Elaine Coffman - [MacKinnon 04] (29 page)

“What about Maude?”

“I had her take Barrie and Fletcher on a picnic.”

Maggie was not sure why her body began to shake and her knees
threatened to give way. Perhaps it was shock, or jangled nerves, or perhaps
just the release of tension, knowing now that Ainsley would probably survive.
She stood there, feeling cold and insolated, as if winter had come and she was
to go through it all alone. She thought she swayed on her feet, but she was not
certain until Adrian spoke, coming toward her.

Adrian crossed to where Maggie stood. “You’re tired. Go to
bed,” he said, “while you can still stand. I’ll stay with the child.” He
started up the stairs, and for a moment, Maggie stared stupidly after him.

“Wait,” she called. “You canna stay with her.”

Adrian stopped and turned slowly. “And why not? You afraid I
might smother her?”

Maggie blanched. “No, of course not, but she might wake up,
and the cloths need changing.”

“I am not an idiot, Maggie. I think I’m capable of wringing
out a cloth.”

Wearily she placed her hand on the banister and started up
the stairs, intending to go to Ainsley’s room, but when she passed the door to
her own room, she stopped. Adrian had been right. She was too exhausted to
think straight.

There comes a time,
she told herself,
when sleep
becomes inevitable
. If she didn’t rest now, she would literally drop on her
feet.

Upstairs, Adrian smoothed back the damp hairs that were plastered
to Ainsley’s forehead as he removed the hot cloth and replaced it with a cool
one. Then he leaned back in the chair, his eyes going around the room, a room
he had built, yet one he was completely unfamiliar with.
It’s a good room
for a little girl,
he thought, having a vision of what it might look like
with toys scattered about a bright rug, a shelf of dolls, frilly curtains on
the windows, and all those doodads little girls like lying about.

His gaze went back to the child. He knew nothing about little
people like this. In his estimation, it had been at least two years since he
had even seen one. So, what in the name of heaven was he doing with three of
them under his roof? He studied the still, pale face, trying to remember when
he was her age, then deciding that was just too long ago. Still, he didn’t
remember five or six being so small. Perhaps that was because she was a girl.
Girls were smaller.

He studied the child critically for some time. Little people
weren’t such a wonder after all. They were just miniature adults. This child
didn’t look particularly terrifying. Of course, she was asleep. He wondered why
he had always been just a little afraid of them.

Perhaps because they seemed to have a second sense that
adults did not have, a sense that enabled them to know what was going on in
your head. And they were frank. Painfully so.

Ainsley stirred and mumbled something Adrian didn’t
understand. He exchanged the cloth again, noticing how she had thrown one arm
out, so that her hand dangled off the side of the bed. Adrian picked it up and
was shocked to realize how small it was.

Why, she’s no more than a baby
, he thought, studying
the tiny hand. He noticed a faint red scar on the palm and wondered how she had
cut herself, when she began to grow restless.

“Papa,” she called, whimpering. “Papa, where are you?” She
began to thrash and pull at her hair, and Adrian, fearing she might pull it out
by the fistful, gently held her down.

“Here now! Stop that,” he said, then feeling suddenly
ridiculous, knowing his words were far too harsh and uncaring to be spoken to a
child. But how did one talk to a little person like this? He thought back to
his own childhood, trying to remember his mother. He closed his eyes and could
almost hear her singing a lullaby in Gaelic. His mother was gentle, and her
words soft. Ainsley cried out for her papa again, and Adrian held her hands
down. “Shhh,” he said. “You’re going to be fine.”

She continued to thrash and talk incoherently, and Adrian
searched his mind for the memory of something to say to a child, remembering
only a ditty the neighbor girls used to sing when they found a doodlebug’s
hole. With an awkward glance toward the door, he began to chant softly.

“Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home.

Your house is on fire, your children all gone.

All but one, and her name is Ann,

And I don’t remember the rest of this stupid song.”

Ainsley settled quietly as long as he recited, but the
minute he stopped, she resumed her thrashing.

“Papa…Papa…Papa! Don’t go away.” As she spoke through dry,
fevered lips, she clutched Adrian’s hand. “Don’t leave me, Papa. Please don’t
leave me.”

“I won’t,” he said, feeling foolish to be so deceptive, even
to a child, but telling himself it was necessary to quiet her.

“I’m here, so sleep now,” he said, smoothing his hand over
her forehead. Gradually she began to drift off to sleep.

Adrian must have dozed himself, for when Ainsley began to
stir in her sleep, he jerked full awake. The child was mumbling incoherently,
but eventually she grew quiet, her hands still gripping Adrian’s hand firmly.
Whenever he tried to pull his hand back, she would begin thrashing and talking
wildly. With a sigh, Adrian left his hand in hers, wondering if it were
possible for him to absorb some of the heat from a body that seemed too small
to withstand such a high fever.

He was still sitting with his hand in Ainsley’s when Maggie
came into the room. He heard the door shut and pulled his hand away quickly,
glancing up at Maggie as he did.

He shot to his feet. “I…uh… It seemed to make her sleep
better,” he said in a self-conscious way.

Maggie studied him for a moment.”Thank you,” she said
softly. “I’ll stay with her for a while.”

“You’d better see to dinner. I can stay here awhile longer.”

“Molly is back now. She was starting dinner when I came up.”

Adrian made it as far as the end of the bed, then paused,
turning to look at Maggie in a strange way. “Tell me about her father,” he
said.

Maggie couldn’t hide her look of surprise. “Bruce?”

Adrian looked at Ainsley. “She kept calling for him. She was
out of her head… She thought…”

“You were her father.”

“Yes.” Heat rose to his face and he looked off. “I was just
curious; that is, I wondered if…” He ran his hand through his hair and looked
away. “Never mind.”

“You were curious to know if Bruce looked anything like
you,” she said, as if telling him, not asking a question.

“Yes, I suppose I was.”

Maggie kept her eyes on Adrian. “Bruce was about your
height, but thicker—more muscular—and his hair was much darker than yours,
almost black.” She was silent for a moment, then she said, “The two of you are
nothing alike. Bruce was a tease and a talker. He never met a stranger. He had
a Scot’s brogue so thick, you could slice it with a dirk. He joked a lot, and
laughed a lot, and he adored our children.”

“In other words, he was everything I am not.”

“I ken you could say that, but I dinna think you should
think of it in a negative way.”

Adrian’s jaw clenched, and Maggie went on. “I would think
you’d be glad you are so different from him. In time the children will come to
love you for who you are, for a hundred reasons that are completely different
from the reasons they loved their father. They will…” She stopped suddenly,
realizing how she carried on, what she was saying.
Foolish, foolish woman!
You and the children won’t be here long enough for those things to happen.
Her eyes flew to his. “I’m sorry. I didna mean to imply…” She paused. “I ken
what you must be thinking.”

“To the contrary. I don’t think you have an inkling of my
thoughts, and as for your not meaning to imply…” His voice faded away, then
came back stronger than ever to say, “Don’t think me so naïve, sweet Maggie. I
have a feeling you know exactly what you’re doing. Just as you’ve known all
along how to tie a man’s guts in a knot.”

Adrian went downstairs and strode briskly down the hallway
to the library. Just inside the door, he drew up short. The other girl, the one
called Barrie, was sitting in the rocking chair, singing to her doll. She
looked up when he walked in.

The moment he stopped, she slid from the chair and made a
wide circle around him, obviously heading for the door. Her look was wary and
speculative, as if she were trying to decide something.

“Where are you going?” he asked gruffly.

Her face crumpled. “I dinna want to stay in here,” she said,
her voice soft, her hands clutching the doll against her.

“Why not? Because I’m in here?”

“Aye.”

“Stay if you like. I won’t bite.”

“Aye,” she said, “you willna if I’m no here,” and she began
inching toward the door.

“Stay,” he said, turning away. “I’ll go outside, where I can
get a little peace and quiet.”

Once out in the open, he heard Israel bark. He looked up to
see the boy, Fletcher, running down the drive where it sloped down the hill. He
was trying to fly a kite, but Israel kept chasing the tail, jumping into the
air to grab it each time the kite lifted off the ground. Adrian paused for a
moment, watching the boy scold Israel, feeling the urge to smile at the way
Israel flattened himself and put his paws over his nose.

He turned off in the opposite direction and headed toward
the stables, intending to saddle his horse and ride out some of his
frustration. He got as far as putting the bridle on, and was just reaching for
the saddle, when an authoritative voice behind him said, “Aren’t you going to
brush his back first?”

Adrian knew who that voice belonged to, but the resonance,
the authority in it, surprised him.
Arrogant little bastard
, he thought,
and turned to see Fletcher leaning over the gate to the stall, his brown hair
wind-tossed, his eyes a deep blue and penetrating. He saw nothing of Maggie in
this child.

“I thought you were flying your kite,” Adrian said.”What are
you doing in here?”

“I came to see what you were doing. I canna fly my kite with
Israel along.”

“You could lock him up in one of these stalls.”

“I’d rather watch you,” he said, his eyes going to the
gelding. “What if there are burrs on his back? Aren’t you going to brush his
back before you put the saddle on?”

“You’ve already asked me that once.”

“My mother says it’s better to ask twice than to lose your
way.”

“Then go ask your mother. She’s the one with all the
answers.”

“Why?”

Adrian scowled at him. “Why? Why are you so full of
questions?”

“My mother says it’s good to ask questions, then others
won’t think you know all the answers.”

“Is there anything your mother doesn’t know?”

Fletcher grinned. “Aye, she doesna know how to make scones.
Whenever she threw them out to our dogs, the dogs would bury them.”

The muscle in Adrian’s jaw worked as the desire to ride
drained slowly away. Was there no place safe from this sudden invasion of
little people? Adrian removed the bridle and walked out of the stall.

“Change your mind?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to exercise him for you?”

“No, I do not. What I want is for you to stay away from me
and away from this animal. He’s too valuable for a child to ride.”

Fletcher grinned up at him. “I ken how to ride and I ken a
lot about horses. I ken that gelding of yours was blooded when I first rode
him.”

Adrian saw red. “When you first
what!
”

“When I first rode him.”

“And when was that?”

“This morning.”

“You will not ride this horse again. Is that clear?”

Fletcher looked around the stables, seeing the two carriage
horses and no others, save the one he had ridden this morning. “Then what will
I ride?”

“Your imagination,” Adrian said, and closed the gate,
turning away.

Adrian looked behind him once to see if the boy, Fletcher,
followed him up to the house. He didn’t, and that made Adrian wonder if the boy
was brazen enough to ride his horse after what he had just said. He decided the
boy wasn’t that stupid.

Adrian came around the corner of the house and saw a patch
of red glinting in the sunlight. It was Barrie, the one with the flaming red
hair and freckles. She was sitting on the back steps, singing to her doll.

“Hush ye, hush ye, little pet ye,

Hush ye, hush ye, do not fret ye,

The Black Douglas shall not get ye.”

Barrie looked up and scooted over to make way as Adrian
started up the steps. He grunted his acknowledgment and glanced down, seeing
the small, pointed chin thrust out. He had almost reached the door when she
asked, “Are you going to choke my mother?”

Adrian spun around, surprised, because that was remarkably
close to the way he was feeling.
This
little chit had the guts to ask him
that? “What makes you think I would choke your mother?”

“Molly Polly said you would.”

About this time Adrian was thinking Molly Polly would be
second on his list. “I haven’t choked anyone as yet. I don’t know why she would
tell you something like that.”

The small, freckled face relaxed somewhat. “She said we
better stay out of your way, because if we gave you any trouble, you would
choke our mother. I canna remember the rest of what she said.”

“Good,” Adrian said, and went through the door, calling
Molly.

Molly, being wholly unflappable, took her time coming. “You
called me?” she asked, stopping to look at him, leaning on her broom.

“Yes, and you damn well know it. I’ve got enough problems
with my house being turned into a goddamn nursery without you making matters
more complicated.”

“And how am I doing that?”

“Don’t act innocent with me. You know what you’ve done. Why
would you say things to those two little distractions out there like I’d choke
their mother if they don’t stay out of my way?”

“That’s what you told me.”

“And what if I did? Do you find it necessary to repeat
everything I say?”

“Only when there are three veins standing out on your
forehead like they are right now. Otherwise, no.”

“Molly, one of these days you’re going to push me too far,
and it’s going to take half the men in this lumber camp to pull me off of you
when I do.”

“You wish,” Molly said with a laugh. “You can bark, but
you’re like a dog with no teeth. It won’t take those babies long to see that.
You might as well admit it, you’ve been made a part of their lives whether you
like it or not. Now, that baby up there is gonna be sick for a spell, and she’s
gonna need a heap of loving care before she’s back to normal. You aren’t going
to lose anything by being nice, and that’s much easier than working so hard to
be the hind end of a jackass.”

“Are you calling me the hind end of a jackass?”

“Do you see anyone else in the room?”

Adrian, his mind suddenly blank, could do nothing but watch
Molly return to sweeping. A moment later she had swept her way around him and
out of his sight.

Why he continued to put up with her mouthy ways was beyond
him, but he had to admit that about one thing, she was right. He was drawn into
the lives of Maggie and her little ones, whether he liked it or not.

And if he was going to be forced to be part of their lives,
he damn well had a right to know more about what he was getting into.

After dinner he took Maggie by the elbow and guided her out
of the room and down the hall to the library. “I want to talk to you,” he said,
glancing at Barrie, who looked at him accusingly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to choke her…yet.” Once they
reached the library and went inside, he closed the door behind them. He gave
her a leveling look. “I want you to tell me about your husband,” he said. “I
want to know everything and I want to know right now. I don’t care if you want
to tell me or not. I have a right to know.”

“Aye, you do. I dinna ken why you didna ask before now,”
Maggie said softly.

Breathing heavily, Adrian clenched his fists and ignored
that. “How did he die?”

Maggie’s initial look was one of surprise, but the look
faded to one of resolve. “He was run over a cliff.”

“You mean he was murdered?”

“Aye.” She nodded and looked away. “That wasna the official
report, you ken, but Bruce Ramsay was too good a horseman and he knew the road
to Edinburgh too well to simply ride to his death over the edge of a cliff.”

“Why would anyone have wanted him dead?”

“It’s a verra long story,” she said, weariness in her voice.

“I’ll tell you if I find it too exhausting,” he said.

She sighed. She had spent so much time learning to live with
Bruce’s death. Now Adrian wanted her to open the wound. She looked at Adrian.
He was her husband now, and the past had no bearing…or did it? With another
sigh of defeat, she relented. He had a right to know, of course. This once, she
told herself. She would talk about it this one time, and no more.

He was still silent, his look telling her he had all the
time in the world and would not be put off. She found this sudden display of
patience out of character for him, for if she had learned anything about Adrian
Mackinnon, it was that he was not a very patient man.

She told him about Adair Ramsay, about his claim to Bruce’s
title, then went on quite calmly to tell him about Bruce’s death, leaving
nothing out.

“And your son was stripped of the title?”

“Aye.”

“Do you think his life is in danger?”

“I did at first, and would now, if I had remained in
Scotland. I dinna fret over it so much now that I’ve come to America.”

“What has your being in America got to do with it?”

“It’s verra simple. A matter of simple geography. It’s a
verra long way from Scotland to California. Adair Ramsay has what he wants. As
long as I stay out of Scotland—as long as I keep Fletcher away—I ken we’re
safe. The distance alone would keep him away.”

Adrian shook his head. “I can’t understand how something
like that could happen. You said the title had been in your husband’s family
for years?”

“Aye.”

“Didn’t you have good lawyers?”

“I did the best I could. You ken my husband was dead, and I
feared for Fletcher’s safety. I was afraid to fight too much, afraid something
would happen to him.”

“Didn’t you have
anyone
to help you?”

She shook her head.

“What about your father?”

“My father is old and almost blind, and his funds are
limited.”

“What about Ross? He would have helped you.”

“Aye, he offered, but I couldna let him become involved. I
wasna certain that Adair wouldna take his wrath out on Ross and Annabella.” She
looked at him. “There wasna anyone I could go to,” she said, her eyes filling
with tears, her voice trembling.

It suddenly occurred to Adrian just how much Maggie had been
through before she left Scotland. “So you accepted Ross’ offer to marry me?”

“Aye. It seemed the perfect solution at the time, you ken.”

“And now?”

She came to her feet. “Dinna ask me that now,” she said,
tears rolling down her face, “for I canna answer it rationally.”

“Why not?”

“Because my heart gets in the way,” she said, running from
the room.

After she had gone, Adrian sat there staring at the last
place he had seen her, his insides twisted with feelings that were at war. Part
of him wanted to go to Maggie, to take her in his arms and comfort her. Part of
him was afraid to try. Part of him didn’t even want to try.

He still felt that way the next afternoon as he stood
outside the camp office, talking to Clyde Bishop, when he looked up and saw
Wong bring Fletcher and Barrie into camp with him, taking them into the
washhouse, a bag of laundry tossed over his shoulder.

Once Clyde left, Adrian went back inside the office. Looking
out the window, he saw it didn’t take long for those two scavengers of Maggie’s
to become bored with the washhouse and venture outside. By the time Adrian left
the camp office, John Archer was showing Fletcher how to throw a knife, and
Hiram Curtis, who was leading a team of oxen, lifted Barrie up to ride on one
of their broad backs. Both of them waved at him as he passed. Adrian didn’t
have much choice but to wave back.
This doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind
about them
, he told himself.

His mind filled with thoughts about little people, Adrian
called it quits. He met Molly coming out of the kitchen with a milk pail when
he arrived at the house. “Go in quietly,” she said. “Maggie fell asleep in her
plate. I thought I’d let her rest until I finished milking. I checked on the
baby. She’s sleeping and quiet.”

Adrian nodded, and stepped into the kitchen. Maggie was
asleep, just as Molly had said, but her plate had been pushed away. The plate
was full.

He walked around the table, to see her face. One hand was
curled beneath her chin, her face streaked with the shadows caused by the late
afternoon sun filtering through unbelievably long lashes. He dropped down
beside her, his face level with hers. It was the first time he had looked at
her—really, really looked at her up close. Tiny, feathery veins of palest
violet crisscrossed her eyelids, and smudges of blue half circles lay beneath
her eyes, but aside from that, she had the face of a child—morning-fresh skin,
not more than a suggestion of a nose, and a full, pouting mouth. True, her nose
was too small for her face, and her mouth too large, but oddly enough, in spite
of the signs of weariness, today was one of the days he found her lovely.

He leaned forward, whispering her name softly. “Maggie.” He
intended to tell her to go rest for a while, that he would watch Ainsley, but
when she stirred and brought her face closer to his, he forgot what he had been
about. She smelled like soap, and her breath was sweet and warm. He thought of
what might have been and felt his heart wrench with the agony.