsily and gurgled, and then she obliterated the defenses of a Scottish warrior with two tiny little words.
“Da da!”
Duncan caught his breath.
Surely he was imagining things? He stared down at the little girl, who, if such a thing were possible for a nine month old child, looked remarkably pleased with herself, although she had returned to gurgling again. Duncan would have convinced himself it was only a trick of his ears, if Ciaran hadn’t put down the bowl she was cleaning and hurried over.
“Did she just say-?”
“DA-DA!” Mary announced again, as if on cue.
Ciaran and Duncan stared.
“She’s just jawing…” Duncan stammered, fighting down the hot, swelling feeling in his chest.
Ciaran reached for her daughter in wonder, and Duncan willingly gave her up-but Mary wasn’t pleased. She kicked her legs in annoyance and she began to howl.
“Shhhhh, hush now!” Ciaran said, s
urprised at the little girl’s behavior. She sat on a stool and sat Mary on her lap. As soon as the baby could see Duncan again, she did something else astounding.
She reached for him!
“Da-da!” she said again. When the adults simply stared, she repeated more insistently, “DA-DA! DA-DA! DA-DA!”
“I think she means it!” Ciaran gasped, quickly passing the baby back. Mary instantly settled down. “Dada,” she cooed happily one more time, and snuggled closer to his chest.
Duncan’s eyes felt hot and achy. Love, so strong it hurt, welled up inside his chest as he peered down at the little girl, her bright eyes, the same vivid blue as his own, staring back with adoration.
“She said her first word!” Ciaran said softly, scooting closer to the pair. She bit her lip uncertainly, and then asked. “You…you don’t mind, do you?”
“Mind?” Duncan looked incredulous. “Why would I mind?”
“Well…” Ciaran blushed, “Because she said…she thinks…”
“Sean was her father,” Duncan said in a contemptuous hiss, hating the taste of the name in his mouth, “But I’ll be her papa,” he tightened his arms around the baby. “That is…if you’ll let me?”
“Oh, Duncan!” Ciaran exclaimed, her voice catching in her throat, “Oh, of course!” she wrapped her arms around them both. “There’s nothing I want more. I only wish…”
“Shhhhhhh….” Duncan didn’t let her continue. He didn’t need to hear her say she wished he really was Mary’s father, that he was the father to all the kids, it only hurt to be reminded of what could never be, but Mary’s declaration was a start toward building the next best thing.
..ooOOoo..
Mary didn’t stop calling Duncan papa - and Aidan started too. The older boys called him Duncan (at least it was no longer “Mr. MacRae”!) but he respected their wariness. He had already won them over more than he’d hoped. If they never accepted him as their father, then at least they had come to count him as a friend.
It was a balmy, busy summer. There were so many things to do. They had arrived almost too late for planting, but desperately needed the food, and so they worked night and day for a while to prepare the fields and to sow them (Duncan was lucky to have Brodie’s garden, ever how meager, as a head-start!). That was a priority even over building a house, and so for several weeks, on rainy nights, Duncan and Ciaran had half the neighbors seeking shelter in their barn!
His Heart's Home Page 12