Molly in the Middle

by Stobie Piel

  "The logical speculation is that he wanted me to use against you, because of your inheritance. But that doesn't make sense."

  "Girl has a point. If he was after killing her, he'd have done it, and hightailed himself out of there. He took her a'purpose."

  "If only I'd questioned him a bit more!"

  Nathan fought for patience. "He wasn't likely to spew his secrets to you, woman."

  "If I'd played along"

  "No!" Nathan seized Miren's arm. She looked determined. "You are to restrain any impulse to go off on your own, is that understood?"

  "I suppose so."

  "These Games . . . They're in Oban, yes?"

  Miren's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "They are. They'll be especially grand this year, because the queen is attending. Why do you ask?"

  "We're supposed to attend. I'd thought to get out of it, but perhaps we'll go."

  "Why?"

  Nathan met her gaze. "My ship is in Oban. It might provide a good way to get you on board before suspicions are raised."

  Her face paled, and she looked down to hide her disappointment. Nathan steeled himself against her sorrow. "I told you I would arrange your passage to America."

  She didn't look up. "Yes, but we haven't heard from my uncle yet."

  "He can be located after you arrive. I'll see that you have a place to stay until permanent arrangements can be made."

  "I don't want to go." Her voice came small, but it drove like splinters into his heart. Nathan touched her chin, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

  "Miren, we agreed. Your safety is what matters. There's nothing for you here." He spoke as bluntly as he could with Simon standing beside him. He didn't want to hurt her, but he couldn't let her cling to false hope, either.

  Miren twisted her chin from his grasp and turned away. "I know." She headed back toward the meadow, and she didn't look back.

  Nathan drew a tight breath, then started after her. Simon caught his arm and held him back. "I warned you, lad. You're playing hero. And the only thing it'll get you is pain."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Flip expects me to stay at his side at all times. Which means I'm stuck watching the sheep. All day. It is a torment. And after such a night of bliss . . .

  Males of all species are troublesome. The young mistress returned from her walk with Nathan and hasn't spoken to him since. He went to the manor, leaving Simon snoozing under the willow.

  I fully understand the young mistress's grievance. The male provides his proper duty, which should be sufficient. But can he let it go at that? No. He feels he must take charge of the female's every action. Flip has tried to goad me into positioning the flock. He must be stopped.

  For a few days, it was well worth the effort. My cycle is fading now, and it's time I return to what really matters. Securing my position as house pet.

  Men are the most irritating creatures in all the world. Miren sat at her small table, fuming. Nathan had taken overher life. He'd taken her decisions and made them himself. As if they were his to make in the first place.

  True, she had planned to emigrate to America. She had worked to secure passage on a ship. But he simply stepped in and took control, and insisted she go when he said, on the ship he chose, and not even by her own volition. She had intended to pay her own way. Instead, he was arranging everything.

  He even sent word to her uncle in Maine. How rude! Miren had put off writing to her uncle because she feared if he learned of her destitute state, he would insist on paying her way. "Which is probably the case. He's a man."

  Miren's frown deepened until her cheeks ached. Nathan was pushy. No question. He'd decided she was in danger. He'd decided it was his responsibility to protect her. "I never asked for his help." Except for the situation in jail. "And that wasn't a plea for help, either." No, she'd offered him a business proposition.

  She'd allowed him to dictate her life because she cared for him. "love doesn't make a person a slave." Miren rose from her seat. "And I will tell him so!"

  She marched to the door. A soft breeze edged in from the loch. Miren studied her flock. Earnest was grazing close beside Blossom. Huntley was standing beside Simon, who slept beneath the willow. Two old men, resting in the afternoon. A pleasant sight.

  And one she wasn't ready to abandon. "If I listen to him, I won't even see my first lambs."

  Love wasn't meant to dominate a woman's common sense. Miren felt sure of that. Molly sat on her haunches beside Flip. Flip crouched as he watched the sheep. Molly looked bored. Maybe a little annoyed. Their eyes met. Miren sighed. She felt sure that Molly sighed, too.

  Miren left the pasture and went to the manor. She let herself in. Muffin met her at the door, growling. "Drop!"

  Muffin flinched at Miren's harsh tone, then slunk away.

  "Nathaniel! I want a word with you. Now!"

  Something dropped and shattered. It sounded like a teacup. Lady MacCallum whisked in from the sitting room, braced into full indignation. "Young woman . . .!"

  "Where is my 'fiancé'?"

  Lady MacCallum's eyes widened into pale blue pools of shocked offense. "The behavior you are exhibiting . . ."

  "I'm here." Nathan came up behind her, but Miren didn't startle. She turned to face him, her hands on her hips. His eyes glittered, his lips twitched toward a smile.

  "I wouldn't smile if I were you."

  "What disturbs you, my precious angel?"

  "I want to talk to you. Alone."

  Nathan glanced at Lady MacCallum. "If you'll excuse us . . ."

  "That girl must be schooled in the arts of society at once. It isn't acceptable for you to marry . . ."

  Miren seized Nathan's arm and yanked him toward the door. "Alone."

  She didn't release him as she marched down the stairs. He wasn't resisting. She would have preferred some resistance. "Miren, my sweet . . . There's something I must know."

  She stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "What?"

  "Are we headed for another quarrel?"

  Her chin elevated. "It seems likely."

  His brown eyes shone with delight. A completely unsatisfying response. "In that case, we do need to be alone. You know where quarreling leads us."

  A fierce, sputtering growl rose from her chest to her throat, then forced itself through clenched teeth. Miren twitched with fury. "The temptation to strike you is strong, but I will restrain myself."

  She turned her back and marched toward the meadow. "Follow me."

  She heard Nathan behind her. "The grass is tall, it could work." She knew what he meant. He wanted to make loveto her in the grass. Outside. In broad daylight. Maybe if they went over the crest a bit . . .

  Miren clapped her hand to her forehead. "What am I thinking?"

  Nathan caught up with her. "And if you'd share it with me"

  "I will not." Miren checked their position. "Far enough."

  He was smiling. He looked sensual. She wanted to kiss him.

  "There are a few things we need to set straight between us."

  "Before or after?"

  "Before!" She caught a quick breath. "There will be no 'after.' I have decided not to be the source of your idle time anymore. Meaning"

  "I know what you mean." His smile faded, but he didn't look angry. He looked resigned. "What do you want to talk about?"

  "You are becoming, well, bossy." She didn't sound as sure of herself as she had when she left the cottage. Curses! He looked so rational.

  "Bossy?"

  "Yes. You have decided what I should do, and when, and you've taken over, despite the fact I'm quite capable of handling matters on my own. I didn't ask for your help. If you recall, I only offered a business proposition for your consideration. And a good percentage, too. Sixty percent was my original proposal, which was negotiable."

  Nathan nodded, then scrunched his face as if straining his memory. "Sixty percent . . . of, what was it your fleece earned . . . twenty-five shillings?"

  "That was only my initial income, s
ir. Much will follow, if I tend my flock to prime readiness."

  "If you survive that long. . . . Miren, I understand"

  "You do not! You think you're responsible for me. Well, you're not. True, there was a slight problem with the manwho attacked me, but I won't allow fear to dictate my actions. Or you, sir."

  "'Sir'? You're calling me 'sir'? You must be angry."

  She didn't answer, assuming that her expression revealed enough.

  Nathan nodded again. "The point of all this is that you don't want to leave Scotland. Is that it?"

  Her eyes darted to the side, then back. "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "I'm not ready!"

  "Because you want your sheep to prosper, or to stay near me?"

  Her cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and anger. "Your conceit"

  He touched her face, his hand softened a wayward curl. "Miren, don't lie to me. And please, don't lie to yourself."

  She met his eyes. He looked sympathetic, tender. And he was right. "I don't want to leave."

  "I know. But it's for your own good."

  "That's not for you to say."

  "It is if I'm the reason you're staying." He pulled an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to her. "Read it."

  She opened it and pulled out a letter. "It's from my uncle."

  "It is. He sent word as soon as he received my message. He's been worried about you. In fact, he's been trying to find you. He wants you there, Miren. He says there's a position for you, as governess to his children. He mentions also that your social life should be greatly improved." Nathan paused. "Apparently, his lumbering business attracts young men of means, probably bent on marriage."

  "What a comfort!" Miren squashed the letter and hurled it at Nathan's head. He ducked, and it fell behind him. "Tell me, have you selected a husband for me, too? Or do I get some say in the matter?"

  "Please be reasonable"

  Miren poked his chest. "You be reasonable! You don'twant me. Fine. I can accept that. You feel responsible, so you've arranged for my safety. Annoying, but also acceptable. But you will not decide how or with whom I spend my life."

  Miren whirled and started toward the cottage, leaving him speechless. She stopped, turned back, and pointed her finger at him. "You want me gone. I will be gone. We'll carry this charade through to Oban, because I do think your scheme on behalf of your nephew is an honorable one. But when I board that ship, I leave you, and everything to do with you."

  Hot tears burned her eyes. Her chin quivered as she realized how final her words sounded. Nathan didn't argue. He didn't try to stop her. What she'd found in his arms had come and gone, and there could be no looking back.

  No looking back. But for a single moment, she couldn't look away. He stood on the meadow crest, the loch breeze in his hair. He looked like a Highlander. Maybe he looked like an Indian, too. And within both, Miren saw something so stubborn, so strong, that she knew no plea would change his mind. He was doing what he thought right. She couldn't change him. She had no right to try.

  Miren allowed his image to steal its place in her mind. She would remember him this way always. Tall and strong, and unyielding. So beautiful that her heart ached to look at him. And so distant that she could sooner reach the stars than touch his heart.

  Miren turned away and started for the cottage. She didn't look back.

  She didn't look back. Not once. She made her way through the bluebells, crossed the road, and swung open the pasture gate. She disappeared into her cottage, and never once looked back in his direction.

  Nathan didn't move. He stood alone in the pasture, torn between following her and leaving her as she wished, alone. They had time yet. He dadn't fully acknowledged it to himself, but he had expected their affair to continue. He'd expected her in his arms this night, and every night until she left.

  It wasn't fair. He knew that, but he reasoned that if she wanted it, too, their relationship harmed no one. It gave them both something to cherish when their time together passed.

  Miren couldn't understand, not fully. Whether she believed it or not, her life was in his hands. He'd brought her into danger, he'd disrupted her life. If he didn't act to protect her, the same fate would befall Miren as befell David. She might one day look at him as his father had done, as a disappointment, as a man who failed her when she needed him. As hard as it had been to see her look at him in anger, disappointment would be worse.

  Nathan looked toward the manor, then back at the cottage. He was trapped by his own failings, by what he couldn't be. If he could make her understand . . . He found himself walking toward her cottage, through the gate, and through her sheep.

  Simon still slept beneath the willow, dozing past his allotted time. Nathan went to Miren's door and knocked. He heard a long, drawn-out sigh within. "Miren, please let me in."

  He expected resistance. A firm, pert "no." He could argue, get mad, and break her door down again. It should be easier this time, weakened by his first blow, with the hinges only braced now. She'd be waiting for him, ready to fight. Assuming she had any pottery left.

  And he would lose control and fight back, and they would surrender to the sweetest bliss he'd ever known . . .

  The door opened, and Miren stood back for him to enter. The distance separating them widened, but she didn't look angry. She looked resigned.

  "I don't want this between us, Miren."

  "I know."

  She walked to the bed and turned back. Tears glistened on her cheeks. Her hands worked quickly on her dress, and it came off. Nathan stared in amazement as she pulled off hershoes. She removed her corset, leaving only her chemise. She held out her arms to him, and a gentle smile curved her lips. "Come here."

  Nathan hesitated. His body responded eagerly, but it felt like a dream. He crossed the room and stood before her, uncertain. Tears stained her cheeks, but she wasn't crying. He gazed down into her eyes and saw all her soul peering up at him. "I love you, Indian."

  His throat caught, his chest tightened. He shook his head before he knew what he was doing. Miren placed her hand over his heart. "You're not beholden to me. I'm not asking anything of you." The rhythm of her soft Scottish burr soaked into him, mesmerizing and sweet. He would hear that voice forever after, echoing in his dreams.

  "Miren, I never meant to hurt you."

  She smiled. Chills coursed beneath his skin. He hadn't known, not fully, how strong she was, how much stronger than he could ever be. "You're not hurting me, Indian. You're giving me something I'd never have had without you." Her hand went to his face, and she ran her fingers to his mouth. "So I'm asking something, after all. I'm asking you to hold me, and do what you did before, and do it for each night to come, until I go on that ship."

  Nathan kissed her fingers, but tears stung his eyes. "Will it be enough?" His voice came hoarse and strained, torn from deep inside him.

  "Nathaniel . . ." Her smile was wider now, creating dimples in her cheeks. Yet her dark blue eyes still glistened with tears. Mist over a Highland loch. He used to think she carried Scotland in her eyes . . .

  "Nathaniel, nothing will ever be enough between us. That's the way of it. there's nothing you and I can ever do that will take me deep enough inside you, or enough years to spend at your side. I have days. No, it's not enough. But it's all we have."

  She transformed before his eyes. He wasn't sure how, butthe last vestiges of her childhood slipped away and left a woman in its place. A practical woman, a woman who knew her own heart, and knew what to ask of her lover.

  He knew as he stared into her small, lovely face that this woman wouldn't die if he left her. Her life wouldn't end. She wouldn't hate him for what he couldn't be, or the things he couldn't give. She would go on. She would probably marry, and her husband would cherish her.

  ''I thought you and I hadn't said enough to each other. But I was wrong. I know what you are and what's inside you." Her hands slipped from his face to his shirt. She carefully unbuttoned his shirt, without poppi
ng any buttons this time, and left it hanging open. She placed her palm over his heart. "You're a good man, whether you think so or not. And when I'm gone, part of me stays with you."

  It wasn't enough. He wanted all of her. He wanted her laughter, her soft whispers. He wanted her beside him, instructing him about sheep and dogs, and all the things he'd overlooked throughout his life.

  And when she went to America, he wanted to be at her side, showing her a world she'd dreamt of. Showing her his father's homeland . . .

  The man he saw beside her wasn't himself. Another man held her. A man she could depend on. A man he longed to be, and wasn't. He looked at Miren, but he saw his father at their last meeting. "You think of your duties when it's too late. What you take into your hands you destroy, because you put yourself before everything".

  It was true. He would live for himself, enjoying her. And a time would come when she needed him and he wouldn't be there. "Miren, I'll give you what I have, but you deserve more."

  She pressed her mouth against his chest, over his heart. She rested her cheek against him for a moment, then looked up. "There is so much sorrow in you. Not for the world would I add to that, nor cause you any pain. I know you think you'vefailed the people who mattered to youyour father, your brother. But I'm not them, Nathaniel. I want you, not for what you can do for me, but for what we can share. Do you understand?"

  "You need me."

  "And you're stubborn. That must be the Scots blood in you. Or maybe the Indians, they're stubborn, too?"

  "They're stubborn, too."

  "Then there's no getting around it. Aye, I need you. But not as my shield, Nathan. I need you"her lips curved into a seductive smile, her eyes sparkled with sensual play"as my sword."

  Her hand wormed its way down his chest, over his stomach, and beneath his waistband. Her small, seeking fingers found the tip of his staff and circled it with a light, teasing touch. Nathan's breath caught in his throat as she unbuckled his belt and pulled open his trousers.

  "You need me, too." Her voice came low and raspy, altered by desire. She freed his erection, and he stood transfixed as she wrapped her hand tight around its base. She leaned toward him, face tilted up. She stroked him slow, and with such confidence that he thought his knees might buckle.