by Meg Allison
Chapter Fourteen
Alaina tucked safely in his bed, Torin sank into the chair by the hearth and let his muscles loosen.
The whiskey in his cup was designed to fight the cold he felt once he climbed out of bed. But watching her sleep across the room, he couldn’t help the longing that plagued him. He wanted to crawl back beneath the blanket, take her in his arms and make love to her again. But he was afraid of how strong his emotions were with this woman. Afraid that the incident with Doogan only proved he should have never taken a wife.
Her color was better now—pale instead of its normally healthy glow, but a far cry from the shade of death it had been. Their clothes hung about the hearth, droplets of water puddled on the floor as the heat of the flames dried them.
With a sigh, he sipped the whiskey and again said a prayer of thanks that she seemed none the worse for wear. Then the image of Doogan’s cowardly face entered his mind and felt a renewed surge of hate. If anything had happened to her… But she was safe. She would be bruised and sore for a while, but otherwise the damage was not permanent.
Draining the glass with one long gulp, he let the fiery liquid pour down his throat. His eyes lost focus and the weight of exhaustion settled over his limbs. Rising from the chair he crossed to the bed and gazed down at Alaina. Her hair spilled over the pillow. A purple cast under her eyes testified to her ordeal. He longed to take her in his arms and hold her—just to be close to her and assure himself that she was alive and well.
He lowered his body beneath the blankets beside her and stretched to his full length. With extreme care he slid his left arm under her neck, draping the other over her waist on top of the covers. He drifted off to sleep.
* * *
It was warm and peaceful and Alaina dreaded the idea of getting up. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light as she tried to focus. It was then that she realized something was wrong.
The pillow on which her head rested was warm and moving. With a start her brain came awake and she lifted her head to have a better look. The knife of pain at her temple made her wince and lay back once more. Then she noticed the heartbeat under her hand. She knew then that she was resting in Torin’s arms. The scent of him, the smooth expanse of skin beneath her hand where his nightshirt opened to reveal his chest…the very essence of her husband filled her senses.
Memories assailed her at that moment—the ceili, his declaration of love, their impromptu wedding. And then the memory of Doogan’s threats, her rescue and the long walk home through the storm—held fast in her husband’s strong arms. As she began to relive their wedding night and making love with Torin, she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. How could she face him this morning after the things they’d done? She had been so insistent, so wanton. But it didn’t matter. He loved her and the experience had been the most incredible one of her life. One she hoped to repeat.
As her body came awake, aches and pains radiated through every muscle and joint. The night had not been without a price. Every inch of her felt bruised and battered.
“Good morning, darlin’,” Torin whispered against her hair. Alaina smiled and tried once more to lift her head to look at him. The knife twisted a second time and she winced.
“I thought I was dreaming for a moment,” she murmured, her cheek upon his chest. “But my head’s telling me this is real enough.”
He slid his arm out from beneath her and laid her onto the pillows. Rising on one elbow he searched her face with haunted eyes. She thought her heart would melt at the tenderness she saw there—the pain and guilt. She moved to rise.
“Don’t try it yet, darlin’, not until we know how badly you’re hurt.” His voice was gentle and soothing. “’Tis fine and safe you are now. No one will harm you, sweet Alaina.”
“Doogan,” she whispered. “I couldn’t get away.”
Torin reached a gentle hand to caress her face. “I won’t lie to you. If anything had happened, Doogan’s life wouldn’t be worth a shilling. I almost lost you—” his deep voice broke with emotion, his eyes swam with tears. “Dear God, I almost lost you…”
He buried his face against her neck and the tears fell into her hair. Alaina reached her arms around him, stroking his back and comforting him as pain racked his body. His shoulders shook with silent sobs and she pulled him closer.
“It’s all right, Torin,” she whispered. “I’m safe…we’re together.”
His warmth enveloped her once more. He pressed his lips to her neck, suckling the sensitive curve as his whiskers sent little chills of pleasure up and down her spine. Again he seemed unable to resist every part of her—it was as if he could never get enough of tasting, touching. She squirmed beneath him, her body vibrating like a hundred fiddle strings as she sought release from the pent-up desire he ignited.
“A ghra mo choi,” Torin breathed against her mouth. He traced his tongue over her lower lip. Alaina moaned and opened her mouth to him. Her arms tightened about his broad shoulders. He moved closer as he lowered his body against hers and pressed her into the mattress.
Her reserve melted in his arms and she pulled him closer. This was heaven. Her body ached for him. Heat spiraled up from within her very center and she begged him to quench the rising flame.
“Love me, Torin,” she whispered as his hands moved over her skin. “Make love to me.”
“As you wish, dearest wife,” he murmured against the soft slope of her breast. Then he looked up at her with a devilish smile. “You have only to ask.”
* * *
The sun rose to cast the cottage in a warm, rosy gleam. Alaina lay sated, her body still intertwined with her husband’s. She wanted to feel content—to trust that their ordeal was over, but something nagged at her. Something on which she couldn’t quite lay a finger.
“If anything had happened to you…” Torin said, then his voice trailed off and she felt his struggle to keep the emotions at bay. She only prayed he would be able to absolve himself of the guilt he felt. “It would have been Doogan’s ultimate revenge—to have me lose you to the cliffs. God, you must have been so scared. Please forgive me for putting you in the middle of all this.”
Alaina frowned. The cliffs…just like Brigit. The other girl had been frightened, no, petrified of the cliffs. She was to meet Torin at Doonagore, not on the cliffs themselves. How had she wound up there? That alone didn’t make sense. Either did the knowledge that she had been distraught enough to jump hundreds of feet to her death.
No, there was no way the girl could have jumped. Not with that kind of fear inside her. Alaina understood what such deep-seated terror could do to a person. It was crippling.
“Did everyone know Brigit feared the cliffs?”
He lay silent for a moment. “Nay, she was a quiet lass. Barely spoke to anyone.”
Alaina lifted her head as bits of conversation began to gel in her mind. From them, a horrible idea began to form.
“Only those she trusted would know of her fear?”
Torin frowned at her. “Aye, seems logical.”
She licked her lips and swallowed as her stomach began to churn. One other person did know. But she had to be sure it wasn’t just coincidence.
“Did you ever tell anyone?”
“Alaina, what are you getting at?” he finally demanded as he sat upright on the bed. “I don’t like discussing that part of my past, darlin’. Especially not now—not after all we’ve been through.”
“Please, forgive me,” she said as she laid a hand on his arm. “But this may be very important. Something about the entire story bothers me and I don’t think you’ll ever be truly free to love me until you know what happened. Did you ever tell anyone about Brigit’s fear?”
He sighed and gazed at some spot over her head for what seemed the longest time. When he looked at her again, she could see the caution returned. “Nay, I told no one.”
A chill washed over her from head to foot and Alaina sat up with the blanket clutched tight to her bosom.
> “Oh, God.” She looked at him and saw the wariness in his eyes.
“What is it?’
“I-I’m not sure. But what would you say if I told you I think I know how Brigit died? Or rather, who might be responsible?”
Her words hung in the air—dark, foreboding like the whisper of the wind before a storm.
“How…” He cleared his throat. “How can you figure out something so quickly when I’ve spent years trying?”
“Perspective.” She looked down at his hands clenched on top the covers. Hands that not long ago had been gentle and seductive upon her skin. “I have no predisposition to anyone here. No one feels they need to hide things from me, especially after so many years.”
“Tell me.”
“She didn’t kill herself, Torin. She couldn’t have—not that way. Someone else…someone threw or pushed her off that cliff.”
At that moment she wondered—would he believe her? What would be the point? But she knew that their very future depended on him clearing his name—or at least his own conscience. He had to know he had not been at fault for the poor girl’s untimely death. Still, could she really express her thoughts aloud? It might make things worse. Perhaps the dead should be left to rest in peace, as the past should be forgiven and forgotten.
“Alaina, don’t drop a statement like that in my lap and then stay silent. Who could possibly have hurt Brigit?”
“Sean.” The syllable echoed through the small cottage.
He stared at her, dumbfounded, then chuckled with relief. “You’re mistaken. Sean Riordan is my oldest friend—he’s always been like a brother to me. Why on earth would he want to hurt Brigit? He barely knew her.”
“Are you sure? At the cliffs, when you were fighting Doogan, he said, ‘Such a horror for her—to fall from this godforsaken cliff as she always feared’.”
His only response was a frown.
“He knew, Torin! He knew about her fear. You said yourself no one but those she trusted knew that. Even your mother didn’t know until I mentioned it.”
He stood quickly and walked to the hearth. “Then she must have told Sean.”
“No, I don’t think so. But we can ask her if—”
“This is insane!” he bellowed. Alaina’s heart lurched for him—for the pain he was hiding from as he tried to deny the evidence, however frail it may be.
“Why would he hurt her?” he asked in a daze as he stared at the dancing flames of the hearth.
Alaina shrugged. “Jealousy, perhaps? Mary Kate said Sean always wanted the girls you liked. She said he never gave them a second glance until you looked their way. Maybe it started like that—a rivalry of sorts. Him wanting the girl you loved. But if she didn’t care for him in return, maybe he lost his temper or—”
“He’s my best friend,” he interrupted. She could see the anger glitter in his eyes. “I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it.”
“Torin—”
“Nay! I’ve heard enough of your theories.” He turned his back on her. “Let the past rest.”
“Wait! Don’t push me away after…” She waved a hand in the air, unable to say the words as her heart sped to a panicked beat.
“This was a mistake,” he said as he turned his back, pulled his clothes from the chair and began to dress. “I rushed you into this marriage and then Doogan…” He seemed to choke on the words but bore on. “It was a mistake—all of it. I put you in danger and now I’ll be taking the blame for that. But I will not sit and listen to my best friend made a scapegoat.”
“Torin.” Her voice broke. “Please, it is possible, isn’t it? I mean someone had to have played a part in her death. She could not have jumped on her own. Think about it!”
“Nay, no more!” he bellowed as he headed for the door, anger and confusion seethed around him like a great black storm.
“Please, don’t leave me like this, Torin!” she cried in a panic. “We’re married! You can’t just—” He slammed the door and left her alone in his bed.
Many tears later, Alaina rose from her marriage bed and began to wash. Her body ached in the most extraordinary ways and places. Her mind whirled with everything that had happened; her heart ached at the thought of losing her husband before they’d even begun a life together.
The passion they shared had been beyond anything of her wildest dreams and fantasies. She was not about to give it up over one argument. However, she also knew Torin could not go on with his life until he knew—until the whole world knew what really happened all those years ago upon the Cliffs of Moher. It would hang over them like a dark cloud, a seed of doubt at the back of everyone’s thoughts.
Had Brigit jumped? Had someone pushed her? There had to be a way to find out. There had to be a way to lay the past to rest once and for all. Alaina was determined to do just that. With her purpose firmly in mind, and her own garments in ruins, she scoured the cottage for something to wear besides the blanket she had wrapped around herself. Her tattered dress and chemise were the only options unless she was prepared to walk through town wearing her lover’s shirt and breeches.
She dressed quickly and pulled Sean’s black coat on over her clothes to hide her state of undress and shield her from the morning chill. A plan formed in her head as she set off for Maggie’s cottage. Every step brought with it a fissure of doubt over her future, but Alaina refused to give in to the sorrow that tried to overwhelm her.
First she must put herself in order and then she would prove what really happened to Brigit Doogan. She only hoped Torin would find it in his heart to forgive her when all was said and done.
* * *
Since the village of Doolin did not boast enough crime to warrant a jail, they had never built one. So when the would-be rapist had been dragged unceremoniously into town, his ankles and wrists bound by rough rope, they had spent only moments debating what to do with him. Cooler heads prevailed over those who wanted the man hung by that same piece of twine, and they had thrown him onto one of Luke Riordan’s large fishing boats—the plan to sail the scoundrel North to Galway as soon as the tide would allow.
Learning all this by way of the barkeep, Torin found himself on the swaying pier at the edge of the vessel that morning. His thoughts were a blur of snatches of conversation and memories. Although he felt a cad for hurting Alaina so, he still felt a bristle of anger at her and the intimation that his friend—his closest friend in all the world, no less—could be the cause of these last ten years of torment. Not to mention the complete desolation of his heart and his reputation.
The only thing left after wandering the cliffs for hours was to face Nick Doogan. Once and for all, Torin had to know what happened that night. He had to know if Brigit took her own life because of something he said or did…or if Alaina saw the situation more clearly. Could someone else have been there? Could someone else have pushed the lass to her death and let him take the blame?
With a sigh that held a wealth of frustration, he boarded the boat with a scarce nod to the young lad posted as sentry. “Leave us,” he growled as he stared down at Doogan, still tied hand and foot in the bottom of the vessel.
“But—” the lad began to protest.
“Now.”
The boy’s eyes grew wide and he swallowed noisily but did not protest further as he scampered over the side and ran down the pier. Torin knew his time was short before the other men would come to check on him—though he wasn’t sure they’d hurry too quickly, perhaps with the small hope that justice would be dealt the villain who had dared to harm a woman.
“Do you know what happened to your sister?”
Doogan stared at him through swollen eyes, his split lip twisted into a snarl. “All I know is the truth of it. She went to meet you and then she was dead.”
“How did she die? Could she…do you think she could have jumped?”
The man grunted in disgust, coughed and spat out a bit of blood on the deck. “Not bloody likely, is it? But we’re both knowing that all too well. She coul
dn’t get herself to stand less than fifty feet from that ledge! How’s the lass to have jumped from there?”
Torin blinked and looked away for a moment before the thought hit him. “You…you could have coaxed her there. Maybe you killed her.”
“She was the only thing good and decent in my life,” Doogan insisted. “If I’d wanted her away from you so badly I’d have forced her to go to Scotland meself. I couldn’t hurt a hair on her head.” His expression darkened with anger. “You killed her you bloody bastard! Why did you have to take her from me?”
“I didn’t kill her! I loved Brigit, why would I ever hurt her?”
“There’s a liar if ever I heard one. Of course you killed her! We both know she wouldn’t jump. The cliffs were her nightmare, her deepest fear. She went to that bloody ruin to meet you…you must have pushed her over.”
“Think about it man,” Torin prodded. “It makes no sense. If she came there to run off with me, what reason would I have to kill her?”
Doogan shook his head in frustration. “Don’t you be trying to talk your way out of it, Irish. ’Tis no way of me knowing what went on that night. All of Doolin has seen your temper on display. Maybe she told you the truth at last, about the babe. Maybe your pride couldn’t handle it then, aye? ’Twould give any man reason enough to kill a woman.”
“Truth about the babe? What in God’s name are you talking about?”
Doogan paused a moment and blinked as he studied Torin’s face. “Bloody hell, you don’t know…do you?” His tone held a note of wonder, a hint of doubt. “The babe she carried…it wasn’t yours. The little bastard was sired before you fell into bed with her.”
It felt as if the breath had been knocked from his body. “You’re lying.”
“Am I now?” He laughed roughly. “I loved my sister, but I knew the truth of her. She wasn’t an innocent when you took her to bed or didn’t you notice such things?”
Torin turned away, his mind reeling. Brigit had been his first and he’d been so nervous, so lost in the moment that he hadn’t paid attention to her state of innocence…or the lack thereof. Could Doogan be telling the truth at last?