Elaine Coffman - [Mackinnons 06] (18 page)

When Cathleen’s grandfather told her that Fletcher would be
returning to Caithness, a sadness gripped her heart. She stared at David, dull
and transfixed, like a person about to be bitten by a dog, unable to do
anything about it. The feeling of loss was new to her, for never before had she
given her affections to a man. Her hands curled into fists.

She resented his coming. She wanted her freedom back; her
freedom to go about her day in a carefree manner, not lifting her eyes to stare
across the room at the line of a nose or the curve of a jaw; her freedom to do
her chores without pulling back a curtain to catch a glimpse of him coming up
the road; her freedom to sleep at night without dreaming about what might have
been.
Damn you, Fletcher Ramsay, for coming into my life, for making me
care…

Later that evening, after she had cleaned the house and put
away the dishes from the evening meal, she went for a walk across the moors.
She had not gone very far when she heard footfalls.

Someone was following her.

Cathleen paused. Her heart pounding, she wondered if it
could be Adair’s men behind her. She turned to confront whoever it was.

“Fletcher!” she said, releasing a nervous breath. He was so
very tall and regally slim. The bones of his face were masterfully put
together, and his lightly tanned skin set off the blue of his eyes. As always
when she looked at him, her blood began to flow in a heated rush. Bold as a
harpie he looked, walking toward her with such confidence. But he was leaving.

She closed her eyes, feeling a tightness in her throat.
Since his coming, she had begun to see what it meant, how it felt to be really,
truly alive. How could she bear the thought of his going?

He stopped. He was standing very close to her now. “Where
are you going?” he asked in a mellow voice. “Were you running away from me?”

It’s you who will be running away
. “No, I was just
walking,” she said in a hoarse whisper, forcing herself to look down at her
feet, for it seemed to extract the energy and life from her to look into his
face, a face that had become dearer to her than she had known before tonight.

“Then I shall walk with you.”

He fell in step beside her. “Grandfather told me you are
returning to Caithness.”

“Yes,” he said. “I can’t think of any stones around here I
have left unturned. If any proof ever existed here, it is gone now. Adair has
covered his tracks well.”

“When will you be leaving?”

“In two days’ time.”

“The same as Grandfather, then.”

“Yes, did he not tell you that…”

“Aye, he told me he persuaded you to let him go to St.
Abb’s.” She said the words in pain. It was one of the few times that she
actually wanted his sympathy. She expected it. She did not care. To have both
of them leave at the same time—it was too much.

“I tried to convince him…”

“I know,” she said. “He can be a stubborn man when he wants
to be.”

“Do you mind his doing this…going to St. Abb’s, I mean?”

“He is old, and I mind anything that takes him from me. But
I cannot say his involvement in this displeases me. How could I? He is like a
young puppy. This search of yours has energized him far more than my playing
the Psalms ever did. I had not noticed it before, but there is a bit of the
sleuth in him. I almost find myself wondering if he would have made a good
banister.”

“I think he chose the right path. Spending your life as a
man of God cannot be faulted.”

“No, I suppose it canna.”

“Will you be all right while he…we are gone?”

She smiled. “He has left me before, you know, and I am a
grown woman, but I will miss him. It grows quite lonely here without him, and
now that I have become accustomed to having the two of you around…”

She could not go on, for her throat felt as if it had
narrowed, choking back the words she wanted to say. Feeling the burn of tears,
she turned her head away, fearful that he would see how very much she had come
to enjoy his company, how much she cared for him. Terror rose in her, an
absolute irrational fear that he would somehow know that she had come to love
him.

“Cathleen…” He leaned forward to kiss her, tentatively, like
the fawn coming up to take food from her hand, with uncertainty as to how she
would react. His lips covered hers, his long fingers slipping around her neck,
his thumbs touching her jaw, caressing gently, then moving to her cheeks. A
warm and delicious sensation seemed to drug her, spreading down to her loins.

She wanted to tell him that he must not kiss her, that he
must let her go, but she realized that if he did as she asked, she would sink
to the ground, for it was his strength that supported her, his arms that held
her upright. Panic beat at her throat like the frantic wings of a trapped bird.

“Easy darling. You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you,
Cathleen. You know that. What pleasure, what joy would there be in that for
me?”

His words seemed to wash over her like the melody of a song.
He kissed her again and, when she thought he was finished, again. She felt as
if her body were floating, weightless, anchored only by the heat that seemed to
fuse their bodies together. He touched her breast then, rubbing the nipple,
sending a new sensation fluttering through her. She pushed weakly against him.

He broke away. “I’m sorry. I always seem to forget myself
when I am with you. You are like a drug that penetrates my skin, making me
think things I should not be thinking, making me do things I know you do not
want. You see? I have upset you now, when that was never my intention. Forgive
me.”

She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s all
right. I’m not upset about that. Truly. It’s just the thought of both of you
leaving at the same time.”

He paused, taking her by the arms and turning her toward
him. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

“Don’t make this out to be more than it is,” she said. “I
have grown fond of you, that’s all.”

“Like you’ve grown fond of your horse?”

She gave him a watery smile. “Aye…like Flora.”

“Well, knowing I rank right up there with an overweight
nag—that is a humbling thought.”

His attempt at humor left her feeling sad and shaky. His
nearness. His dearness. His soon-to-be absence from her life.

It was too much. She could not think straight.

All Cathleen wanted to do was cry, which was odd, because
she wasn’t a woman prone to crying. She had always thought herself stronger
than tears, yet she seemed prone to do nothing but shed them in Fletcher’s
presence.

His arms came around her and he pulled her against him,
lining their bodies together perfectly. Her only thoughts were of how good and
warm and solid he felt, of how much she would miss him. He kissed her cheeks,
her eyes, her forehead, her mouth, leaving a path of kisses across her skin.
Her breathing became quick and shallow.

She pulled her head back to look at his face, wondering how
she could ever ignore the temptation of that beautiful mouth, with its teasing
words and soft kisses.

His eyes gazed at her with gentleness; eyes as blue as the
sky overhead; eyes that were coaxing, promising all the things she had no right
to think about.

“Dinna look at me like that,” she whispered.

His sigh said it was a little late for that.

Dropping her head, she buried her face in her hands. She
didn’t know what to do. She was torn between her past and her desire. Her mind
and her body seemed no longer capable of coexistence.

“You think too much,” he said, lifting her face to his.

Before she could respond, he kissed her. At first, the touch
of his mouth was no more than a whisper, stroking her mouth gently, as if
learning its shape and contour, and the exact timing of her breath. He shifted
his weight, drawing her more closely against him, his body pressing intimately.
As she felt his body trembling against hers, fear shivered down her spine. His
chest pressed against her breasts. His hips were flat against hers. His tongue
stroked the inside of her mouth.

She tried to look at him but saw nothing but star-points, as
if she had looked directly at the sun. He tried to kiss her again, but she put
her fingers over his mouth. He sighed, then drew her against him, lowering his
chin to rest upon the top of her head.

“Of all the women and all the times, I had to fall for
you…now. You complicate things, Cathleen. You surely do.”

She turned her head so that it rested against his chest. For
a long time she stood there savoring the sound of his words, listening to the
beat of his heart.

“I’m a contradiction, aren’t I? I tell you about my past and
all the reasons why I will never marry, yet I melt whenever you touch me. I
don’t understand myself anymore. I feel like I’m floating on a block of ice
that is slowly melting. I can’t stay on it…and I can’t swim.”

“No matter what your mind is telling you, your body wants
me, Cathleen.”

She looked at him, and she knew he had noticed the way her
bonnet strings seemed to catch at her throat, for he traced them with his
finger. She ignored that, responding to his statement instead
your body
wants me, Cathleen
. “Aye, my body wants you, Fletcher Ramsay. I know it,
and I can’t seem to help that. My body seems to have a mind of its own.
Unfortunately, my body is not capable of taking care of the rest of me.”

She broke away from him. “Perhaps your returning to
Caithness is best,” she said. “Once you are gone, things will seem clearer to
me than they do now. It will be like a burn that has been muddied by the steps
of many horses, but once they are across, the sand will settle to the bottom
and the water will run clear again. Right now, everything seems muddy to me,
but once you are gone, things will settle down and soon I will have my old life
back.”

“Don’t count on it,” he said. “I may be harder to forget
than you think.” He gave her one of his charming lopsided grins, and as always,
her heart melted at the sight. “Besides, I may come back.”

She shook her head sadly. “No, you willna. There will be no
reason for you to return.” Then she turned away and started back toward the
house, leaving him standing there alone in field of heather.

The next day Fletcher was in Glengarry, having gone there a
few hours earlier to leave his horse with the blacksmith. While the horse was
being shod, he wandered around town. He crossed the street in front of the
shoemaker’s shop and encountered Annora Fraser coming into town in a smart,
shiny carriage pulled by a smartly trotting horse.

“Fletcher Ramsay!” she called out. “What luck to come in
Glengarry and find you.”

“Hello, Annora,” Fletcher said, looking at her and squinting
against the sun at her back. “What brings you here on such fine day?”

“A visit to the dressmaker’s. I want to be certain I look exceptionally
lovely, just in case you decide to pay me a visit sometime.”

“You always look lovely, Annora,” he said, thinking that was
true. She was like a doll, with perfect features—a rosy mouth and dusky cheeks,
skin of the palest ivory, and hair that was so black it looked almost blue. Her
dress was of a red and green plaid, trimmed in black velvet, tight-fitting to
highlight an ample bosom and the kind of waist a man wanted to put his hands
around. Oh, she was a beauty all right.

But she wasn’t Cathleen.

She smiled, showing deep dimples and showing too how pleased
she was to hear him say she looked lovely. “Really? And here I thought you had
hardly noticed me.”

He grinned at her, at the obvious way she had of fishing for
a compliment. “Any man would notice you on his deathbed. He would have to be
blind not to.”

She smiled, apparently liking that comment as well. “So tell
me, what are you doing here in Glengarry?”

“My mother was an old friend of David MacDonald’s. She asked
me to pay him a visit.”

“Oh? How long have you been here?”

“Not long.”

“When are you coming to Dunston to see me?”

“Whenever I can manage it. I’ve been quite busy of late.”

“Doing what?”

“Working on some old family business. I like your rigging,
by the way. Is it new?”

She drew her brows together in a way that looked lovely.
“Rigging?”

“Your carriage,” he corrected himself, realizing she did not
understand his American term.

“Oh aye, my carriage. Why, thank you, and yes, it is new,
but don’t think you can change the subject. When are you going to pay me a
visit?”

“Whenever I can arrange the time, I guess.”

“I know better than to accept something as vague as that.
How about this weekend?”

“I’m afraid I can’t. I’m returning to Caithness tomorrow.”

Her face fell. “Oh. Well, perhaps I can pay you a visit at
Caithness.”

Not wanting to start that, Fletcher said, “I’ll be returning
to Glengarry before the month is out. Maybe I can stop by to see you when I
return.”

She gave him a curious look. “My, my, if you are coming back
that soon, your mother must have been a
very
close friend of David
MacDonald’s.” She paused, as if suddenly catching light of something. “Of
course! How lapse of me. I had forgotten about David’s little
granddaughter…although I would not have pegged her for your type.”

“That’s not the reason I’ll be coming back.”

“Oh? What is the reason then?”

“David is tending to a little business for me in St. Abb’s.”

“In St. Abb’s? Whatever for?”

“He is going to Abbey St. Bathan’s, which isn’t far from St.
Abb’s.”

“Oh, I see. I didn’t know you had business interests there.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Annora,”
he said, feeling that he had already said far too much.