Alaina's Promise

by Meg Allison

  “Help!” She screamed, one last time, before collapsing in defeat against the icy limestone that shone cold silver in the moonlight. The biting temperature of it penetrated her clothing. It seeped its way deep within her skin as it reached to her very bones. Lying on her side, Alaina closed her eyes and tried to think of what to do next.

  “Don’t panic,” she ordered herself aloud. “There is always hope. There is always a way.” She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears.

  The only thing left to do was to break the heel off the boot. Bracing herself for the jolt of pain that must come, Alaina struggled to sit again. A noise in the distance caught her attention. Alert with fear, she stared off into the darkness. She imagined that one of the shadows was moving nearer—images of wild animals brought panic. She filled her lungs with air in preparation for a tremendous scream.

  “Hello?” a voice called. “Is someone there?”

  Alaina expelled the air in a rush of relief. “Oh, yes, over here! I’ve twisted my ankle and—”

  The rest of her words were forgotten as the figure came nearer and the moon shone fully upon the concerned face of Torin O’Brien. He recognized her at the same moment, standing frozen in his tracks for a twinkling before running forward to kneel on the cold ground.

  * * *

  “Alaina!” he breathed, touching his palm to her icy cheek in wonder. “What are you doing here? What happened?”

  The voice had been familiar but he could not believe it was Alaina until he saw her face. She looked both relieved and shocked at the same time. Moonlight reflected off the tears overflowing her dark, luminous eyes. Her cheek felt smooth and cold against his skin. Her hair looked as black as night under the moon and stars. The silky tresses cascaded down her back and over her shoulders as she looked up at him.

  God in Heaven, she was beautiful.

  He found it hard to breathe. Torin had not been able to sleep. The dreams had come again. Each time her image visited him in the night the visions grew more and more vivid, intimate and erotic until he dreaded falling asleep, knowing he would dream of making love to her again. Yet, in wakefulness, she was still all he could think of. Now his vision lay before him as real and tangible as any temptation.

  “I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk.” The words tumbled off her tongue while tears streamed down her cheeks. She shivered. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” She motioned to her foot. “My boot’s caught. I’ve twisted my ankle.”

  Torin saw the look of trust in her eyes, then the shame, before she looked away. He thought he could sense her withdrawing a bit. He smiled, knowing all too well how it felt to be made the fool.

  Leaning over her, he ran a hand over her ankle and the boot that held her prisoner. When he tried to move the shoe sideways, she yelped in pain. He looked up at her with a grim smile. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you more if I try to force it loose. Let me go back to the cottage and get a knife. I think I can cut you out of it.”

  Alaina grasped his hand as he began to rise.

  “’Tis all right, darlin’.” He smiled and squeezed her hand. “I’ll be but a moment.”

  Soon he knelt back at her side with a large knife in his hand. Moonlight danced off the blade as he moved it, sliding the sharp edge between the leather and her flesh.

  “Now hold very still, so I don’t mar that pretty skin of yours.” He kept his tone light despite the way his blood thrummed through his veins. Alaina’s posture relaxed a little. A soft rip and the boot tore free. He lifted her foot carefully from the shreds. “There you are, darlin’. Does it hurt?”

  She shook her head. “No, it did but now I can’t feel much of anything.”

  Torin glanced down at the slender foot he held in his hands and frowned. “Let’s get you to the cottage and I can take a better look at it.”

  Kneeling beside her, he reached down and scooped her up into his arms before rising to his feet. She gasped and her hands entwined about his neck.

  Torin felt her fingers delve into the hair at his nape. He swallowed hard, struggling with his thoughts and the desire to crush her body to his. Every moment with her was filled with a tingling excitement that ignited a primal desire and need to possess. He longed to protect her as well—if even from himself. But the wanting would soon get the better of him.

  He could feel the warmth of her breath at his throat. Never before had the nearness of any woman set his soul afire. Even during his wild youth when beautiful girls had been plentiful and willing, Torin could not remember teetering so close to the edge of self-control.

  He tried with little success to will his thoughts to a less dangerous path. Once he allowed his gaze to wander to her face, then down to the swell of her breasts where her cloak had fallen open. Shimmering moonlight glowed off her skin above the low neckline. He longed to bury his face against the smooth whiteness that beckoned him—to breathe the scent of her deep within in his lungs until it became a part of him. A wave of heat suffused his face and he quickened his pace.

  Torin reached the small house and eased her through the doorway, ducking his head as he made a conscious effort not to bang her foot on anything. Once inside, he kicked the door shut behind them, moving on to a large chair beside the hearth. Easing Alaina down onto the chair, he knelt beside her and lifted her leg, one hand resting beneath her calf while the other examined the bruised and swollen ankle. She drew a sharp breath and his hands stilled.

  “Did that hurt?” he asked.

  “A little,” she answered and cleared her throat.

  Torin probed the tender flesh gently until she flinched, her fingers digging into the arms of the chair. He cringed at the pain he was causing.

  “Can you move your foot at all?” he asked. Only sheer force of will kept him from gathering her into his arms then and there. The skin beneath his hands turned from red to purple as he watched.

  Alaina attempted some motion and cried out in pain.

  “All right, darlin’, try wiggling your toes then,” he instructed. This she did without incident and offered him a genuine smile.

  Torin sighed and reached for a footstool with one hand, the other still cradling her calf gently, and slid the stool beneath her extended foot. He knew he should stop touching her, but couldn’t. Her cool skin felt soft as silk beneath his hands. The urge to let his hands wander…up her smooth leg, deep beneath the hem of her dark green dress and further. He could think of little else but discovering the secrets that allowed this woman such a hold over his thoughts.

  Once her foot was propped on the stool he removed his hand and sat back on his heels. “I don’t think the bone is broken. But we’ll have to wait ’til the swelling goes down a bit to be sure.”

  He saw a myriad of emotions flit behind her dark eyes. They seemed almost black except for the reflection of the fire dancing in them.

  “I’ll get a bucket of water and you can soak in it a while.” Torin had to get away from her. He couldn’t think. He was afraid she’d hear the pounding of his heart. He was afraid the growing desire would be all too evident in his eyes and elsewhere. Without another word he stood and left the cottage, leaving Alaina alone.

  Getting water from the turlough had been a good excuse. He did not think the ankle was broken, and the cold water would help bring down the swelling. With bucket in hand, he stood at the edge of the water and stared at the silver disc floating on the surface of the dark shallow lake. He stood there for quite a long time, as he desperately tried to stifle his longings.

  Once the fire raging in his blood seemed to cool, he bent over and dragged the bucket through the icy water. Ripples spread across the still surface. They grew and expanded across the lake, splintering the moonbeams into a thousand shimmering silver lights. Torin watched for a moment as the effect faded and the lights reassembled, their motion dying as the water stilled. The moon again shone round and full on the lake. Then he drew in a deep breath and returned to the cottage.
>
  She was leaning back in the chair when he returned, her eyes closed. “Here we go,” he said. She jumped in her seat and Torin chuckled. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. The water’s nice and cold. Let’s get your ankle soaking, shall we?”

  He set the wooden bucket on the floor in front of her chair; some of the water sloshed as it settled. Ever so gently, Torin guided her foot into the water. Alaina gasped and shivered.

  He then went to the bed to the far right of the hearth where he took hold of a thick wool blanket. When he bade her to lean forward, she obliged, and he draped the rough material around her shoulders.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, fingering the bright, hand-woven wool.

  “You’re welcome. Can’t have you taking a chill now, can we?”

  After a slight hesitation, he pulled one of the wooden chairs from the table and set it across from her, the back of it facing her. Straddling it, his gaze flickered from her face to the fire and back again.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.

  Torin looked at her. The corners of his mouth quivered as he tried to hide a smile.

  “True enough,” he replied.

  Alaina sighed. “What I mean is…I’m sorry to put you to such trouble. It isn’t proper at all, my being here, alone with you.”

  He nodded and stood to tend the fire. The weight of her stare made him feel like a young buck with his first love. He hated that feeling—the unease and self-conscious nerves that seemed to stop all brain function.

  “How long have you lived here?” Alaina asked suddenly. Apparently he wasn’t the only one ill at ease.

  “I grew up here,” he said and waved a hand to encompass the room. “The seven of us crammed in together. My two brothers and I shared a bed here in the main room, my sisters had one of the small rooms and Mum and Dad the other. The cow, chickens and assorted animals stayed at the other end in bad weather.”

  “The animals?” Her eyes grew even wider. “They lived in the house with you?”

  He chuckled. “Aye, Alaina, that they did. Of course, growing up, it didn’t seem strange. Once I went off to Dublin and saw a bit of the world, well, it just wouldn’t do to my way of thinking. When my dad died, your father rented the small parcel of land and had a house built. Michael O’Brien wouldn’t accept charity on such a grand scale, but Mum is more practical.

  “Since she was alone then, I asked for a leave of absence from the school where I taught. I had to make sure she was going to be all right on her own. That was when I moved in here and built the stable for the horse. I’d had enough of byre dwellings to last a lifetime.”

  “So, you decided to stay here permanently?”

  Torin shook his head. “Nay, I planned on going back east again. But things take time…” He glanced at her. “And then your letter arrived.”

  Maybe it was time she knew the whole truth.

  “The house—Mum’s house—it’s meant for us, Alaina. You and me and our children. The only provision was that Mum would have a room of her own there once we married if she so desired. He wanted to be sure she was always taken care of. Your father always made sure my family was looked after.”

  Alaina stared at him as a dozen thoughts washed over her face. He wondered if she knew—if she understood it all, yet.

  “I’m glad he was able to help you,” she said.

  Torin smiled. “It was your father’s generosity that kept us alive during the last years of the famine—though it didn’t affect us as hard here in Doolin as other places. Not at first. Our landlords were Irish and a bit more patient. We did take Patrick’s help, though. Even my dad’s pride wouldn’t let him watch his wife and children starve. Patrick did everything he could to make sure Mum never had a worry. Even after Dad’s death.”

  Alaina sat a bit straighter and he could see the light of recognition in her eyes. There. Now she understood it all.

  “He loved her,” she whispered.

  At some point Patrick had been quite sure of their fate, their compliance with his wishes. He had even planned for it by having a house built. Yet the man had never found his own heart’s desire. While he loved his own father, it made Torin sad to think of Patrick Ryan loving a woman whose heart had belonged to his closest friend. A man he considered dearer than any brother.

  Suddenly Torin thought of what it might be like to lose Alaina and his gut knotted. She must have been deep in thought to have been caught in such a predicament. Given his own past experience with love and her fearful reactions to him, he assumed those thoughts must be of only one thing—another man. The idea didn’t settle at all well.

  “I’m wondering whose face filled your thoughts tonight, Alaina?”

  She looked up at him, her smooth brow furrowed. “What makes you assume I was thinking of a man?”

  He met her gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching. Alaina’s frown deepened. “What’s so funny?”

  “There’s a full moon, the Burren and the pavements are well lit tonight, so I’m assuming whatever thoughts have kept you awake and led you on this midnight stroll must be of great importance.” He smiled. “And, Alaina darlin’, I’m doubting that anyone who could cause you such distraction is another female. You’ve got love on your mind.”

  She turned back to the hearth. The thought that another man wanted her made him angrier than he’d care to admit. But he had no right and to be sure he could not let her see the jealousy she ignited. Alaina did not wish to marry him and he would not be humiliated in front of her.

  She looked back at him then and raised her chin at a defiant angle. “His name is James. Dr. James Sloan.”

  He clenched his fist and ground his teeth for a moment before gaining control. “Go on,” Torin said as he stoked the fire. “Tell me about him.”

  “James is a friend of the family,” she replied, her voice tight. He searched her face for clues hidden beneath the words.

  “My father met him years ago. I think James was about fourteen at the time. He was alone, lying half-dead alongside the road somewhere. Apparently he’d been roaming the countryside for two or three years doing odd jobs for food and shelter until he ran out of luck. Daddy took him in, helped nurse him back to health and James stayed.

  “He helped build Aveleen and farm the land until we had enough slaves to do the work. He was there when I was born. He was always there. Then when he was old enough, my daddy helped him go to medical school. James always said he decided to be a doctor the night I was born.”

  “You were in love with him,” Torin stated.

  “Yes, when I was seventeen. He was handsome and kind when everything around me turned cruel and ugly. When my older brother, Michael disappeared, my parents just vanished within themselves for a while. My younger brother, George, was on fire with revenge and was so restless. James took care of us for a while. He tried to make life normal again. He tried to shield us from the war. Yes, I loved him.”

  She smiled. “But he was so distressed when I stopped calling him ‘uncle’ that year. He never understood why.”

  “He was a fool.”

  Alaina looked back at him. “There’s nothing foolish about James. He’s the kindest, gentlest, most caring man I’ve ever known. To him I was merely a child; of course he wouldn’t have seen how I felt. I didn’t let him. I doubt he even considered I could feel such things. If it hadn’t been for his wife then maybe—”

  “Wife?” he interrupted, sitting forward to stare at her. A married man had trifled with her affections? “You were in love with a married man?”

  “No! It wasn’t like that!” Her tone was indignant as the flicker of anger in her wide eyes turned into a raging fire. “He was a widower. His wife died when I was seven. They’d only been married less than a year and she died giving birth to their son. The poor babe was lost, too. James was devastated. It tore him apart. My daddy spent months convincing him to get on with his life and go back to school. He did, finally, but James never even looked at another woman.�
�� Her expression took on an almost dream-like quality. “She must have been so wonderful, for him to love her like that and grieve for her for so many years.”

  Loving a woman for years after her death? Torin knew of such things—knew of the guilt that made a man want to die along with the woman he loved. Knew the suffering that could nearly blind a man’s heart to all else. But that had been years ago and he had been just a boy. Now he felt more keenly, more deeply with the damaged heart of a man.

  What kind of pain would losing Alaina deal him now?

  “How dare you even suggest something so sinful?” Alaina railed, eyes flashing with anger as he sat, stunned with a realization that hit hard and made him weak. He loved her. God help him, but he’d fallen in love.

  “How could you think I would set my cap for a married man?” she continued, completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. “The whole idea is repulsive and insulting.”

  She moved as if to stand and he leapt forward, toppling his chair in the process, and grabbed her in his arms as she started to fall.

  “Mind your ankle,” he admonished. Torin’s senses went on full alert as he gathered her close and held her. “I didn’t mean to imply—I’m sorry, Alaina.”

  She gazed up into his eyes and he felt her ridged body soften in his embrace. He lifted her from her feet and sat down again in her chair with her in his lap as she looked at him in wonder.

  For a moment he forgot the past and the future. All he could think of was the woman sitting in his lap. Nothing else mattered. He understood now the recognition that sparked between their souls on the dock at Ballyvaughn. They were created for one another.

  Neither of them spoke. The air hung heavy between them. The attraction had become too much to ignore.

  She stared at him, her breathing short and shallow as her eyes clouded. He knew what she was feeling, even if she did not. He knew how to satisfy the fire that smoldered in those amber depths. How he wanted to satisfy them both…here…now.

  He claimed her mouth in a gentle kiss—a sweet kiss borne of tenderness and wrapped in control. But it produced the spark he had dreaded and soon scorched his last visage of self-restraint. Her soft hands on his face were his undoing—the ardent acceptance of his lips on hers, his breaking point.