Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry (14 page)

"No, I would never do that. You know your own mind. Since the ship departs tomorrow night, I shall marry you in the morning."

She started to say something, and he put his hands up, "I'm sorry, Darcy I have many engagements tonight. I must be going."

Darcy’s eyes grew large. She was furious. She was about to embark on the greatest journey of her life, and he was too busy to talk.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I love him?" she asked indignantly.

"Why should I?" he said. Pulling his hood up, he squeezed her hand and said, “Good night.”

When Darcy returned to the cottage, her green eyes were flashing, and she marched straight up to bed. She tossed and turned all night, and when she finally fell asleep, she had dreams of Bran holding her so tightly that she suffocated.

The next morning she was stiff and tired. After dressing, she fed the children, and changed the linens on Teila's bed. Teila felt the tension but said nothing.

That afternoon, when Darcy was weeding the garden, Bran stole up quietly behind her and grabbed her waist. Startled, she stood up, and he yanked her into his arms kissing her lustily. His blonde hair fell in tangles about his face and his tan chest was visible through his open shirt.

"Come. I want to make love to my bride," he murmured.

"No, Bran! Not now. We can wait."

He kissed her neck and said, "You need to get used to me being in charge.”

Taking her hand he led her up the hill to Glinnish stream. At the entrance to their trysting place, he picked Darcy up and carried her in, setting her down on a bed of moss. Bran made love to her in his usual hasty manner and in a rush of passion he was done. Darcy was glad it was over. She sat up and began to dress while Bran dozed.

She looked down at him as she tied her gown and suddenly she remembered all the years he had taken care of her when she was a child. He had fed her and kept her safe in those days. Together they had survived, and in all the years she had known him, he had never once been cruel to her.

A wave of affection washed over her, and Darcy brushed the hair from his face. "Bran?" she said.

"Hmm?"

"Did Liam ever tell you that I know how to read?"

 
"What?" he said drowsily.

"Do you know that I can read, Bran?"

 
“Darlin’” he said, raising himself up onto one elbow. “You don't have to make things up. Everyone knows that you landed Bran Moynahan on your good looks, not your brains." He gave her nipple a playful pinch and lay back down closing his eyes again.

Darcy stared at him thunderstruck. His words burned a scar into her more damaging than any punch, and her eyes narrowed. Her heart started to pound, and she said, "You're right, Bran, I
have no brains
. I was stupid enough to think that you were worthy of me!"

Darcy stood up, pushing the branches aside and stepped out of the bower. She could hear Bran calling her, but she did not respond. A rush of fresh air filled her lungs, and she realized how stifling it had been back there in the darkness alone with him.

Chapter 12

Darcy looked over her shoulder as she walked along the bluff toward the abbey. She knew that Bran might follow her, so she quickened her pace. Then she began to run. She could not allow him to catch up with her and try to change her mind.

When she reached the ruins, she was breathless but feeling free. For the first time in her life she felt completely independent, and even though she would not be on that ship, she no longer felt as if she were a prisoner in Kilkerry. She would now make her own choices and be in charge of her own future. The thought of Bran dictating to her was unthinkable, and she was surprised that it took her this long to realize it.
I will be in charge, in charge of my own mind and my own body.

She stopped and leaned against the abbey wall, thinking back to her last conversation with Father Etienne. He was responsible for planting the doubt in her mind about Bran. He knew how dearly she held her independence, and he cleverly orchestrated her epiphany.

Darcy looked in the direction of his cave and then scanned the meadow. Bran was nowhere in sight, and she decided to pay Father Etienne a visit. This day belonged to her, and she would do with it exactly as she pleased.

The wind was refreshing, as she walked along the cliffs, and it combed through her hair leaving the fresh smell of sea air in her tresses. Grabbing her skirt, she climbed down the rock face to the mouth of the cave, and as she landed on the flat stone ledge, she called, "Good morning!"

Father Etienne looked up from his reading with a wide smile and said, "Well, good morning to you!"

Darcy noticed two chairs and a table on the ledge. A small crock held yellow gorse. "Are you expecting company, Father?" she asked.

"Yes, I've been expecting
you,
Darcy.
 

A slow smile of recognition came over her face, and she began to laugh, shaking her finger at him. "You are very sure of yourself."

He smiled mischievously then held a chair for her. Darcy took a deep breath of the fresh air and sat down. With the ocean below her and wide sky above her, it was like sitting on a cloud. She remembered the first day she and Father Etienne had dined here almost two years ago. It had been a day like this--warm, sunny and filled with hope.

Father Etienne placed some bread and cheese on her plate, and as a special surprise, he produced a handful of wild strawberries. When Darcy saw the plump fruit, she clapped her hands marveling at how this day had been filled with unexpected treasures. The priest took his seat and said, "You were just thinking about our first meal here together, weren't you?'

"That I was," she said nodding her head. "You had only just arrived. We hardly knew one another."

"A lot has happened since that day."

"Yes it has, but I must know something, Father. Did you really pray for Bran's return?”

 
He wiped his mouth and nodded. "Everything I said to you is true. I did pray for his return, but when he arrived, I could see that you had moved far beyond what he could offer you."

"Then why did you encourage the marriage?"

"If you think back, I never said anything to encourage it. I allowed you to make all the decisions yourself, Darcy. I was well aware of your independent spirit and stubborn nature, and any hint of disapproval from me would have sent you directly into marriage just to spite me."

"You know me too well," she said smiling and shaking her head. Darcy picked up a strawberry and studied its beauty. "Bran could never understand me. He would think it folly that I could see this strawberry as something more than a piece of fruit," and she popped the juicy morsel into her mouth.

Father Etienne frowned. "Beware, Darcy. Do not underestimate his resolve. I believe that he is incapable of love and will stop at nothing to satisfy his own ambitions."

Darcy shrugged, as the wind lifted her dark tresses, "Well, he needn't include me in his master plan any longer." It didn't seem right to worry about anything dark and threatening that day, and they watched the seagulls circling off the coast, gliding up and down on the breeze.

"Have you been happy here, Etienne?"

He looked up at her, aware that she had dropped his title. Turning his attention to the rugged cliffs and the brilliant green hills beyond, he mused, "I've never been happier anywhere. Your strange and beautiful land has entwined my heart like a vine, and I will never be free of it."

"I'm glad," Darcy said smiling.

"I have the feeling that I may never leave
Ireland
," he mused.
 

"Oh, that would be wonderful! We all need you."

"You will be the one to leave, Darcy. You must leave. Your destination is beyond these cliffs."

She dragged her eyes away from the bluffs and gazed across the ocean feeling the flow of the tides, "Perhaps, but today we are here dining on beautiful red strawberries by the sea, you and me together, Etienne, on top of a cloud."

*
      
*
      
*

Bran returned to the village searching for Darcy. He was not particularly concerned. He knew Darcy had a hot temper and could never resist his charms for long.

He went to the Mullins' first, awakening Teila rudely demanding information from her and Bridget. He boldly searched the loft, paying little heed to their assertions that she was nowhere in the cottage.

Next he ventured into the pastures to question Keenan. As the day moved on, Bran became increasingly agitated. He believed that Darcy was weak and that she would eventually succumb to his will, but he could not persuade her if he could not find her. If he could find her before sundown, he would have time to marry her and board the French vessel tonight.

He went repeatedly from the abbey to the cliff walk and back to town again.

After demanding her whereabouts from almost everyone, he encountered Liam trudging down the road carrying a sack of potatoes on his back. He thought it unlikely that she would seek refuge with him, but he must exhaust every possibility.

 
"Where is Darcy? Have you seen her today?"

"No, but I'd bet that she's with that meddlesome priest," growled Liam.

Bran clenched his fists and growled.
Why hadn’t he thought of that already
? With his heart pounding, he turned toward the bluff.

Liam shouted after him, "Don't be surprised if you find them abed, Moynahan!”

Daylight was fading fast, and when he reached the abbey, it held nothing more than the wind. He dashed along the cliff walk and climbed down the rock face to the Father Etienne's cave. That too was empty. Enraged, he turned over the table. Standing there panting, he remembered that this had been his home a long time ago. He swallowed hard and looked around with a growing tightness in his chest.

Shrugging off the memories, he climbed back up to the cliff top to resume his search. A thick fog crept in along the coast as Bran ran back to town. He had one last hope of finding Darcy at the Kennedy cottage where a meeting was scheduled tonight. As he entered the home, his eyes scanned the room for Darcy. He found her sitting by the window, her hair pulled back in a knot, wearing a black, woolen cape suitable for traveling. Her cool, green eyes rested on him with a look of icy indifference.

It was crowded and stuffy in the cottage, and the meeting was about to begin. All the necessary precautions were reviewed by Michael, including a warning about the fog. He turned to Darcy and said, "It will be very difficult for the ship to see your beacon tonight.

You must light several lanterns and try to get at least one up as high as possible."

"So," thought Bran, "she thinks that she will be the beacon tonight. Before the hour is up, she will be boarding the ship with me."

Bran had no feelings of remorse, as he watched his comrades file out of the cottage to get ready for tonight's shipment. Within a few short hours, every one of them would be at the mercy of the British soldiers. That was not of interest to him. What he wanted was a thick wad of British notes in his pocket and Darcy on the vessel heading for
Paris
.
  

Darcy saw Bran approaching as she was bending down to light her candles. "Darlin', I'm willing to forget about this afternoon. I know that you are just overexcited about the wedding, but you must put these silly worries to rest."

Darcy said nothing until she finished lighting her last lantern. She stood up and said, "I'm sorry, Bran, but you no longer figure into
my
plan."

He threw back his blonde head and let out a hearty guffaw. "Damn it, woman, you have spunk, and I love you for it."

Grabbing her waist, he pulled her close placing his wet lips on her neck. Darcy pushed away, picked up her lanterns and walked out the door. It suddenly occurred to Bran that allowing her to proceed as the beacon tonight meant that she would lose her freedom, maybe even her life.

"Darcy, stop! There is something--"

He took three large steps over to her and grabbed her wrist. When she looked at him he saw the contempt in her eyes. He had seen that look a thousand times in the eyes of his jailers. It was something he could not abide.

"What?" she questioned, impatiently.

Bran hesitated then said, "Nothing. It's the fog. The fog is dangerous tonight."

Darcy turned on her heel and left Bran standing in the open doorway. "Go to your death," he murmured, as the mist swallowed her up.

He knew that he must hurry if he were to catch the ship tonight. He hastened to the Kennedy home to gather his belongings. Bran found the cottage empty and bounded up the steps, throwing a few belongings into a bundle and tying it tightly. Getting down on his knees, he ripped some stitches from his mattress and reached inside, pulling out a fistful of notes. He stuffed them deep within his pockets.
This is all I really need to get the respect I deserve, and I will certainly never be hungry again.

He stopped a moment and did not move. Usually Bran refused to think of the famine, but after seeing the cave yesterday, the memories suddenly flooded him. He could see little Liam bending over the rocks gathering kelp and Darcy's frail little body climbing up the rocks to the mouth of the cave. Suddenly, his eyes widened, and his heart beat furiously. The drumming grew louder and louder. Visions of his childhood friends flashed before his eyes, and he whispered, "Oh my God, oh my God, what have I done!"

He walked to the wash basin and retched. He splashed water on his face to steady himself, but the drumming intensified. He stumbled down the stairs and tripped over a chair, sprawling onto the dirt floor. He could not see or hear anything beyond the infernal roar in his ears. He pulled himself to his feet running blindly into the night fog. He could think of nothing but ridding himself of the roaring in his ears. He staggered through the mist, crying out in fear and pain. He spied a red candle on a windowsill, and his heart leaped.
Redemption!
He stumbled over to the cottage and released three heavy blows against the door.