Call Home the Heart

by Shannon Farrell

  "All right, doctor, I shall do as you say. I just hope she starts to improve soon. I'm very worried. I don't think she can take much more of this. Neither can I."

  That night Lochlainn obeyed the doctor's instructions, giving her a small sleeping draught before seeing her safely upstairs to bed.

  Totally exhausted himself by the hard work he had been carrying out during the day in the forest, as well as the long vigils he had been keeping every night, Lochlainn stripped off all his clothes wearily and collapsed onto his pallet.

  At about two in the morning, Muireann's sleeping draught wore off, and she experienced the worst nightmares she had ever known.

  First Augustine stood before her dripping gore, pointing an accusing finger at her.

  Her next vision was of herself alone at Barnakilla, but it was more of a tomb than a mansion, dark and foreboding. She felt as though she had been buried alive in a desolate grave.

  She called for help, and could sense movement in the shadows. It was Lochlainn, but he was abandoning her, leaving her alone with the terrible threatening presence she sensed but could not see.

  Muireann shouted loud enough for all the county to hear as she was gripped by the terrifying dream

  "No, don't! Stop it, please!" she shrieked, struggling desperately against the tight grip which held her prisoner.

  "No, I won't let you!" she bellowed as she twisted and turned, wrenching the covers off the bed as she tumbled to the floor, dragging her assailant with her.

  "For God's sake, Muireann, it's me, Lochlainn! You're safe. There's nothing to fear. You're safe with me!" Lochlainn repeated over and over again, until at last she opened her eyes and saw her own little room, and Lochlainn's concerned face hovering over her.

  "I thought I was. . . Oh, thank God you're here. I thought you'd left me," Muireann wept. She threw herself into his arms and kissed him full on the mouth.

  Lochlainn stiffened for a moment. Was she really awake?

  But as the kiss deepened, he decided he simply didn't care. His arms looped around her, hugging her tightly. His brain suddenly became acutely aware that the two of them had landed on the floor in a tangle of bare limbs. The kiss and the feel of her in his arms was simply too enticing for him to resist. His body, so long deprived, took over of its own accord.

  Lochlainn struggled to control himself, but it was impossible. He had wanted her in his arms like this from the moment she had stepped off the ship from Scotland. He had been tormented night and day with fantasies of having her beg him not to leave her.

  The reality was even more exciting than his imaginings. Though he might be damned for it on the morrow, he simply could not give up this one chance of making Muireann his own. His mouth deepened the kiss possessively as he lifted her back onto the bed, and began to fondle her all over.

  Muireann was fully awake by now, and aware of Lochlainn's every move, his every touch. Far from being dreadful or repellent as her sister Alice had described, this was the most thrilling experience she had ever encountered.

  Every kiss, every tender caress only left her wanting more. God knows she had struggled against her passion for Lochlainn desperately, but she wanted him.

  She didn't know why or how he had come to be in her room, but she was certain that this was what she desired above all else, even if she paid for it eventually. So much pleasure couldn't be so wrong, could it?

  The merging of their minds, bodies and emotions was a cataclysmic one. Each strained with the effort of trying to get as close as possible to the other. Lochlainn tugged the top of her chemise down to her waist to feel her full feminine softness, and Muireann caressed his bare chest boldly. In his hurry to reach her when she had begun to scream, Lochlainn hadn't had time to pull on anything more than a pair of breeches. She reveled in his smooth skin, and admired it as it gave off a creamy glow in the moonlight pouring in through the open shutters.

  The seams of her gown began to strain as he fondled her, until she broke off the kiss long enough to disrobe. She then fingered the waistband of his trousers boldly, until he yanked them off impatiently and stretched out his full length on the bed beside her. He was sure she was awake now, and despite his compelling need for her, he wanted to hold back a bit longer, to savor the moment. He kissed her neck and breasts. She laced her fingers through Lochlainn's thick lush hair and sighed softly. He teased each rosy peak in turn, until she pulled him up for another kiss. Then, placing both her hands on his hips, she guided him to her.

  They paused briefly to revel in the moment, kissing, stroking each other tenderly, until Muireann felt a moist burgeoning inside of her, an ache in her deepest core which only Lochlainn could satisfy. She ran her fingers through his light downy chest hair, marveling at its silky softness, before moving her hand lower until he gasped and positioned himself above her.

  Muireann thought briefly about warning him of her untouched state, but the last thing she wanted to do was to have him treat her like a fragile doll. She had been a burden to him, a delicate porcelain figure, ever since they had first met in Dublin the month before.

  But she was flesh and blood, with a mind of her own, and desires which, though unspoken, had raged inside of her ever since she had beheld his arrogantly handsome features at the Dun Laoghaire docks. So Muireann arched up to meet him, and bit back her cry as he pressed into her with one long hard stroke.

  Muireann could sense Lochlainn struggling for control as he pressed ever deeper, the pleasure almost unbearable. Not since his fiancée had run off over three years before had he trusted himself to get so near to a woman. Now he wished he could hold back the tide, give her a much pleasure as she was giving him.

  Muireann's gasps as he moved inside her proclaimed that she was certainly more than satisfied. Lochlainn tried to still his movements, but she tugged her lips away from his questing ones and begged, "Now, Lochlainn, please!"

  She dug her fingernails into his back. Then he gave her his all, throbbing into her until he nearly shouted his joy for all the world to hear.

  Afterwards, he pulled her over onto her side as he rolled over in the bed, and reached down to tug the covers up over them both. His huge hands, warm and firm, continued to stroke and explore her, until Muireann could feel all of the excitement building up inside herself again.

  Lochlainn tried to hold back, stunned, never having experienced such passion before. But Muireann persuaded him otherwise, wrapping one leg around his waist, leaning into him until they joined again as one. Lochlainn stroked the long graceful curve of her back, and toyed with the luxurious fall of wavy hair which tumbled down Muireann's back in glorious disarray as he made love to her.

  Muireann stroked his cheeks, planting kisses on his eyelids, before once again darting her tongue in and out of his mouth in imitation of what he had done to her. Nibbling his earlobes playfully, she felt Lochlainn began to shudder out of control again.

  She didn't wish to appear too eager, but she was perceptive enough to realize Lochlainn frequently felt inadequate around her. She wanted to give of herself, to show how important he was to her. She wanted to be powerful and alluring not only because of her wealth and social status, but also because of her attractiveness as a woman.

  Lochlainn certainly couldn't seem to get enough of her, as he pulled away once or twice to prevent himself from giving in to his own pleasure. He turned her onto her back gently, and covered her body with his hands, stroking her gently, almost as though trying to memorize her every curve.

  "Are you disappointed?" Muireann eventually worked up the courage to whisper, nervous at his intense scrutiny of her bare body and painfully aware of her own inexperience.

  "How could I be? I've never seen anything lovelier in my life than you, Muireann. You ought to know that," he said sincerely as he bent to kiss each breast in turn.

  He trailed hot molten kisses down her midriff, and gently turned her onto her stomach. Lochlainn began to stroke her back, and rubbed his lightly bristled cheek against her soft
skin. He drank in her scent and warmth and softness like a parched desert flower drinking in rain.

  Muireann shivered with the intensity of the pleasure his slightest touch gave. As his hand slipped between her thighs to caress her, she almost lost control.

  Turning over into his arms, she pleaded, "Lochlainn, now! I need you now."

  Lochlainn was shocked by her ardor, but was unable to resist her plea even had he wanted to. He stroked assuredly inside of her, until Muireann's face flushed and her breathing grew ragged. Lochlainn could see her struggling to subdue her emotions. Suddenly changing the rhythm to more powerful strokes, he urged in her ear, "Let it all go, Muireann."

  Muireann's body responded to his new tempo of its own accord.

  "Oh, Lochlainn!" she gasped, her eyes flying wide open as the miraculous sensations flooded through her from top to toe.

  She raked her fingernails down his back as she rode the crest of her passion, taking Lochlainn soaring with her.

  At last, both lay completely fulfilled in each other's arms, and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  With the cold light of day came the realization of what she had done. Muireann awoke to find herself alone in the bed. She would have almost thought the night of lovemaking she had shared with Lochlainn had been a dream had she not seen with her own eyes the ruined sheets, and smelt Lochlainn's unmistakable woodsy fragrance on the pillow she hugged to herself when she woke up. A pleasant ache between her thighs and in the pit of her belly reminded her of the incredible sensations Lochlainn had filled her with the night before.

  But what would he think of her now? Surely he couldn't love her, could he? His heart had sustained irreparable damage when Tara had gone away. He had told her so himself. Muireann had allowed their friendship to deepen, knowing in what direction it had been leading. She had tried to resist treading the path of temptation, but had grown tired of denying her own needs and desires. Yet now that she found herself at her expected destination, what was she to do next?

  In the end she decided to take her cue from Lochlainn. If he was cold, aloof and distant, she would be as well. If he showed the least sign of regret, they would simply have to pretend that none of it had happened. But what if he wanted more?

  Muireann was no fool. The thought of an unwanted child filled her with a cold dread. She padded over to her dressing table to tug on her robe, which she had left on the back of the chair, then took her brush and sat back on the bed with it. As she brushed her tumbled locks into some semblance of order, she reflected that although she would be delighted to have a child some day, this was certainly not the right moment.

  What would her parents say? Or Alice? Enough time had elapsed for people to suspect the infant couldn't possibly be Augustine's, unless she said the child was very late. On the other hand, she might not even be pregnant at all, she thought.

  "But if the damage is already done. . ."she wondered aloud wistfully, but pushed that notion firmly to one side.

  She rose from the bed to tug the bloodstained sheets off it, and rammed them into the bottom drawer of her dresser. The last thing she wanted was for Lochlainn to find out she had been a virgin and either reproach himself or pity her. It was bad enough he had had to look after her ever since he had arrived, she reflected as she went down the hall checking each room, and found his pallet.

  So he had been keeping an eye on her. The knowledge rankled. The last thing she wanted was for Lochlainn to treat her like a child or an incompetent. She certainly didn't want to be a burden to him. She also knew a relationship based upon pity would never succeed in the long run.

  No, Muireann wanted to prove to Lochlainn that she could stand on her own two feet, be independent. But did that necessarily have to exclude a romantic relationship with him? Did they even have enough in common to have a future together?

  It was all so confusing, Muireann sighed as she began to remake the bed. The clock in the steeple of the nearby church struck eight, and at last she shook herself from her torpor. There was no need to make a decision right now. She would just have to see how things progressed. She was completely unsure what Lochlainn wanted, and it was not exactly the sort of question one came right out and asked.

  When she saw him next, she would be politely friendly, but not terribly intimate with him, Muireann determined as she finished tucking the sheets under the mattress. At any rate, she and Lochlainn had far too much work to do to be spending time billing and cooing with one another. With the weather growing warmer, the planting season would progress apace. There was also the tree cutting, breadmaking, milking, egg rounds, trips to market, sewing, and all of the other chores they both did around Barnakilla. She would have plenty to do day and night, without letting herself be distracted by her oh so alluring estate manager.

  Lochlainn, too, was distant, unable to believe he had had the temerity to take advantage of Muireann's desperate plight when she had turned to him for comfort. He prayed she wouldn't send him away for his disgraceful conduct.

  Even worse was the knowledge that he still wanted her. Making love to her had been like trying a new, addictive, powerful drug. Every time her amethyst eyes gazed at him, he wanted to kiss her senseless. His relationship with Tara had never been like this, he thought with alarm, wondering if what he felt for Muireann could be true love. He had been fascinated by Tara, yet now he could barely even recall what she looked like.

  It was awful to have tasted the joys he and Muireann had shared together, yet never be able to have her for himself. He was convinced he would one day wake up to find she had gone, just as Tara had disappeared.

  Worse still, she might wake beside him full of regrets, and tell him she never wanted to see him again. He had risked everything because of his uncontrollable desires: his home, his friendship with Muireann, his livelihood.

  Thus Lochlainn, full of guilt, shame, and fear, avoided Muireann, even when other people were around.

  He thinks it was a mistake, she reflected miserably, and in turn began to avoid him as well.

  How could I have been such a fool, she groaned in the privacy of her own room later that day, and shed a few bitter tears into her pillow. Muireann had never known desire could be so acute, so compelling. The more she told herself it was impossible, the more she seemed to want him.

  She had opened a door within herself, had experienced a burst of freedom such as she had never known before, only to have her desires and needs curbed and shackled once again, as they had always been. Lochlainn was right there at Barnakilla with her, but he felt as though he had already left her far behind.

  A busy week at the farm prevented Muireann from brooding too deeply, however, and she knew it would serve no purpose to look downcast in front of the others for fear they might think she was giving up, and lose heart themselves. She tried to maintain a cheerful front, and worked harder than ever to get Barnakilla back on its feet.

  As February turned to March, the days lengthened, and the weather improved. Muireann found herself restless, and kept taking on more and more new projects. She knew it was because she was filled with the joys of spring, but it was also to avoid any chance of seeing Lochlainn unless absolutely necessary.

  One bright sunny afternoon Muireann decided to check her prize horses, and perhaps take one of them for some exercise herself rather than leave it to the young men who were working as grooms in the stables.

  She was just finishing loading oats into the feeding troughs when Lochlainn came into the fragrant-smelling outbuilding.

  "Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were here," he apologized, about to beat a hasty retreat.

  "That's all right. Stay here and talk with me for a moment." Muireann smiled timidly as she sat down on a bale of hay.

  Lochlainn looked at her warily, and then shook his head. "No, no, I mustn't stop. I'm just about to finish that sideboard for the Colonel, and I was coming to harness the horses to take it over to him, if that's all right with you."


  "Of course it is. You don't need to ask permission to use the wagon, you know."

  "I thought you might have needed it yourself."

  "To pay all my social visits?" she laughed.

  Lochlainn colored. "I know this must be hard for you, not what you're used to at all, of course, Mrs. Caldwell," he said stiffly, and fled the barn.

  Once she was alone, Muireann wondered if that perhaps was Lochlainn's whole problem, why he had been avoiding her. Perhaps he couldn't get around the fact that she had been genteelly brought up, and had doubts as to how she would cope at Barnakilla.

  He thinks I am going to disappear back into that vain and empty world, doesn't he? After all, Tara did.