Alaina's Promise

by Meg Allison

  * * *

  “What’s gotten into you?” Maggie insisted as the door closed behind Alaina. Torin shook away the niggling guilt and looked down at her.

  “Don’t be giving me that defiant glare, Torin Patrick O’Brien!” she scolded. “One minute you’re looking out for the lass like a knight in shining armor and the next you be casting stones at glass houses.”

  “I said naught but the truth, Mum.”

  “And I don’t give a wit about such truth,” she countered. “No child of mine will ever abuse another as long as I’m still about. You’d best mind your manners and consider that apology, lad. I’ve a mind to box your ears for hurting the lass so.”

  “Mum—”

  “You’ve shamed this family before, but never by being deliberately cruel. I’ve never held the past over you, Torin, so don’t be doing the like to that sweet girl.”

  Nay, it hadn’t been fair. The desire and guilt had torn at him, until the need to push her away sparked anger at her smallest word. She was getting much too close to his heart—he’d quickly begun to lose any real reasons he might have to keep her at arm’s length. Alaina had become the first thing he thought of when he woke in the morning, the last face he saw before his mind’s eye at night. Hers was the form in his dreams, the warm hand in his, the soft skin he touched.

  He could not forget the scent of her, the sound of her voice, the sweet protectiveness she exhibited as she defended him in front of his mother. Alaina was his heart’s desire, and so he must push her away at all cost. He could not bear to ruin her life as he had ruined Brigit’s.

  But the hurt he’d seen in her eyes…

  “I will apologize, Mum,” he said with a sigh. “You’re right, as always.”

  “Of course I am.” She turned her back and headed toward the cottage. “Now take the basket and come inside for supper. I believe groveling is best done on a full stomach.”

  * * *

  They ate in relative silence at the kitchen table that evening. Torin couldn’t keep from glancing at Alaina across the table, her eyes lowered as she delicately ate the roasted mutton and colcannon. The slip and slide of utensils over the tin plates set his nerves on edge, as did everything about the woman. He couldn’t keep his mind off her. Didn’t know how to banish her sultry image from his dreams.

  “I believe Patrick would enjoy a visit before you head home again,” his mother said as she rose to fill the pitcher with water from the pump.

  “I’ll do that,” he replied, his gaze still fastened on the lovely face across the table.

  “I spoke with Mary Kate early this morning,” Maggie continued as she took her seat, oblivious to the tension in the room. “She tells me you’ve a plan to help Tom with his fences?”

  “Aye, we agreed on it some weeks ago. Sean will be helping, as well.”

  It would be a grand way of getting himself out of temptation’s path. A few days of hard, physical labor should banish any erotic fantasies from his mind—or at least tire him so he could never make them a reality.

  “Good. She and I decided ’twould be grand time to hold the ceili for Patrick.”

  Torin’s fork clattered against his plate.

  “Ceili?” Alaina asked as she continued to cut her meat. “Isn’t that like a party?”

  “Exactly,” Mum replied. “Only this time, we’ll leave on Friday and not come back ’til Sunday evening or Monday morning, depending on how we’re feeling.”

  Alaina’s head jerked up, her mouth and eyes wide in surprise as her knife fell from her hand, bounced once on the table then dropped to the floor.

  “Three days?” She glanced at him furtively and swallowed. “All of us?”

  “Aye, if your da is able,” Mum answered.

  Alaina studied Torin for the first time since his insults in the yard. It was all he could do to take his next breath as he gazed into those fathomless brown eyes.

  “I don’t think we—”

  “It can wait a week or two,” he rushed in, heedless of what his mother might think. For some reason he couldn’t let Alaina back out now. Torin needed her to say yes. It would be easier to look after her and still keep her at arm’s length in the company of her cousins.

  “Very well,” she said and dabbed at her mouth with the edge of her napkin. “But I won’t hold you back from your duties. If Daddy isn’t well enough in a week’s time, then you must go about your business.”

  “The business isn’t pressing,” he replied. “Tom’s fences need mending, but he has plenty of fields for the lambs to graze. He can wait two weeks…maybe longer.”

  “Two weeks, it is,” she agreed as she began to pick at her food again. “But if he isn’t well, you and Maggie must go on without us.”

  “The whole reason for the ceili is to welcome you and Patrick,” Maggie said. “There would be little use of having it if you didn’t attend.”

  “Nonsense,” Alaina replied. “There’s always a reason for a good party.”

  “Here then, if Patrick is well enough two weeks hence, we’ll have the ceili,” Maggie decided. “If not…then they’ll have to wait. But I’m thinking he’ll be up and about very soon. All he needs is a bit of a push.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Alaina said as she stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll have a word with him now.”

  “Have you finished eating, dear?” Maggie asked. “There’s plenty left.”

  “Thank you, Maggie, everything is delicious as always.” Her gaze flickered to Torin and back again. “I’m just not very hungry this evening. If you’ll excuse me?”

  “Of course, lass. You go on and I’ll fix up a plate for Patrick.”

  Maggie shot Torin a look that would melt steel as Alaina left the kitchen. “Excuse me,” he said and he rose to follow her into the hall.

  “Alaina…”

  She stopped at the bottom step, her shoulders stiff. “Yes?”

  He walked to her, his heart like lead in his chest. Would she ever forgive him his cruel words?

  “I need to tell you…” She turned then and the look on her pretty face made his breath catch. “The words I spoke earlier were mindless, panicked utterings. I beg you to forgive me. I swear to you I meant not a word of it—I have the greatest respect for you and your father. Indeed, for anyone that stands up for what they believe in.”

  She frowned slightly. “Your apology is accepted. But I don’t quite understand. Why were you feeling panicked? About what?”

  He stepped closer until he could feel the warmth radiate from her body in the damp hallway. He breathed in the scent of her soft skin and she looked up at him, eyes wide and dark.

  “I fear you, as well—the way you make me feel, the things I long for when you’re near.”

  “And what…?” She hesitated, her voice somewhat breathless. “What things would those be?”

  He chuckled softly, somewhat amazed at her almost innocent, coy flirtation. Then he stepped even closer and bent near her ear. “I think of teaching you many things, lass. Many wonderous, passionate things.”

  His bold statement brought a gasp from her lips and she met his gaze for a moment—the myriad of emotions there made her eyes as dark as pitch.

  “Go on,” he said. “Quit playing with fire and see to your da.”

  She blinked and drew herself up. “I-I didn’t mean—”

  “Aye, that you did, lass. And ’tis good to know you’re more a woman than I thought.”

  “More…? What did you think I was?”

  “A child…a spoiled, self-centered babe.”

  “How dare—!”

  He put a finger over her lips to silence the indignant protest. “I was misguided in my thinking,” he admitted. “But I’m knowing better now.” The feel of her soft lips beneath his finger set a hum through his blood. “I now know you to be a loving, compassionate woman. A woman any man would be proud to call his own.”

  The air hung heavy between them. Her sweet breath warmed his skin. When he
pulled away from her, a tingle swept down his spine and she swayed toward him.

  He took a slow step back. “You forgive me then?”

  She blinked as if returning from a daze. “Yes, of course. I already said I did.” The soft smile she gave him made his heart skip a beat. “Thank you, Torin.” Then she turned and ascended the steps, disappearing into the dark hallway above.

  He left the house and walked straight back to his cottage. The image of Alaina’s face, the echo of her sweet voice accompanied him each step of the way. It would be a good night for dreams, he decided.

  Chapter Seven

  She pulled the silver-plated brush through her hair as she sat at the dressing table and stared at her own reflection.

  “There’s nothing for me here.”

  Her hand stopped in mid-stroke. Alaina could never marry even if Torin O’Brien changed his mind. The way he looked at her now—the fire that burnt deep within his gray-green eyes made her shiver from head to foot. But the thought of a man’s hands upon her body made her tremble. Guilt and fearful memories such an idea evoked would never allow for intimacy. Besides, what if she was to marry? What if that union turned out to be a mistake in other ways?

  The distant relationship between her father and mother had been both subtly and openly hostile and a source of pain for everyone at Aveleen. It had set the Ryan children on edge, made them fearful. They had never known when another argument would erupt. They had never known what innocent remark or question might stir the simmering anger that always dwelt just below the surface of their parents’ marriage.

  Her mind spun with the doubts, fears and endless questions to which there seemed no answers. Always it ended in the same realization—she would forever be alone. She slammed the brush down on the table and stood, her pulse thundering in her ears.

  It was well past midnight and Maggie had long ago gone to bed. Her father rested comfortably in his room across the hall. The cozy chamber Alaina had come to think of as her own now felt stifling and hot. Whatever time of night, she could not bear to sit in it for another minute. There was no way she could fall asleep while in such turmoil.

  She walked to the wardrobe and flung open the finely planed doors to reveal her dresses and grasped the first one—a dark green that had faded with time and wear. Its long sleeves and scooped neckline once considered the height of fashion, the gown looked dull and old. But what did it matter? It had been years since such frivolities had crossed her mind.

  The walls seemed to close in around her—suffocating, confining. She paused for a moment as she wondered at the common sense of her plan, but bore on and discarded her robe and nightgown. The soft cotton slipped over her bare skin and Alaina pulled her stomach in to fasten the buttons up the front. She had lost weight since the dress had been made—baby fat melted away in the heat of war and the lack of abundance her family had once enjoyed. The gown fit without the help of a tightly laced corset. After sliding on stockings and soft, black kid boots, she crept out of the room, down the steps. Snatching her cloak from the peg in the hall, Alaina stepped into the cool, crisp night.

  Not a cloud drifted in the cold black sky although it had rained for most of morning and afternoon. The air still felt damp, the grass squished beneath her boots. Alaina took care to step only on the stones that led from Maggie’s door. An insistent, biting breeze tore at her cloak, pulling it away from her and creeping inside her thin dress. She shivered; the cold felt invigorating. It might help her think.

  Alaina hesitated at the end of the walk, glancing up and down the road and wondering where she should go. To her left, the primitive path led to Fisher Street, the heart of Doolin. Several yards to her right, the road forked. One branch headed north, the other south. Torin had brought her down the road from the north when he’d met them at Ballyvaughn. The other branch went south, back behind the house, and skirted around the village as it curved in a wide arch to the west.

  Alaina decided on trying the route she had not yet taken. Heading south, she soon found herself in the open countryside. The darkness did not worry her. The waxing moon shone down upon her and the surrounding landscape. In the moonlight, the Burren took on an eerie, silver color. The gray limestone slabs stretched ghostlike across the valley, the sight sending a shiver up Alaina’s spine. The breeze grew fainter, yet stretched out its thin, icy fingers to caress her face beneath the hood of her dark cloak.

  After several minutes, she turned toward Maggie’s house. It was no longer within sight. She had walked much further than she realized. She hesitated, wondering if her impulse was foolish. Should she head back to Maggie’s or continue onward, to risk becoming lost?

  Thinking again of her room and the suffocating loneliness she had been feeling, Alaina threw caution to the wind and continued her trek. At first she took careful steps to avoid catching her heels in the deep cracks of the pavement.

  The stillness and absolute peace soon calmed her troubled nerves and quelled any doubts. After a time, Alaina walked leisurely across the Burren, little noticing her surroundings. Her mind filled instead with memories of the past months. So many things had changed her life and her very purpose in it.

  She thought of James Sloan—his gentle gray eyes and warm sense of humor. Alaina sighed as she tugged the cloak closer. Why couldn’t she now feel anything more than a sisterly affection for the man? It would make life so much easier to return to the safety of Aveleen and accept his proposal, though she knew he had offered it only to spare her from spending a life alone once her father died.

  James understood her fear, knew her secret. Perhaps, in time, he could help her overcome the past. Perhaps they could find a way to live as husband and wife—at least they had years of friendship to rely upon. She had once cared for the man with a young girl’s infatuation. Wouldn’t that be enough?

  As her thoughts turned to Torin, she wondered again about his first love. The poor girl, destined for tragedy, her life seemingly designed for sorrow. But how had she taken that last step? How had she thrown herself into the black sky and to the rocks below? What could possibly cause such desolation to send someone to choose their greatest nightmare over perhaps a moment of turmoil?

  Yes, Alaina understood such distress—had felt it herself during the war. But there had always been the hope, the small seed of faith that somehow, someday, things would get better. She thanked her father for that.

  The sky was black and peaceful. The small sparkling stars winked down at her from their velvet spread. She gazed up at the moon, almost full now, and took a deep breath. Her lungs filled with the fragrant spring air. The biting cold seeped into her chest painfully before she exhaled.

  Without warning, the ground gave way. Her left ankle twisted under her as she collapsed to the icy, hard limestone below.

  Her cry of pain and fear was swallowed in the still air, the mountains too far distant to echo the sound. For a moment Alaina lay there, her leg bent beneath her before she rolled to her side and looked down. She suddenly understood. In her rambling reminiscences, she had forgotten to watch her step over the pavement. The heel of her boot had been caught in a narrow crevice between the stones.

  She tried to move her foot, but the pain in her ankle shot through her body. Biting her lip, she stifled the scream that threatened to erupt from her throat.

  First, she decided, the best thing to do was to free herself from the crevice. Then she would have to figure out the rest from there. Reaching down, she tugged at the heel wedged within the cracked limestone. When it did not loosen, Alaina yanked harder but it didn’t move. She wrenched at her foot again and the movement sent a flash of pain through her leg and brought tears to her eyes. Alaina sat very still and rested for a moment until the sensation calmed to a stabbing ache.

  If the boot couldn’t be freed of the rock, then she would have to free her foot from the boot. That logical conclusion left her feeling satisfied and she began to work at undoing the laces with her left hand, leaning on the other to keep hersel
f sitting erect. It was a slow process because of the awkward position. Numbing cold seeped into her fingers. Finally, when the ties were undone and the laces loosened as much as she could manage, she tried to slide her foot out. It would not budge.

  She yanked harder. Another engulfing pain shot through her body at amazing speed, bringing fresh tears to her eyes and an involuntary yelp of pain. She cautiously touched the entrapped ankle. It had already swollen to at least twice its normal size. Short of actually cutting the leather from her foot, there was no way she could free herself alone. She glanced around her for something sharp enough to saw through the pliant black leather. There was nothing in sight.

  Panic crept in with the icy cold, but Alaina mentally beat it down again. She was not completely successful. She looked around, scanning the deserted landscape. In the distance, maybe half of a mile off, she noticed a glimmer of yellowish-orange light. At first, she thought it must just be another star on the distant horizon. Focusing her gaze, Alaina rationalized that it could not be a star since the shadow of one of the smooth hills rose up behind it, outlined in the moonlight.

  Her heart leapt with new hope. There was a cottage only a few hundred yards away and someone was there with a fire burning in the hearth.

  “Hello!” She lifted her voice, but it seemed to be swallowed in the dark, vast void of the night sky above her. “Hello!” Alaina’s desperation raised her voice to a fevered pitch and she waited for some kind of response.

  Still, nothing, not even the echo of her own cries answered her. Alaina sat in the stillness and felt tears form again, the panic lodging in her throat until she thought she couldn’t breathe.

  They would never find her out there in the dark. No one would hear her cries for help and in the morning, perhaps not even for a day or two, some poor traveler would happen along to discover her cold, lifeless form still imprisoned by a sheath of leather wedged deep within the limestone.

  It seemed such an inglorious way to die that Alaina found a new surge of strength. She had survived war and poverty—she would not be brought under by a ridiculous accident.