Pushing his hair back from his brow, Moira wished she could see his chocolaty eyes once again. She smoothed her palm over the plane of his whisker roughened cheek unable to resist grazing his full lower lip with her thumb, savoring the texture. Another low moan recalled her attention to her task and she flushed with embarrassment for having caught herself in such a thrall. “Hush, Vin,” she whispered softly into the shadowy room. “Hush, my love, it's just a dream.”
Vin stilled beneath her hand, his harsh panting subsided to a soft inhale. She stroked the creases from his brow soothingly over and over and she continued to croon to him, her own breath relaxing with his as he calmed and seemed to sleep more peacefully. Encouraged, she continued to stroke his brow and cheeks but found the effort as much to her pleasure as his own, touching him as she had always longed to. Chafing her palm across his cheeks, glorying in the shivers it sent up her arm.
In all the years she had loved him, she had never been allowed this touching. He might have occasionally brushed a distracted kiss across her check or given her a brotherly hug, but she had never touched him as she did now. Moira gloried in the feel of him as she studied him.
The firelight played on his torso revealing the dips and rises of his chest and stomach. There were scars here as well, not like those on his back but longer and wider. One across his side and stomach marring the smoothly rippled expanse looked particularly vicious and Moira imagined it a slash from a sword.
One hand fisted tightly in the sheets and Moira looked down noticing the band of pale scarring around his wrist and upper hand. It was wide not narrow like the cut of a blade. It was ragged as it the skin had been torn. She wondered what could possibly have caused it. Moira removed her hand from his face to trace that evil line, but this upset Vin so she returned that light caress to his brow as she stared again with wonder on his beloved face.
What a fool she had been to think another could ever replace him in her heart! her mind berated her. There was nothing for it now. Aylesbury was a handsome, caring and charismatic man but she knew it wouldn’t be fair to marry him when she felt this way just looking at a sleeping man. But what was she to do? Vin had made his feelings clear on his last visit home. He considered Moira a friend, a very good friend, but nothing more.
Examining those truths with the object of her affections right before her was much harder than it had been when they’d been told he lived.
“Oh, Vin,” she whispered into the shadows as she continued to stroke his cheek. “I have loved you for so long, but what am I to do now? Can I live a life alone because my heart refuses to settle for less? Should I marry him anyway just to escape you?” An ache spread across her breast at the thought but she knew of no answer to her questions.
How long she sat there with him, Moira had no idea but soon she became aware of noises below, the sounds of the house waking and knew she had to leave before she was discovered. Rising, she leaned over Vin and placed a soft kiss against his cheek like so many of the sisterly pecks she delivered and received over the years. Staring down at him, his face just inches from hers, Moira’s breath caught at the daring impulse that urged her to do more and she dipped again caressing his lips with her own in a feather-light kiss. “I love you, Vin,” she whispered against them before fleeing the room. “God help me, but I do.”
* * *
Vin inhaled deeply, his spine straight and hands by his sides as he knelt on a mat placed in a quiet, but cheerfully sunny spot in his sitting room. He breathed out slowly willing his mind to find peace as he did, before drawing in another breath.
“Good,” a low, accented voice came softly so as not to disturb him. “Feel the calm flow inward. Find your Qi and focus. Balance will come to you.”
The voice came from the ancient Chinaman who Francis had summoned to London from Scotland to help in his recovery. Sung Li, as he’d been introduced, was now a part of Jack Merrill’s household having served his new wife before their marriage. As a boy in China, his uncle, a Buddhist monk educated in the practice of the Qigong, had trained him as he now trained Vin.
The little man had explained to Vin the Qigong was a traditional medical practice of China known for its restorative powers of the mind and body.
This meditative part—focusing the body to maintain a posture—would, Sung Li claimed eventually put his nightmares and memories to rest over time if he continued the practice.
The other part of the Qigong was regaining his physical strength. Though he was still awkward with the intricate motions of its dance, Vin was slowly learning them from Sung Li. He called it Tai Chi Chuan, a practice that mimicked the motions of animals in slow, controlled movements that manipulated the flow of the Qi through the body.
A few weeks ago, Vin thought Francis mad to force this odd little man’s theories on him. Also, he thought the wizened man a fool to suggest this Qi he spoke of, this life force within, was unbalanced in Vin. Sun Li insisted that, when it was corrected, Vin might be healthy once more. He scoffed at the very idea of such foreign mumbo jumbo healing him, but Vin quickly found that the meditation did soothe his troubled mind. His body was slowly healing as well, a welcome benefit of the Tai Chi Chuan.
For the past several weeks, Vin worked for many hours daily at it until he began to look forward to the sessions that gave him such peace, such release from the past. He had even taken to listening to the Chinaman’s philosophies intently seeking a full recovery.
In just that short time, he felt stronger, his body mending quickly. Though he still tired easily, he was gaining strength every day. His mind, however, was more hesitant to follow in its path. Outside their sessions, his mind was still in turmoil. Nightmares ravaged his sleep. Memories he wanted nothing more than to banish forever, haunted him. Over the past several weeks, returning to Scotland had become his goal. He was sure that coming home would rejuvenate him. As if his hopes and prayers were answered, he had slept well the night before. Though there had been some nightmares, there had also been a long rest from those terrors filled with soft soothing words, a cool hand and an angel’s light kiss. It was a pleasurable dream for a change.
Being home had done that for him. When he could go on to Glen Cairn, his childhood home, perhaps it would get even better. He would reclaim his nights.
Perhaps with more nights like the last, he’d be able to face the week ahead without hesitation.
Francis told him on the train last night that he had invited the family over for dinner in two days. All of them. Supposedly, it was to be a celebration of the birth of the Glenrothes heir. Vin knew Francis was saving him for a surprise. He was thankful that his brother concealed his presence from the remainder of the family these last weeks so he might have time to recover. The event would tax his strength. It would tax anyone’s! Vin loved his family dearly but felt certain the chaos that awaited him would be of no benefit to his state of mind. The MacKintosh clan as a whole had a tendency to overwhelm…even those within the family.
He had two days to find his peace before chaos descended.
“You must focus,” the Chinaman’s voice intruded on his thoughts and Vin peaked over at the man posed by his side, eyes closed and face concentrated, wondering how Sung Li had known that his thoughts had wandered.
“I can tell,” Sung Li added, his lips compressed against a smile. “When the mind wanders, there is no benefit to the Qigong.”
“Aye, sensei,” Vin replied obediently and returned to his meditation.
It was good to be home. On the train, he watched the landscape speeding by; barren, rugged, cold and rainy on a gray and dreary January afternoon. Yet, so dear Vin had felt some his pain ease just at the sight of his homeland. He could not wait to see Glen Cairn again or Raven’s Craig Castle, his ancestral home on the Firth of Forth, or…”
“Focus!”
“Aye, sensei.”
Chapter 6
Do not worry if you have built your castles in the air.
They are where they should be.
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Now put the foundations under them.
~ Henry David Thoreau
Two Days Later
“Thank you again for inviting me to tea, Lady Glenrothes, Lord Glenrothes,” the Marquis of Aylesbury offered politely as he took his afternoon teatime with Moira and the Lords and Ladies Glenrothes and Haddington. One Moira’s sponsor and both long-time friends, the countesses Glenrothes and Haddington were a delightful pair of women. They were so identical in looks that he had assumed them to be twins.
While he was meeting Haddington and his countess for the first time, Aylesbury had met Lord and Lady Glenrothes in London the previous year when he began courting Lady Moira and found them both agreeable company. It seemed the Haddingtons would be no different. After he was thoroughly assessed and summed up, Lady Haddington seemed to feel he had done something right for she quickly relaxed. The couple had then engaged him in pleasant conversation on his views on American industry having learned from Moira of his investments overseas.
Eventually he returned his attention to his hostess.
“Not at all, Lord Aylesbury,” Eve countered pleasantly. “I only apologize that I could not invite you sooner.”
“Your reasons are entirely justifiable,” he said with a smile that charmed and turned to Francis, offering a hand. “Congratulations on the birth of your heir, Glenrothes.”
When the men turned moved apart for more conversation, Eve shot a smile at Moira that spoke of hesitant approval. Moira understood it easily. There would be no more arguments from Eve if she chose to wed the marquis. He was the perfect gentleman, a pleasing man. In the past hour, he had proven his worth in her eyes with aplomb.
“He’s sweet, Moira,” Kitty teased under her breath as she lowered herself awkwardly to sit next to her friend, “and obviously very sweet on you.”
“Well, if you hadn’t been hiding out with Jack this past week, you might have met him before,” Moira retorted with a smile.
“It’s called a honeymoon, dear,” Kitty ribbed her friend with a roll of her eyes.
“For four months? I hope I’ll experience one of those soon myself,” Moira sighed enviously.
“I hope you…Ouch!” Kitty exclaimed placing a hand on her distended belly. “This one best be a boy, I believe he’s playing cricket in my belly already. Moira, feel!”
Kitty pressed her hand over her belly and Moira awed over the power of the baby’s movement. “I hope I’ll experience one of those soon myself as well.”
“You will,” Kitty assured her and Eve added, “I would wager things will move quickly now that Vin is home.”
Moira ignored the wink that accompanied her friend’s words. “I wish you hadn’t compelled me into agreeing to wait until we remove to London, Evie.”
“It is for the best, you know. To be sure.”
Moira sighed. Eve’s first marriage itself was a valid argument on the importance of compatibility and waiting for the perfect spouse. But life changed and moved on for her. She had found love with Francis. It was just one more love match that bedeviled Moira into getting the deed done.
“How are things with Jack?” she asked Kitty curiously. She had known Jack Merrill as long as she had known Abby and considered him much as her own brother, but in that same spirit knew he could be a trial and a pest if he chose.
Kitty’s eyes softened as they wandered to her tall, dark-haired husband where he stood with the other men. “Oh, things are just…lovely.”
“Lovely?”
“Mm, quite lovely.”
Another shot of envy pierced Moira’s heart. Oh, how she longed for that feeling! She wanted that same tenderness to melt her smile and warm her heart. Though not the love she wished for, what she felt for Harry was the closest she had ever come to having a shared bond such as her friends all shared with their spouses. She knew it was not the same as what Eve, Kitty and Abby felt for their husbands. It would never be the same. But it was steady, peaceful. Harry made her laugh, he kept her in good company and she knew that marriage to him would be satisfying, even fulfilling.
It was the best she could hope for.
“Have you seen Vin yet?” Kitty asked softly.
Moira shook her head unwilling to lie outright. Reality returned when she’d left Vin’s side at dawn two days before. Childish fantasies dissolved in a beam of light. As much as she loved Vin, it would only break her heart to be rejected by him once more. She returned to her room even more determined that if he asked, she would marry Harry as soon as possible and devote her life to making him happy. . . and making certain he never knew of her regrets.
Nevertheless, that hadn’t stopped her from returning to Vin’s room that night and the next again when she heard the agony his nightmares visited on him. She went to him without hesitation calling herself a fool all the while, as she had soothed his troubled sleep. With each dawn, she would again face reality as if the sun’s rays washed away the fantasy still lingering in her heart.
This morning after waking late, she snuck by Vin’s room determined to see him, talk to him. To prove once and for all that nothing had changed. She’d been halted at the doorway and caught in a web of awe and fascination as he moved about in a beam of sunlight. He’d been slowly…well, dancing, she thought in nothing but his small clothes. Sung Li, Kitty’s interesting majordomo, was by his side matching the movements. They moved unhurriedly and carefully from step to step; arms and bodies twisting. Though Sung Li’s long braid would randomly catch her peripheral vision, Moira hadn’t been able to stop staring at the rippling of lean muscle in Vin’s arms and legs and beneath the scarred skin of his back.
It had been beautiful. She wished she had been able to see his face, wondering if it was as peaceful as their dance. It was a moment and a lifetime as she watched until they stopped and bowed to each other. Moira backed into the hall and leaned back against the wall pressing a hand to her pounding heart. She banged her head back against the wall once before realizing that they might hear the thud. More the fool was she!
She wanted what she could not have!
It was a truth in her heart she could not deny but her more logical mind knew there was no future with Vin. Only with Harry. Marriage to him would be a good one, she was certain. She would make it so.
Determined, she smiled across the room at the marquis while he returned the gesture but as her eyes slid past him, the smile faded from her face.
Curious of the cause, Aylesbury turned to find another man framed in the doorway.
“Vin!” Glenrothes smiled broadly and everyone turned to greet the newcomer. Haddington bounded forward and caught the man in a backslapping embrace as all the ladies rose and, except for of Moira, moved across the room to greet him.
* * *
Vin stepped back from Merrill’s exuberant greeting, allowing himself a slight expression of pleasure before it slipped away at the sight of the two stunningly identical women smiling at him. For a moment he was speechless at the sight of the most beautiful things he had seen in five long years or even longer depending how one looked on army life. He bowed to the tall, willowy blonds introduced as Eve and Kitty, the wives of his brother and friend. Finally, Vin thought he understood what had prompted the pair to wed, for the pair were breathtaking.
The women returned his polite bow with their welcome but still he was dumb-founded. "Vin, you’re embarrassing yourself,” Merrill chuckled at his elbow. “Just think how lucky we are to get to take them home!”
“Vincent, do stop staring, won't you?” Francis growled. “I might begin to take personal offense.”
Vin shook himself and cast an embarrassed glance on his brother with an apologetic shrug. “Don’t worry, brother, everyone reacts like that,” Francis offered with a grin. “However, what is mine I keep. So eyes only. Eyes only.”
A reluctant smile lifted the corner of Vin’s lips as the foursome around him parted and another familiar face came into view. Gladness lifted his heart as he saw Moira MacKenzie across the room
. They had been good friends, like brother and sister, for so many years. Her long, lighthearted letters had been a joy and comfort to him through the years of his deployment. He strode across the room to greet her.
Curiosity had returned Aylesbury to Moira’s side while the others greeted the newcomer. “Moira, what is it?”
“It's Vin...” she whispered, never taking her eyes from the man. Though his clothes were ill-fitting, obviously borrowed from his brother, Vincent MacKintosh was as stunning a feast to the eyes dressed as he was that morning in his underclothes or partially nude in his bed. He still needed a haircut and hadn’t even bothered to shave, but Moira found his dishevelment all the more appealing. He was dashing enough to set her heart pounding in expectation but as she watched him greet his friend and hers, she noticed there was no light in his eyes. No smile on his lips that didn’t slide away before it was truly formed. Thinking of the scars on his back, Moira couldn’t help but wonder what unseen scars he carried with him, because the devilish lad from her youth was nowhere to be seen.
“Vin? That’s Vincent MacKintosh?” Aylesbury eyed the man with some speculation. He could now see the man did bear a strong resemblance to Glenrothes at his side as well as the other MacKintosh clansmen he had met. He was about the same height as Glenrothes and Haddington, probably a couple inches over six feet, but with the lankiness of his build, seemed taller. His light brown eyes, however, were not filled with the humor and mischief of the younger MacKintosh brothers but instead were cool, hard and wary, as if he had seen much, much more than any man should.
So, this was the man Moira spoke so fondly of. Harry remembered clearly the long conversations about this man that always held a note of worship. But then, so had her stories of her brother. Aylesbury lumped the two men together in his mind as one brotherly dose of affection which seemed logical eight months passed on a sunny summer afternoon. He dismissed them from his mind shortly after as a part of Moira’s past.
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