Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Bruce told himself he wasn’t a coward. Courage had nothing to do with not wanting to witness the tearful reunion between Ceana and her flame--haired daughters.

He couldn’t quite escape it entirely because the squeals of little girls could be heard echoing through Drumvagen.

Macrath would need a full report, and he’d deliver it as soon as the happy reunion was over. He’d arranged for the authorities to take possession of Paul Henderson. The man who’d actually performed the abduction, Connor McMahon, wasn’t mentioned when he’d explained the situation. He reasoned that saving Ceana was worth a bit of leniency on his part.

Once on the third floor, he unlocked the door of the room he’d been using as his office. Slowly, methodically, he began to pack away his notes on this case. He’d have them crated and sent to his Boston office, along with the maps and notes he’d made of the area.

He’d remain as long as necessary in order to testify or if the authorities needed any additional information. After that, he would go home.

Go home. Strange, thinking about it—-that his big, weathered house didn’t feel as much like home as Drumvagen.

Fate had allowed him this time in Scotland but that was all. He was foolish to want more.

“So here you are, then,” the duke said.

He looked up from his desk to find Dennis Mead standing in the doorway. Not a good time for the man to make an appearance, not as annoyed and out of sorts as he was.

“For an American, you’re not a bad sort,” Dennis said.

He only inclined his head, not bothering to return the compliment.

Dennis entered the room, moving the only other chair to a position in front of the desk.

“We’ll be leaving soon,” he said.

“I’m sure Scotland will be the lesser for it.”

Was he supposed to be polite to the man? The duke had been a barnacle on his backside since appearing at Drumvagen.

“It’ll be good for Ceana to be back where she belongs,” Dennis said, eyeing him closely.

Was this some sort of damn test of his tact and tolerance? If so, he was about to spectacularly fail it.

“Why, so you can make sure she’s miserable? What’s wrong with her being with her family?”

Dennis reared back on his chair. “We are her family.”

“Some family,” he said. “You make sure she’s still wearing mourning three years after her husband dies. She has to sneak away from Ireland in order to visit her brother. You come chasing after her the minute she’s been gone too long—-according to you. Are you sure you’re not her jailer?”

Before Dennis could speak, he added, “I don’t think she should go back to Ireland. Her home might have been there once, but it isn’t anymore.”

“And where do you think it is? With you?”

“That’s not your decision to make, is it?” he asked.

Or his. Only one person could make it. If he was brave enough to give her the choice.

Yes, damn it, he was.

“She’s no better than she should be,” Brianag said, staring at Ceana and her daughters. “She and the American have been creeping about at night.”

Macrath turned and looked at his housekeeper.

“Ellice was the same,” she said. “Each itching to share a bed with a man.”

“I think it’s about time you retired, Brianag,” Macrath said.

The older woman stared at Macrath, her eyes narrowing.

“You should take life a little easier. You’re no longer a young woman.”

To Virginia’s surprise, Brianag only nodded.

What on earth would Drumvagen be like with Brianag remaining in her cottage in the village? She wouldn’t be stomping about Drumvagen all day, issuing dire pronouncements and Celtic curses.

They all loved the old dear in their way, but Brianag’s love was sparingly given and only after a test of wills. The only two -people she was certain Brianag adored were Macrath and Alistair. Even she was regarded with suspicion by the housekeeper.

“You’ll send for the wagon, then?” Brianag asked.

Macrath nodded. “Whenever you wish.”

“Sooner done, sooner over.”

She’d never peered into Brianag’s room on the third floor and didn’t know anyone who had. She couldn’t even imagine all the treasures she’d accumulated over the years.

When Brianag left the room, she turned to Macrath.

“Are you really certain you want to pension her off?”

He nodded. “I’m fond of her but I’ll not have her scaring Fiona. And I’ll not have her telling tales of Ceana.”

“Even if they’re true?”

“Are they?” he asked, looking startled.

She wrapped her arm around his and headed for the door of the Great Hall, intent on giving Ceana and her daughters some privacy.

“I don’t think she’s going back to Ireland,” she began.

Perhaps it was best to warn Macrath that Ceana might very well be traveling to America.

Two days later Ceana found her daughters and Fiona on the beach, near the window nature had created in the grotto. They were sitting in a triangle, their skirts filled with rocks and sand, their faces pink from the sun, and their hair tangled by the brine--tasting wind.

Bruce sat next to them, perched on a rock as if it had been dragged there to act as his throne.

“Look, Mommy,” Nessa said, “Bruce found three more turtle stones for me.”

“And he’s promised to take me to the barn to see the new litter of kittens,” Darina said.

“And keep Carlton away,” Fiona added, sending a worshipful gaze toward Bruce.

“You shouldn’t be calling him Bruce,” Ceana said. “His name is Mr. Preston.”

“He asked us to,” Darina said, looking affronted. “Didn’t you, Bruce?”

He turned his head and nodded once.

He’d made a conquest of the three, that was easy to see. And of her, but hopefully that was less obvious.

Leaving him was going to be difficult.

She pasted a smile on her face and addressed her children. “You need to go gather up your things, girls. We’ll be leaving in the morning.”

Darina rolled her eyes. Nessa just sighed.

“Why are you returning to Ireland?” Bruce asked. “I thought you’d decided to stay in Scotland.”

She glanced at him, taken aback.

“Anything you really want could be sent to you, couldn’t it?”

“I suppose it could,” she said.

“Are you going only because of your relatives? The duke can be a pushy bastard.”

She bit back her smile. “Yes, he can be.”

“Don’t let him badger you into returning.”

“I’m not.” Her heart began a thumping beat.

“Then don’t go,” he said, standing.

“Aren’t you returning to America soon?” she asked, leaning against the wall of the grotto. She hoped she looked more relaxed than she felt. She could barely breathe.

“I’ve thought of expanding my business. I might start a Scottish branch.”

“Will you?” Her cheeks were getting warmer, and it wasn’t the bright afternoon sun heating her.

All three girls were looking from one adult to the other.

“It seems a worthwhile idea. But for now, I’ve decided to take a vacation. A holiday, as you call it.”

“You mean you’re staying here at Drumvagen?”

Warmth raced through her.

“Macrath has invited me to stay. Only for a while, of course. I might be looking for a house to rent. The house Henderson had is not too far away.” He studied her. “Would it give you any bad memories?”

What was he asking?

“No. I wasn’t there long enough to have incurred any bad memories.”

“Good,” he said, nodding. “I might rent it. Or buy it if the price is right.”

“You’re thinking of staying here so long?”

He walked the few feet to her. She ignored the girls’ giggles as he grabbed both her hands.

“Life is short, Ceana. We both know how short it can be. I’ve no wish to lose someone I love again, so I’ll be staying as long as it’s necessary.”

Blinking back her tears, she pulled one hand free and placed it on his cheek, feeling his beard abrade her palm.

She didn’t believe in love at first sight. If anything, lust had begun her relationship with Bruce Preston. Yet over the past weeks she’d learned he was so much more than his physical perfection. He amused her. She liked the way he thought and admired his loyalty and his work ethic.

A part of her heart would always belong to Peter, but the rest of her life stretched out before her, empty. It was up to her to fill it with joy and love.

These days at Drumvagen had taught her that lesson.

“I’ll court you until you agree to marry me. I’m a very convincing man.”

How blind -people can be sometimes.

“Oh, Bruce, can’t you see I feel the same?”

He glanced over at the girls. “Still, we’ll take it slow and proper.”

She leaned close to him. “Must we be entirely proper?” she whispered.

Three little girls squealed and giggled as Bruce whisked her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly.