felt as if he’d been cracked over the knuckles with a ruler like a naughty schoolboy. First Da then Elspeth had attacked him, and he was sure in both cases it was only the opening barrage with the heavy artillery to follow. Hell, maybe he should cut short his stay and leave tomorrow. The tension within him was increasing with every moment that passed and an explosion could not be far distant. He would be wise to heed the warning signs before it was too late.
Elspeth, bathed in the soft candlelight that turned the white gauze gown to mellow cream and revealed the threads of gold in her pale brown hair, was turning the knob of Brianne’s door. Life. She was beginning to come alive. She was changing, blossoming, not only in body but in spirit. He wanted to see that blossoming, dammit.
And Dominic realized he would not leave Killara in the morning.
Malvina was not asleep when Shamus opened the door, though the hour was after midnight. It didn’t surprise him to see her sitting up in bed, Miss Beetle’s book open on her lap. He had known she would not sleep tonight until he came to her.
She looked up and immediately closed the book and placed it on the bedside table. “You spoke to him?”
He nodded. “It’s going to be more difficult than I thought. He’s being protective as hell of the family.”
A tiny smile flitted across her lips. “He’s his father’s son.”
Fierce pride glinted in his eyes. “He is that.” He began to empty his pockets on the squat, bowlegged table next to the door. “I sent a message down to the bunkhouse in the village for Patrick to get his backside up here tomorrow morning. Dominic’s always had a soft spot for Patrick and it may help to have their quarrel settled.” He frowned. “But we’ll probably have to use the Scottish woman. She may not be easy to manipulate. She stood up to me when Silver and me were having at it tonight.”
“Good. Dominic needs a strong woman.” She smiled. “He’d be bored with anybody who didn’t strike sparks off him. I’m not worried. You’ll find a way, you always do.”
He grinned as he stripped off his shirt. “No matter how bad things are, you’re always sure I can make everything right.” His smile faded. “But I haven’t always been able to do that for you, Malvina.” He finished undressing and walked toward the bed. “I’ve tried my damnedest, but I haven’t given you the life you wanted.”
“Who says you haven’t given me everything I wanted?” Malvina’s hazel eyes flashed in the lamplight. “How many other women have what I have? Five strong sons and three grandchildren, a fine house and a husband who still pleasures me after all these years. A woman would be foolish to expect more than that from life.”
He slipped under the covers and drew her into his arms. “I brought you to a land that killed four of your sons. You’ve had to work and slave by my side to build Killara. It was a hard life for a long, long time, and it’s not easy even now.”
A look of pain fleetingly crossed Malvina’s face. “I could have lost the boys even if we had never left Belfast. Life wouldn’t have been easy for us there either.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, hearing the solid thump of his heart beneath her ear. “I don’t think life is meant to be easy for people like us, Shamus. We’re meant to work and endure, to build and to love.” Her lips brushed the hollow of his shoulder. “You gave me that, too, Shamus. Through everything, you gave me that.”
“Yes.” His hand moved to smooth the hair at her temple. He was silent a moment, gazing at the flickering flame of the kerosene lamp on the table by the bed. “I would have sent Silver upstairs if the Scottish woman hadn’t gotten all upset about it. I know you don’t like to see her dressed like that in your house, but I thought it important we not get the MacGregor girl set against us.”
“You were right.” Malvina had tried to overcome the raw pain she experienced whenever she saw Silver dressed in her heathen garb; it triggered so many agonizing memories. Killara burned to the ground, Rory and Boyd gone forever, killed by those murdering savages. Having Rising Star here at Killara wasn’t so bad, she tried to act like a civilized woman, but Silver… the girl’s angry defiance was a constant reminder to Malvina of her barbaric origins. When Rising Star had first brought Silver to Killara, she and Shamus had tried to be gentle with the child, but Silver had been so difficult that they’d soon stopped trying to get through to her. She had appeared to resent them even more than they resented her presence at Killara. Yet the pain she had sensed in Silver this morning in the courtyard had touched her in a strange way. Touched her and made her uneasy. “Shamus, we weren’t wrong, were we? About Silver, I mean.”
Shamus’s clasp tightened. “We weren’t wrong.” God knows, he wasn’t sure Silver wasn’t his kin, but it was too late to admit that doubt, even to himself. He had made his choice fifteen years ago, when he had found the baby on the porch and saw the pain on Malvina’s face when she had looked at the child. It was enough that she’d lost Boyd that year. No Indian baby was going to be thrust on her to raise and remind her of that loss. The decision had been made and there was no use looking back now. Silver could take care of herself. The young devil even managed to get the best of him on occasion. “Silver isn’t Boyd’s child.”
“Her eyes-”
“We’re not the only family with light eyes in the territory.”
“No.” But there had been moments when Malvina had thought she had seen flashes of Shamus’s power in those pale gray eyes of Silver’s. Imagination, she assured herself quickly. If Shamus said Silver was not their kin, then it must be true. Relief surged through her and she relaxed against him. “You’re probably right. Turn out the lamp, it’s time we were sleeping.”
Shamus reached across her and turned down the wick of the lamp. “Sleeping?” Tender amusement threaded his words in the darkness. “And it was you who were telling me how lucky you were I could still pleasure you? Now, you can’t expect to challenge a man of my temperament like that, and then roll over and go to sleep.” He moved over her. “Love me, Malvina.”
Her arms went around him, holding him with more tenderness than passion. Passion would come, it always did, but she wanted the tenderness first. Her hands slid over his shoulders, enjoying the play of muscles beneath her palms. He was almost as strong now as when she had first taken him into her body those many, many years ago. God in heaven, she was lucky to have a man like Shamus. “I do love you, Shamus,” she whispered. “I always will.”
The light in the old man’s room blinked out.
Ramon Torres leaned back against the corral post and drew in deeply on the thin brown cigarette between his lips and then exhaled slowly, thoughtfully. He had watched the lights go out one by one, and now the big house was entirely dark and silent.
In an hour everyone would be asleep and he would find a way to get in. He had already inveigled the information from Rosa as to which room Dominic Delaney had been given. He could take off his boots and creep barefoot through the halls. No one would hear him, for he had taught himself to move with the stealth of his Navajo mother. Would he be able to surprise Delaney was the question. The old man’s son was a very dangerous man; his instincts had been sharpened by many years of living as a hunted man.
Torres smiled in the darkness. Ah, he knew all about the hunt. He had been a hunter all his life. He had hunted for money, lust, revenge, and many other things, and he knew the ways of game. The secret was never to attack the prey on foreign ground, where he would be uneasy and on guard. If the hunter staked out and waited until the victim came back to his home watering hole, he had a much better chance of putting him down. This method took patience and perseverence, but then, Torres was a very patient man.
He drew again on the cigarette. Now Dominic had returned to his home watering hole. Should he take him tonight? If he did, he’d probably have to kill everyone in the house to be safe from pursuit. Five women and old Shamus, besides Dominic Delaney. The women would be easy. A knife, silent and quick between their ribs as they slept. It was a pity he would have to kill Rosa too. Besides information, the plump widow had furnished him with many enjoyable romps in the past three months.
Shamus and his son would not be so simple to dispatch. They both had the warrior instinct and might be more difficult to catch off guard. Torres was sure Durbin would not object to the additional deaths, but he doubted if he would pay any more for them. He might do better to wait until his prey was alone. It would be the wise and cautious way to proceed.
Torres felt a sharp pang of disappointment as he took the cigarette from his lips and flipped it away. He stood still, looking broodingly at the orange tip glowing in the dirt of the stableyard. He was tempted to forget about caution and go after Dominic now. The blood hunger was upon him, as it always was when the kill was at hand. It was a sign he recognized and was usually able to subdue, but it was more difficult this time. He had waited too long for his prey to come into view and the hunger had sharpened to an unbearable intensity. When that happened, he, the hunter, was almost as much a prisoner as the prey.
