Men of Midnight Complete Collection

by Emilie Richards

  She attempted to move the arm in question and discovered it was tightly bound against her chest. Panic began to fill her. “I can no’ manage without my arm. I can no’ keep it in a sling.”

  “You’ve no choice. It’ll be too painful to use, even if I allowed it, and I will no’.” He dropped her wrist. “Mara, there’s a question I’d like you to answer, if you’re able. How did you know, lass, that the horse was about to break through the ropes?”

  The panic spread. She was vulnerable in a way she had never been before. Her arm was bound to her side; her head pounded as if the crew of the Royal Scotsman was trying to lay new track through her brain. She was surrounded by people who were suspicious of her, who thought her a ghost or a witch, and there was no place more remote that she could run to. She was trapped. Her throat closed around the truth that might have her drummed from the village. She couldn’t speak.

  “Damn it, Angus, she didn’t know,” Duncan said. “She was trying to get a better view, that’s all. We were watching the race together and Mara told me she couldn’t see from where we were standing. So she headed for a free space at the rope. The horse bolted just as she got there. She was so close she saw instantly what was happening, and she grabbed the kids and their mother. It wasn’t anything more mysterious than that. Don’t tell me all these rumors about Greensleeves are getting to you, too.”

  Angus was silent. “Where do you want to go, lass?” he asked at last. “You’ll have to stay here tonight, and maybe tomorrow. But after that you can no’ go back to your cottage alone. Someone has to look after you while you recover. Shall I make arrangements with someone in town to take you in as a boarder for a week or two?”

  “She’s coming home with me,” Duncan said, before Mara could answer. “She’s coming home with me if I have to carry her like a sack of oats down High Street and tie her to my bed.”

  “Now that would be a muckle show,” Angus said. “There’d be no more rumors about witches and ghosties, I’m thinking. The rumors would be far more interesting.” He patted Mara’s good hand, and laid it gently on the bed. The door closed behind him.

  “Duncan…”

  “Hush, Mara. You’re coming home with me.”

  “Duncan, I did no’ tell you I was going to the rope…to get a better view.”

  “Hush. Save your strength. All you have to worry about now is getting better.”

  “Duncan…” Tears filled her eyes and frustration, her heart.

  He smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “I know, Mara,” he said softly. “I know. Just close your eyes and rest. You did a good thing today, a wonderful thing. No matter how it happened, you saved those children. Just close your eyes and rest now.”

  “My sheep… And my cows need milking.”

  “Jessie and Roger will see to everything. They’ve already promised me. Please, just rest so I can take you home tomorrow.”

  His hand was so soothing. Her eyelids drifted shut. Pain continued to pound through her head, but it was growing more bearable.

  “When I fell,” she said softly, “I thought…”

  “What? What did you think?”

  “I thought I’d lost you.”

  His hand paused. Then she felt his lips against her forehead. “You haven’t lost me,” he said. “Now rest. But don’t fall asleep. We’re going to have to watch you carefully for a while. What would you like me to talk about to keep you awake?”

  “Tell me…about growing up in Druidheachd.”

  * * *

  Duncan chose a room for Mara on the wing where his apartment was located. He had rejected one with a view of the green—because of obvious reminders—and chosen another with a view of a small enclosed garden where guests sometimes took tea. Jessie’s husband, Roger, the hotel gardener and handyman, tended the flowers with a loving hand, and fragrant stock and bright-eyed daisies bloomed in profusion under Mara’s window, along with the early roses.

  Duncan filled Mara’s room with the choicest blossoms and asked the maids to take special care with cleaning and airing it before she arrived. April donated her favorite doll and a lace-edged pillow embroidered with teddy bears and rainbows. By the time Dr. Sutherland was ready to release Mara, they were more than ready for her.

  “Now don’t forget, Springtime, you can’t jump on Mara when she gets here. You have to be quiet when you’re around her. She bumped her head pretty bad, and it still hurts.”

  “She’ll be glad to see me,” April said, with a serious face.

  “I’m sure you’re right. But you still can’t jump on her.”

  “Lolly says Mara’s a ghost.”

  “Lolly’s wrong.”

  “You can see through ghosts, can’t you?”

  “There are no ghosts.” He kissed the top of her head and sent her on her way.

  He could walk to the cottage hospital in minutes, but he took the hotel’s minibus instead because Mara certainly wasn’t going to feel like walking back. She was doing much better, completely out of danger now, but she was still pale and in a good deal of pain. She’d made light of it when he’d visited early that morning, but he had seen the pain’s effects.

  This afternoon she looked tired but pleased to be leaving the hospital. She was sitting in a chair beside a window, dressed and ready. “Duncan.” She rose to meet him.

  “Now, you’re sure you feel well enough to go?”

  “Please get me out of here.”

  He frowned. “What’s wrong? Haven’t they been good to you?”

  “Oh aye, the care’s been wonderful.” She bent and picked up the small suitcase that Frances had packed for her. “But may we go now?”

  Hospitals, even cottage hospitals in scenic Highlands towns, were not places where anyone might want to linger. But Duncan was mystified at her hurry. Mara said her goodbyes to the staff and even accepted a hug from Jeanne Sutherland before they stepped out into the fresh air. She seemed to relax visibly as they walked toward the parking lot.

  “Did you know that Jeanne and Angus were married about six months after I was born?” Duncan asked. “They claim that delivering the wee laddies of midnight brought them together.”

  “They’re both past seventy, are they no’? But Jeanne says Dr. Sutherland will no’ give up the hospital.”

  “The new doctor does most of the work, but Angus keeps an eye on him. He wouldn’t be happy if he had to leave it all behind.”

  “There’s been much sadness there.”

  “Where? The hospital?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Is that why you were in a hurry to go? You found it depressing?”

  “It would be hard to explain.”

  “You could try.”

  “And I could no’.”

  He took her arm to guide her to the minibus. He didn’t say anything until they were on the road. “Did you sense things there that you found disturbing?”

  “Does it matter what I say, Duncan? Are you saying you’d believe me?”

  He was silent until he pulled into a space behind the hotel. “I don’t know what I believe,” he said, as he turned off the engine. “But I’ll tell you what I don’t. I don’t believe you’re crazy. And I don’t believe you’re making any of this up. You saved lives at the Johnsmas fair because you sensed something that the rest of us were completely oblivious to. I’d be the crazy one if I didn’t acknowledge that much. So, if you tell me the hospital was a hard place to be because you were picking up vibes or having visions, or whatever it is you do, then I’ll believe you. I won’t understand it, but I’ll believe you.”

  “Duncan…”

  He cupped her chin and turned her face to his. Her eyes were moist with tears. “I believe in you,” he said.

  He didn’t add that he was beginning to believe in them. Them together. Them in each other’s arms. Them giving and taking pleasure. He had begun to believe the moment that he found he hadn’t lost her forever.

  He touched her lips with his thumb, light
ly brushing it back and forth. “And now I’d better get you inside, so April can see for herself that you’re okay.”

  She smiled. Something very much like hope bloomed in her eyes. He felt it deep inside him.

  * * *

  Mara had never been idle, not in her entire life. She let Duncan, Frances and April fuss over her for exactly two hours, then as soon as they left her to rest, she began to prowl the hotel.

  She immediately found the room where Duncan’s sister had been burned. She couldn’t see the past clearly—not nearly as clearly as her occasional glimpses of the future—but she could sense residues of deep sadness. True tragedy resonated for centuries in the places where it had occurred, and the more tragic the event, the more deeply she could experience it.

  Her room at the cottage hospital had oppressed her almost beyond endurance. At first she had tried to screen out her impressions. She’d told herself that certainly people had died there, but death was as natural as life and no reason to make her feel distraught. Still, she had slept little, and by the end of her stay she could no longer block her own misery. Something sadder than death had occurred in the very bed where she slept, something within recent memory but not something that either Jeanne or Angus Sutherland had witnessed.

  She had been almost hysterically grateful to be discharged.

  Her impressions about the room where Fiona had been burned were much clearer. She sensed fear and terrible pain when she stood at the door—thrown wide open so that Sally could clean it later—and when she stepped over the threshold, she could almost hear the screams of a child. She turned and came face-to-face with Duncan.

  “You’re supposed to be in bed,” he said.

  “I’ve been in bed much too long already.” But even as she said it, she knew he was right. She was suddenly exhausted.

  “Why’d you end up here?”

  “I was just exploring.”

  “This was my room as a child.”

  “I know.”

  He cocked his head in question. She shrugged in answer.

  “Shall I escort you back to bed?”

  “Aye.” She was stiff with tension. She could still hear a child crying.

  He frowned. “Shall I carry you?”

  “Of course no’!” She hadn’t finished speaking before he swept her off her feet and started down the hall. “Duncan, we’ll be the talk of the village. Put me down!”

  “Don’t be silly. We’re the talk of the village anyway.”

  The feelings vanished as they moved away from the room. “You’ve a wee daughter who’ll wonder what’s wrong if she sees this!”

  “My wee daughter is at Jessie’s house playing with Lolly.”

  Duncan turned down the corridor where Mara’s room was located. He pushed her door open with his knee and strode to her bed. He bent and laid her carefully on the coverlet, protecting her arm as he did. He didn’t straighten. Instead, in the blink of an eye he was lying beside her.

  She stared at him. “The door’s open.”

  He said a few choice words that spanned the gap in slang from Scotland to the U.S. But he didn’t rise to shut it.

  “I’ll be known as a fallen woman,” she warned.

  “That might be an improvement.”

  She laughed. Her good arm curled around his neck. His face was only inches from hers. “Is this why you volunteered to have me here, Duncan? So you could have your way with me anytime you pleased?”

  “You mean it would be that easy?”

  “You could try it and see.”

  His eyes darkened. “I don’t know if I could live with the disappointment if you said no.”

  “And if I said yes?”

  “I don’t know if I could live with the joy.”

  “Then I suppose you’ll be forced to live with indecision.”

  He laughed, a low, sexy rumble that seemed to vibrate between them. “I know my decision. Do you know yours?”

  In an instant they were no longer teasing. Mara could feel Duncan’s response to having her so close. He was a leopard ready to spring. If they were truly alone and naked, skin-to-skin, he would be ready to sink deeply inside her. And the pleasure would be unbearable.

  “I want you, Duncan,” she said. “I want you when the moment is right and we can no’ be interrupted. I want you no matter how it turns out, because someday when I’m an old woman, I’d like to know that this once in my life I reached out for what mattered to me.”

  “Mara…” She felt the pressure and warmth of his lips. She felt the strength of his body pressing her against the mattress. His hand crept to her breast. She could feel the imprint of his fingers through her dress and wild pleasure streaking through her body.

  She was only dimly aware of noise in the hallway, but Duncan pulled away abruptly. In a moment he was on his feet staring down at her. “When the moment’s right,” he said in a low voice. “And damn it, it’s not right now.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “Get some rest, Mara. Sleep, and when you’re well, we’ll find the right moment and the right place. And I’ll be there when you reach for me.”

  * * *

  By the end of the day Mara knew she would go mad lying about for a week or two and watching the world go by without her. She prided herself on her independence, and the forced inactivity gave her too much time to think. After Duncan had deposited her back in her room again she had counted all the reasons why they could never have a future together, and she had allowed herself the luxury of sadness. Then she had begun on the lives of others, sifting through the impressions that came her way as they passed in the hall. By supper, she knew that something had to be done.

  She dressed with difficulty. The slightest movement made her arm and head throb, and she couldn’t will the pain away. She had no choice but to keep the arm completely immobile and to move like a tortoise mired in treacle. By the time she had changed she was frustrated, exhausted, and all fantasies of returning immediately to her cottage had vanished. But something still had to be done.

  Something presented itself when she started toward the dining room to wait for Duncan and April at their special table. She found a frustrated Duncan standing in front of the reception desk along with Nancy, the thoroughly intimidated young woman who womanned it.

  Mara caught most of their conversation as she approached.

  “It’s sorry I am, Mr. Sinclair. Truly ‘tis. But what can I do? My granny’s sick, and there’s no one to leave the babies with in the afternoon. No one a’ tall. And my Harry won’t be back from London for a fortnight, so there’s no hope he’ll be able to help until Granny’s better.”

  “I understand, Nancy. I just don’t know what I can do about it. With three of the maids leaving on holiday we’re short staffed as it is and we’ve got twice as many guests as we had last month. I can’t spare anyone from their usual jobs to take your place. I’m sorry, but I may have to hire someone to replace you.”

  Nancy looked as if she were going to cry. She was a plump woman in her late twenties with a sweet face that didn’t take well to tears. “I know. I’d do anything I could to stop that from happening, but what can I do? My babies have to come first.”

  “I’d be the first to agree with you.”

  Mara stepped forward. “I’m sorry, but do you mind if I ask what’s wrong?”

  Nancy looked too choked up to speak, and she edged away subtly as Mara moved closer. Duncan shook his head in frustration. “Just the usual joys of being an innkeeper. Nancy’s going to have to take afternoons off for a while, and I don’t have anyone to replace her with.”

  “But you do. I can do it.”

  “Mara, you’re here to rest and recover, not to work.”

  Nancy found her tongue. “But it’s no’ hard work, Mr. Sinclair. I could take care of all the paperwork in the mornings. I’d have time aplenty. Miss MacTavish would only have to answer the telephone and speak with the guests.”

  “It would give me something to do, Duncan.” Mara saw she wasn’t
reaching him. He was as stubborn a man as any she’d ever met. “It’s either work here or go back to my cottage,” she said firmly. “And as weak as I am, the cottage seems very faraway.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

  Nancy tossed away caution; she grabbed Mara’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s true what I’ve heard about you,” she said.

  “And what’s that?”

  “That you probably dinna wish any of us harm.”

  Duncan glowered at Nancy, but Mara touched his arm to keep him silent. “Thank you, Nancy.”

  Nancy beamed. She took off for the reception desk, sensing, Mara imagined, that she should leave before Duncan had a chance to add his own comments.

  “Well, it’s nice to know that no’ everybody thinks I’m the devil’s tool,” Mara said.

  “Why on earth did you volunteer to help? Nancy’s not your problem, and neither is the hotel.”

  “I did it for myself. I’ve got to have something to do, or I’ll be as daft as a sheep in a shearing pen before I’m all healed. This is something I can do with one good arm.” She saw indecision in his eyes, but she knew how to get around it. She smiled and stepped closer. “And dinna you ken? It will put me in the public eye. Maybe everyone who comes through the hotel will see that I’m just flesh and blood and relatively harmless.”

  “Unless you start saving lives in the lobby.”

  “You’re going to let me do it, are you no’?”

  “There’s nothing I’d refuse you.”

  Her smile broadened. “I’ll hold you to that, Duncan. I will most decidedly hold you to that.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Sometimes it seemed to Mara that in the two weeks that she had been at the reception desk the entire village had paraded through the hotel lobby. She kept a private collection of her favorite excuses. Some were almost reasonable, others so far-fetched that April would have been able to see right through them. One man sat on a sofa just in front of her day after day and claimed when asked that he just wanted to see if Duncan was maintaining the same high standards as the Sinclairs before him. A woman was curious as to whether the lobby furniture had been rearranged recently—she checked every afternoon at four. Still another woman asked—unsuccessfully—for the guest book to determine if her neighbor to one side was using the hotel for trysts with her neighbor to the other.