Call Home the Heart

by Shannon Farrell

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The next morning, the Andromeda set off at first light, and made good progress thanks to the favorable winds. Soon Muireann and Lochlainn were sailing into Donegal Town harbor, where her cousin Michael dropped them off at the dock.

  "Don't forget to give them all my letters," she called as she disembarked.

  "As if I could! Any more of those packets would have sunk the ship!"

  Muireann stuck her tongue out at Michael and then waved to her younger cousin. "Bye, Archie! Take care! And remember, not a word to Mother or Father!"

  Archie waved his new puppy's paw by way of reply. He had managed to secure a lovely bitch from Colonel Lowry, which they named Earc. Lochlainn told them the Irish name meant ‘red.'

  The Andromeda cast off then, heading north, then east for Scotland.

  Muireann watched it wistfully for a time, and then turned to Lochlainn, who had been standing behind her waiting for the ship to disappear and leave him alone with her once again.

  Her amethyst eyes glimmered with unshed tears, but she forced herself to smile.

  Lochlainn put his arm around her waist, for a brief moment, then stepped away to make some inquiries for them to be taken out to Rossnowlagh to get started gathering sea sticks.

  A few minutes later he announced, "I've got a lift."

  They managed to get a ride on the back of a furniture cart heading back out of the town after having sold all its wares early at the market.

  After a few miles, Lochlainn declared, "Now we have to get down and walk."

  He lifted her off the back of the cart, his hands lingering on her slender waist intimately for a blissful moment. They trudged about three miles overland until at last they reached the most exquisite beach Muireann had ever seen.

  It stretched for miles, a golden strand, with seaweed, the valuable sea sticks, and some seashells the only items marring its smooth surface.

  Muireann took off her boots and stockings, and hitched up her skirts to above her knees, enjoying the cool, smooth feeling of the sand between her toes. Tadhg, who had accompanied them, sitting on her lap obediently for almost the whole journey, sported himself by chasing the surf, and after a time, he even copied his mistress and began fetching sea sticks to drop on the pile.

  He also proved to be an excellent winkler and whelker, for as the sun rose high in the sky and the tide began to go out, Lochlainn suggested they collect some shellfish for their meal.

  Using her shawl tied around her waist as an apron, she and Lochlainn collected winkles, cockles, whelks and mussels. Lochlainn set a small fire going with some of the flotsam that had been cast further up the beach. Muireann had had the foresight to bring a small saucepan in a bag she had slung over one shoulder, and some fresh water drinking water and few wooden bowls and spoons. The three of them shared the meal, with Muireann and Lochlainn chatting about all they had seen so far that day.

  "The Andromeda is a fine ship."

  "It is indeed. We'll be able to do wonders with it. You know, Lochlainn, I really am beginning to feel as if our luck might be changing after all."

  "I certainly hope so." He smiled down at her, and patted the jolly little pup on the head to hide his emotions.

  After they had finished their meal, they gathered sea sticks for another hour, but as the weather turned warmer, Muireann suddenly stripped off her black and burgundy checked gown, and all of her underclothes except her petticoat and chemise, and charged into the surf. Tadhg the terrier charged after her, wondering what new game his mistress was playing now.

  She hit the water with a gasp, and then began to paddle even further away from the shore.

  "Muireann, it's freezing! Come out of there!" Lochlainn called, standing at the water's edge in his bare feet.

  He was afraid Muireann would drown, but a few strokes told him she swam as well as she did everything else.

  He watched the graceful naiad in the water for a few minutes until, with a sigh, he stripped off all his clothes and thundered naked into the chilly surf.

  "I was wondering if you could swim," she laughed.

  "Only with great difficulty," he admitted, as he stopped at the point where he could still comfortably touch bottom with his feet if he needed to.

  Muireann swam up to him and kissed him. It wasn't long before they were scurrying for the privacy of a sand dune, leaving Tadhg playing contentedly on the beach in the tide.

  Their lovemaking was urgent and desperate, full of the fear of discovery, and enhanced by the excitement of their being able to see each other's responses clearly in the broad daylight.

  The sand and icy water had set their skin tingling, and every caress of their hands was like sweet torture. He stroked her breasts and belly and rolled her under him, entering her with one sure thrust. More eager than ever, Muireann climaxed almost instantly, with Lochlainn following just behind.

  "This is bliss," she purred when she had calmed. She rubbed her cheek against his damp chest, snuggling up to him like a contented cat.

  "That's one of the things I always hate about the beach."

  "What, making love in the dunes?" she teased.

  "No, getting sand all over."

  Lochlainn blushed as she tried to dust off his more intimate areas, and felt his arousal burning within and without.

  She kissed him, but as much as she wanted to make love with him again, duty called.

  "Come on. We'll go for another swim to wash ourselves off, and get back to the sea sticks."

  "But you'll freeze in those wet things," Lochlainn worried.

  "I have my very own bundle of tricks. I got some clean linen from your sister for you, and brought some myselfin my bag. So let's get washed and changed, and go gather up another few bunches. After all, we need the fertilizer. And remember, the others will be here soon enough."

  The joy of the moment was thus lost, and though Lochlainn tried to recapture it with a warm, rousing kiss, there was work to be done.

  The hours flew by faster than he had ever known. He loved being alone with her, chatting to her about her childhood memories and experiences, and her life in Scotland. At one point she remarked as she stooped for more sticks to add to her pile, "But you never talk about yourself, your childhood. Was it so bad?"

  Lochlainn thought carefully before replying. "It was hard, I have to say. My aunt sewed for a living. It was a nightmare for her to try to feed the three of us at times. I also know she never got married because no one wanted the responsibility of looking after us."

  "It must have been terrible, that sensation of being unwanted."

  He nodded. "It was. Ciara and I were close when we were younger, but once we were both marrying age, well, she changed."

  "In what way?" she asked, looking at him directly.

  His gray eyes reflected the pain of the recollection. "I don't know. She acted like I wasn't good enough for her any more. She put on all sorts of fancy airs and graces. She lost her happiness somehow, her joy of living."

  She was surprised at his description of his sister. "I must admit it's very difficult to imagine her happy, if even something as simple as a little puppy like Tadhg can send her into fits."

  Lochlainn shook his head then. "We seem to do nothing but talk about things which cast a pall over the day. Why don't we play a game instead?"

  "What would you like to play?"

  "Authors to start with, and then perhaps quotations?" he suggested.

  "All right," Muireann assented. They passed the rest of the afternoon agreeably playing games and singing songs.

  As the sun dipped toward the horizon, Muireann said, "I think it's about time we got supper started, don't you? It'll be getting dark soon, and we'll need more firewood and a nice place to bed down for the night."

  "You go gather more winkles. I'll get the firewood and set up camp."

  Muireann was able to produce a sumptuous meal with what she had gleaned from the sea, and the items she had brought in her small bag. They a
te bathed in the rosy light of the setting sun, and she had never felt more content. They even finished off their meal with a cup of coffee each.

  "My little contribution to the supper," he said, offering her the brown paper package. "I bought another pack out of all the things going to the market today."

  "I hope they got a good price for the other things."

  "Well, you can ask them yourself," he said. "It sounds like they're on their way."

  Patrick and Siobhan saw the cooking fire glowing in the distance, and pulled the wagon right up onto the beach in front of them.

  "It will help act as a windbreak to keep the sea breezes off us," Patrick explained as he jumped down off the box.

  "There's some supper here if you want it," Muireann offered.

  "It smells good," Siobhan said with an appreciative sniff, shaking her auburn hair back from her face as a gentle wind tossed it to and fro.

  "Well, you'd better hurry before the whelks turn too chewy, or Tadhg eats every last one of them." Lochlainn laughed as the dog's bearded muzzle probed the saucepan.

  All four of them discussed their different experiences in Donegal Town, until Lochlainn rose and stretched.

  "Well, if you'll excuse us, I'm sure Muireann has had a very long day, so we're going to bed down behind that sand dune."

  Muireann blushed, but took the hand he held out for her. With Tadhg bounding along behind, they sought their own private corner of the beach. They lay on their backs in each other's arms watching as millions of stars came out overhead.

  Lochlainn impressed her with his knowledge of the names of the different constellations, pointing them out to her between kisses.

  Muireann thought she had never spent such a perfect day. As Lochlainn's mouth found hers for a deep, deep kiss, she melted in his embrace, surrounding his body as he surrounded hers.

  Wherever he is, she thought at the back of her mind, is my home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Muireann's four days and nights on the beach at Rossnowlagh did her a world of good, but it seemed as if the time just flew by. All too soon they had to return to Barnakilla with the carts laden with their valuable cargo.

  Gathering the sticks and seaweed to dry and prepare for fertilizer had certainly been hard labor, but working by the sea in the fresh air, and eating the bounty they took from the ocean, had at least put some color back into Muireann's cheeks.

  The sea breezes had allowed her to sleep more soundly than ever before, and Lochlainn was delighted that she never seemed to have a single nightmare any more.

  On their last day, Muireann stood by the water's edge, letting the surf lap between her toes as she watched the breakers roll in.

  "We can always come back, you know," Lochlainn said softly as he came up behind her and wrapped her in his enveloping cloak, protecting her from the chill wind with his warm, strong body.

  "I know. It's just sad that it has to come to an end," she sighed. "Tadhg loved the beach, and it was fun, swimming, playing in the dunes, sleeping under the stars, wasn't it?"

  "For you perhaps. You could teach a mermaid how to swim."

  "You're getting better all the time," she said sincerely. "We can continue your lessons once we get back to Barnakilla. But Lochlainn, I've been thinking . . ."

  Lochlainn's face fell. He knew what she was going to say before she even said it. She was leaving him.

  The catch in his voice seemed painfully obvious to him as he asked, "Thinking about what, my dear?"

  "I know we're doing well, but I really think I should go to Dublin to investigate the house at St. Stephen's Green, and see if I can sell it."

  His heart pounded in his chest. She was going back to the city. Then back to Scotland.

  "Do you want me to come with you?" he dared to ask, though he was certain of the answer. No. She didn't want him. Not any more.

  "No, because I would have to be away for some time, consulting with Anthony Lowry about the legal documents and so on, and--"

  I understand," he said curtly. He couldn't bear listening to any excuses. Not now, not after the most perfect four days. After all they had just shared, it seemed an even more cruel betrayal than the one committed by Tara.

  "Where would you stay?" he asked after a time.

  "Anthony Lowry has kindly offered to put me up in his house in Harcourt Street."

  Lochlainn scowled. "And is he married?"

  "He's engaged to be married. It's all perfectly respectable. He has a housekeeper to look after things for him, so we would be chaperoned."

  "I see. You seem to have all the details worked out perfectly. I imagine you've been planning this trip for some time."

  "No, not exactly," she denied, wondering why he suddenly seemed so gloomy. Offended, even.

  Lochlainn swallowed audibly. "When would you leave?"

  "Soon enough. The end of the month, perhaps."

  "After your birthday?" Lochlainn asked, allowing himself a small glimmer of hope. Perhaps if he had enough time, he could convince her to stay?

  "Aye, after my birthday."

  "You'd also have to preside over the May Day festivities. And there's the shearing coming up," he reminded her, trying to think of any excuse to keep her with him a bit longer.

  "Yes, of course." Muireann smiled. She herself was not terribly anxious to go, and she hated leaving any unfinished business behind. "There's no hurry. The middle of May will be time enough, won't it?"

  "Aye, it will be, indeed," he replied, hugging her close, glad she couldn't see the haunted expression in his eyes.

  Then he released her, and took her by the hand. "Come, my dear. Barnakilla beckons."

  She cast one last wistful look down the golden strand, and allowed herself to be led away.

  He lifted her onto the box beside Patrick, handed her the puppy, and got up beside her. He clicked to the horse as he turned the cart around and headed for home.

  Ten days later Muireann celebrated her birthday in grand style. She put on her favorite black watch tartan gown, and tied an old red hair ribbon around Tadhg's neck to remind everyone that he had been a present. Lochlainn roused her early for a long ride on the mare she seldom got to exercise any more, and admired her superb horsemanship.

  When they got in, he laid before her bacon, eggs, and sausages for breakfast, and made her eat every mouthful. While she sat eating, she received dozens of bunches of wildflowers and some homemade gifts such as embroidered handkerchiefs and a new apron with her initials on it from her closest friends.

  Then he took her for a walk in the woods, and hugged and kissed her frequently, enjoying being away from the ever-watchful eye of his sister for even a short while.

  She was the only person who didn't seem to enter into the festive atmosphere. He wondered why she always looked so disapprovingly at them.

  But no one was going to spoil Muireann's special day, not if he could help it. He even got a small rowboat out and took her onto a little island on the lough.

  "We should have brought a picnic," she commented, swirling one hand languidly in the water while he pulled at the oars.

  "A good idea for another time. I'm afraid there's a special surprise awaiting you when we get back to the house. We'll have that picnic another day though, won't we?"

  "Soon, please. But it's so difficult to find the time."

  He grinned lopsidedly. "If it's important, my dear, we'll just have to make the time."

  Priscilla Stephens had organized a small party for Muireann. He had agreed to get her out of the way so that everything could be set up.

  She was delighted to return and find everyone there smiling and offering their best wishes.

  Since it was a glorious spring day, they arranged the kitchen benches outside, and set out the food, all sorts of meat pies and pastries which Sharon and Brona had baked. Priscilla had brought cake, some wine, beer, and whisky, freshly baked scones, and strawberry jam for all the workers. Everyone tucked in heartily, and personally offered th
eir new landlord many happy returns of the day.

  Muireann blushed to the roots of her hair as she expressed her gratitude to Priscilla for the kind gesture. "Really, it's so kind of you to have done all this for me."

  "It's the least I can do. You deserve it, with you being so far from home, and after everything you've done for all these people," Priscilla said shyly.

  She desperately tried to restrain her two sons, who insistently tugged at Muireann's hands begging to be shown the horses and lambs.