Elaine Coffman - [Mackinnons 06] (33 page)

“Where are you going?” asked Cathleen, springing up to
follow him. “You aren’t going to Honfleur now, are you?”

“No, I’m just going to the library to find out where
Honfleur is, and if you say France, I’ll throttle you.”

“I would never be so bold,” Cathleen said, hearing Aunt
Doroty’s chuckle.

As Fletcher left the room, Cathleen said, “Wait!” and rushed
after him down the hallway.

Left behind, Doroty came slowly to her feet. “I had
forgotten,” she said, “just how exhausting it is to be young.”

With that, she headed to the library, not with the
friskiness of a puppy but with the wisdom and understanding of a wise old dog.

Fletcher had already rolled out a map of France across the
desk, holding it down with a magnifying glass, an ink blotter, a brass figurine
of a hunting dog, and a crystal paperweight, by the time Cathleen reached the
library.

“Have you found it yet?” she asked breathlessly, coming into
the room.

“Yes. It’s a small town on the Seine River, not far from Le
Harve.”

She began to study the map, her gaze going to the tiny dot
that indicated Honfleur. “Such a small dot to signify so much.”

“Let’s hope I find it even more significant when I get
there,” Fletcher said.

“Thankfully, it should be easy to get to. Le Havre is on the
coast,” she said. “From there it should be easy to go up the Seine. When are we
leaving?”

“‘We’?”

“Aye.” She crossed her arms and began to tap her foot.
“Fletcher Ramsay! You weren’t thinking of leaving me
here
, were you?”

His expression was as mild as milk. “Of course. I want you
safe, Cathleen, and the safest place is here at Caithness with my aunt.”

“This is as much my investigation as it is yours, Fletcher
Ramsay, and in case you have forgotten, I have plenty invested in it. If you
think I’m going to stay here knitting while you’re off having the adventure of
your life, you are mistaken. You can either take me with you, or I’ll follow
you on my own.”

“Not if I have you kept here as a prisoner.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would.”

“And it wouldn’t do you a bit of good,” Aunt Doroty said,
huffing into the room like a winter wind. “I’d let her loose the minute you
left.”

Fletcher stared at his aunt.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. He did not dare. He was
waiting until the urge to strangle Aunt Doroty had passed.

Cathleen, he noticed, brightened like a newly lit lamp, her
eyes twinkling merrily, her mouth stretched into a wide smile.

“Why, thank you, Aunt,” he said. “It’s nice to know my family
will always rally behind me in a time of need.”

“Your lass is trying to rally behind you, oak wit…if you’d
only let her.”

“Cathleen isn’t family,” he said; then, apparently seeing
the dark scowl on Cathleen’s face, he added, “yet.”

“I beg to disagree with you, lad, but you expressed your
intent right here in the library, and I bore witness to it. Now, to my way of
thinking that makes
you
betrothed, and being betrothed to you makes
her
family.”

“Are we getting technical?”

“If that is what it takes, then I guess I am. Think upon it,
Fletcher. From what you’ve said, it has been Cathleen who has found the clues
you needed and Cathleen who began putting the pieces together…with a little
help from me, I might add.”

“That’s right,” Cathleen said. “I’m the one who found
Madeline’s grave, and I’m the one who guessed the brother-sister thing.”

“And I’m the one who told you about ‘Bride’ being Gaelic for
‘Brigitte’,” Doroty added. Then, giving him a scowl, she said, “What have
you
found?”

“A reason to keep my mouth shut.”

“And don’t be forgetting that I speak French,” Cathleen
said, “something you will have need of.”

“All right, you can come. I only hope I don’t live to regret
this.”

“You won’t,” Cathleen said, giving both him and Aunt Doroty
a kiss on the cheek.

It was about that time that the housekeeper, Mrs. MacCauley,
came into the library and announced, “There is a gentleman at the door to see
you, Your Lordship.”

Fletcher turned around. “Did you get his name?”

“Aye. He said his name was Ian MacMillan, and then he said
something about you delivering his baby.”

Fletcher felt three pairs of eyes upon him. Feeling a little
embarrassed, he said, “Tell Mr. MacMillan I’ll see him in my study.”

As Mrs. MacCauley left, Cathleen asked, “What could he want?
You don’t suppose anything has happened to little Fletcher, do you?”

“If you’ll stop asking questions, I’ll go find out.” He
started to leave, then turned back to her. “Don’t worry. I am certain nothing
has happened to little Fletcher, and even if it has, don’t think Ian MacMillan
would track us down with the news. You wait here with Aunt Doroty,” he said,
giving her a kiss on the nose.

Fletcher walked into his study. Ian was sitting in a side
chair but sprang to his feet immediately, yanking his cap from his head. “Your Lordship!
It’s good to see you again. You are looking much more rested than you did the
last time I saw you.”

“And you are looking like you’ve been losing a little sleep.
The newest little MacMillan isn’t keeping you up at night, is he?”

Ian chuckled. “Aye, that he is, Your Lordship. That he is.”

“Have a seat. Would you like some brandy or a glass of
port?”

“No, thank you,” Ian said, sitting down. “I need to be
getting myself back home, soon as I’m finished here. One glass of brandy and I
might be tempted to stay.”

Fletcher laughed. “Well then, what brings you to Caithness?”

Ian began twisting his cap in his hands. “We had a peculiar
incident that occurred yesterday. A man came to the door asking for you.”

“Really? Did he give his name?”

“No, and when I asked it, he said he would only give his
name to you.”

“That is odd. What did you tell him?”

“At first I told him I didn’t know you, but then he gets all
angry and grabs me by me collar and starts to talking real low in his throat,
like he intends to do me body harm. He said he knew that I was lying and that
if I wanted to keep that pretty wife of mine and that new baby, I’d better tell
him what I knew.”

Fletcher felt his mouth go dry.

Ian gave him an apologetic look. “I had to tell him then,
you ken.”

Fletcher nodded.

“When I said you had just happened by, he grabbed me again
and said he knew you had stayed at my place for a couple of days. He wanted to
know why you stayed there so long, what kind of business we had together.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The truth. I told him about your delivering the baby and
all.”

“Did he believe you?”

“Aye, I ken he believed me then, but I could tell it wasna
what he wanted to hear.”

“What happened then?”

“Nothing. He left, but I ken he was verra angry.”

“Was he a small, weasel-looking man with gray, thinning
hair?”

“No, this man was younger—at least his hair was red, not
gray. He was short, but stocky. He looked more like a bulldog than a weasel.”

The description did not fit Adair Ramsay, but it likely fit
someone sent by him. Gavin MacPhail had red hair… Fletcher stood and came
around the desk, and Ian rose to his feet.

“I felt you should know, Your Lordship.”

Fletcher put his hand on Ian’s shoulder. “I’m glad you came,
Ian. Thank you for going to so much trouble.”

“It was the least I could do after all you did for Mary and
me.”

“Speaking of Mary… Wait a moment. I have something—something
I want to send for my namesake.”

“Oh, you needn’t do anything like that, Your Lordship.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Fletcher opened a chest on his desk from
which he took out a small pouch of coins. “Put away for young Master Fletcher,”
he said. “I think Cathleen wants him to go to Edinburgh University.”

Ian laughed, then looked down at the pouch. The laughter
drained away. “This is too much money, Your Lordship, I canna accept this
much.”

“But you can accept it for your son.”

“Thank you.”

Fletcher walked with him to the front door. “Give my best to
Mary, and tell her that Cathleen sends her love.”

“I’ll do that, Your Lordship. And thank you again.”

“What was that all about?” Cathleen asked, coming out into
the hallway as Fletcher closed the door.

He gave her a suspicious look. “Have you been snooping
again?”

“Aye, because it’s the only way I can find out anything. Who
do you think it was that went to his house?”

“Someone under Adair’s thumb, of course.”

“We are being watched, then?”

“More than likely.”

“We will have to be careful when we leave for Le Havre.”

“We’ll leave during the dead of night,” he said.

Cathleen shivered, rubbing her arms. “Could you please
phrase it another way?”

“
Late
at night, then,” he said, smiling at her. “If
we are lucky, they won’t be expecting us to go anywhere, certainly not to leave
the country.”

Cathleen, swept up in the intrigue of it all, could not hide
the excitement in her voice. “We should wear dark clothing and ride horses with
no white markings.”

He smiled again, stroking her cheek. “We’ll be careful, but
there is no need to disguise yourself as Dick Dauntless.”

“Perhaps I’ve always wanted to dress as Dick Dauntless,” she
said saucily, “or at least as Mrs. Dauntless.”

“Mrs. Dauntless, is it? How about dressing as the Countess
of Caithness instead?”

“How about keeping your mind on getting us out of this box
we are in, and then I’ll think about being your countess.”

He pulled her against him, gazing deep into her eyes. “Is
that a promise?”

“Aye,” she said. “You didn’t forget to thank Ian for coming
here?”

“I thanked him,” he said, “and I gave him a little something
for young Fletcher.”

“That was thoughtful of you.”

“It was the least I could do for the man who probably just
saved our lives.” Fletcher shook his head. “I would never have suspected that
Adair would have us followed to Caithness. He must be getting quite worried.”

“We will have to be even more cautious now.”

“Yes—and, thanks to Ian, we will.”

“Perhaps I should reconsider your offer to become a
countess. The name Mrs. Dick Dauntless, and the idea of being married to a
highwayman, is sounding better all the time.”

“You may get your wish. I have a feeling there is a big
price on our heads.”

Cathleen felt a shiver go over her, as if someone were
walking over her grave. “
Our
heads? You mean mine too?”

“Every wine-colored strand of it. Now come here, wench and
kiss me. They say the threat of danger brings out the beast in a man and makes
him amorous.”

She laughed, kissing him soundly. “Anything makes you
amorous,” she said. “Even breathing.”

“That too…” he said, taking her in his arms.

They left for France in the middle of night. The sun was up
by the time the small ship that carried Cathleen and Fletcher across the
Channel docked at Le Havre, an important port on the coast of France. But it
wasn’t Le Havre’s importance as a port, or the fact that it was on the French
coast, that had drawn them there.

Le Havre lay at the mouth of the Seine River, just a short
distance from Honfleur.

As she stood in the warm sunshine on the deck of the boat
that carried them upriver from Le Havre to Honfleur, Cathleen was lost in
thought, her mind spinning backward, as if she were reliving the time since
Fletcher had come.

How much her quiet, orderly life had changed in the past few
months because of him.

In spite of her circumstances, she could not help smiling at
that. Never in her wildest imaginings had she pictured herself gallivanting
about the country, living in sin with a man to whom she was not married.
Indeed, she wouldn’t have believed herself capable even of considering
marriage, much less of actually looking forward to it. No, she would have not
believed it, not even if the angel Gabriel had appeared before her in the flesh
and told her so.

In Honfleur, they made their way to a small inn, Le Petit
Chat, where they registered as man and wife.

Cathleen looked down at the register, reading what Fletcher
had written in his flowing script,
Sir Gaylord Hawthorne and Lady Hawthorne
.

She frowned, giving him a look that voiced her displeasure.

“Our staying together is absolutely necessary,” he
explained. “I don’t intend to let you out of my sight.”

She understood then that he was merely being cautious, that
he did not know whether they were being followed.

Shortly after they closed themselves into the small room on
the second floor, Cathleen stood at the window, looking down at the courtyard
where a young girl herded a flock of unruly geese.

Had the girl been sent to spy on them? Cathleen began to rub
her temples, wondering if this is how one went insane. What was wrong with her?
She was suspicious of everyone, and she couldn’t get the thought of Adair’s men
out of her mind.

“Are you all right?” Fletcher asked, coming up behind her,
putting his hands on her arms.

She did not want him to know, for worrying about her would
only distract him. She forced a lightness she did not feel. “Aside from the
fact that my rib bones are clacking together, I’m fine. Are you going to feed
me or starve me to death?”

He turned her to face him and kissed her lightly on the
mouth. “Here I’m thinking about making love, and your mind is on food.”

She smiled, coming up on tiptoe to give him a light kiss of
her own.
Be wise, Fletcher. Be wary.
“Where is it written,” she said
with a hint of seduction in her voice, “that we can’t have both?”

“I don’t know, but I have little doubt that you’ll find it
somewhere…probably in the ‘
Book of Abstinence
’, chapter twelve.”

She laughed, curling her arms around his middle. “I don’t
feel much like reading right now. However, if you don’t feed me soon, it won’t
matter. I won’t have the energy to do either.”

“I’ll be right back,” Fletcher said, and with Cathleen’s laughter
following him, he shot from the room, pausing only long enough to tell her,
“Lock the door behind me and don’t open it for anyone except me.”

My idea exactly
. “Not even the landlord?”

“Not anyone, landlords included.” With a teasing look, he
added, “I’ll be back in a minute with something for you to eat. Then we’ll see
if you’re a woman of your word.”

“‘Faithful in little, faithful in much,’
” she said.
“Luke.”

He nodded. “See that you remember that when your belly is
full.” And with that he was off, closing the door softly behind him, his voice
reaching her from the other side of the door: “Lock it.”

Her hand was already on the lock. Only after she had shoved
the bolt home did she hear his satisfied grunt and retreating footsteps.

She was sitting on the bed when she heard a knock at the
door. Her heart hammered. She looked around the room for something to use as a
weapon in case they broke down the door.

Stop it! You’re becoming too fearful. God would have you
vigilant, not terrified of your own shadow
.

Getting up, she crossed the room and pressed her ear to the
door. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” he said, “Fletcher the faithful. Revelations,
eight hundred. Open up.”

She smiled, shoving back the bolt and opening the door. He
strolled into the room, pulled something from the inside of his coat, and
handed it to her.

She looked down at the unappetizing mass of something white,
veined with green mold. “Was it alive once, or has it always been dead?”

He looked at it again. “I’m not certain. What do you think?”

She shrugged. “Always dead, I think. What is it?”

“Cheese.” He produced a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine,
which he set on the table by the window. “Don’t complain, just eat it. I had
the devil of a time finding even that.”

She eyed the hideous lump. “I never eat green cheese.”

“All of it isn’t green,” he said, looking at it, “only parts
of it.”

“I’ll have the bread,” she said, handing the lump of cheese
back to him.

He took it, breaking off a healthy lump and poking it into
his mouth. “Mmmmmm…delicious.”

She picked up the loaf of bread, returned to the bed, and
sat down. She tore at the long, dry loaf, succeeding at last in tearing a hunk
of it loose. Poking it into her mouth, she chewed gingerly, trying to swallow
without much luck.

“
Aaak!
” The dry crumbs sucked at what little moisture
there was in her mouth and lodged in her throat.

“Here,” he said, handing her a cup of wine, “wash it down
with this.”

She drank thirstily, then tore off another hunk of bread,
chewing it in much the same manner as she had the first, following it with the
wine.

At last she sighed and fell back. “I think I could sleep for
a week.”

“What happened to poor ol’ ‘
faithful in little, faithful
in much,
Luke?’ Did you forget him
and
his faithful ways?”

“No,” she said, stretching like an overfed cat, rolling onto
her side. “I’m just resting up a bit, waiting for you to pounce.” She closed
her eyes.

He pounced.

She expected him to make love to her, so she was surprised
when he gathered her into his arms and said, “Sleep,” kissing her lightly. “I
think you need it more than you need me right now.”

She raised her head, looking at him. “Are you trying to get
out of it, then?”

He grunted. “Hardly. I only have enough self-restraint for a
short delay.” He pushed her head down. “Go to sleep. I feel my saint’s veneer
wearing thin.”

She closed her eyes, feeling relaxed and sleepy. Fletcher
watched over her, and she felt as if nothing could harm her now.

When she awoke, the room was dark, save for a faint light
coming through the window. Looking in that direction, she saw him standing
there, both hands braced against the window frame as he stared out, lost in
thought.

He was naked, a magnificent godlike being, and she studied
him. How beautiful he was. How perfect. She thought that this must be how Adam
looked in the beginning, for she could see tremendous power held in check—power
seen through the tense contours of his body, the flexing knee, the bent arms,
the head inclined forward as if awaiting the moment of life.

And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground,
and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living
soul…

Even in the faint light, she could see the dusting of dark
hair on his arms and legs, the firm muscles of his buttocks, the long, straight
legs.

A ripple of desire coiled low in her belly. She found
herself wishing he would turn around.

“Make love to me,” she whispered softly.

He turned quickly, and she saw the hesitation in his stance.

“I thought I’d let you rest,” he said. “You were exhausted.”

“As were you.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“I could.”

“Yes, the sleep of the innocent.”

“Not so innocent since I met you,” she said, wishing she
could take the words back when she saw the effect they had upon him.

He came to sit beside her on the bed. He stroked her face.
“I regret the way this has gone,” he said, “but not the fact that we’ve made
love. If things had been different…normal, I would have made an honest woman of
you long before now.”

“I know,” she said, taking his hand, turning her face into
his palm to place a kiss there.

“I love you,” he whispered, leaning over her and kissing her
cheek, her neck, her throat.

“Show me.”

Her hand came down between them, and she stroked his hard
flesh.

He did a little stroking of his own. “You have the softest
skin. It feels—”

She gasped as his hand found the juncture of her thighs.

“Lord,” he groaned, “you’re sleek and warm as wet velvet.”

He rolled over on top of her, his knee going between her
legs as he began to move, rubbing her. Her legs parted, and she thought how
quickly she seemed to have forgotten all that she had been taught. She was a
minister’s granddaughter, but a thousand sermons would not have been enough to
still the instinctive action of her body moving in response.

His mouth found hers and he kissed her, long, deep, and
hard, his tongue restless, seeking, and welcome in her mouth.

“Come inside me,” she panted, her hand searching and guiding
him.

“God in Heaven,” he said, “I can resist anything save the
sound of your voice when you want me.” He pressed against her, moaning softly
as he entered her, his body tensing when he could go no farther.

She raised her knees, drawing him in deeper. He began to
move with slow, sure strokes. Her hands spread across his back, stroking the
taut, hard muscles. “Too soon,” he whispered. “I want you too much to hold
back.”

She felt his entire body quiver, then the muscles of his
legs grew tense, his buttocks clenching tight. She felt the warmth of his
release flow into her, the close intimacy of it shattering her, as her body convulsed,
the low, moaning sounds she knew he loved coming from deep inside her.

He rolled to his side, taking her with him and settling her
body against his. “Sleep,” he whispered, “while you can.”

But sleep was the last thing on her mind.

Something troubled her, robbed her of her peace. She was
afraid for him, afraid that something might happen to him, something horrible
and he would be taken away.

Just like Grandfather…

Closing her eyes, she lay with her head against his chest,
listening to the sound of his heart beating. So much had happened since that
day at the well when she had looked up and seen a little bit of heaven riding
toward her, a part of heaven come down to earth to change her life forever. And
he had changed it, giving her far, far more than he had taken.
Don’t let
anything happen to him. Please don’t take him away. Please, God, protect this
man and give him to me…

She lay there until the rapid pounding of his heart slowed
and his breathing became deeper. “I love you,” she whispered, knowing that he
could not hear her.

Somehow that did not seem to matter.

The loud clang of a nearby church bell woke Fletcher. He
opened his eyes, feeling a numbness in his left shoulder. He glanced at his
shoulder.

The numbness had a name, Cathleen.

Smiling down at the profusion of long, flowing hair, he
could not help thinking how perfectly she suited him. He had expected many
things when he came to Scotland, but to find the love of his life had not been
among them. He slipped his hand under her head, lifting it, needing to get up
but not wanting to disturb her.

“What time is it?” she asked, raising a sleepy head to look
at him. She smiled. “Good morning.”

He kissed her. “Good morning to you, love. If those blasted
church bells are right, it is seven o’clock.” He kissed her again. “I’ve got to
get dressed. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

“Dressed? Where are you going?”

He rolled from the bed and walked across the room to the
washbasin. Filling the bowl with water, he began to wash his face. She could
not take her eyes off him. A naked man was a beautiful thing, she thought. How
sad God must have been when man sinned, his newfound awareness forcing him to
cover all that newly created beauty.

Drying his face, he turned toward her. “I’ve got to find a
carriage or some sort of transportation for us. Lord knows how many records
we’ll have to search, how many churches and graves.”

“Wait and I’ll come with you.”

“Stay here. I shouldn’t be long. Rest awhile. I’ll be back
before you know it. I’ll bring you something to eat.”

She sat up, leaning against the headboard, crossing her arms
in front of her, giving him a scowl.

He stopped and looked at her. “I’ve said something wrong
again, haven’t I?”

“No. I just wonder why you said we had to have a room
together so you could keep me with you, and here you are leaving me here
alone.”

“Maybe that wasn’t the only reason I wanted us to share a
room,” he said, ducking when she sailed a pillow at him.

He finished dressing, then kissed her before he left,
reminding her to lock the door.

When he had not returned by the time she was dressed, she
decided to go downstairs. She was starving and could not wait for him to come
back. Perhaps the innkeeper would have something to tide her over. She thought
briefly about Adair, but surmised that she would be safe as long as she did not
leave the inn.