The Ruby Brooch (The Celtic Brooch Trilogy) (44 page)

“I’m glad you spent time with him this afternoon.”

His hot breath blew against her cheek. “He wanted to warn me about ye.”

“He should have warned
me
about
you
.”

The strain was gone from Cullen’s face, and he laughed with easy contentment. “Shall we go?”

She stood and straightened his tailored black wool Prince Charlie jacket. “Nice.” Her hands trailed down his sides to his narrow waist. “You men can keep your secrets, but I have ways to discover what’s important.” She gazed up at him from beneath lowered lashes, and reached underneath his silver-decorated fur sporran gently squeezing him.

“Ye can touch my ballocks any time, lass.” His fingertips teased her ample bosom. “If ye keep that up, I’ll lift yer petticoats for sure and have ye one more time before dinner.” His tongue swept against hers, stroking in an erotic rhythm.

Tingling desire burned through her, hot and wet and delicious. “Cullen, if you do, we won’t even make it to breakfast.”

His throaty laughed wrapped around her. “We’d be forgiven.” A mischievous gleam brightened his eyes.

She flicked her tongue along the seam of his lips. “How’s your dizziness?”

“Whatever you did cured me.” He nibbled at the corners of her mouth.

 She broke away from him, panting. “Stop. We have to go.” She glanced in the mirror and reapplied clear lip-gloss, smacked her swollen lips, and pinched her cheeks. “Did Sean tell you we were pledged as children?”

“Aye. If I had known, I would have saved myself for ye.”

Kit burst out laughing. “If you expect me to believe—”

He kissed her again and smacked his lips as she had done. “Henry’s room is across the hall, and he was about to charge in here earlier. If we delay any longer I expect he’ll break down the door.”

“I should have spoken to him this afternoon before we disappeared.”

“Nae, he and Sean drank whiskey in the parlor until I came downstairs.”

Kit felt her cheeks heat. “But we were up here for hours.” 

“Aye, lass. You dinna need to worry ‘bout what others think. I will protect ye with my sword.”

She squeezed him again. “I think I need protection now.”

He reached for her dress buttons, but she stepped back and headed toward the door.

“Nae?”

“If my grandfather is joining us for dinner, I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Your grandfather and I got along well.”

 “After a few hours with him and Sean you already sound like them.”

He chuckled. “What took Harvard years to pull out, the MacKlennas put back in an afternoon.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Mayhap, but the lass encourages my incorrigibility.” He opened the bedroom door. “I’m ready to eat that turkey that’s had my mouth watering all afternoon.”

“And I thought I was the reason you were drooling.
”

He flashed a wide grin.

As she walked out the door, she glanced back at the bed. The sheets lay twisted in a tangled heap. The image of her husband sprawled naked in her bed far surpassed her fantasies. Now she would paint the reality, lost in the feel of him, rippling with pleasure and smelling of autumn.

WHEN KIT REACHED the first landing she spotted Henry on the bottom step.
“Henry.”

He held out his arms. “You’re prettier than you were on your wedding day.”

She reached the bottom step and hugged the robust old soldier with character lines seemingly etched into his face. “I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you for taking care of Cullen. If I’d known you were traveling with him, I wouldn’t have worried as much.”

Henry pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away a few tears. “Somebody had to watch over him. The boy don’t do a good job on his own.” He shook his head, wearing a wide-eyed look of disbelief. “I never thought—”

“I know.” She dabbed at her eyes with her fingers until Cullen handed her his handkerchief. “I’m back now and we’re all together.” As she slipped the handkerchief into her dress sleeve, she noticed the monogrammed M. Her initial. The only one she’d ever have.

Sean escorted Thomas into the hallway. Both men looked dashing in their MacKlenna blue and red tartan kilts. Eighty-two year old Thomas had a
sgian dubh
tucked into the right leg of his knitted hose with the MacKlenna crest visible on the knife’s black, hardwood handle.

“Shall we go to dinner? Kitherina has promised to play her mother’s guitar and sing for us later,” Sean said.

Cullen whispered in her ear. “If you’re going to sing, lass, you’ll have to return my handkerchief.”

She gave him a smile. “If grandfather requests
Auld Lang Syne
, I’ll have to have it back.”

If she knew anything about sentimental Scotsmen, the men would sing every Robert Burns’ song they knew while they drank whiskey and smoked cigars. The revelry would go on long into the night without her. She glanced up the stairs toward her bedroom. Her last chance for her husband’s attention was slowly slipping away, at least until morning.

Henry put his arm around her shoulder. “I’m glad music found its way back into your heart.”

“I never thanked you for saving my—”

“No need, missy.” He kissed her cheek.

Cullen lifted Henry’s fingers off her. “If you’re through manhandling my wife, I’ll escort her to dinner.”

She glanced at Henry and caught the twinkle in his eyes.

 A rapid knock on the front door captured their attention. Thomas pointed his walking stick at Joe. “Open it, fore whoever’s pounding knocks the damned thing down.”

Sean glanced up and down the hall. “Who’s missing?”

Kit laughed, letting the musical rhythm of her happiness flow into the foyer. “John didn’t follow you cross country did he?”

“If he did,” Cullen said, “Sarah and the children are with him. He sure as hell wouldn’t go off without them.”

Thomas tugged on Sean’s arm. “Invite them in, son. The MacKlenna’s are celebrating tonight.”

Chapter Forty-Nine

“ARE YOU SURE they’re here?” Braham asked the driver he’d hired at the Midway Depot.

“Yes, suh. Sukey say she gone fix a big supper tonight for all they company.”

Donald McCabe tapped his fingers against the sides of his kilt. “Maybe we should wait until morning instead of barging in on their gathering.”

Braham barked out a laugh. “Uncle Donald, you broke two sailing records to get here. We’re not turning back now. I don’t care how frightened you are. And besides, we’re dressed for this. I haven’t worn a kilt in years. I’m glad you insisted we bring them.”

Donald stared at his nephew. Damned right he was scared. His moorings were coming loose from the dock, setting him adrift in shark-infested waters. He’d run out on his father-in-law years ago, and the old man probably thought he was dead and glad of it.

The driver turned onto the torch-lit, tree-lined drive. The sugar maples, which dressed the lane in an exquisite red-orange color, had grown since Donald help plant them—a lifetime ago.

The carriage neared the house. He gazed at the Doric columns and long, arched windows guarding the door. The old soldiers presented a formidable foe. “Stop here. I’ll walk the rest of the way.” He buckled his cutlass around his waist and stepped to the ground, inhaling the cool air, carrying the scent of what? Pumpkin pie? The old goat always did eat well. “Let’s go to the barns first. I’d like to see the horses.”

Braham left the carriage, stepping quickly into his uncle’s path. “You can delay this longer, but don’t you think a quarter of a century is long enough?”

Donald let his gaze linger on the paddocks. His jaw clenched tight.

Braham put his hands on his hips and twitched his fingers. “You’ve been shipwrecked, stabbed and shot, fought pirates, and sailed through hurricanes. What do you think this man is going to do to you?”

Donald’s heart pinched in an old familiar way. He’d never been afraid of anything or anybody except facing the old man. ”I walked out on him. You don’t do that to Thomas MacKlenna.”

“You didn’t walk out. You just didn’t come back,” Braham said.

Donald gave a low, self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.”

“This was your idea, but as drunk as you were you probably don’t remember.”

“I was content without sobriety.”

“Who the hell are you trying to kid? I talked to men who’ve sailed around the world with you, and not one of them ever saw you take a drink.”

“Just because nobody saw me—“

“Blow smoke in another direction, uncle. I’m not listening. My friends are waiting, and I’m going in.” Braham marched up the steps to the portico.”

“He could tell me to go away.”

“Perhaps, but Kit told me Thomas MacKlenna will die in January. It’s time you reconciled.”

Donald forced out a deep breath. “Knock on the damned door but don’t be surprised when they throw me out.”

Braham knocked, and a servant answered. “May I help you, suh?”

“I’d like to see Mister MacKlenna,” Braham said.

Donald broke out in a cold sweat at the sound of merriment. Was a canon firing? Or was that boom his heart? He heard Thomas invite whoever was at the door to join their celebration. If he knew who stood at the entrance to his home, he’d change his mind faster than wind could change direction in a storm. Donald moved aside so he couldn’t be seen, but he could see through the front door’s sidelights directly into the candle-lit entrance hall.

Braham stepped into the hallway. “I hope I’m not too late for the party.”

“Braham.”
A woman ran into his nephew’s arms.

“
Kitherina?
What are you doing here?” He swung her around, swishing her satin skirt. “We’re cousins, can you believe it?”

“You’re making me dizzy. Put me down.” She laughed with girlish excitement.

Donald stared, enrapt. Was this lovely creature his daughter? She had Jamilyn’s high cheekbones, full rosebud lips, and long neck. Her hair was the color of his before it turned gray, and her eyes were the same green shade he saw every morning in his shaving mirror. Yes, Braham described both her countenance and her voice perfectly. But he had failed to mention her pink-tinged cheeks and the soft, warm womanly glow that radiated from her. He had never seen such an angelic appearance in any woman except his wife when she was with child.

My God, she’s exquisite.

Braham kissed her cheek. “How did you get here?”

“I got your letter.”

“You did?”

“The bank sent it.”

Donald felt separate and apart, as if he remained in his ship’s crow’s nest while his crew disembarked for a short swim to a tropical island.

A tall man with black hair and blue eyes slapped Braham’s back. From his nephew’s description, Donald assumed the man was Cullen Montgomery. “You can put my wife down, now.”

“She’s
my
cousin, and I’ll hold her as long as I want.”

Montgomery laughed. “It’s good to see ye. Yer appearance has topped off a perfect day.

Braham set Kit’s feet on the ground, and her husband slipped a protective arm around her waist. “I’m not the topping, but I brought the topping with me.”

Braham was ready to spout a secret that would detonate an explosion and drastically alter lives, a secret no one in the hall was prepared to hear. He grabbed Donald’s arm and pulled him into the hallway. His breath thundered in his ears louder than any hurricane he’d ever heard.

“Is that Donald McCabe?”

Donald turned toward Thomas MacKlenna’s roaring voice just in time to see him throw down his cane. Color drained from the old man’s gaunt face. His brown eyes looked hard and unforgiving. Donald gave him a perfunctory nod in preparation of being tossed from the house as he’d been tossed from Virginia pubs so long ago. He hoped the big man guarding the door would throw him to the soft grass instead of the brick walk. Every muscle tensed. He wouldn’t fight, not in front of his daughter.

“It is ye, Donald.” Thomas’s voice thundered again through the room.

Donald glanced quickly at Kitherina, took a breath, and then relaxed. He would try to roll with the fall in order to keep from breaking a bone. He glanced at the servant.
I’m ready. Give me your best shot.

“Welcome, home, laddie.”

Welcome home?
Donald grew numb with shock. Thomas wasn’t sending him away. Instead, he wrapped him in a fervent embrace. But Thomas’s arms were no longer strong enough to chop down a tree in a half dozen swings of an ax. They belonged to a frail, ailing man, carrying the scent of death.

“It’s time you came home, son.” His eyes glistened with tears.

Donald’s chest tightened. He’d never asked forgiveness from anyone and no one had ever asked it of him, but he knew if he ever wanted peace in his soul, he had to ask the old man to forgive him. His heart raced, his fingers grew cold. “I’m sorry, sir, for leaving you when you needed me most.”

Thomas gripped his arm with a gnarled hand. “Ye had ye reasons after killing that man, I suppose, but none that mattered to me. I forgave ye when you did it. Ye just didn’t give me a chance to tell ye.” Thomas stepped back and grabbed his son’s hand, too. “Welcome yer brother home, Sean.”

Sean’s warm hands wrapped Donald’s in a two-handed shake, then pulled him into a hug, slapping his back. “Welcome home, brother.”

Cullen handed Thomas his cane. The MacKlenna family patriarch leaned heavily on the walking stick’s elephant ivory handle with one arm, while still embracing Donald with the other. Thomas’s face glowed. “Bring the whiskey, Joe. We’ve toasts to make.”

When Joe left the hall, Sean said, “I have someone for ye to meet.” He clasped Donald’s shoulder with one hand. “Kitherina, this is yer father.” He clasped her shoulder, too. “I stand in the place of my sister who loved ye both. Share all of yer tomorrows, remembering her.”