CALL HOME THE HEART
Shannon Farrell
TABLE OF CONTENTS
SYNOPSIS
REVIEWS
COPYRIGHT
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
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SYNOPSIS
Ireland, 1845
Widowed by a shooting accident on her honeymoon, Muireann Caldwell discovers that her wastrel husband Augustine has left her penniless, and almost homeless. She now faces returning to her smothering family back in Scotland, or charting her own course with the crumbling Caldwell estate in Ireland.
Deciding to remain in Ireland to tackle Barnakilla and its mountain of debt, Muireann turns to the handsome, capable Lochlainn Roche, her late husband's estate manager, for support.
Lochlainn worries that with Augustine dead, his lifelong home will be forfeited, especially if the young widow decides to run home to Scotland.
But he's surprised by the strength Muireann displays, and grows to admire her courage and determination, especially as the Irish Potato Famine begins to spread its blight on the land he loves so well.
Muireann struggles to re-build the estate and create a sanctuary all can call home. She grows to love Barnakilla as much as Lochlainn does. Dare he hope she returns the love he has found for her? Or will the sacrifices she is forced to make prove too much for her?
And dare Lochlainn even trust her? When her husband's cousin begins to ask questions about the fatal shooting accident, Muireann and Lochlainn must trust to love if they are ever to save Muireann and Barnakilla from certain doom….
An excerpt from the novel:
Muireann's lips parted with a sigh, deepening the sweet kiss into something much more compelling as he raised one hand to hold her chin tenderly and explored her mouth with a leisurely thoroughness that thrilled them both to the core.
At last Lochlainn lifted his lips, knowing he couldn't hide his throbbing desire for her forever. But she seemed untroubled by the kiss, stroking her hand down the long column of his neck with her eyes closed.
"How long will it take us to get to Enniskillen?" she asked sleepily.
"We should be there by tea time if we have clear roads, but then we'll have to hope for a lift out to Barnakilla," he whispered against her silken hair, now a mass of curls which he tousled with this hands, savoring the soft feel of her all over.
Like a rose without thorns. The thought came to him suddenly, and he found the simile apt.
Muireann nodded, and stroked the hand around her as she returned her head to the pillow. She reflected somewhere in the back of her drowsy mind how wonderful Lochlainn felt in the bed beside her. How they just seemed to fit together.
She had had the strangest sensation when she had first met him on the docks in Dun Laoghaire, and their hands had touched in greeting. She had trembled then as though the ground under her were shaking. She had felt almost as if she had come home, though of course she had never before set foot in Ireland. As though they belonged together for all time…
REVIEWS
4.5 out of 5 stars
Top Pick, September 2000 issue, and Reviewer's Choice Award Nominee 2000, Romantic Times
Widowed by a shooting accident on her honeymoon, Muireann Caldwell discovers that her wastrel husband has left her penniless, and almost homeless. She now faces returning to a smothering family or charting her own course with the crumbling Caldwell estate.
Deciding to tackle Barnakilla and its mountain of debt, Muireann turns to the handsome, capable Lochlainn Roche, her late husband's estate manager, for support.
Lochlainn worries that with Augustine dead, his lifelong home will be forfeited, especially if the young widow decides to run home to Scotland. But he's surprised by the strength Muireann displays, and grows to admire her courage and determination.
She grows to love Barnakilla as much as he does. Dare he hope she returns the love he has found for her?
The author weaves a wonderful tale of survival and love that defeats seemingly insurmountable odds. It is refreshing to see a heroine with such strength and common sense, and a strong hero who actually believes she can have it! CALL HOME THE HEART is a story you won't want to put down.
-April Redmon
5.0 out of 5 stars
Moving and passionate Historical Romance
Ireland, January 1845
Muireann Graham Caldwell and Augustine, her husband of two weeks, are on a journey to Barnakilla, his estate in northwest Ireland. However, Augustine goes no farther than a Dublin grave, after putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger.
After living with constant criticism from her mother and sister for not being a proper lady, and defying her strict father by learning all sorts of masculine things, Muireann Graham Caldwell is not about to run home to Scotland now. With the help of Lochlainn Roche, Barnakilla's estate manager, Muireann is determined to travel on to her new home.
When Lochlainn met the ship carrying the newlyweds, he was taken by the ethereal beauty of Augustine's wife, but the next months prove the lady possesses strength...and a will of iron...that belie her fragile looks
She needs that toughness, for her "wealthy" husband bankrupted a once prosperous estate in the three years since he inherited, and he'd already gambled away the thousands of pounds from Muireann's father that he had been given as her dowry.
The last few years have been hard ones, and the hundred tenants who depend on Barnakilla are in arrears with their rents and have no means to pay in the foreseeable future. Muireann always wanted adventure; she's wanted to prove to herself and her family that she's capable of more than tea parties and dancing. Here is her chance.
CALL HOME THE HEART is very much Muireann's story. She has an almost impossible task ahead of her -- already the portents hint at the disastrous potato famine to come -- but she rallies and leads the people in rebuilding Barnakilla.
Lochlainn grew up on the land, and he's there to help her, but she's the dynamic one. He's an interesting character, who was betrayed in the past and loath to risk his heart again. He's torn between wanting to be Muireann's partner, and believing he's not good enough for her.
The tenants and landed neighbors play important roles in CALL HOME THE HEART, for they add warmth on the one hand and conflict on the other. While the relationship between Muireann and Lochlainn waxes and wanes, the plot revolving around the fight to feed the people and save the estate takes off at a run and turns CALL HOME THE HEART into an all-nighter. And a nail-biter.
CALL HOME THE HEART is a moving and passionate novel fans of history and romance will enjoy.
Jane Bowers,
Romance Reviews Today
5.0 out of 5 stars
By Amanda Killgore, (TOP 500 REVIEWER, Amazon)
When suicide ends the life of a tyrannical landowner, his new bride is left bewildered and saddled with a failing set of holdings. Fortunately, those lands come with a handsome, loyal, and passionate manager, Lochlainn Roche, who is more than willing to help Muireann Caldwell save his boyhood home.
Their passion for Barnakilla extends to each other, then from the grave, Muireann's husband reaches out to endanger their joy. With a cloud of suspicion and possible murder charges hanging over them, the lovers must clear Lochlainn's name before they can have a life together. Using a seldom utilized setting, Ireland during the Potato Famine, and strong characterization, Ms. Farrell has created a true gem for historical fans in search of something new and different.
CALL HOME THE HEART
Shannon Farrell
HerStory Books
Copyright the author
First edition 2000, Domhan Books, Ireland, and New York.
Second edition 2003, Wotch Media, Australia.
Third edition 2004, condensed version published by Leisure Lovespell.
Fourth Edition 2008, 2011, original version, with additional material.
New Kindle Edition, 2012
All rights reserved.
Under the 1988 UK copyright laws, the author asserts the right to be identified as the creator of this work.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-58345-396-4
Published by HerStory Books
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Happy Reading!
I pray thee leave, love me no more,
Call home the heart you gave me,
I but in vain the saint adore,
That can, but will, not save me.
Michael Drayton, To His Coy Love, 1619
CHAPTER ONE
Dublin, January 1845
The gunshot echoed through the corridors of Gresham's Hotel. Lochlainn dropped his water glass and dashed up the stairs two at a time.
"Mrs. Caldwell, Mrs. Caldwell, open the door! Muireann! Open up, please! It's Lochlainn Roche!" he shouted as he hammered at the oaken portal.
Lochlainn could hear nothing in the chamber apart from the sound of someone weeping. After jerking at the latch futilely, he threw all of his weight against the solid bulk of the door.
"Muireann! Open up, please!" he demanded between blows.
At last the manager, stunned by the gunshot and the commotion Lochlainn was causing, produced his master key. With a deft flick of his wrist, Lochlainn opened the lock quickly and stormed into his employer's bedchamber. There he saw Muireann, kneeling beside the body of her husband.
It was evident from the state of his head, or what was left of it, that Augustine was dead.
"God, no, please, this can't be happening to me!" the raven-haired woman whimpered as she rocked back and forth, tugging frantically at the lapels of Augustine's coat.
"How could you! Oh God, why! What am I going to do?" she wailed, growing more and more hysterical, repeating the words over and over again.
At last Lochlainn, unsure as to what else he should do, dragged Muireann away from the corpse, and gave her a firm tap on the chin with his fist.
She crumpled like a rag doll into his arms. He caught her up before she fell to the floor and demanded of the manager, "Give me another room for Mrs. Caldwell, now!"
The little man, gaping at the carnage before him, barely heard a word Lochlainn said.
"I'll see Mrs. Caldwell's things are moved myself. She's not to be disturbed, is that clear?"
"I suppose I'd better fetch a doctor," the manager said doubtfully, shaking his head.
"For the lady, yes, Mr. Burns," Lochlainn replied grimly. "Augustine certainly won't be needing one."
The hotelier stared at the handsome, ebony-haired estate manager with something akin to horror. How could he remain so calm in the face of such an appalling spectacle?
Lochlainn's steel-gray eyes warmed a little as he tried to soothe Mr. Burns' ruffled feathers. "I'm sorry to sound so cold. It's just that everything must be handled correctly. I imagine there are certain formalities in these sorts of cases. I shall trust you to look after things."
Lifting Muireann high, he followed the little silver-haired man down the corridor to a room at the back of the hotel, far from the noise of all the carriages passing outside through the busy streets of Dublin.
"This chamber is smaller, but the bed is quite large, and there's a trundle bed underneath as well. The lady shouldn't be left alone," the hotelier said, staring regretfully at the unconscious, disheveled form that Lochlainn held in his arms as though she were as light as a feather.
"She won't be alone. I'll look after her, never fear," Lochlainn reassured the worried man as he laid Muireann down on the bed. "Just ask the doctor to look in on her whenever he's finished with Mr. Caldwell, if you please."
"Yes, of course, sir. What a terrible tragedy. And to think it happened in my hotel," the little man complained, almost in tears.
"A terrible tragedy to have happened anywhere, when a man takes his own life," Lochlainn observed with a set jaw as he undid the top buttons of Muireann's gown, and began to remove her boots.
"But surely, sir, it was an accident!" the dapper little man gasped. "He was cleaning his gun, and-"
Lochlainn looked up at the man in sheer disbelief, his eyes glittering dangerously. "You want me to lie, Mr. Burns?"
"Not exactly lie, Mr. Roche, more, well, er, give another plausible version of events," the little man stammered. "After all, his poor young wife. It's bad enough for her to have lost her husband on her honeymoon, without being esposed to unnecessary gossip and, well, dare I say it, scandal."
Lochlainn sighed. "I hadn't thought about that. You're absolutely right, Mr. Burns. I doubt that anyone's interests would be served if the whole truth were to be revealed. Thank you for being so considerate of Mrs. Caldwell's position. I'm sure I can rely on your discretion."
The little man nodded, and stared sympathetically at the lovely dark-haired woman lying prone on the bed.
"Can you stay here for one moment while I go get Mrs. Caldwell's things from the other room?"
"Yes, of course."
Lochlainn was back in a few moments with several valises and an armful of gowns. "I'll wait here while you send a maid up to look after Mrs. Caldwell. Then I'll finish clearing the room, and go fetch my things from the coach."
"Thank you, Mr. Roche. I'll go attend to your, er, problem, and will see you later," Mr. Burns said before scurrying out of the room.
Once he was alone with her, Lochlainn stripped Muireann's blood-soaked gown off her limp body and hurled it into the fire, then covered her with a spare blanket he found at the foot of the bed.
Then he brought an armchair closer to the bed. He sat down heavily, and cradled his head in his hands. Augustine, dead. My God, how often he had wished it. Yet now that it had happened, well, what on earth was he to do?
Why had this happened, just when he had begun to hope there might be some light at the end of the tunnel for the Caldwell estate, Barnakilla? How had the Fates conspired to have everything he held most dear be taken away from him just when it all seemed to be falling into place for the first time in years?
> Disappointed in love, he had fled the estate where he and his sister, Ciara, had grown up, longing to escape from the memories.
The old lord, Douglas Caldwell, had been alive then. Barnakilla had been a prosperous estate, elegant, well-ordered, despite Augustine's extravagance, which his parents had accepted because he was their only child.
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