Elaine Coffman - [MacKinnon 04] (27 page)

“Where have you been?”

“Fishing,” he said, without looking up.

“We were running low on meat, so we took time off to go
salmon fishing. On our way back, we came upon a herd of elk, and Adrian here
shot one,” Big John said, in way of explanation.

“Well, you could have told me,” Maggie said. “I worry about
you. I was afraid there was some problem down at the mill.”
Look at me,
Adrian. Act like I exist. Dinna turn away from me. Dinna be embarrassed about
last night. I won’t hurt you. Trust me.

Adrian didn’t look up. “I thought you’d find out from
Molly.”

“She didn’t ask,” Molly said with a shrug, “so I saw no
reason to tell her. I don’t go about blabbing everything I know.”

Adrian looked at Big John, and Big John said, “I’m sitting
on the middle of the fence, and that’s where I’m staying. I have to keep peace
in the family.”

Adrian and Big John laughed, then seeing the look of
disharmony on Maggie’s face, Adrian laughed some more, and said cajolingly,
“Don’t be so disgruntled. What if your face froze that way?”

“I’m no disgruntled,” she snapped, “but I’m no gruntled,
either.”

While Adrian and Big John collapsed with laughter, Maggie
promptly left the room, going upstairs to change clothes. She didn’t want
Adrian to see that paint on her apron, or he might begin to ask questions, and
she wanted to keep her work a secret.

A few minutes later, she returned, wearing an old dress.
Adrian, Molly, and Big John were up to their elbows in blood, fish skin, and
elk hide when Maggie came back into the room.

Finding the bloody scene totally unexpected, she gasped,
taking a step backward when the three of them turned to stare.

“Don’t come in here,” Adrian said, giving her a frown. “The
room’s a big enough mess without you throwing up all over it.”

Maggie stopped, giving him a strange look. “I willna throw
up, and as for me not coming in here, I dinna ken why not. You’re in here.”

“This isn’t a pretty sight for a duchess,” he said, “but
it’s good, honest meat for the men.”

“Taking a salmon from the river, a tree from the forest, and
a deer from the mountain are three things no Gael was ever ashamed of,” she
said, rolling up her sleeves and searching for an apron. Tying it around her,
she added, “I ken I’ve gutted more salmon than you have goose bumps.”

Adrian looked at her with a sour expression.

“That isna a face I’d advise you to make too often,” she
said. “What if your face froze that way?”

When she joined them, Big John and Molly were laughing, but
Adrian didn’t say anything. Never one to let an opportunity pass, Molly wasn’t
so shy. “Don’t feel so bad, Adrian. At least she didn’t come after you with the
business end of a claymore.”

“What do you know about a claymore?” he snapped. “Business
end or otherwise?”

“Only what Maggie tells me,” she said with a laugh.

“Which, I take it, is plenty,” he said.

Shortly after lunch the next day, Maggie arrived at the
mining office. Adrian had been avoiding her, and she wanted to spend some time
with him, time to let him see the baring of his soul to her the other night
hadn’t changed anything between them. It had only made her feelings for him
stronger. But before she could say anything, Big John rushed through the door
to face Adrian.

“Did you know Matt Greenwood worked for Talbot and Pope
before coming here?” Big John asked.

“No, I didn’t,” Adrian said, coming to his feet, his eyes
going to Maggie as she removed her cape and bonnet. “How did you find out?”

“That new man, Saunders, just told me. He tried to get on
with Talbot and Pope, but they wouldn’t hire him.”

“So he saw Greenwood working there,” Adrian said. “It
doesn’t necessarily mean anything. You know as well as I do how these
timberbeasts move from outfit to outfit.”

“But not when they’re the bull of the woods.”

“Greenwood was their top man?”

Big John nodded. “Makes you wonder about all these little
accidents we’ve been having, don’t it?”

“Yes,” Adrian said, “it does.”

“You want me to fire him?”

“No, I want you to catch him red-handed. Find someone we can
trust to keep an eye on him. I want to know every move he makes from here on
out.”

“I’ve already done that,” Big John said. “A fella named Burt
Haywood. He’s honest as the day is long.”

“I don’t give a damn whether he’s honest or not. Just as
long as he’s good.” Big John nodded and slipped through the door. Adrian looked
at Maggie, noticing the basket she worked up.

“I heard you dinna have lunch, so I brought you something.”

“I don’t have time to eat, Maggie. Not now. But thanks
anyway.”

“Then I’ll feed you. And dinna be telling me you don’t have
time to open your mouth, or the men will ken you for a fool,” she said, and
Adrian noticed for the first time how she pronounced
fool
. It sounded
more like
fule
.

Watching her unpack her basket and litter his desk with the
contents, Adrian couldn’t help thinking how these rough, uncultured men had
come to admire her, remarking to him time and time again what a woman she was,
and how most civilized, cultured women wouldn’t have tried to adjust to this
rough life, let alone go to the lengths she did to involve herself in it.

He found himself thinking she was everything he had ever
wanted in a woman. The next moment he understood why Ross had picked Maggie for
his wife. Day or night, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. It was always like
that of late.

Maggie glanced up and saw Adrian’s gaze locked on her. She
smiled and went back to what she was doing, unwrapping a plate of blueberry
muffins and placing them in front of him. She reached in her basket, taking out
another plate, and began removing the napkin, humming a little time as she
worked. No matter how uninterested he looked, no matter how restless he acted,
no matter how much he hinted for her to be on her way, she continued to hum and
unwrap another plate.

Adrian had already learned that Maggie had the kind of
patience that drove ordinary people insane. To make matters worse, she had the
infuriating quality of self-control. Adrian could have dealt with a hothead, a
woman who would have fits, scream, throw things—even one who would scream and
kick and bite.

He hadn’t the faintest inkling, however, about how to deal
with a woman who remained cool-headed and calm, a woman who used logic and
reasoning like a two-edged sword—it got you coming and going. He knew her most
effective tool in dealing with him was a sort of quiet openness. She listened,
and she did not judge.

She drove him crazy.

Adrian frowned and looked at the clutter of food she had
spread over his desk. Knowing what would happen, the amount of teasing he would
take if one of the men happened in and saw him picnicking with his wife at his
desk, he stood up.

“Put that back in the basket,” he said. “I don’t have time
to eat.”

“Adrian Mackinnon, you don’t know what you need.”

“You’ve told me that before,” he said, “lots of times.”
Taking his hat off the peg, he darted through the door, just as a loaf of bread
sailed past him.

Adrian worked in the office all afternoon with his head bent
over the ledgers. He was adding figures. He had added the last column three
times. The lead broke. He tossed the pencil down and leaned back, crossing his
feet on the desk, and his hands in back of his head. It was no use. He couldn’t
think. He couldn’t concentrate. At least not on anything except Maggie.

Strange it was that, in spite of all the anxiety, the
tension between them, he felt at ease, contented.

Contented?
His feet dropped to the floor and he came
to a sitting position so fast, the chair thumped him in the back. The shock of
it hit him like the swift-kicking recoil of a rifle.

Contentment
. It was a strange word for him. But if he
was honest with himself, he had to admit that despite their differences, despite
the occasional friction between them, he
was
content with Maggie.

Adrian found himself in a bemused state of disbelief and
disgruntlement. He wasn’t too happy with either one. The two seemed to feed off
of each other, for when he found it hard to believe he enjoyed having Maggie
for his wife as much as he did, the other part of him was consumed with desire
for her.

He rubbed absently at the stubble of a beard on his face. He
had deliberately not shaved this morning, just as he had deliberately suppressed
the knowledge that he was coming to care for her. Deeply. In the innermost
depths of his being, he knew that his feelings for her had begun to change some
time ago, but he had stubbornly refused to acknowledge the emergence of such
new and tender emotions.

There was the sudden sound of stomping feet outside the
door, and then it opened, Big John’s large, hulking frame stepping into the
room. His face didn’t look as if it bore good news.

“Ship’s come in,” was all Big John said.

“Where’s Maggie?” he asked, thinking she would enjoy seeing
the ship dock.

“She was here earlier, in the medicine hut.”

By the time Adrian reached the dock, Maggie was already
there, standing on the dock, Israel sitting at her side.

Suddenly, it seemed vital to him to know what Maggie
thought, to know how she felt about him. Adrian opened his mouth to speak to
her, but the words died in his throat.

He froze.

He had been so intent on what he wanted to say to her that
he had not, until this moment, seen what was going on in front of him.

He looked up the dock to the plank, his expression blank as
he saw a woman walking toward them. Two children gripped the folds of her cape;
a third child was in her arms.
Who in the hell is she? What is she doing
here?

About that time Molly walked up, and turning to her, Adrian,
still disbelieving what he saw, asked, “What in the name of God is that?”

“I believe they’re commonly called children,” Molly said.
“Close your mouth.”

“What are they doing here? Why are they getting off the
ship?”

“I haven’t any idea,” said Molly. “Why don’t you ask…”

Molly’s words dwindled off to nothing as she watched Adrian
turn slowly to look at Maggie.

Maggie stood trembling in silence, feeling as guilty as Eve
must have felt after feeding Adam that fatal apple. All the color drained from
her face. Adrian looked at her, his gaze scalding. She swallowed, opening her
mouth, only to close it when no sound would come forth. Her heart sank like a
lead weight in her chest as his puzzled gaze moved over her.

“Adrian,” she said, “it isna what you think.”

His gaze went back to the children, then came back to her.
“They’re your children,” he said softly, his voice sounding flat and dull.
Then, as if hearing his own words for the first time, he repeated the words
with great emphasis. “They’re
your
children.” His hand shot out to grab
her wrist, jerking her close to him, but his voice was loud enough to be heard
all over camp. “Just when were you going to tell me?” He shook his head.
“Jesus! Children.
Three
of them.”

“You dinna need to shout. My
ears
are working
perfectly.”

“Your ears may be, but your mind sure as hell isn’t. What’s
going on here? You’ve got some explaining to do, and you damn well better start
talking. Now.”

Her teeth chattering, she searched for the words to tell him
how this had all come about, how she had always planned on telling him. But the
right words seemed to elude her.

He gave her a shake. “Talk, damn you.”

“What do you want me to say? They’re my children…all three
of them.”

“Are there more?”

She shook her head.

“Are you certain there aren’t a dozen more hiding out
somewhere?”

“No, that’s all.”

“And I’m supposed to
believe
you? What else have you
kept from me, Maggie? How many more secrets are you hiding?”

“Nothing. There are no more secrets.”

“And you expect me to believe you?”

“I ken you have a right to be angry, but it isna the way you
think. I didna set out to deceive you.”

“No?”

“No. I always intended to tell you.”

“So why didn’t you? You’ve had plenty of time. What
prevented you?”

“I wanted more time…”

“Time? You’ve ruined my goddamn life over a little time?”

“I don’t blame you for being angry.”

“Angry?
Angry?
I’m not angry. Angry is far, far too
mild a word. Not even furious will describe what I feel right now.” His eyes
narrowed, but even that could not hide the pain in his eyes. “Damn you. I cared
for you,” he said. “I could have loved you.”

The world that had seemed so bright suddenly shattered and
fell in a tarnished heap at her feet. “It isn’t too late for that.” Her hand
came out to touch his arm. He jerked away as if he’d been burned. “Adrian,
please believe me. I didna intend for you to find out this way. I thought I had
more time.”

“Why?” he asked. “Why did you need more time?”

“Because I love you. Because I was afraid of losing you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. I do love you.”

“That is your misfortune.”

“Adrian, please, let me explain.”

But Adrian didn’t want to hear any more lies. He didn’t want
to hear anything. All he could think of was the way he had made a fool of
himself the other night, and how she must be laughing at him now. Over and
over, it echoed in his head. Maggie, sweet Maggie. She had deceived him again.

She turned away from him, and Adrian’s anger exploded,
white-hot. Having never felt such fury, he could barely choke out the word
“Maggie!”

But Maggie was already running toward her children.