Alaina's Promise

by Meg Allison

  “Someone you care for?” he prodded.

  “That’s rather personal considering we’ve only just met.”

  Torin smiled. “’Tis rather impersonal considering we’re supposed to be getting married.”

  She looked down at the table as fought to order her thoughts. How could she explain her own emotions when she wasn’t sure of them herself? How could she tell this stranger about a man who cared for her, wanted to marry her? A man who she had once idolized, but for whom she now held little feeling beyond a warm regard?

  “I am well past a marriageable age,” she said, choosing to avoid the subject if he’d let her. “And it would be rather ridiculous of me to expect you to fall in line with this betrothal. Such promises are made and broken every day, particularly when there is no benefit to be had by either party.”

  “No benefit?”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “The arrangement was simply the only way two friends could find to unite their families. Daddy told me they thought that if they were bound by such a marriage, their relationship would continue in heaven. While I don’t agree with their methods, I do admire the strength of their friendship. You and I were paired together merely by the misfortune of our birth order.”

  “Misfortune?” he repeated. “Is that what it is? A misfortune?”

  “Now please don’t be offended,” Alaina interjected as she began to feel a little lost. One moment he resented the idea of their betrothal, the next he seemed upset that she’d treat it so lightly. “What I mean is that either of your brothers could have been selected, but they chose you because you had already been born. You were, what? Two years old when my father left Ireland?” When Torin nodded, she said, “I was chosen because I was the first born daughter—the only surviving daughter. But we were not singled out for any other reason.”

  * * *

  She had a point, but it didn’t sit well in his mind. To have had his life dictated to him simply because he’d been the first born? It made the entire thing much less personal. Somehow, in his mind, it seemed to belittle the outrage he felt. It made his youthful rebellion seem all that more childish.

  “Misfortune! Our misfortune is that we had to spend our lives towing the line so that a couple of old fools can be reunited in heaven!”

  Alaina’s eyes narrowed. Her chin lifted as light flashed from the amber depths of her gaze. “Mr. O’Brien, my father was never a fool.”

  Torin stood as she rose, inwardly shivering at the steel in her voice. She looked like an avenging angel, eyes flashing fire and shaking with fury as they stood there in his mother’s kitchen.

  “You have no right to speak ill of him and I will not sit here and listen to it!”

  For a moment, he almost apologized, but the fact that he wanted to made him even angrier for some reason. He had the right to be angry. She had come here invading his world, his mother’s house, sneaking into his dreams… Torin recoiled as the erotic visions of his night fantasy danced across his mind.

  Her skin smooth as pale silk beneath his hands. Her dark auburn hair the color of whiskey as it spilled across his chest. Her eyes aflame with passion as he moved inside her…

  Torin fought to slow his breathing and took a small step back from the table to keep from reaching for her. Where was his self-restraint when he needed it most? He swallowed hard and watched as her dark eyes fluttered closed for a moment, then refocused on him.

  “I am sorry,” she said. “That was very rude of me. He’s a good man, Mr. O’Brien. He might go above and beyond what is necessary or even acceptable where I’m concerned, but that is only because he loves me.”

  He shook his head as the fire within abated. “Torin, please.”

  Alaina stared. “Pardon me?”

  “I would be honored if you’d call me by my Christian name.”

  “I’m not sure that would be such a good idea.”

  He shrugged, extremely conscious of an inexplicable need to hear his name on her lips. “It just seems a bit strange—you calling my mother Maggie, and yet addressing me so formally.”

  “Well—”

  “Maybe just when we’re alone.” Her eyes widened and he felt his face burn. “Not the two of us! I mean, not that I wouldn’t want to be—” He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. Everything was coming out all wrong. “Perhaps just when we’re here at the house together.”

  He saw it again. The fear. He preferred her anger over that look of terror that leapt into her eyes and passed over her fine features like death’s shadow.

  Despite the brief look, she took a deep breath and nodded her head. “All right then, Torin. I see no harm in that. You may call me Alaina, if you wish.”

  “Thank you, Alaina.” Her name slid from his tongue like a seductive whisper. Suddenly feeling years lighter, he smiled and gestured toward their forgotten meal. “Now, let’s stop this foolish arguing and get back to our food. Mum wouldn’t forgive us if we left it to sit a second time.”

  Alaina laughed somewhat uneasily before she sat back down. “I wouldn’t want to offend Maggie. I imagine she can be quite formidable when crossed.”

  Torin chuckled. “Aye, that’s the truth of it. You must be a good judge of character.” He frowned as the laughter died in Alaina’s eyes and she looked down at her plate. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, no, of course not,” she said, shaking her dark head. Alaina Ryan didn’t lie well. “I like Maggie. She’s much warmer and open than anyone I’ve ever met. Has she adjusted well since your father passed on?”

  Torin shrugged, pretending to be absorbed in his food. “Aye, I think she’s done well though she misses him. They were very close, still very much in love despite all the years together. I had planned on moving to Dublin but stayed to look after Mum. Though if truth be told, she did much better than I at Dad’s passing. So many things I wish I had said when he was still living to hear them.”

  Alaina’s face softened with what might have been gentle sympathy. “Yes, I understand.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, as they climbed the stairs together, the mood shifted once again. The stillness of the house seemed suffocating. They were so very alone. With each step, the tension grew and the small candle she now held did little to dispel the darkness or the peculiar mood. When they reached Alaina’s door, she turned to bid him good night. “Thank you for the meal and the company.”

  He took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Good night, Alaina.”

  “Good night, Torin.”

  His fingers gripped hers, his gaze steadfast. She pulled away, turned and walked into her room. Closing the door behind her, she leant against it. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her limbs shook as she waited for him to move away.

  At long last, she heard his quiet footsteps fade toward the other end of the hall and then up the attic stairs. Disappointment closely followed the relief that swept over her. She was glad he hadn’t tried to kiss her, but why would he? The man did not want to be a husband.

  After a moment, she moved to the bed. The muffled thud of bare feet on the attic floorboards overhead matched the rhythm of her heart. She sighed, picking up her brush before sinking down onto the thick mattress.

  Back and forth, back and forth he paced. She braided her hair and listened to the steady beat of his steps. Minutes later, tucked beneath a heavy quilt, the sound lulled her back to sleep.

  Chapter Five

  Torin made his way down the attic steps early the next morning. The faint rays of the morning sun bathed the stair landing in soft pink light.

  As he passed the door to Alaina’s room, memories of their late evening together raced through his mind. Her presence had stirred feelings long ago locked away behind a forbidden door. Her company and conversation made him realize how isolated he had become.

  Gentle humming rose from the first floor. He smiled. Mum always had a song in her heart and on her lips when she worked. He breathed deeply to fill his lungs with the fra
grant aroma of freshly baked bread, the sweet, tangy odor of apples baking and tempting smell of potatoes and onions frying.

  He bounded down the rest of the stairs like a boy, eager as much for his mother’s fine cooking as he was anxious about seeing their houseguests again. As he flung the kitchen door wide, Torin froze on the threshold. Alaina and his mother both turned to look at him. His mother’s expression was soft and welcoming. Alaina cast a shy smile in his direction before turning back to the bowl of dough she’d been kneading.

  “Morning, lad,” Maggie said. “Sit down, we’ll have breakfast ready in just a moment. Alaina’s making us bread.” She gave the younger woman a broad, affectionate smile before lifting the kettle. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Aye, thank you.” Moving like a sleepwalker he went to the table and slid down onto the chair he occupied the previous evening. There was something about Alaina this morning as she worked with the sleeves of her blue gown rolled up to her elbows, flour covering her hands and apron. The smudge of white on the tip of her upturned nose made him smile. The sight of her so disheveled and domestic stirred feelings Torin couldn’t identify. He quickly stamped them down again.

  “Did you sleep at all?”

  He turned his head to look at his mother. “What? Oh, yes of course I did. Why?”

  Mum’s eyebrow quirked and he shifted uncomfortably. “Come now, lad, I heard you pacing up there until I about lost my mind!”

  Torin felt his face grow warm. He glanced at Alaina, wondering if his discomfort had been as obvious to her. But she kept to her work, her head bent over the bowl as she seemed to pour all her strength into kneading the white mass.

  “I suppose I had a little trouble sleeping, Mum, but ’tis nothing to worry yourself over. It’s hard to sleep on a full stomach.”

  “Full?” Maggie poured the tea into a delicate china cup and carried it to her son. “You ate hardly a bite at dinner and expect me to believe you were too full to sleep? Are you sure you aren’t coming down with something?”

  “I’m fine, Mum,” he said just as she clapped one hand over his forehead. Torin winced and tried to pull away. “I had a late snack and had a hard time falling asleep again.”

  “Och! Hold still a moment, lad! Just making sure you aren’t feverish. Can’t be too careful with guests in the house, you know. The last thing Patrick needs is to be getting a cold or worse.”

  “Your hand’s as cold as ice!” he complained, but sat still until she had satisfied her mother’s instinct.

  “Nonsense!” Maggie said. “But you feel normal enough. If you start feeling poorly, lad, you must tell me. Can’t have my boy walking around sick when he should be in bed.”

  “Aye, Mum,” he murmured, glancing at Alaina again. She hadn’t said one word to him yet or even looked his way since that first tentative smile. He should be grateful for that but for some reason, her lack of attention bothered him.

  “And mind you manners, lad.” Maggie slapped his shoulder lightly. “Say good morning to our guest.”

  Alaina glanced at him then. He saw the apprehension flit across the depths of her eyes. Torin forced a smile. Her fear of him was beginning to rankle something fierce. What had he done to deserve such distrust from her?

  “Good morning, Alaina,” he said, watching her expression. The touch of pink that washed over her cheeks made his irritation waver. God in Heaven, she was a sight for sore eyes.

  “Good morning…Torin,” she said, flicking a glance in Maggie’s direction.

  His mother turned back to the stove without a word. Torin thought it curious that she didn’t comment on the sudden familiarity between them.

  “Patrick is still abed. Seems the journey took much more out of him then we realized,” his mother said as she continued cooking. “After breakfast, I’m thinking I’ll take Alaina around the village to meet some of our neighbors, if you wouldn’t mind staying with her da for a bit?” Maggie scooped potatoes out of the heavy iron skillet and laid them on a large plate.

  Torin glanced at Alaina, noting the way her shoulders stiffened at his mother’s suggestion. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Mum?”

  His mother turned, laying the platter on the table before him as she looked him in the eye. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Torin lad. I’m sure everyone knows she and Patrick are here. ’Tis better to be open about the reason for it than to let the gossips have their day and create a scandal.”

  Torin picked up a fork and speared a steaming chunk from the plate. He blew across the surface before popping it into his mouth.

  “I’m sure they’ll draw their own conclusions, Mum. The more sordid the better.”

  * * *

  Alaina frowned and punched the dough. She didn’t appreciate being talked about as if she weren’t there. Wiping her hands on the apron Maggie had loaned her, she picked up a folded towel from the counter and draped it over the bowl. Taking a deep breath, she turned and faced them.

  “What conclusions are those?” she asked, looking from one to the other. Torin glanced away, but not before she’d seen the guilt in his eyes. He seemed to bear the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. Did it really belong there?

  “Well, lass,” the older woman began. “’Tis just that all of Clare knows my Michael meant for the two of you to marry. Now that you’re here, well, they’ll be wondering what’s going on.”

  Torin cleared his throat but kept his gaze averted. “I’m not the most popular man in County Clare, Alaina. Many will have a grand time inventing all kinds of stories about you and me.”

  Alaina frowned. “Well I don’t see how any of it is anyone’s business. Let them gossip, if that’s all their feeble minds can invent for diversion.”

  The simple statement took much for her to utter, for Alaina’s mother had raised her to believe the opinions of others were all that mattered. It was but one point of living about which her parents had disagreed. Yet, Torin and Maggie couldn’t know that, just as they couldn’t know the circumstances that made Alaina refuse to worry about gossip, despite her mother’s convictions. Small-minded people would never make Alaina uncomfortable again.

  Maggie looked momentarily stunned before a broad smile spread across her face. “You are truly Patrick’s daughter!” The smile passed and a serious expression took its place. “However, because of the past, some may have an axe to grind with Torin and I don’t want either of you hurt, lass. A sharp tongue wielding half-truths can be much more painful than any weapon of war.”

  Alaina nodded. “I agree. But if my presence here is going to cause you difficulty, Maggie, then perhaps we should leave and—”

  “No!” Torin exclaimed. The women turned to him. He shifted, his fierce expression softening. “There’s nowhere for you to go, Alaina, and no reason for you to leave this house. I have the cottage. I’ll stay there until you’re safely bound for home. That should stem the tide of gossip a bit.”

  “Torin—”

  “No, Mum,” he interjected. “My mind is made up. I promised you I’d stay in Clare for the duration of the Ryan’s visit and that I’ll do, but not under the same roof. It would give the villagers too much fuel for the filth in their minds. After breakfast, I’ll pack my things.” He rose to his feet, pushing his chair back from the table. “If you need me, I won’t be far.”

  Even though he’d directed the words to his mother, somehow to Alaina, it felt as if he spoke just to her.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, Alaina watched from her bedroom window as Torin kissed his mother’s cheek and walked toward the village alone. He carried but one small bag and didn’t look back as he strode down the path.

  She felt guilty that he should have to leave his mother’s house because of her. Yet relief filled her as his silhouette faded in the distance. Torin O’Brien stirred feelings that she didn’t understand—things she couldn’t recognize beneath the lingering fear that wrapped around her whenever he stood too close.

 
A knock at the door made her jump. “Yes?”

  “’Tis me, Alaina,” Maggie said as she pushed open the door and smiled. “Are you settled in then, dear?”

  “Yes, thank you. You’ve made me feel very welcome. I’m sorry Torin thought he had to go.”

  Maggie waved a hand in the air. “Don’t fear. This is for the best at the moment. I am glad you’ve come, Alaina. The lad will make a better choice now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Maggie smiled and shook her head. “There’s nothing to fear, lass. You hide it fairly well—my son, not so much. But ’tis plain as the nose on my face that there’s a strong feeling pulling at the two of you. He’s a handsome man and you’re a lovely young woman. It would concern me if the two of you didn’t notice such things.”

  Alaina saw the mischievous sparkle in Maggie’s eyes. It left her almost speechless. “I assure you, Maggie, there is nothing between—”

  “Don’t be telling me that now, Alaina Ryan!” Maggie admonished. After a moment, she sighed and stepped toward Alaina, closing the door behind her.

  “Seems you need to know the truth of things from my point of view,” she said. “Torin’s afraid…afraid of hurting again. I’m thinking you put a fierce scare into him as well.”

  Alaina turned away, feeling the weight of Maggie’s gaze as she walked to the dresser. “Why would he be afraid of me? I’m nothing to him.” She picked up her silver-plated brush then quickly put it down again when her hand shook.

  Maggie chuckled. “If only you knew. Alaina, I want my boy happy and at peace. I know in my soul that he needs to be moving on with his life. He needs to forgive himself and open up his heart again.”

  Alaina turned. “Forgive himself? For what?”

  “For past mistakes.” Maggie walked to the window and pulled the curtains shut. “We all have them, you know. Things we wish we’d done different. And now’s his chance to make amends.”