“Mommy, look! There’s some eggs already!” Nora squealed, which caused several panicked hens to flap wildly.
Which finally caused Nathan to bolt out the door. He ran into the legs of a tall, masculine body. “M-Mr. MacBain.”
“Good morning, Nathan. Getting henhouse-raiding lessons from your mom?”
“I—we—I was just going to get the hens some water, sir.”
“Maybe you should take the bucket with you.”
His face flushed scarlet, Nathan bravely ventured back into the henhouse and picked up the water bucket. Keeping his head down, he quickly moved around Robbie and ran to the house.
“I’m collecting eggs,” Nora piped up, feeling proud of herself and her two oval prizes. She was also feeling safe behind her mother’s legs. “It’s my new job.”
With an indulgent smile, Robbie nodded to the girl and then turned his questioning, smiling eyes on Catherine.
“I want my kids to have their own chores,” she told him, her own face reddening. “And chickens are a good place to begin. I thought you wouldn’t mind.”
Robbie nodded, looking as if he couldn’t decide if he dared to laugh or not. Which brought the heat up another notch in Catherine’s cheeks. “Is it okay?”
“You’re their mother. If you want to give them chores, then by all means do.” He canted his head. “You up to a trip into town?”
“To shop?” she asked. “As in what women do best?”
Robbie MacBain at least had the grace to wince. “I guess that was a pretty sexist remark, wasn’t it? But I truly do hate to shop,” he confessed by way of apology. He straightened from the door and let her out, along with Nora, who was clutching her two eggs to her chest. “I have to go pick up a well pump,” he continued, walking beside them. “I can drop you off at the market and then pick you up when I’m done. How would that be?”
“Just let me get Nathan and Nora ready,” she agreed, moving swiftly away from him, hoping it would help her breathe normally again. Good God, the man really was big.
“Ah…about the kids. Would you be willing to leave them here?” he asked.
Catherine spun around and stared up at him. She bit her lip and pondered. She didn’t want to, but she and her children had been living in one another’s pockets for the last two and a half months. Nathan and Nora were fast becoming clinging vines. Finally, she nodded.
“They’ll be fine here, Cat. Gunter and Rick will keep an eye on them. They’ll be safe.”
She nodded again, having nothing else to say. Holding on to Nora’s shoulder, Catherine led the silent girl back to the house to put her eggs away. Then she would start to snip some of those vines tying her family together. Her kids weren’t going to like it any more than she did, but they were safer here than they had been on the mountain when she’d gone to get food. They would survive.
And, she hoped, so would she.
Condoms?
Somebody had put condoms on the list, just below a request for a three-bladed razor. Condoms. That was all. Nothing was written beside it—not what kind or how many.
Catherine’s face burned beneath the fluorescent lights of the supermarket. Already her cart was full of shaving cream, razors, deodorant, and athlete’s foot medicine. Now it appeared she was also expected to buy rubbers.
There were several different handwritings on the list, obviously put there by several different boys in need. So who needed condoms? She had seen Robbie adding to the list. Did the man expect his housekeeper to buy his sexual aids? And how many? Three? A dozen? A gross?
Catherine kept her eyes on her cart, willing her face to cool, and made her way over to the aisle of personal stuff. She found what she was looking for right next to the feminine douche and panty shields. Well, darn it. She was a mature, twenty-nine-year-old woman. She could do this. She only wished she knew who she was buying them for. Did Robbie have a girlfriend? She snorted. Of course he did. He was handsome, wasn’t he? All handsome men had girlfriends.
Did he think she was going to be one of them? Not in this lifetime. She’d sworn off men three years ago. She’d been lying in the hospital at the time, but she’d still had enough sense to make a vow against the entire adult male population.
Looking up and down the aisle, then finally back at the display, Catherine began to read. Lord, what a variety. Plain ones, gold ones, and ribbed ones in various sizes. Heck, there were even some that glowed in the dark! Looking up and down the aisle again, she finally grabbed a package of each. Then she smiled, grabbed two packs of the ones that glowed in the dark, and wished she could be a fly on the wall when the person asking for condoms claimed his necessities.
She quickly rearranged her cart to conceal her purchases and headed to the front of the store, determined to get through the checkout without blushing herself to a sunburn.
As the many different cans of shaving cream went down the conveyor belt, followed by the many different deodorants, followed by the condoms, the lady running the register widened her eyes with each purchase. The condoms finally caused the woman to look up and raise an eyebrow. “Having a pajama party?”
Cat raised her chin. “Want to be invited?”
The grandmotherly woman sniffed and went back to checking items—until the truck pulled up in front of the store, nose in. That was when the woman looked from Catherine to the truck, then back at Catherine. Her eyebrow rose again.
Catherine looked for a giant hole to crawl into. The bug shield on the truck sported bold lettering that said “FOUR PLAY.”
Catherine had seen the moniker when she’d climbed into the truck this morning. Lots of people lettered their bug shields, and the truck was a four-wheel drive, so the wording made sense. But it made a different kind of sense when a person considered that the large Suburban belonged to a bachelor.
Robbie walked into the grocery store, his hat pulled low over his eyes against the sun, and found his housekeeper standing at the cash register, her face scorching red. He approached the checkout in time to see the grocery boy toss several familiar-looking packets into a bag as the youth asked Cat, “That your ride, lady?” nodding his head toward the door.
Robbie turned and looked at his truck. And then it dawned on him. Red face. Small packets. “FOUR PLAY.” Catherine Daniels was mortified. He was in trouble.
Pulling his hat lower to hide his own flush and barely able to control an urge to laugh, Robbie grabbed four of the bags and took them out to the truck. He came back through the door just in time to see Cat hand the check he’d given her to the cashier.
“Robert MacBain,” the lady read. She looked at Cat. “You staying out there?”
“I’m…ah…I’m the housekeeper,” Cat whispered.
He should have checked the list this morning. Dammit, Catherine Daniels was going to quit just as soon as she got in the truck. First she was going to give him hell for contributing to the delinquency of minors, and then she was going to quit.
But she had bought the condoms.
Robbie grabbed the remaining three bags, only to have the contents of one spill out. Good God! Glow-
in-the-dark rubbers! His shoulders started to shake.
His blushing housekeeper bent down, picked up the packets, and stuffed them in her pocket. Muttering something that sounded rather nasty, she ran from the store.
Robbie took his time placing the bags in the back of the Suburban, all the while willing his shoulders to quit shaking. Lord, what a picture. Catherine Daniels was sitting in the front seat, facing forward, her hands on her cheeks. He finally found the courage to get in the truck and, without saying a word, backed it away from the curb and headed out of town.
It was a six-mile, silent ride home.
Was she going to quit?
Would he let her?
Her two kids were sitting on the porch when they returned, and Robbie drove up to the back door, then went in search of the boys to unload the groceries.
And as soon as they were done, he would have
a little talk with them about condoms and women and embarrassing situations. And then he was going to turn around and leave without asking which one had added them to the list.
“There’s an old man inside,” Nathan whispered, taking Catherine’s hand as they walked into the house.
“And he’s got a really fluffy beard,” Nora added. “And he said my eyes was pretty, just like twinkling stars.”
“I hope you thanked him for the compliment,” Catherine said, stopping inside the doorway and bending down to untie Nora’s laces.
“I complimented him back,” Nora boasted as she held on to her mother’s shoulder and kicked off her boots. “I told him his eyes was all wrinkled at the edges.”
Catherine looked up, horrified, but had to move aside without correcting her daughter so that Robbie could come in.
“You have company,” she told him. “An elderly gentleman.”
“Aye. Gunter told me he was here. It’s my uncle, Ian MacKeage,” he explained, glancing toward the living room as he shed his own boots. “The boys will unload the groceries in a few minutes. Do you have any of that pie left from last night?”
“One piece.” Catherine handed her children the coloring books and crayons she had bought them, urged them toward their bedroom, and walked over to the counter. “I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee.”
But before she could grab the pot, Robbie took hold of her arm to lead her into the living room. Catherine broke free with a gasp and took several steps back.
“I’m sorry,” he said, tucking his hands behind his back. “I would like to introduce you to Ian,” he continued, dismissing the incident as if it never happened. As if she hadn’t overreacted.
“He lives just over the ridge,” he continued, nodding toward the sink window. “My four uncles own the TarStone Mountain Ski Resort. The lights you see at night are the ski trails.”
Thoroughly disgusted with herself and hoping her face wasn’t flaming red, Catherine ducked her head and scooted past him into the living room. She came to a stop when the elderly, barrel-chested, wild-haired man rose from a chair by the hearth.
“Ian,” Robbie said, walking over to him, “this is our new housekeeper, Cat Daniels. Cat,” he said, smiling at her frown for not introducing her as Catherine, “this is Ian MacKeage, my uncle. Don’t believe anything he tells you about me.”
“And I have tales that would curdle your blood, lass,” Ian said, holding out his hand to her.
Catherine walked over and watched her hand completely disappear as Ian’s large, blunt fingers gently wrapped around hers. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. MacKeage. I believe you’ve already met my children, Nathan and Nora?” she asked, about to apologize for her daughter’s wonderful compliment.
Ian beat her to it. “The wee one’s a bonny lass,” he said with a chuckle, still holding her hand. “Candid, too. And your boy’s one to be proud of.”
“Th-thank you. Would you like some coffee and a piece of pie? It’s cherries from a can, but the crust is homemade.”
“Thank you, but no,” Ian said, finally releasing her and turning to Robbie. “I’m just out for my daily walk and was hoping I could talk this boy into accompanying me back.”
“You needn’t be afraid of bears, Uncle,” Robbie drawled, his eyes shining with warmth. “They don’t much care for tough old hides like yours.”
Ian snorted. “They’re more worried I’ll eat them.” He turned to Catherine. “Nice to meet you, Cat,” he said, heading for the kitchen. “I hope ya know what a mess you’ve gotten yourself into here,” he added over his shoulder as he reached the coat pegs by the door. “I could find ya a big stick if you’re wanting one,” he offered, shrugging into his coat and turning to face her as he buttoned it up. His smile was quite visible through his bushy beard, and his eyes really did wrinkle at the corners. “Nothing like a good smack with a stout stick to get your point across.”
“Ah…thank you,” Catherine whispered, not knowing how else to respond. “But disciplining the boys is Robbie’s department. I’m just the housekeeper.”
“It wasn’t the boys I was referring to,” Ian said over his shoulder as he walked out the door. “Come on, young Robbie. At my pace, it’ll be dark before I get home.”
Catherine stood at the window of the closed kitchen door and watched the two men slowly make their way across the yard and disappear into the woods. The house was unusually quiet but for the steady, comforting tick of the grandfather clock in the corner and the occasional giggles of her two children coming from the bedroom.
When was the last time she’d heard them giggle?
She liked it here, Catherine suddenly decided. Large males and condoms notwithstanding, this wonderful old house had an almost palpable sense of security—four boys and one determined man, and an apparent extended family, bound by the common goal of living each day with hope.
Catherine wanted to hope. Nathan and Nora could thrive here, and with a bit of encouragement, they could not only learn to trust again but look ahead instead of over their shoulders.
And maybe she could, too. She would start with Robbie MacBain. The next time he touched her, even if it killed her to do so, she would not panic and pull away. She couldn’t very well expect her children to be brave if she couldn’t even control her own reactions to a simple, innocent touch from a man.
Ronald Daniels would not win.
It was just as she told her kids. They had five guardian angels, and now the offer of a stout stick, to back them up.
Chapter Nine
Robbie held the low-hanging branch out of his uncle’s way, thinking he should have the boys trim back the edges of the overgrown tote road running between his home and the ski resort. Ian leaned on the stick he’d left in the forest so no one would see him using a cane to steady his eighty-five-year-old legs. Robbie hid his smile and tucked his hands behind his back, matching his stride to that of the old warrior’s.
They walked in companionable silence up the gently rising road for several minutes, until Robbie quietly asked, “What’s on your mind, Uncle?”
“Death.”
“Death in general or of someone in particular?”
Ian looked at him from the corner of his eye. “My own. Thinking about one’s mortality is an everyday event at my age.”
“I imagine it is.”
“I don’t want to die here, Robbie.”
“I don’t think you have a choice, Uncle. None of us does.”
The old man stopped and canted his head. “It’s not death I’m thinking to avoid but the place. I’ve a wish to see my children before I die. And I’m needing to wrap my arms around my wife and bury my face in her bosom. I miss the smell of the village fires, the heather in the fields, and the clanking swords of sparring warriors. I want to go home, Robbie,” he whispered. “And I want ya to take me.”
“I can’t do that, Uncle.”
“Aye, ya can,” he softly contradicted. “Ya was given the task of watching over Daar for us, not because you’re the eldest but because you’re our guardian. And I’m thinking ya have the ability to grant my request.”
“Have you spoken with Grey about your wanting to go back?” Robbie asked, neither affirming nor denying Ian’s claim.
“Nay. Only you.”
“What about Kate? The two of you have been companions for over twenty years now. Are you willing to leave her?”
“It was Kate who gave me the courage to finally ask ya,” Ian said with a nod. “She’s always known my heart belongs to my wife, and she’s been after me for some time now to find a way to get back to Gwyneth. We’ve had a good friendship, and I care a great deal for Kate,” he added. “She’ll not only understand, she’ll be happy for me.”
“And the rest of us?”
“You will be happy for me, too. Grey and Morgan and Callum and your papa have wives and children and grandbabies now. Their home is here, and mine is back there. That’s why Kate kept encouraging me to go speak with Daar.” Ian l
aid his hand on Robbie’s arm. “But I’d rather bring my matter to ya. It’s you I trust.”
Robbie led Ian to the edge of the road, and they both sat down on a fallen log. “But the journey itself could kill you, Uncle. Surely you remember how violent it was thirty-five years ago.”
Ian’s face paled. “You’ve been,” he whispered. “You’ve already traveled back, haven’t ya?”
Robbie said nothing.
“It was three nights ago, wasn’t it?” Ian speculated, taking hold of Robbie’s arm again. “I heard the thunder and felt the entire mountain shake. And the next morning, I heard it again.”
He pointed at Robbie’s waist. “That gash on your side. It was made by a sword, I would bet. Ya went back and nearly got yourself killed.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The little lass, Nora. She told me they found ya lying in the woods, and that they thought ya was dead. She said her mother used thread from her kit to sew up a cut in your side.” He pointed at Robbie’s face. “Ya didn’t get that bruise on your cheek from bumping into a door, and ya didn’t go to Libby so she could heal ya, because she would realize how ya got hurt.”
Robbie sighed and stared across the road at nothing. “They mustn’t find out,” he finally said, looking back at Ian. “Grey and Callum and Morgan and my father—they can’t know about this. Did Grey hear the storm?”
“Nay,” Ian said, shaking his head. “He and Grace are down visiting Elizabeth at college. And the others live too far away to have heard it.”
Robbie nodded. “Then please don’t tell them.”
“What are you and that crazy priest up to?”
“It’s…complicated. I went back to try to get a new book of spells for Daar.”
“What? Ya know how dangerous it will be for us if that old fool gets his hands on the spells.”
“But if he doesn’t,” Robbie quietly explained, “then your wish will be granted on this summer’s solstice. But you won’t be going back alone.”
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