Mackinnons #02 For All the Right Reasons (9 page)

“Alexander Mackinnon! I can’t believe it’s you!”

“Hello, Katherine.” He grinned. “It’s mighty glad I am to see you remember me, lass, for in truth, I didn’t recognize you until you spoke.” Alex couldn’t manage more, for it had taken more than a moment to realize this unbelievably striking woman was Katherine Simon. There was little of the freckle-faced, copper-haired girl he remembered in the woman who stood before him now. The Katherine he remembered was a chubby, awkward girl trapped somewhere between child and woman.
This
Katherine was an exceptionally beautiful woman, tall and slender with dark, heavy hair. Where had all that red gone? A moment later she stepped forward, out of the shadow of the porch and he saw the red was still there, only the coppery color had darkened. Her hair was a deep rich auburn, not the dark brown he had first imagined. Because of the heat she had pulled it straight back from her face. On any other woman this would have been stark, but on her it merely emphasized her high-boned cheeks, the pure tones of her skin. Her nose was slender and straight, her mouth full and soft, but as it had always been with her, her expressive green eyes were her most arresting feature. She was both familiar and foreign, earthy and exotic, and so essentially female that he could not keep himself from staring.

But Katherine didn’t really notice. Perhaps this was because she was guilty of the same thing, for she was finding it hard to keep her eyes on anything but him. For a moment or two, she allowed her fancy to run wild with imaginings of how he would have greeted her if things had been different, if it had been her he had ridden over to see. But her practical, sensible side soon took over. Her mind was still going at a full gallop, but the words she wanted to say hadn’t as yet reached steady plodding. So when she opened her mouth to speak, the only thing that came out was the same thing she had said before. “I still can’t believe it’s you,” she said, shaking her head in a dazed way.

Before she could draw another breath, he grinned at her again and said, “It’s me.” A moment later he was coming down off his horse.

Oh, it was him all right. Long and lean as ever, making her think about things she had no business thinking about. Alex wouldn’t have a moment of peace as soon as the womenfolk in these parts got a glimpse of him. Here was the kind of man women baked pies for, and faced raging floods and tornadoes to deliver them. She watched him walk toward her. His body had filled out some, but he still had that loose, easy way of moving, and his features were still strongly cut and bronzed. He was the same, and yet the changes in him were remarkable. His eyes were still “take my breath away” blue, and his hair the same rich, dark brown that looked black out of the sun, but it was longer than she remembered, and she longed to touch it to see if it was as soft as it looked. Gone was the slim youth in hand-me-downs that were always way too short. Although his clothes were well-worn, they were clean and fit him well—a little too well, in her estimation, if a lady was expected to keep her mind on practical, sensible things. His youthful curiosity was gone and in its place was confident ease. Maturity had given more definition to his face and it most certainly added emphasis to his maleness. Something within her seemed to rush out to him, all the love and longing she felt for this man coming forward so swiftly she felt herself sway. She reached out to grip the porch railing for support.

Unable to think of anything else, she said, “How’s Adrian?”

“Ornery and mule-headed as ever. He’s back, too, but he went on into town to get some much needed supplies. There’s not a dad-blasted thing left at the old place.” He grinned. “I’m supposed to be getting our place cleaned up and ready to live in before he gets back.”

She laughed at that, and he thought he had never heard a woman’s laugh that sounded so musical, save his mother’s. “Have you
seen
your place?” she asked, the hint of a smile lingering on her fine mouth.

He couldn’t help grinning, thinking he probably looked like a pure fool smiling at everything she said. “That’s why I’m here. I need to borrow a broom.”

The corners of her mouth lifted in the most delicious way, and the light in her eyes was pure devilment. “A broom,” she repeated. “For riding?”

He laughed. “For sweeping. I only ride when there’s a full moon.”

Her smile was bigger now. “Then you’re in luck. I think there’s one tonight—at least that’s what the
Farmer’s Almanac
says.”

“Good! You wanna come with me?”

For the rest of my life.
“No. I’m sticking to mules these days.”

“Brooms are safer.”
And so is Adrian. Don’t look so fetching, Katherine
.

She laughed. “You’re right about that, especially if the mule is Clovis.”

“Clovis…isn’t he the one that…”

“Bites,” she said, suddenly looking self-conscious, “and eats everything in sight.” She smoothed her hands over her apron. “Well, look at me! Not a bit of manners in my head, making you stand out here in the hot sun like this. Come on in, Alex, and get yourself out of that blistering, hot sun. I’ll see if I can’t scare up a few things for you.”

He followed her inside, noticing immediately that the mess he saw on the outside did not come inside. The inside, humble as it might be, was spotless. They went into the kitchen, and he looked around the room, seeing it had changed so little in four years. It was a good feeling to know something in his life of changes had remained constant. In a way, he supposed that was a good description of Katherine. Constant. Best he could remember, it took a lot to get her riled—but
Lordy, Lordy, Katy, bar the door
if she ever got mad. He noticed she was watching him, and he gave himself a mental shake, his eyes going around the room. “It’s nice to see the old place still looks the same,” he said, wondering where Karin was. He was about to ask, when Katherine said:

“You must have been wearing blinders when you rode up if you can say this place looks the same. It’s a dilapidated wreck, Alex, and you know it.”

“It isn’t too bad,” he said.

“It isn’t too good,” she answered and they both laughed.

He stood in the doorway for a moment taking it all in. The same white muslin curtains he remembered still fluttered at the window, but now a yellow ruffle had been added. The trestle table with its four chairs was the same one he remembered, and even the pie sitting there seemed familiar. He remembered how Katherine always loved to cook and what a little homemaker they always teased her about being. Evidently she was still as domestic as ever. His eyes went back to the table. How many times had he, Karin, Katherine, and Adrian sat there hunched over their school lessons, working beneath the dull glow of an oil lamp? And how many sums had they calculated while Ellie Simon busied herself over a pie or chicken and dumplings? The oil lamp was gone now, and so was Ellie Simon, but the memory of those times was still sharp and as fresh as that pie Katherine had baked.

Katherine saw Alex look at the pie.

“Apple,” she said. “You want a slice?”

“No, thanks,” he said, but his stomach growled in protest.

“I’ll tell you what, why don’t you go hitch Clovis to the wagon and I’ll gather a few things that you’ll be needing?”

“I don’t need to borrow your wagon,” he said. “I can take the things on horseback.”

“Maybe so, but you can’t take me and my basket both on horseback.” When he started to protest, she slapped her hands on her hips and said, “Alexander Mackinnon, if you think for one minute I’m going to let a dear friend I haven’t seen in almost four years go home and clean his own house you’ve got another think coming!” Turning away from him, she added, “Now get a move on, you hear? We’ve got work to do.” She opened the cupboard and took out some neatly folded cup towels and placed them on the table, talking all the while. “A fine neighbor I’d be, knowing Alex Mackinnon was fresh home from the war and me not lifting a finger to help. If I let that happen, Ellie Simon would roll over in her grave and don’t I know it.”

He grinned, remembering how Katherine always talked to herself. He watched her pull a basket down off the top of the pie safe, catching sight of him out of the corner of her eye. “Well? What are you waiting for, the second coming?” Not giving him a chance to respond, she kept on talking. “Now, you get on outside and hitch up Clovis.” When she heard his chuckle she said, “And don’t forget he bites.”

“I won’t. I still have a scar on my shoulder to prove it, remember?”

Her hand came up to spread, fanlike, across her chest. Lord, she did remember, but that had been so long ago, when Clovis was the most adorable little mule, nothing but long ears and big eyes, not much bigger than a billy goat. One afternoon Alex had tried hitching him to a small wagon he and Adrian had built. But Clovis wasn’t having any part of Alex or his wagon. And when Alex persisted, Clovis took a plug out of his shoulder. Alex was ready to take a strap to Clovis, but Katherine took one look at Clovis, all long-eared and black with the biggest, most repentant brown eyes she had ever seen and begged him not to. The memory brought a smile. “Lord have mercy, I do remember, but, land sakes, that was a long time ago. Why, Clovis was just a baby.”

“And it’s probably a good thing too. If he had been any bigger I would’ve lost half my shoulder. I should’ve taken that strap to him,” he said, giving her a soft look, “but I was afraid you’d hate me forever if I harmed a single hair on his ornery, stubborn hide.”

Her voice was as soft as his look. “I could never hate you, Alex. No matter what you did.”

Their eyes met, neither of them looking away and the moment stretched between them, heavy with tension. Katherine felt her body tense, her muscles coiling tightly. She wanted to look away, but something held her. It was as if Alex had the power to reach out to her across the distance that separated them. Strange as it was, she felt as though he was making love to her from where he stood, wordless and methodical, as if he knew her body better than she. A thrill of delicious excitement ran over her, from her scuffed old shoes upward to the coil of glossy auburn hair secured at her nape. A penetrating warmth spread slowly through her, touching her in the most private of places, touching, awaking, softening, until she wanted to cry out.
Alex… Oh, Alex, if you only knew. It could be so beautiful between us.
But he would never know that. Or would he? Perhaps he knew it now. Perhaps that was why he looked at her as he did, coaxing and drawing her toward him with the power of his eyes alone. Perhaps he knew, deep within the innermost part of his being, deep within that part of him over which he had no control, perhaps this very moment, softly slumbering within his unconsciousness he knew—and yet, he didn’t know at all, and probably never would. Alex was a man of conscious mind, one who loved with a will. He had no harmony with the reasons of the heart, reasons the mind knew nothing of. She knew Alex loved Karin with every conscious fiber of his being simply because he willed it so, and Alex was a man of strong, determined will. He would not, could not love her ever, simply because he did not will it. What he willed between himself and her was friendship, and all the wishing in the world wouldn’t change it. And that was that. “Well,” she said, feeling both self-conscious and broken-hearted at the same time. Her hand came up to smooth the side of her hair and she did her dead-level best at forcing a weak smile. “Just look at me standing here like a stepped-on bug, when there’s work to be done.”
Dear God! The pain! The pain of loving this much and knowing it can never be. The pain of having so many tender looks, so many love-whispered words waiting in deep, dark silence to be shared, and knowing they will always remain tiny forgotten seeds tucked away and
unremembered, never given the chance to sprout, to flourish, to bloom. Dear God! The pain.

She hid the painful swelling that comes before tears behind a halfhearted cough and turned her back to him, wishing with all her might that he would quietly walk away.

He watched her turn away, feeling an emptiness he had not felt since his mother died. He stared at her slim back for a moment, then shook his head to clear the confusion from his mind. It had been too long since he’d had a woman, he told himself.
Get a hold of yourself, man. This is Katherine, not Karin
. Hell, as randy as he was, he’d probably flirt with a broom, if it had a dress on.
This is Katherine, Alex. Katherine
. But each time he told himself that, a tiny voice inside him said,
I know. I know
.

He felt awkward for the first time he could ever remember—at least around Katherine. For Katherine had always been the kind of girl he could be at ease around, the kind of girl who was as comfortable as a pair of favorite old shoes.
So why am I feeling awkward and shy as a schoolboy?
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the pinch of tension at the base of his neck. He inhaled deeply, then turned away. “I’ll be back to carry everything outside as soon as I’m finished.”

She nodded, but she didn’t look up when he left, for in truth she wasn’t even aware of when that was, for Katherine was also a person of strong will and determination, and she had already given her attention to the task at hand.

She had packed the last of her supplies in the basket and was just closing the lid when Alex returned, telling her that “beast of a mule” was hitched.

Seeing the swelling redness and the way Alex was rubbing the back of his hand, she couldn’t resist. “Beast? You mean Clovis? Why he’s as mild as a moonbeam,” she said, remembering how much she had always enjoyed teasing Alex, and seeing a good jabbing about Clovis as a good opportunity to start up again. “You don’t mean to say he gave you trouble, do you?”

“Not because he didn’t try. Now, I’m serious, Katherine. I don’t think you should keep that mule. He’s too unpredictable to be around women.”

“Like a lot of men I know.” Katherine laughed and picked up her bonnet along with her basket and stepped outside. Alex followed her, glancing at the table as he passed. The pie, he noticed, was gone, and that was curiously uplifting. He had just settled his eyes on Katherine’s hair, thinking it was like slumbering coals that burst into flame the minute she walked into the sunlight, so vivid and intense were the red highlights that had seemed no more than a trusty warm brown moments before. Something about the masquerading of her hair set him to thinking. Too often things appeared to be what they were not. Wasn’t this true of people as well? He was thinking Katherine was a lot like her hair, for the memory he had of her was also trusting, warm and brown, while the woman he found upon his return had shattered before his very eyes, splintering into fragments of impassioned color that were both powerful and unforgettable. He would have trailed that thought a little farther had not the musical tones of sweet, feminine laughter penetrated his thoughts.