Elaine Coffman - [MacKinnon 04] (16 page)

“I can’t. Not like this.”

“What’s the matter, love? Don’t you think I have the right
to see what I’ve bought at such a great price? Don’t I have the right to bed my
wife?”

“I dinna think you have the right to rape me,” she said,
sounding strangely in control, “wife or no.”

The tension between them shattered. He released her so
abruptly, she stumbled back. She watched him turn, shoving his hands into his
back pockets, his head thrown back, his eyes closed, as though there were some
powerful, raging thing within him he was trying to hold back. He struggled with
himself, and the agony of it reached out to her, but she remained motionless.

Rape? Dear God.
Was that what he intended? Was it
possible? The thought disgusted him. His stomach twisted. Inside, Adrian felt
as if he were bleeding from a dozen wounds. He was beginning to care for her.
He thought things between them would really work.
Why?
his mind
screamed.
Why? Couldn’t you see I was beginning to care, that I wanted you?
Why couldn’t you have told me?
The moment the thought escaped, another
followed on its heels.
Maybe she didn’t because it was just as she said; she
thought I knew.

His heart pounded painfully. Each breath was a laborious
task.
I don’t know what to do. I can’t bear being made a fool of…I’m not
ready to let her go.

You’ll have to, unless you believe her—unless you believe
that she thought you knew. Believe her, or send her back. It’s as simple as
that.

Send her back? Not on your sweet life.

At last, without moving, he opened his eyes and said,
“Annulment is out of the question.”

“Why? Is that to be your way of getting even with me, your
way to punish me, by reminding me every day for the rest of my life that I’m no
what you wanted?”

His eyes locked on her. “Think what you will, you’re in the
habit of doing that anyway, but remember what I said before. No one would
believe we hadn’t been intimate.”
That’s not the reason, and you know it.
Why can’t you tell her the truth ? Why can’t you tell her how you feel ?

“I dinna really care what anyone would think,” she said.
“What difference could it possibly make? Your reputation isna at stake. Nothing
in your life would be harmed.”

“No, but yours would.”

“How odd. I would no have thought it to be your nature to be
concerned for anyone. Please dinna change yourself for me,” she said, then
added, “My reputation will survive. I’ve faced worse battles and prevailed. My
name and my word of honor is still respected in Scotland. I ken we willna have
trouble having the marriage annulled by mutual consent.”

She turned back to the piano and closed the lid with an
ominous thud, the chords humming in response, then she turned away.

“Where are you going?”

She stopped, but she did not turn to face him. “I ken we’ve
said enough hateful things to one another for one night. I dinna wish to make
it more. I’m going to retire now. It’s been a long day and I have some packing
to do.”

“I haven’t asked you to leave.”

She turned slightly, her eyes drilling into him. “Nor,” she
said softly, “have you asked me to stay.”

It was a standoff, each of them eyeing the other, waiting to
see who would give in first. At long last, Adrian sighed and crossed the room,
standing before the wall of windows that looked out over the ocean. He did not
look at her as he spoke. “I have to go to Puget Sound tomorrow. I have another
logging camp there. I’ll be gone for a couple of weeks. That will give us time
to think this through, to see what we should do, time to adjust to the fact
that I’m not your first.”

“I have no adjustments to make,” she said. “I never assumed
I was
your
first. I was married. In most circles of society, that makes
a difference. It isna as if I were a common woman of the streets.”

“I never meant to imply that,” he said. “It’s just that—”

“It makes little difference to you that it was my husband.
One man,” she said. “But that doesna matter. To you it’s the same, isn’t it?
One man or a hundred, it’s the same.” She shook her head sadly. “You would
marry
her
, would you not? If something happened to Alex, you would marry
her in a second,
used
or not.”

“Don’t bring Katherine into this,” he said. “You know
nothing about her. There is no need to mention her name.”

“I ken there is. She’s always in your thoughts, isn’t she?
Much more, I’ll wager, than Bruce is ever in mine. It’s no the fact that I was
married that has come between us, is it? It’s the fact that you never were.
What kills you, Adrian, is no so much that Bruce was my first. It’s because you
couldna be hers.”

He took a step backward, as if she had struck him, and
perhaps she had. “That isn’t true,” he whispered.

“Aye, it is. She dominates our lives as much as her picture
covers the wall in the salon.”

His voice sounded weary now. Unsure. “Why can’t you leave
Katherine where she belongs, in the past?”

“Why canna you?”

“I told you Katherine isn’t the issue here. You are. Maybe I
shouldn’t expect you to understand that. After all, you aren’t the one who was
deceived.”

“No, I suppose I wasna. At least I
knew
about
Katherine. In your eyes, that makes your daily worship of her all right,
doesn’t it?”

“How like a woman to confuse the issues. If you wish to
discuss Katherine, by all means we will. At a later date.”

“We have several issues that seem confused. It isna entirely
my fault. I no had a way of knowing. I am no a deceptive person, Adrian. I
thought…I assumed because Ross knew that—”

He interrupted her. “My brother seems to have known a lot of
things he forgot to tell me. Things that he knew would be important. I wonder
why.”

She sighed, her body slumping in weariness. She rubbed her
temples where a headache threatened. “I dinna ken why.” She looked at him. “Is
it so important?” she asked. “Being first?”

“Yes,” he said, “it is.”

“Why? Why is it so important to you?”

“Because…” He stopped, turning his head away, as if he
couldn’t look at her and say what he had to say, “because I don’t know how to
be second.”

His words brought back the old torment, the old pain of
losing, of being second choice, second best. Would there never be a time in his
life when he would be first, when he wouldn’t have to settle for what was left?

The thought faded, and he went on. “I have the biggest
lumber empire in America. I produce more lumber than all my competitors put
together. My house is larger, as is my bank account. I came here from the gold
fields, and my brother and I cleared this land with our bare hands. We barely
had a toehold when he sold his part to me and returned to Texas. For over ten
years I’ve lived like a hermit, driving myself and those who work for me to
carve a life out of nothing, working against men who connive to take it from
me, or Mother Nature, who has her own ways to destroy. I’ve succeeded here—far
beyond even my expectations. And you know why? Because I never, not once,
settled for second best.”

Maggie now saw clearly it was time. Time to speak of things
that should have been addressed long before now. He knew about Bruce and he
condemned her for it, yet they had never really discussed Alex. It took more
self-control than she knew she possessed to speak in normal tones, for in
truth, she was trembling with apprehension.

“Now that we seem to be speaking honestly to each other for
the first time, there’s something I’ve been wanting to know. Ross told me about
you and Alex. He said the two of you were always inseparable. Why did he sell
out to you? Why did he leave? Was it because of Katherine?” she asked with
biting sharpness. “Did you ask him to leave?”

Color rushed to his face, and for a moment she thought he
would refuse to answer. “He left of his own choosing,” he said, then added,
“Alex knew it would never have worked out between us.”

Maggie’s brilliant eyes narrowed, boring into him with great
intensity. “Why? Because of Katherine?”

The muscle in his jaw worked. Then he nodded and said,
“Partly. Partly because he wasn’t cut out for this kind of life. He’s a man of
the land, not a man of visions. Texas is the best place for him, and he
realized that. And since Katherine had already returned, it made his going much
simpler.”

Then she looked at him, almost feeling something akin to
pity. Was there never to be any hope for them?
Not until he rids this house
of Katherine.
Maggie grew quiet, contemplative. She felt as if a door to
Adrian’s mind had suddenly opened and she could see inside. He seemed to be
carrying so much pain, and it was this pain that made him strike out, that made
him so hard. At last she spoke, her voice laced with understanding. “Alex always
came first, didn’t he?”

When Adrian didn’t answer, she said softly, “I can see how
that would influence you, why you can’t bear to be second.”

Her words struck too close to his raw places, to the open
wounds he carried inside. His words were a reaction to the pain, and he found a
way to hit back, as a wounded animal will bite a loving hand. What was sadder
still was his knowledge that even as he spoke the words, it wasn’t Maggie he
wanted to hurt. It was himself. “No,” he said, “you don’t see. You don’t see at
all. My feelings have nothing to do with Alex—or even Katherine, for that
matter. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Maggie. It is simply because I don’t
relish eating after another man.”

Like a queen walking to her own beheading, Maggie turned,
and walked from the room.

Don’t let her go like this. Say something.

As Maggie walked through the door, Adrian called out to her.
“I suppose it could have been worse,” he said. “At least you don’t have
children.”

“Dear God,” she whispered, and fled the room, running all
the way up the stairs.

Maggie closed the door to her room and leaned back against
it, closing her eyes and breathing heavily. Her pride seemed to shrink away, a
little more each day, and for what?

Squeezing her eyes tightly, she tried to hold back her
tears, but tears, it seemed, have a will of their own.

She felt a heaviness settle over her, and a deep,
bone-penetrating weariness seemed to hold her in its grip. Her muscles ached.
Her eyes were tired, as if they had seen far too much of the misery in the
world. Her heart twisted and she felt consumed by a great, aching sadness.

She raised her voice to God. “What have I done?” she cried.
“What have I done? Was I so wrong to marry a man I didna know? Was I so wrong
to want? To want a new beginning for myself and my children? Am I wrong to care
if we live or die? I dinna want to see my family destroyed.
That
is my
crime!” she cried. “Unheard of, I ken. Something that should be punished,
wouldna you say? Oh, I am a foul and wretched woman, am I not?” She began to
beat her chest, then bringing her hands to her face, she sobbed into them as
her body slid to the floor.

She must have cried herself to sleep, for she awoke on the
floor to an aching cold. The room was icy and dark. She came to a sitting
position, drawing her knees up and resting her elbows upon them, her chin in
her palms. She felt infinitely better. There was nothing like a good,
gut-wrenching cry.

What a pity Adrian can’t do the same.

The events of the past two years had proven one thing to
her. She was utterly and completely alone, and her marriage to Adrian Mackinnon
had in no way changed that. After Bruce’s death, she felt abandoned, forced to
depend upon her own resources. She had erroneously thought this new marriage
would be her salvation, but she could see now that she was being called upon
again to save herself. And saving herself meant she could not succumb to this
wicked twist of fate that had put her off on the shores of this new country and
into this new life, on the wrong foot. Ross Mackinnon had made a decision to
withhold information from his brother, and in spite of the pain it caused her,
Maggie knew that Ross had both her and Adrian’s best interests at heart when he
made that decision. Of course, she would have loved to tell Ross just what she
thought about his decision and all the grief it was now causing her.

Maggie’s first instinct was to write Ross Mackinnon a letter
that would scorch the paper it was written on, but even as she thought it, she
knew in her heart she could not bring herself to blame Ross. She had no doubts
that Ross and Annabella were her dearest friends, and that neither of them
would do something to intentionally cause her pain…unless, of course, there was
a greater gain to be had because of it.

Thinking about that, Maggie remembered Ross’ last words to
her.
Trust me, Maggie. Trust what I’ve done. Remember, it’s better to have
the last smile than the first laugh.
Maggie’s heart wrenched. Would she
ever have either?

Her eyes reflective, her thoughts went back to Adrian,
reliving the short time they had been together. He was such a complex person, a
complete contradiction to himself—kind one minute, harsh the next. The man she
had met in person was nothing like the man she had come to love through his letters,
and she could not help wondering just which one was the
real
Adrian.

Maggie was never certain just why it was that she knew the
real Adrian was the one who expressed his inner self so beautifully whenever he
took pen in hand. Thinking about those lovely, revealing letters, she now saw
them as a guiding star, a point to keep in her sights so she would not lose her
way. She thanked God that Ross had had the insight to give the letters to her;
that it had been such a long voyage; that there had been time enough to read
and reread those letters until they were inscribed upon her heart. She saw it
as a blessing that she had been given the opportunity to know this man before
she met him. She now recognized, with sudden clarity, that Adrian was
completely different from any man she had ever known. This was a man to be
conquered only by understanding, loving faithfulness, and subtle strategy.
Adrian closed doors and sealed his heart away. Perhaps that is what Ross
realized, and perhaps, by withholding the fact that she had been married
before, he was hoping to give Maggie a chance to get her foot in the door.

Well, she had, and now Adrian was squeezing that foot for
all it was worth. She couldn’t very well accomplish much with just a foot in
the door. She felt a smile light up her heart. All wasn’t lost. Her next
strategy would simply have to be the wedging of something else in that tight
space—a shoulder perhaps?

She shook her head, feeling it was almost funny, really, to
be comparing love and marriage to squeezing oneself through a closing door, but
in this case it did have its merits. After all, it did enable her to see things
from a different vantage point. Adrian would not be conquered at once. She
would have to lay siege and batter down his defenses. She prayed she wouldn’t
find herself battered in the process.

She rubbed her eyes. All this thinking made her sleepy. She
did not want to think about Adrian anymore right now. A calmness and a peace
had settled at last over her, and she looked toward the window, seeing the
stars glittering brightly against a blue-black backdrop of velvet sky. “Thank
you,” she whispered. “Thank you for always being there.”

There was no doubt in her mind that God, in His infinite
wisdom, had seen fit to bless her with a moment of solitude, and she wasn’t
about to spoil it by making herself miserable over thoughts of Adrian and her
plight. Whatever the problem was, it would still be there in the morning. There
would be time enough then to think about it.

Maggie went to bed that night telling herself not to make
any hasty decisions she would regret. Tomorrow would be soon enough. She would
talk to Adrian tomorrow, and that would be time enough for them to decide what
to do.

But Adrian was gone the next morning when Maggie came
downstairs.

“He left before daybreak,” Molly said. “Lit out of here like
a ruptured duck in a hailstorm, he did. Never in all my born days have I seen
that man acting so strange. You must have him tied in knots,” she said with a
laugh. “Probably do him good.”

Maggie tried to smile, but she knew it failed miserably.
Afraid Molly might decide to ask questions, she took Israel for a walk along
the cliffs, trying to sort out the shattered pieces of her life. She tried
putting herself in Adrian’s place. Ross had neglected to tell him of her
marriage. He had every right to be shocked, even angry.

She remembered the night Ross told her that he had written
to Adrian, telling him all about her. He had even counseled her to give Adrian
time to come to grips with the fact that she’d been married before, telling her
not to discuss it unless Adrian brought it up. It was obvious now that Ross
hadn’t written Adrian about
everything
as he had claimed. Why? A chill
swept over her as she remembered the cold, calculating words he spoke when she
left the room.

At least you don’t have children.

She shivered.
Children
. That bit of news would
further complicate a relationship that was difficult already. It was beginning
to make sense now just why Ross was so eager to advise her to leave the
children behind. Not to give her time to be with Adrian, as he had said, but to
trick him. Why? Because Ross knew children would be a bone lodged in Adrian’s
throat? A bone he could not possibly swallow?

She watched Israel sniffing a trail, then, turning, he came
loping back to her side. “Come on, you rogue. I canna have all my men running
off and leaving me, can I?”

Her trust in Ross made her feel a wee bit more optimistic.
No one knew Adrian better than his brothers, so if Ross thought this was the
way to go, then who was she to decide otherwise? She would trust Ross’ judgment
in this. She had no other option.

She resolved that problem, and another cropped up. She had
to tell Adrian about her children sometime.
You might as well clear the air
of that glaring fact as soon as he returns,
she told herself.

Molly Polly was in the kitchen when Maggie returned. She
gave Israel a final pat on the head and closed the kitchen door behind her,
pausing and looking back at the door when she heard his mournful whine.

“He only does that with you,” Molly said.

“He had me pegged for a softie right from the beginning,”
Maggie said.

“He has a knack for that,” Molly said. “Must get it from
Adrian.” She laughed.

“Aye,” Maggie said, trying to keep her voice light. “He
must.”

After washing her hands, Maggie poured herself a cup of tea
and sat down at the table, absently stirring to dissolve the sugar. Molly, who
had been peeling carrots and potatoes, stopped her work. “You want to talk
about it before it festers any more?”

“What?”

“Whatever it is that’s bothering you. You’ve been stirring
that one spoon of sugar for fifteen minutes. When are you going to stop? When
you’ve rubbed a hole in the bottom of the cup?”

Maggie dropped the spoon, turning to look at Molly.
“Sometimes I would swear you were a Scot.”

“Because I’m outspoken?”

“Partly. Partly because you’re a woman of few words and deep
wisdom. And because you are so verra canny.”

“Well, I’m putting some of that
deep wisdom
to good
use. What’s bothering you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Written all over your face, it is. The two of you ain’t
gettin’ on too well, I gather?”

“It’s worse than that, I’m afraid.”

“Two newly married people that don’t get on is about as bad
as it can get in my book. I didn’t know it could get any worse.”

“It can when one of them has been married before, and the
other didn’t know about it.”

Molly dropped the knife, and Maggie watched absently as a
carrot round rolled across the floor, thumped against the opposite wall, and
wobbled on its edges a few times before coming to a stop. “Up jumped the
devil!” Molly said. “You say you’ve been married before?”

“Aye. For several years.”

“What happened— You aren’t a runaway wife, are you?” Molly
shook her head. “No, you have to be a widow.”

“Aye, I’m a widow.”

Maggie went on to tell Molly about Bruce and his death, and
the hearing that stripped the title and estates from him, leaving her homeless.
She didn’t tell her about her children or Adair’s threat the day she left
Glengarry Castle. She liked Molly and she trusted her, but she wasn’t certain
Molly was above going to Adrian with a tidbit or two if she thought Maggie
might be in any kind of danger. The less Adrian knew about her affairs in
Scotland, the better. She didn’t want to involve him in her life there—especially
if there were problems with Adair later on. Her marriage was off to a bad start
as it was. Any additional strain would stretch to snapping the few threads
holding it together. Lost in thought, she almost missed Molly’s next words.

“Ross should’ve told Adrian,” Molly said. “But I can see how
he might have decided to hold that little bit of information back, to give the
two of you a chance to be together some, to get better acquainted. I suppose he
meant well. He must have been hoping Adrian would come to care enough for you
that it wouldn’t matter that you had been married before.”

“Well, he missed it on that one,” she said. “But you’re
right. That’s the same conclusion I reached. It wasna right of Ross. That wasna
his decision to make.”

“No, it weren’t, but I reckon he meant well by it.” Molly
dried her hands and poured herself a cup of coffee. Joining Maggie at the
table, she said, “Is he sending you back?”

Maggie laughed. “You make me sound like a sack of rotten
Irish potatoes about to be tossed into the garbage heap. One doesn’t return a
wife as easily as a bolt of cloth.”

“I know, but did he
ask
you to leave?”

“Why? Is that important? His asking me?”

“It’s important. Adrian is a man who says what he thinks. If
he was upset, he wouldn’t have hesitated to pack your bustle onto the next ship
out of here.”

“I ken he’s hoping I have enough sense to go on my own so he
can save himself the trouble. He said he would be gone for two weeks. I would
imagine he expects me to be gone by the time he comes back.”

“And will you?” Molly asked, coming to her feet.

Maggie thought about that for a minute, then she looked
Molly squarely in the eye. “I’m a Scot,” she said with a smile. “Scots don’t
run, and they don’t quit. I’ll see this thing through, and I willna make it
easy for him. If Adrian wants me to leave, he will have to tell me.”

“Good for you,” Molly said, giving her a slap on the back
that came close to sending Maggie out of her chair. “Adrian has needed someone
like you in his life for a long time.”

“I dinna think Adrian would agree with you on that.”

“Men,” Molly said with a snort, “they don’t know what they
want until a woman gives it to them.”

Israel whined again, scratching at the door with his paws.
Molly looked at Maggie and laughed. “He knows you’re in here. He’s playing on
your sympathies, just like a child would.” Molly grinned. “Or a man.”

Maggie groaned and dropped her face into her hands.

“What’s the matter? Did I say something wrong?”

Maggie looked up. “Speaking of children…” she said, her
voice drifting off to nothing. Slowly, ever so slowly, Molly stared at her with
new awareness dawning. Her brows lifted, not in question. “You trying to tell
me you have some younguns?”

Younguns
? Maggie laughed. “Aye. I have children.”