Alaina's Promise Part 4

While in this state of confusion, she sensed some sort of movement. The door opened slowly, quietly. Rising up on her elbow, Alaina looked toward the sound. A tall figure slipped into the room, disguised by the shadows. The door closed without a sound. Her breath caught in her throat as the figure approached the bed.

"Alaina?" The deep, familiar voice vibrated across her skin.

She then saw his face in the dim light. Torin. His eyes seemed to glow from some fire within. He stared at her and lowered himself to sit beside her on the bed. He didn't say another word, but gazed into her eyes. Then he stroked a stray strand of hair away from her face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He caressed her cheek and slid his strong fingers into the hair at her nape. "I could not stay away."

She started to shake. She couldn't breath. Grasping his arm, she yanked his hand away and flung it toward the bed.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" She pulled herself up and scooted back toward the headboard until the carved wood bit into her shoulder blades. "You...you shouldn't be here."

Torin shook his head. "No, Alaina. 'Tis you who shouldn't be here. You've invaded my life. Now give me what I want."

No! Not again! No, he wouldn't.

Torin leaned over her, his eyes dark as she pushed at his chest, her mind frantic with fear.

Alaina bolted upright on the empty bed. Her body shook, a scream of terror lodged in her dry throat. She glanced around the room, taking in every shadow and silhouette.

She blinked. A dream. It was only a dream.

Chapter Four.

Torin sat straight up on the bed as his heart pounded against the wall of his chest.

He stared into the darkness, the shadows s.h.i.+fting and slowly materializing into vague outlines of solid shapes. The attic. He was still in the attic.

Thrusting both hands through his tousled hair, he concentrated on taking deep, steady breaths. Images from his dream flashed before his eyes in vivid color. Torin groaned aloud and jumped up from the bed. The top of his head caught the edge of a beam stretching the length of low ceiling. He cried out, clutching his throbbing skull as he sunk back onto the thin mattress.

"Why?" he whispered as the pain subsided. "Why now, G.o.d, when I'm trying to be the man you want me to be? Why send her here now? 'Tis not right to so sorely tempt me." His fist slammed into the helpless feather bed. "'Tis not fair! Or am I still be punished for the past? Is that it? Am I never to be forgiven?"

Torin sighed, his anger dissipating with the air that left his body. Forgiveness should be a gift sought, not a trial endured. Perhaps he still had much to learn.

But it wouldn't do to place his soul or Alaina's sweet innocence at risk. He would leave his mother's house first thing in the morning and return to his own cottage. He had promised his mother that he would stay in the Burren until Miss Ryan and her father set sail for America once more. When he made that vow, he had not realized the difficulty in keeping it. He could not stay under the same roof with her, but he would remain in his small cottage until her visit ended.

He lay back down and felt his stomach rumble. Now he was hungry. He could still smell the faint lingering odors of the mutton stew. After a brief moment, Torin decided his hunger could not wait until morning. He rose from the bed, slipped on his trousers and s.h.i.+rt, leaving most of the b.u.t.tons undone as he descended the attic steps barefoot. The others would be sleeping this time of night. He could be down to the kitchen and back again without anyone the wiser.

Alaina slipped out into the dark hallway. The door creaked like a trumpet in the night. She cringed, stopping still in her tracks and listening. Apparently the noise didn't rouse anyone. She pulled the door quietly shut behind her and ventured into the dark with cautious steps.

The evening meal had been delicious and Maggie the perfect hostess. But with Torin sitting only two feet away, she had quickly lost her desire for food and could only pick at the meal as she talked. Thank goodness for Maggie's engaging conversation, otherwise the silence at the table would have been deafening.

She turned, stepping toward the s.p.a.ce where the stairwell ought to be. Suddenly, a large shaped moved in the shadows and she shrieked, dropping her candle as she collided headlong with solid, hard warmth. The flame flickered out.

A hand clamped over her mouth.

"Don't scream!" a familiar voice whispered harshlyTorin. "'Tis me, Miss Ryan."

Alaina couldn't relax. Her body shook from the contact of his powerful frame leaning into her.

"Did I hurt you?" he whispered.

She realized she had been holding her breath. Slowly the air seeped from her lungs and Torin loosened his hold. She pulled away from him as nervous flutters coursed down her spine.

"I-I am fine," she managed. "I just don't like the dark."

Just then, her stomach growled. She was thankful for the darkness that hid her blush.

Torin chuckled softly. "I'm on my way to the kitchen." The slight hesitation which followed seemed even longer as she stood there in the dark with the big man towering over her. "Would you join me, Miss Ryan? Seems we both neglected the fine meal Mum made us. It would serve us right if she's fed the leftovers to the dog."

The sudden humor made Alaina laugh despite her nervousness. "Does she have a dog?"

"Nay, but the neighbors do. Mum would seek one out just to teach me a lesson about neglecting her cooking."

Alaina covered her mouth to stifle the laughter that bubbled up. As she followed him to the darkened staircase, she realized that it had been a long time since any man had made her feel even remotely at ease. Yet, in other ways, this particular man made her more nervous than anyone else.

Suddenly, he stopped. She s.h.i.+vered as his warm fingers touched her wrist. He cleared his throat.

"You'd best stay close to me, Miss Ryan. Wouldn't want you to go tumbling down the stairs in the dark."

Without waiting for a reply, his large hand closed gently about hers. Like two disobedient children, they crept down the winding staircase in the dark. Alaina stumbled once. Torin turned swiftly, catching her in his strong, warm arms. She stood still for a moment, leaning against his broad chest. He pushed her upright and held her arms until she had her footing again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, staring at where she thought his chest to be.

"Are you hurt?" His voice sounded strained. She hoped he didn't think she was throwing herself at him and acting like a little helpless fool to get his attention. She had friends who did exactly that. Each of them was now happily married. The thought made her feel suddenly depressed.

"No..." she murmured, realizing he was still waiting for her reply. "I'm fine, thank you." They continued down the last few steps.

Embers from the parlor fire cast a faint orange glow over the downstairs hall. Alaina gazed at Torin as he stepped into the light. He turned to look at her. The vivid pictures from her dream leapt into her mind. Apprehension snaked around her, tying her stomach into knots.

"Are you sure your mother won't mind?" she asked, shrinking back into the shadows. She shouldn't be here, alone at night with a man she hardly knew. Hadn't she learned anything?

He shook his head. "She'll be disappointed if one of us doesn't at least try. This way."

He turned and walked down the hall to another door she hadn't noticed earlier. Alaina hesitated, whispering a prayer for guidance. He stopped at the threshold and turned to look at her. The darkness hid his expression, but she knew her obvious fear would be puzzling. She couldn't tell him why it was there, but she must try and make sure he didn't think the blame lay at his feet in any way.

Taking a deep breath, Alaina stepped down into the hallway and followed his path. When she neared, Torin preceded her into the small kitchen. Moonlight streamed through three small windows and faintly lit the perimeter of the room.

"Stand still a moment," he commanded as he moved further. "There's a lantern here somewhere if I can..."

A thud followed by several colorful Gaelic curses filled the air. Alaina choked back laughter, her chest almost bursting from the force of it.

"Pardon," he muttered. She heard more noises, then a clanging metallic crash. More muttering, this time quiet enough, she couldn't make out the words.

"Ah, here we are," he said. A swift scratching sound followed by a sudden bright light and the sharp smell of sulfur wafted through the air. Alaina blinked at the white glare, spots floated before her eyes. Torin removed the chimney of a lantern and lit the wick, replacing the top as he blew out the match.

He turned to face her, the smile on his lips freezing and then slowly dissolving into an astonished stare. Alaina frowned.

"What is it?" she asked, then glanced down at the direction of his gaze. The edges of her heavy cotton robe had drifted apart, revealing entirely too much of her cream-colored dressing gown. It was then she realized her nipples had become hard and taut from the chill in the air-and were now very clearly outlined against the soft white material pulled snug against her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Oh!" Alaina grasped the fabric, turning away from him as she jerked the material into a more modest arrangement. "I am sorry! It-"

He turned abruptly. "I think Mum left some mutton in the pantry. Let me look."

He disappeared behind a faded calico curtain. Alaina waited, wondering how he could see anything in the dark little room. She glanced around the modest kitchen at walls lined with cabinets and a deep metal sink with an indoor hand pump. A black iron stove stood at the opposite side of the room, which was divided by a small rectangular table and four chairs.

Bright green and white checked linen curtains matched the towels neatly folded by the wash basin. The floor was wood and spotless, like the rest of the room. Alaina admired the simplicity of it all as much as she envied the homey atmosphere.

It seemed an eternity before he reappeared, carrying a flat board covered with cloth. His gaze flicked to her and then to the table.

She folded her arms beneath her chest, glancing around and wis.h.i.+ng she'd stayed upstairs. Her stomach rumbled again and she winced, her gaze moving automatically toward the Irishman as he laid the board on the table. He didn't seem to notice.

"I hope this will be suitable, Miss Ryan," he said as he sliced the bread and piled the thick slices high with cold meat and cheese. "I'm not much of a cook so Mum always leaves a bit of food for me to a make a quick meal."

"It sounds good," she replied, inching toward the table while he worked. "Can I help?"

Torin glanced up as he turned to grab two tin plates off the sideboard. "Nay, this is the easy part." He laid some of the offering on each plate and pushed one toward her. "I will need your help in eating it."

Alaina looked at the thick stack piled in front of her and frowned. "Well, I'll try." They sat down together, the narrow width of the table between them.

It took a moment to decide on the most proper way to eat the enormous repast, but soon hunger gave way to manners and she plunged in. The savory meat and tangy cheese went well together.

"This is very good, thank you," she said after swallowing her first mouthful.

Torin smiled. "There might be a bit of milk left, or would you rather have water?" He rose from his chair.

"Milk, please, if there's enough. But water would be fine." He nodded. A moment later he set two large cups of warm milk on the table.

"Just the thing to help you sleep," Torin said as he sat.

Alaina smiled. "Nanny Rose always said that, too."

"Nanny Rose?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Oh, yes, she was my nurse. One of my daddy's...um, one of the..."

"Slaves?"

The word hung in the air like an accusation although his tone of voice remained neutral. Alaina placed the sandwich back on her plate and tried to gather her thoughts.

"Yes," she finally answered and looked him in the eye. "She was a slave. She was also my dearest friend. I loved her like a mother. For many years, she was the only real mother I knew."

Torin stared at her across the table. A frown rippled over his angular features before he sighed. "I would like to apologize, Miss Ryan."

She shook her head. "For what, exactly?"

"For not telling you," he began, and hesitated. "I should have told you years ago of my decision not to marry. It would have been the honorable thing to do. But I chose a coward's way and ignored the subject like Mum said-hoping the problem would just vanish. Will you forgive me?"

"Of course, Mr. O'Brien, I forgive you. But there's no reason to apologize. I have no idea how you could have brought up such a thing in our earlier conversation. You had no idea why I came to Ireland as I did. It would only be natural for you to a.s.sume that I...well, that I expected to find..."

"A husband?" he asked.

"Yes. But I didn't, I a.s.sure you. I didn't even know about you until the night after Daddy and I boarded the s.h.i.+p. He told me everything then about his friends.h.i.+p with your father, our betrothal. I couldn't believe he had done such a thing at first, but he is a sentimental person. I'm sure that accounted for much of this scheme of theirs."

"They had no right!" Torin slammed his fist on the table and she jumped in her seat. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "Forgive me, Miss Ryan. 'Tis just that I lived with this scheme, as you call it, all my life! I resented it. I resented you, because our fathers insisted on forcing their wills upon us."

The anger in his face and blazing in his eyes made her want to bolt and run. But she refused to obey the instinct.

Torin sighed as he pushed a hand through his hair. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"I'm not really," she said with a small smile. "You startled me, but I know you would never hurt me."

Their gazes held across the table. "No," he replied. "That I would never do. And no matter what you hear...what others might say, please know I would never harm any woman."

She shook her head to break the connection between them. The intense look in his eyes made her uncomfortable.

"I would never believe such a thing of you," she murmured. "And I only came to bring my father home. I wasn't expecting to find a husband waiting for me. I did promise Daddy that I would meet you, but that is all. He would never expect me to marry someone I didn't care for. Your solitude is safe, Mr. O'Brien."

"Is there someone waiting for you in Virginia?" he asked suddenly. "Someone you care for?"

She stared at him as the silence vibrated between them. "There is someone waiting for me, yes," she replied, her voice steady though her gaze wavered.

"Someone you care for?" he prodded.

"That's rather personal considering we've only just met."

Torin smiled. "'Tis rather impersonal considering we're supposed to be getting married."

She looked down at the table as fought to order her thoughts. How could she explain her own emotions when she wasn't sure of them herself? How could she tell this stranger about a man who cared for her, wanted to marry her? A man who she had once idolized, but for whom she now held little feeling beyond a warm regard?

"I am well past a marriageable age," she said, choosing to avoid the subject if he'd let her. "And it would be rather ridiculous of me to expect you to fall in line with this betrothal. Such promises are made and broken every day, particularly when there is no benefit to be had by either party."

"No benefit?"

She lifted her gaze to his. "The arrangement was simply the only way two friends could find to unite their families. Daddy told me they thought that if they were bound by such a marriage, their relations.h.i.+p would continue in heaven. While I don't agree with their methods, I do admire the strength of their friends.h.i.+p. You and I were paired together merely by the misfortune of our birth order."

"Misfortune?" he repeated. "Is that what it is? A misfortune?"

"Now please don't be offended," Alaina interjected as she began to feel a little lost. One moment he resented the idea of their betrothal, the next he seemed upset that she'd treat it so lightly. "What I mean is that either of your brothers could have been selected, but they chose you because you had already been born. You were, what? Two years old when my father left Ireland?" When Torin nodded, she said, "I was chosen because I was the first born daughter-the only surviving daughter. But we were not singled out for any other reason."