His Heart's Home (2 page)

Ciaran had begged to spend the night in an inn, to give the children one last night in a proper bed before they set off into the wilderness, but her husband would not agree. He claimed that they didn’t have the money to spare, that they ought to save what little gold they had to replenish their supplies along the way. Ciaran had grudgingly accepted this reason, until she realized that money wasn’t a problem when Sean decided to spend his last night in
New Bern checking out the local pubs. They had scrimped and saved so hard for the journey
.
Ciaran’s blood burned when she thought of the sums that her husband was laying out on rum for himself and his mates. She assumed that he would waste even more on gambling. Knowing Sean, he’d probably pay for a whore as well. She wished she could have stopped him from going, or at least told him to his face what a pitiful father and lazy drunkard he was, but of course she didn’t dare. Her instinct for self-preservation was too strong. The few times she had found the courage to stand up to her husband had resulted in beatings that she’d never forget. She simply couldn’t face another fight on top of everything else, and that was why she and the boys had ended up here, spending the night in the cold and damp.

It was miserable.

The wind was howling through the trees, and cutting through the oilcloth that she’d stretched across the top of the wagon as easily as if it were made of net. She didn’t have any wood to start a fire, and didn’t know (or trust) any of their neighbors well enough to beg a few logs, or a seat in front of their flames. Ciaran and the boys shared a paltry cold dinner of sour apples and crackers and then huddled together like a litter of puppies beneath their meager shelter and tried to stay warm.

Hunger and curiosity had made them all restless. The oldest boys wouldn’t stay in bed, too 
excited about the journey in the morning to settle down and go to sleep. Tired of their whining and pleas, she allowed them out for a while to play, and let Liam and Aidan watch them. Distracted by tending to Mary, the baby, and drinking in the foreign sights of the camp, she didn’t notice immediately that Aiden was gone. As soon as she did, she began her frantic search.

“
AIDAN!
”  Ciaran’s voice was growing hoarse and raw by the time she reached the edge of the camp. She’d been searching for twenty minutes, and was finally giving in to fear. The field that the tents were pitched in went on for fifty yards to the place where the clearing met the edge of the woods.
Aidan wouldn’t have ventured inside alone, surely…would he?

Tears pricked the back of Ciaran’s eyes as she looked between the thick, murky forest and the bustling camp. Which way should she go? What should she do? She took a few steps toward the trees and stopped to look back at the camp. She hated feeling so helpless and
alone.

“Mama?” Liam tugged at her skirts, his voice small and frightened. “I’m scared of the dark.”

“I know,
Mo Mhuirnín,”
she answered, trying to sound calmer and more confident than she felt and allowed Liam’s little hand to tug her back in the direction of the tents.
Surely
Aidan wouldn’t have gone into the forest? She tried to convince herself.  It was much too far for his little legs to travel. Like his brother, he was afraid of the dark.

Ciaran’s stepsons, ages eleven and nine, had been sent to search the other side of the settlement. Perhaps they had found him there? She settled on that hope, calming slightly, but quickly became flustered again when she couldn’t remember the way back to her wagon.

“Over here, mama!”  Liam pulled in one direction while his mother’s eyes continued to comb her surroundings, trying to pick out anything that she had missed. Her moss green eyes moved quickly, searching desperately for Aidan’s black curls, or at least some sign of the wagon or the other boys.

Distracted by her task, she didn’t watch where Liam was leading. She simply followed blindly until she collided into someone’s chest.

“Careful, lass.”

Ciaran looked up with a fearful start - straight into the bluest eyes she had ever seen.  They mesmerized her for a moment, until she realized the man they belonged to had taken hold of one of her arms to stop her from stumbling, but hadn’t yet let her go.  

“Are you all right?” the man asked and frowned.  Ciaran thought his accent might be Scottish, but she wasn’t entirely sure.

“I’m sorry, forgive me, I have to find my son,” she said breathlessly, backing away from the stranger, whose frown deepened when he heard this.

“He’s lost?” the man asked, concerned. “What does he look like?  I’ll help you find him.  He can’t have gone too far.”

Ciaran shook her head.  “Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to do that-“

“I didn’t hear you ask.  I believe I offered,” the man said gently.  “Where did you last see the laddie?  How old is he?”

“I can manage on my own, thank you,” Ciaran insisted firmly.  She couldn’t risk being indebted to a man she didn’t know, not even if it was to find Aidan-
if
he really even meant to help her at all.  It
might
just be a ploy of his to drag her off alone so that he could take advantage of a defenseless woman.

Ciaran didn’t
want
to believe that of the handsome man staying in front of her, but life with her husband hadn’t given her a great deal of faith in his sex.  Sean had warned her that men would only be nice to her for one reason. If she even let one of them get his hands on her, she knew better than to expect sympathy or mercy from Sean.

“Mama?” Liam said quietly, tugging on her skirt.  “Mama, over there.”

Ciaran looked in the direction that her son was pointing and her heart leapt with relief.  She finally saw Aiden. He was sitting next to a grizzled old man and listening to him talk.

“Aidan!” Ciaran cried, flying away from the blue-eyed stranger and rushing toward her son.  “Aidan
,
you know not to go wandering off!” She tried to sound angry, but was too relieved to manage.  “I’m sorry for the trouble he’s been,” she said to the old man, as she pulled her little boy away.

“He’s been no trouble,” the old man said, smiling toothlessly.

“Well, I’m sorry all the same,” Ciaran murmured, edging away, and ignoring Aidan’s cries that he wanted to ‘hear the rest of the story’. 

She hurried off in the direction she hoped the wagon was in, but the back of her neck tingled strangely. She turned her head and gasped, surprised to discover she was being watched. Two cool blue eyes tracked her movements as she rushed the boys away. A flush settled on her skin and she quickened her pace until she felt free of the scrutiny.  Ciaran relaxed a little after that, grateful that one set of trials was over at least.

Her relief was short-lived, however. She found the wagon. Unfortunately, her husband was standing beside it, and he looked murderous. Was Sean angry she wasn’t there, or that she hadn’t left any supper, or that the boys were still awake? He didn’t
really
need a reason. Ciaran stopped trying to figure it out. She drew her boys a little closer, and then steeled her body and her mind against whatever was about to come.

..ooOOoo..

Skittish little thing…

Duncan frowned after the woman who had just crashed into him a moment before, puzzled by the look of terror that had remained on her face even
after
she spied her little boy, and embarrassed by his body’s reaction to her innocent,
inadvertent
touch.

God, she had felt like heaven
. Duncan felt another wave of shame as he recalled the sensation of catching her in his arms. For one, fleeting second, all the softness and warmth of her tiny curves had been pressed against his skin, igniting prickles of longing, together with a stranger sensation that he knew her from somewhere before. Of course, he didn’t. He’d never laid eyes on the woman in his life. He would remember a face like hers. He couldn’t account for his response, except to admit it had been far too long since he’d held a woman in his arms. Aileen had been in the ground just over a year now and, of course, he’d been faithful to her memory ever since.

Duncan’s frown deepened when he thought of his departed wife. It still felt very disloyal to think of another woman, even though the one who had just rushed away was certainly worthy of a second look. He couldn’t help but glance up to catch a final glimpse of her retreating figure as she scurried off like a frightened rabbit. She was a pretty thing: small and curvy, with hair that flashed copper in the firelight. He couldn’t make out the color of her eyes
- only their expression. They were haunted somehow.

“Ah, well. Probably only worried about the wee lad,” he muttered under his breath, still trying to shake off the lingering after effects of the brief encounter and the strange sense of connection he felt to the girl.

She was
married
anyhow, he reminded himself firmly. She had been looking for
her son,
and was probably the mother of the babe in her arms as well as the one clinging to her skirts. He spared a wistful smile for the little children. They
had
looked like little darlings - albeit, obviously prone to mischief. How he wished he’d had some of his own.

Well, he
didn’t
. That cruel reminder was the slap Duncan needed to get his thoughts firmly back on the ground. He didn’t have anything now but a trio of horses, a wagon, and a ragged band of Scots to lead over the mountains the following morning - and so he’d better try and get some rest.

..ooOOoo..

Duncan slept well that night, and was fully refreshed the following morning when he woke.  He had a feeling a woman with copper-colored hair and a tantalizing figure had visited him in his dreams, although he didn’t understand exactly how that had provided a
restful
night’s sleep.

He was certainly drawn to the stranger. It
was almost inexplicable, given their oh-so-brief encounter. Of course, when Duncan had been a much younger man, it hadn’t taken more than a passing glance to rouse his interest. Perhaps he hadn’t changed as much as he thought, or perhaps there was something special about this woman. He was attracted by her looks but also intrigued by the puzzle of her eyes. He couldn’t stop wondering why she seemed so afraid. It didn’t make any sense, and it left him with a nagging feeling of guilt that he wasn’t at all comfortable with. He tried very hard to clear his mind of the Irish beauty as he was called by Mrs. Ross to breakfast.

Duncan ate a hearty meal with his clan men, and was helping to load the wagons when he saw something move out of the corner of his eye.  It really wasn’t
that
surprising he had noticed the flash of copper hair.  He must have been subconsciously looking for her, and once he spotted his temptress, Duncan couldn’t stop staring in her direction.

Luckily, she didn’t notice him. She was quite far away, but Duncan’s keen eyes drank in her lithe, graceful movements as she too packed up her family’s wagon.  He wondered what her life had been like back in Ireland. The children he had seen her with the day before were there, bouncing around her feet, but there were two older boys today too, who were being rather more helpful than their younger siblings.

It looked like such a happy, industrious scene. A sharp pang of jealousy gripped Duncan’s heart.  How he longed for a fine healthy family all his own. Before his thoughts could depress him too greatly with all the things he had lost, a male presence interrupted the pleasing display.

The father, the
husband
, Duncan supposed, appeared, and a jealous frown darkened Duncan’s face.  Was it just his imagination, or did the happy scene become suddenly strained and stilted?  Duncan couldn’t
hear
what was being said, but he saw the man wave his arm around in a threatening, angry manner, and the woman seemed to draw back in fear.

“Duncan? Hey, Duncan! Can you pass up that bundle?”

Duncan’s attention was reluctantly dragged away from the incident and when he looked back again a wagon had moved and blocked his view.  He cursed under his breath.  It was none of his business of course. People argued all the time, and he had no business staring at another man’s wife, but something about that family just didn’t
seem
right.

He managed to concentrate on the task at hand and finish loading up the wagon, but his attention wandered again as they readied to leave. The leader of the expedition, a wiry leathered French trapper named LaSoeur moved through the camp and arranged the wagons in order. The buzz of activity became more organized as the last supplies were roped into place and the families formed a jagged line and began to move.

It was a large party. There were more than twenty wagons and cartloads, and a dozen single riders or more. All in all there were seventeen families and a handful of single men. Half of them were Duncan’s clansmen.

Duncan inspected their ranks, picking out the faces from home. Only one set of MacNabs had come. His younger brother, Ewan, decided to remain behind in North Carolina, but here were
the Rosses, the Guests, and the MacKenzies. Two sets of his MacRae cousins had come along with their families as well. Now that he was, once again, leaving the world he knew behind, he took a little comfort from the fact some old friends were coming as well.