Pioneer Yearning: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Three Page 5

  Cormac rose, matching Seamus for height and rage. “I dared because I truly love your daughter. Unlike my brother.”

  “You defiled her,” Seamus rasped, his breath sawing in and out of him, as though he had just run a race.

  “My loving your daughter would never tarnish her.” He waited as the unspoken words, unlike Connor’s love, reverberated through the room. Closing his eyes, Cormac sighed. “I wish I had,” he murmured. He opened his eyes to gaze at Seamus. “I wish I had.”

  At the repeated words, Seamus relaxed and gazed at Cormac. “I don’t understand, lad. What are you and Niamh playing at?” He paused. “I’ve always known how much you care for her.”

  “No, you haven’t,” Cormac said with a bitter smile. “You’ve always assumed I love her like I would a sister.” He paused. “Do you know what I said to myself right after I met her?” When Seamus motioned for him to continue speaking, Cormac whispered, “I promised myself I would marry her someday. Instead she married Connor.”

  “Ahh, lad,” Seamus breathed.

  “I know you are friends with Madam Nora. And I have no doubt she would treat Maura well. But Maura has suffered enough confusion in her young life. She needs her mother.” He closed his tormented sky-blue eyes. “And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to ensure Niamh has whatever and whomever she needs to find peace again.”

  Gripping Cormac’s shoulders, Seamus squeezed them so hard that Cormac’s hands became numb. “You promise nothing untoward occurred between you and Niamh?”

  Cormac sighed. “Nothing that would cause Maura to be mine, no.”

  Seamus stilled as he considered Cormac’s evasive answer and then swore. “Feck, this is more complicated than I thought.” He ran a hand over his temple, as he always did when he was upset about something. “You do realize you’ve just caused Niamh to be subjected to even more gossip? Her husband dyin’ in the Bordello wasn’t enough for her to suffer, aye?”

  “She had already suffered plenty more,” Cormac snapped and then grimaced at what he had inadvertently revealed.

  “And what is that, lad?” Seamus stood in front of Cormac, preventing him from retreating. “What exactly did my Niamh endure besides the disillusionment of marrying a lazy man?”

  Cormac clamped his jaw shut. “I promised,” he hissed. “I can’t tell you.”

  Seamus saw the torment in the young man’s eyes, and his shoulders stooped. “’Tis why you had such a distance between you and Connor at the end. Because you knew something that upset you.” He spoke in a voice barely audible, as though, by speaking the words, it made them real. Something he could not stand to be true. “That he had a penchant for treating his wife with the violence he showed the Siren.”

  Cormac’s eyes gleamed with pain as he nodded subtly.

  “Oh, my poor wee babe,” Seamus rasped, his startling blue eyes filling with tears. “Brother or no, if he were alive today, I’d rip him limb from limb.”

  “As he would deserve.” Cormac ducked his head. “I failed her, sir, and she won’t accept my apology. I’m so sorry.”

  Seamus gripped his shoulders again and let out a heaving breath. “From now on, we do what we must to protect her, lad. Whatever we must.”

  “Aye,” Cormac said. He allowed Seamus to pull him in for a tight embrace, before he backed away. “Niamh will be angry with me.”

  “She’s irate with the world,” her father argued. “Give her time.” He cleared his throat. “For, when a few months have passed, you do understand you’ll have to marry. After such a proclamation to a man like Chaffee, you have to marry my Niamh.”

  Cormac froze. “I won’t force her to do anything, sir.”

  “She outwitted me the first time when she raced away with your brother, but she won’t a second. She’ll marry you and be damn glad of it.”

  Niamh allowed Ardan to ease her onto the sofa, her gaze unfocused as an unremitting shaking began. Images of her beautiful Maura filled her mind. Her smile. Her chortle when she did something new. Her delight at learning to walk and then to run. The soft sound of her sweet voice calling her “Mumma.” Niamh bent forward, burying her face in her wool skirts as a sob burst forth.

  Ardan sat on one side of her and Kevin the other. A hand caressed her back, and Ardan said in a soothing, yet determined voice, “Don’t worry, Niamh. We’ll never allow anyone to take Maura away.”

  “But what if it’s the law?” she stuttered out. “What if I have no rights?”

  “You’re her mother. Of course you have rights,” Kevin snapped. “This is just that bastard’s attempt to continue to control you and to hurt you, even from the grave.”

  Niamh shuddered and sniffled. “I knew he detested me, but I never imagined he’d make our discord public.”

  With a hesitant voice, Ardan asked, “Did he have reason to be angry with you and Cormac?”

  Niamh rose, separating herself from her brothers and any comfort they had attempted to offer her. “No!” She flushed. “Not like Cormac insinuated in there.” After yanking a handkerchief from her pocket, she scrubbed at her face. “I promised myself I’d never cry again over Connor.” She shook her head as she clamped her jaw shut.

  “You’re not crying over him,” Kevin said. “You’re crying over what he’s trying to do to you. Those are very different things, Niamh.” He tilted his head to one side, as his inquisitive hazel eyes studied her. “You never showed much remorse at the loss of your husband.”

  Flinching, Niamh turned away to study the bare wall. “If you had married such a person, I doubt you would have acted much differently.” She wrapped an arm around her body, anchoring her hand on her shoulder. “Cormac and I did nothing to cause either of us any shame.” She turned around in time to see her brothers share a long look. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  Ardan rose, his blue eyes shining with confusion and sincerity. “Why would a man we know to be honorable, who was also loyal to his brother, proclaim such a thing if it were a lie? He’d have to be …” He broke off, as though a thought he didn’t care to voice just came to him.

  “He’s loyal to me and Maura too. And we’re still alive, while Connor’s dead. After Connor dishonored our wedding vows at the Bordello.” Her voice broke.

  “Don’t you see that you and Cormac have just taken away any sympathy the townsfolk might have had for you by this declaration? That they’ll now believe Connor was justified in seeking out comfort at the Bordello? And equally justified for his rage?” Ardan said.

  Niamh swayed, and Kevin gripped her arm, easing her to the sofa. “I just wanted to find a way to keep Maura safe. To keep her with me.” Her voice broke once more. “I didn’t care what Cormac said.”

  Kevin gripped her hand, as her tears coursed down her cheeks and she sat in silent misery. “You need to consider why an honorable man, loyal to his brother, would speak out on your behalf, Niamh. And then determine what you are willing to do to repay such devotion.”

  Cormac slipped from the O’Rourke house, overwhelmed after the meeting with the lawyer and unwilling to see Niamh again so soon. To keep himself busy during the off-season months, he worked with the livery owner, repairing tack, mucking out stalls, and doing any other task that needed to be done. Generally his wages consisted of a warm meal and a never-ending pot of coffee, which suited him. He had no desire for riches, unlike his brother, who always believed he would strike it rich at the gambling tables. Or by marrying an heiress.

  After mucking out two stalls, Cormac moved to the tack room. Frowning at finding most of it in good shape, he decided to polish it. Again. Anything to keep busy. Although he doubted her family had heard Niamh’s gasp of dismay at his proclamation, it had pierced his soul. The sound of her distress as he had attempted to aid her had nearly unmanned him. With a groan, he slammed the now shiny bridle onto the counter and lowered his head. What more could he do to show her his love? Were constancy and devotion no longer desirable? Or so easily taken for granted?

  He cl
osed his eyes, as Seamus’s proclamation that he would marry Niamh filled him with joy and trepidation. For he wanted Niamh to choose to marry him. To find delight at the prospect in marrying him. Not to feel trapped into marriage to escape scandal. Not a second time.

  He sighed as the scene from over two years ago played out in his mind. A scene he had rewritten a thousand times but had never emerged with him as the groom.

  Cormac sat in the stagecoach, his mind reeling with implications, as Connor crowed with glee.

  “There’s my lass. Independent. Not searching for her father’s approval.” Connor threw an arm over Niamh’s shoulder, ignoring his brother’s grunt as his hand hit Cormac in the head in the tight stagecoach where six were crammed inside for the journey to Fort Benton from Cow Island, where the steamboat had docked. “Finally we will have time alone together.”

  Cormac peered around Niamh to gape at his brother. “Connor, you can’t—”

  Connor glared him into silence. “None of your brothers or your father will be able to keep us apart now, my little love.”

  Scowling, Cormac watched as Niamh gazed at Connor, as though he hung the stars and the moon. All through the long, uncomfortable journey, Cormac prayed Niamh would come to her senses. That she would see his brother’s insincerity. After arriving in Fort Benton, and with Connor aware the O’Rourke men would be in hot pursuit, Cormac knew Connor would attempt to seduce Niamh.

  “Niamh,” Cormac gasped, as he raced to catch up to her, after she had exited the bathhouse with a spring in her step. He’d kept watch at the door, refusing admittance to any man so she was ensured privacy. His breath caught as her auburn hair hung loose around her shoulders, cascading down her back as it dried.

  Her rosy cheeks and skin clean from the mud and the days’ worth of travel, she gazed at him with anticipation and delight in her eyes.

  “Don’t do anything rash.”

  “I’ve known him a few months now, Cormac,” she said, as she patted his hand, as though he were an old man who needed soothing. “Why would you believe I’m acting in a reckless manner?”

  He flushed with anger. “Because you raced away with him in defiance of your father’s wishes. Because you know you’ll have to marry him if you agree to his plans for you tonight.” His cheeks reddened further. “You deserve better, Niamh.”

  Shaking her head in disappointment, she furrowed her brows as she studied him. “How can you say that about your own brother? Shouldn’t you want him to marry me?” Taking a step forward, she tapped him in his chest with her finger. “Why am I not good enough for him?”

  “No, that’s not what I mean.” His sky-blue eyes filled with panic. “He’s promised to another. He should stay true to her.”

  Niamh rolled her eyes and then shrugged. “Connor explained it all to me, Cormac. Why should he be bound to a woman he may never see again? She doesn’t have the adventurous nature to travel here. Besides,” she said, as she looked around the tiny town, “why shouldn’t I marry him? He’s a fine man, and it’s not as though I’d want to marry anyone else here.”

  He paled and backed up a step. “No, of course not,” he rasped. “I beg your pardon.” He watched as she scurried away for her rendezvous with his brother.

  The following morning, her father and brothers arrived, all of them crammed into and onto a stagecoach. After one look at Niamh, her father had sworn out loud with no apologies and then found a pastor to marry her to his brother. Although Seamus would have preferred a priest, he had a practical nature and had accepted any man of the cloth to save his daughter’s tattered reputation.

  As Cormac stood beside Connor, watching Niamh approach in the patched-together ceremony, Cormac marveled at the joy, wonder, and relief in her gaze as she walked toward Connor. As his hopes turned to ash, Cormac watched his brother marry the woman of his dreams.

  That evening, a subdued O’Rourke family sat around the kitchen table. Rather than the customary boisterous group with lively discussions, all conversations were in muted voices, and few laughed or smiled. Although the younger siblings did not understand what had occurred that day, when the lawyer had called, they understood the news had not been well received.

  At the knock on the back door, Seamus rose. Although Mary had cooked his favorite foods, he had not had an appetite for most of it. “Whoever is calling had better be civil,” he muttered to Mary. “Yes,” he barked as he tugged open the door. “Madam,” he breathed. “I had hoped we had a little time before you called.”

  “May I come in, Seamus?” she asked, as she stood on the back stoop. “Or must I call you Mr. O’Rourke?” Her mouth twitched with amusement, as she and Seamus had had a strong friendship since Seamus’s arrival in Fort Benton two and a half years ago. They had truly been friends, never lovers, as he had sought out her counsel and her companionship after the death of his second wife and before the return of Mary.

  “Of course,” he said. He stepped backward, accepting her black cloak, coated in a fine mist. After hanging it by the fire to dry, he motioned for her to join them at the table, where all conversation had halted at her appearance. “I would like to introduce Ma—Nora Flaherty,” Seamus said, faltering as he was about to call her Madam. “She is very welcome.” He sent a beseeching look in Mary’s direction and heaved out a sigh of relief as his stalwart wife rose and opened her arms to embrace the Madam, as though they were long-lost friends.

  “Nora, ’tis lovely to see you,” Mary said. “Please, won’t you join us for dinner?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t, but thank you.” She sat in a chair near Seamus, Mary, and Niamh, her gaze roving over the numerous children staring at her. “I had never fully imagined what having twelve children was like.”

  “This is a quiet evening. Three of the lads are missin’, as they are in Saint Louis,” Seamus said, as he waved at the table. “An’ Ardan and Deirdre are at the café tonight.”

  “Imagine,” Nora murmured, as she looked at the crowded table with wonder. She smiled her thanks as Mary set a cup of tea in front of her. After adding milk and sugar, Nora spoke in a soft voice. “Forgive me for interrupting, but I received an interesting visitor today and did not want to wait before speaking with you. I had no desire for further rumors to spread.”

  Seamus gave a nearly imperceptible nod. “Aye.” He looked at his youngest sons, chatting but no longer eating. “Lads, we need privacy.” He smiled his thanks as they rose, leaving the kitchen. “You too, Maggie.” He watched as his youngest daughter flushed with embarrassment and disappointment but obeyed his instructions, taking wee Maura with her.

  At his glance, Mary closed the door to the kitchen he’d had installed a few months before. “Will you wait to speak until we’re all here?” After the Madam shrugged her agreement, Seamus spoke with Kevin. “Fetch Ardan and Cormac.”

  After the younger siblings were settled away from the kitchen, and Ardan, Deirdre, and Cormac were present, Seamus stared at the Madam. “Nora, I never expected to find you on my doorstep.”

  She smiled ruefully. “And I never expected to be involved in a tug of war between a dead man and his disgruntled wife, Seamus.” She sighed as she took a sip of tea. “Although I’ve always been intrigued by parenthood, it’s forever been in a remote way one considers events never destined to occur. I’ve known that, with my lifestyle, I would not have a child.” She looked at Niamh, sitting in silent misery across the table from her, with her shoulders stooped and chin lowered. “Fight, girl.”

  Niamh’s head jerked up, and she stared at Nora in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Fight back. You have the word of a renegade lawyer, claiming he spoke with your husband. How do any of us know this man tells the truth?” She paused as she looked around the room at the O’Rourkes.

  “What reason does he have to lie?” Cormac asked. He sat beside Niamh, as though unable to sit anywhere else but next to her.

  Mary studied the Madam. “You’re far more intelligent than you like t
he men who visit your establishment to know, aren’t you?” At the Madam’s diffident shrug, Mary smiled.

  “Men will always believe a woman his inferior because we aren’t as physically strong,” Nora said with a roll of her eyes. “They’ve yet to learn that a strategy and the execution of that strategy can be far more potent a foe.” She smiled slyly before taking another sip of tea.

  Seamus shared a long look with Mary and then focused on the Madam. “What do you know, lass?”

  Nora ran a hand over her fine red satin dress, cut to highlight her figure. “I know the man enjoys provoking discord. He likes intrigue. And that he was nearly strung up in Virginia City for false claims about a man’s wife.” She looked around the table as she shrugged again.

  After a long pause as those at the table considered all she said, Cormac asked, “Why would he make false claims about Connor and Niamh? What would he hope to gain?”

  Nora rolled her eyes and spoke in a slow voice, as though explaining to a child. “He’s like your brother.” When Cormac flushed, Nora continued. “He sees a vulnerable woman and hopes to exploit the situation. However, he miscalculated.”

  “What do you mean?” Seamus asked, waving at Cormac to calm as he focused on Nora.

  Staring at them all with blatant fascination, Nora asked, “Did any of you ask to read the so-called will? To review it yourselves?” At their shakes of their heads, Nora said, “Well, I did. And I happened to have an unfortunate accident with a teacup as I reviewed it. The poor man was most distressed that his hard work was blemished by my fine Ceylon tea, although I assured him there would be nothing more than a slight discoloration to his long-winded will. I wonder if he is paid by the word.” She smiled like a cat that had just found a bowl of cream. “I imagine he’ll be disappointed to discover he has a sheet from my ledger, highlighting my increased need for satin and lace, rather than the so-called will, when he looks over his paperwork.”