Call Home the Heart (34 page)

 

 

 Once again Lochlainn began to wonder whether she had a wanton
nature as he rose from the tub and she moved to dry him off. She led
him to the bed by the hand, and patted it invitingly, before moving
away from him slightly to remove her robe and place it on the back
of her chair. He reached over to snuff the candles but she urged,
"No, I want to see you, taste you."

 

 

Lochlainn was mildly shocked, but was soon carried away on the
whirling eddy of his own desires as Muireann led him down avenues
they had never explored before. He struggled to match her kiss for
kiss, stroke for stroke, with every caress of hand, mouth and tongue
heightening his desire to fever pitch, until at last they joined as
one.

 

 

Their cataclysmic conclusion shook both to the very core of their
beings. They collapsed exhaustedly onto their backs and lay there
with the chill spring air cooling their naked bodies. Muireann
eventually moved to pull the covers up over their glowing flesh, and
she gathered him close, so that his head rested on her chest.

 

 

"Thank you for today, and tonight. It's been marvelous," she said,
stroking his thick dark hair back from his brow lovingly.

 

 

Lochlainn felt himself drifting off into a deep sleep. "It's been
wonderful for me too,"

 

 

"I love you, Lochlainn," Muireann declared softly.

 

 

But Lochlainn never heard the words he had been longing for ever
since he and Muireann had first met. He was already sound asleep in
her warm embrace.

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

 

 

The sheep shearing commenced on the second of May, and it was
certainly backbreaking work for the many who weren't used to the
dipping and cutting. Muireann and Lochlainn worked side by side, and
for a time he hoped that she might have relinquished the idea of
going away.

 

 

But two days after the shearing was finished, he came into her room
to find her packing.

 

 

"What's all this?"

 

 

"I know you don't approve, but—"

 

 

"I just don't want you heading off on a fool's errand. You've tried
all avenues of inquiry and are none the wiser. I think the house
must have been sold already, or is mortgaged or even been foreclosed
upon."

 

 

"I need to know for certain."

 

 

"Can't  Anthony handle—"

 

 

"I need to meet with him in person as well. So it will be killing
two birds with one stone, Lochlainn.  Please stop worrying."

 

 

He looped one arm around her waist. "I can't help it. Just when I
start feeling like everything is on an even keel and we're making
headway against the winds of fortune at last, some tempest blows us
backwards."

 

 

She shook her head. "I would love it for things to be more stable
for us all as well, but life doesn't stand still, you know. The only
thing certain in this life is change."

 

 

He sighed and held her close. "The more we have, the more we risk
losing."

 

 

She nodded, and held him close. "Ironic, isn't it. We were unhappy
when we had nothing. Now we share so much, well, it would seem too
cruel a blow to lose any of it, especially when we've worked so hard
to accomplish what we have so far."

 

 

Lochlainn wasn't sure if she was only talking about the estate. But
with the way she was pressing her body against his, he didn't care.

 

 

"Trust me, I won't let one iota of it go without a fight, love."

 

 

She raised her hand to stroke his cheek. "You know I won't either.
Trust me, darling?"

 

 

He pressed her hand to his lips, then gathered her into his arms.
They sank onto the bed amid her valises, all thoughts of her journey
flying straight out of their heads as they began to meld and merge
into one.

 

 

The next day, heavy-hearted, Lochlainn rode on the cart with her to
Enniskillen, where she was to board the coach for Dublin.

 

 

"Have you got everything you need?" he asked quietly.

 

 

"Aye, I do, but you'll have to look after Tadhg for me while I'm
gone. I'll miss the little tyke."

 

 

"And he'll miss you. We all will," he said, forcing himself to
smile, though his eyes remained serious.

 

 

Muireann stroked his cheek tenderly.

 

 

"I'll be fine. Don't look so worried."

 

 

"I know. I just think perhaps I should go with you, to look after
you," he said, chewing his lower lip nervously.

 

 

He tried to ignore the voice inside his head that said he would
never make love to her again. He had done so passionately,
desperately, the night before. He tried to block out the persistent
thought that he would never see Muireann again.

 

 

 "No, Lochlainn, really. Anthony Lowry will be there to look
after all my business interests in Dublin. I need you to do the same
for me here. I'll be home as soon as I can, I promise." She squeezed
his hand tightly.

 

 

"I'll be counting the days. Write to me?"

 

 

"I will," she promised for the hundredth time.

 

 

He helped her up into the interior of the coach. He wrapped her
traveling rugs around her legs as if she were the most precious
treasure. He held her hand tightly as it rested on the ledge of the
door, and then impulsively jumped onto the step and gave her one
last kiss through the open window.

 

 

 Muireann blushed to the roots of her hair, but she was fairly
sure no one had noticed.

 

 

"Goodbye! I'll see you soon," she called.

 

 

The coach moved off from the depot.

 

 

He waved seemingly cheerfully until the carriage went out of sight,
then released a ragged sigh. Lochlainn wondered how he would live
without her by his side day and night. He knew he would count the
hours until she once more returned to his arms.

 

 

If she ever returned…

 

 

 
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

 

 

Return she did, but the Muireann who came home to Lochlainn and
Barnakilla five weeks later in the middle of June proved to be a
very different woman from the one who had gone away on that idyllic
May morning after the blissful night of passion they had shared
which Lochlainn had hoped would never end.

 

 

Muireann arrived back at Barnakilla in the middle of June, thinner
and paler than ever, with a young man and an even younger woman in
tow. Both of them were quite attractive in an earthy sort of way.
Muireann simply introduced them to the rest of the workers as Emma
and Sam.

 

 

"They're going to be teachers," she announced to everyone at dinner
on the day she arrived home. "I want schools for all the children,
and even reading and writing classes for the adults. The time you
spend in class will be charged at quarter rate against your rents."

 

 

Lochlainn, delighted when he heard Muireann had finally returned to
Barnakilla, had envisioned a romantic reunion, a chance to be alone
with her, to greet her warmly and intimately.

 

 

His hopes were soon dashed completely. Since so many people were
crowded into the room to hear her surprise announcement, there
wasn't a chance of a quiet word with her at all, let alone anything
more personal.

 

 

When Muireann finally did take the trouble to look at him directly,
it was a hollow, vacant stare, almost as though she were looking
through him. And over the next few days, as she organized and set up
the new school in two of the cottages that had just been built near
a small wooded glen, she seemed to avoid Lochlainn and take an
inordinate interest in Emma and Sam's welfare.

 

 

Sam was a very good-looking young man, only a couple of years older
that Muireann. Lochlainn felt jealousy burn furiously within him,
yet he could see nothing wrong with the quiet, withdrawn chap. He
behaved circumspectly at all times, and certainly did not seem
flirtatious in the least.

 

 

Since Lochlainn always noticed the three of them together,
conversing so no one could overhear, he told himself he was being
absurd. Muireann couldn't possibly have taken this poor emaciated
young man as her lover, could she?

 

 

All the same, he felt left out. They had always used each other as a
sounding board, yet now she was setting up the school without even
troubling to consult him.

 

 

When he finally did get a chance to ask her how she had fared in
Dublin a few days after her arrival home, on a sultry June evening,
she said curtly, "Everything is fine. The house is sold, and I've
paid off a large portion of our mortgage for Barnakilla. Those high
interest payments were crippling, but I think we've solved that
problem now."

 

 

"I'm glad to hear it," Lochlainn said quietly, trying to subdue his
rising temper. "But that still doesn't tell me what the house was
like, or Mrs. Barnes, or any of it. You've been gone for weeks, with
not a single letter to any of us, even though you promised to
write.  Now you've come back with money and these two
schoolteachers. What's the matter, are we not good enough for you?
Too lacking in education?"

 

 

She turned sideways to avoid his blazing gaze.

 

 

Infuriated, he took her by the shoulders to get her to face him.

 

 

Like lightning, Muireann knocked his hands away roughly and stepped
back. "Let go of me, damn you!"

 

 

 Lochlainn stared down at her in stunned surprise. The very
words he had dreaded hearing for so long now echoed in his ears like
the death knell at his own funeral.

 

 

"I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Caldwell," he said in his most crisp
accent. "It won't happen again."

 

 

Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the office.

 

 

"No, Lochlainn, wait!" Muireann tried to call him back to explain,
but he kept on going and soon disappeared out of sight.

 

 

Muireann sighed and let him go. After all, there was work to be done
on the farm, and in truth she couldn't really explain it all anyway.
He was better off not knowing.

 

 

Besides, it was much better to block out the truth even from her own
mind, than to face all she had seen, all she had learnt since that
fateful day when she had exchanged vows with Augustine Caldwell. Her
two trips to Dublin had both been a test of her character. She
judged herself harshly, and found herself lacking.

 

 

She wanted to make up for what she had done, channel the bitter
experiences she had endured into a positive force for the future.
There would be time enough to mend fences with Lochlainn when she
felt she was ready, or so she believed.

 

 

In the meantime there was more than enough to keep her occupied at
Barnakilla. For example, the sheep shearing at the start of May had
gone quite well. It was the washing, dyeing, carding, spinning and
weaving that were causing trouble. She managed in the end to find
more experienced weavers, knitters and crocheters, who produced a
wide variety of socks, stockings, mufflers, and shawls, which were
added to an ever growing pile of clothes for the estate workers.

 

 

Muireann's sewing circle proceeded to make dresses out of the woolen
cloth the looms were producing slowly but surely. At first Muireann
hadn't believed it possible to dye the wool, but with her experts'
knowledge of lichens, mosses and so on to get the right colors, some
of the cloth was proving to be quite attractive.

 

 

"You know, we might even be able to sell our surplus soon," she said
optimistically to Sharon. "That is, once we all get kitted out for
winter ourselves."

 

 

Everyone on the estate noticed that she never smiled any more,
except when she played with Tadhg, which wasn't very often. The poor
puppy followed her devotedly everywhere, wondering where his
formerly jovial playmate had gone and desperately eager for
attention, or any game at all.

 

 

His long spindly legs helped him keep up with her stride as she went
restlessly from building to building. He also sat on her lap
comfortingly when she was at rest in a chair, but this happened
rarely. From sun up to sun down, they could be seen all over the
estate.

 

 

"Why is she working so hard? What's the matter with her?" Ciara
asked Lochlainn late one evening when she heard the familiar light
crunch of gravel as Muireann went past their house.

 

 

Lochlainn paused, listening expectantly, hoping he was coming to see
him. When the footsteps had disappeared off into the distance, he
replied bitterly, "We haven't spoken on a personal level since she
returned from Dublin. I have no idea what she's thinking these
days."

 

 

Ciara looked gloomy and observed, "Well, perhaps it's for the best.
It will save you worse disappointment in the long run if you end it
now."

 

 

"That's the last thing I wanted to hear," he snapped.

 

 

He stormed out of the house and headed in the opposite direction
from the one Muireann had taken. He knew if he met her on the path
on a balmy moonlit night, he would only end up making a complete
fool of himself. And the last thing he wanted was a confrontation in
which she told him it was well and truly over between them…