Pioneer Desire: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Two Page 9

  “I beg your pardon for intruding,” she stammered. “I shouldn’t have come.” She spun to race away, pausing with a gasp as a strong arm gripped hers.

  “No, Deirdre,” Ardan said in her ear. “You’re very welcome.”

  She watched as Ardan turned her to the group, staring at them with avid curiosity.

  “Most of you know of Mrs. Finnegan, but this is Deirdre.” His family nodded at her, and Ardan smiled his thanks when Kevin scooted closer to Aileen so there was room for Deirdre on the bench, while his mum set another place setting. “Come,” he urged Deirdre. He sat beside her, passing the simple fare to her. “I fear it won’t match what you cook each day.”

  “Oh, it will be lovely to eat something I didn’t prepare,” she said with a smile to Mary and Maggie. She noted Niamh sat away from her mother, with Maura on her lap.

  “Ah, but you didn’t contradict me that your food was better, did you now?” Ardan asked with a wink.

  She flushed and focused on the simple meal of boiled potatoes and roasted chicken, as the conversation continued to float around her. When she had finished her meal, she began to fidget.

  “What brings you by, Mrs. Finnegan?” Seamus asked, as he accepted Maura from Niamh. He kissed his granddaughter’s head and tickled her belly, as she played with a button on his coat. “If I recall properly, you informed me that, if there were justice in this world, you’d never be forced to speak to the likes of me again.”

  Deirdre flushed. “I fear I have a temper and say rash things at times.” She relaxed when she saw the teasing in Seamus’s gaze. “I brought the list of spices and supplies I need ordered for next year.”

  “Grand,” Seamus said. He rose, approaching her with Maura in his arms. “I’ll trade you.” Before she could protest, he had snatched her list, and she sat with a babbling Maura in her arms.

  “I … This isn’t … She should be …” Deirdre stammered out incoherent words as Maura patted at her face and smiled beatifically at her. Rather than a blue-eyed cherub in her arms, she saw a little girl with cognac-colored eyes, filled with curiosity and love. Deirdre’s gaze swam with tears, and she gasped, “I can’t do this.” She pushed Maura into Ardan’s arms and rose, tripping over the bench and her skirts in her urgency to flee.

  “Deirdre!”

  She heard Ardan call her name, but all she focused on was her escape. Her mind roared at her to flee the room. To flee their pitying stares. To flee the oppressive memories. “No, no, no,” she rasped, as she stumbled down the back steps, past the chicken coop, and to the darkened field behind their house. Her foot snagged in a gopher hole, and she fell to the ground, her knees and palms abraded by the rough earth.

  Welcoming the pain, Deirdre fought her panic. Fought remembering. Fought feeling anything. When a hand stroked her back, she screeched, “Don’t touch me!” Instinctively she knew it was Ardan. “Don’t …” she gasped, as she fell forward, her face in the grass as she keened. Soul-shattering cries and sobs burst from her.

  “Deirdre, love, you’re not alone,” Ardan whispered. He didn’t touch her again, but he continued to talk to her, to whisper words of comfort as she cried.

  She felt his presence beside her as he sat down, and she yearned for him to hold her. To soothe her agony. With jerky movements, she crawled into his arms, needing his support to ground her.

  “Have a good cry,” Ardan soothed, as his arms banded around her, holding her close, as he rocked them side to side, his strong hands caressing her back. He kissed her head as he would his niece, Maura, continuing to murmur soft words of support. “You’re safe. You’re well.”

  She shuddered as he kissed her head, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry,” she stammered out in a broken voice. At his murmur that she had nothing to apologize for, she said, “Your family must believe me a crazy woman.”

  “No, love,” he whispered as he held her. “They believe you to be like the rest of us. Human and trying to find your way.” He kissed her head again.

  “I feel so safe when I’m with you,” she whispered, her admission provoking another sob. “And I hate that illusion.”

  His hold on her had tightened with her whispered confession. “Why is it an illusion?”

  “Because you’ll leave. Just like they did,” she said, her voice fading away, as she fought drifting to sleep. “And I couldn’t bear to be left behind again.”

  Ardan held her, momentarily stuck dumb as she voiced his own deepest fear. When he realized she had fallen asleep in his arms, he rose, carrying her securely back home. As he approached his father’s house, he saw Kevin and Declan sitting on the back steps, waiting for them.

  Kevin shot to his feet at the sight of him carrying Deirdre. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s exhausted. She fell asleep,” Ardan murmured. “I’ll bring her home. Ensure she is well tonight.” He turned for her home, stopping when Declan called out to him.

  “Wait, Ard,” Declan said, disappearing inside. After a moment, Declan returned with Maggie, holding a small bag. “If you plan on spending the night there, Maggie should too. There’s already enough talk in this town about Mrs. Finnegan. You don’t want to add more.”

  Ardan studied his brother a moment in the faint light shining from the house, as he hadn’t heard any gossip. However, he realized few would be willing to gossip about him to his face. “Is this all right with you, lass?” he asked his sister.

  “Of course,” Maggie said. “I like Deirdre. And I can’t imagine why little Maura would send her into a crying fit.”

  Ardan didn’t say anything but motioned for his sister to follow him. The back door to the café was unlocked, and he ushered Maggie inside, ensuring she locked it behind them before he carried Deirdre upstairs. When they reached her living quarters, Maggie lit two lamps, leaving one on Deirdre’s bureau before she moved to the living room. Ardan stared at a slumbering Deirdre in his arms and sat on her bed, unwilling to release her from his hold just yet.

  “Oh, lass,” he murmured, as he brushed away fiery strands of hair. “What am I to do with you?” Kissing her on her forehead, he called out softly for his sister. When she poked her head in, he asked in a murmur, “Can you slip off her boots?”

  Maggie complied, each one landing with a muffled thunk. She set them underneath Deirdre’s bureau and stood back when Ardan rose with Deirdre still in his arms. Maggie pulled down the covers and watched as Ardan settled her underneath them, fully dressed, with the covers tucked up tight around her neck. “She’d be more comfortable if we were to remove her corset.”

  Ardan shot her a look. “First, she’d never forgive me were I to see her with so little clothes on without giving me permission. Second, there’s no need to start more rumors than necessary.” He kissed Deirdre’s head, squeezed her shoulder, and backed away. “What?” he asked, grimacing at the defensive note in his voice when he saw Maggie staring at him.

  “Someday I want a man to care enough about me to treat me as you do Deirdre,” she said. “I’ll sleep in the far bedroom. If you were to fall asleep on top of the covers here, I don’t know how anyone would be the wiser.” She rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

  “Imp,” he muttered, his voice filled with affection.

  She giggled and slipped from the room.

  Ardan remained, staring at a slumbering Deirdre. Finally he gave in, blowing out the candle. Tugging a throw blanket around himself, he curled onto the bed beside her, counting her breaths, and thankful for each moment he knew she was well.

  Bright light filtered through the curtains. Shouts from outside drifted up to her window but mingled with a dream. Rather than in Montana, she was in Maryland. In her husband’s arms, the night before he left. Men celebrated, drank, and found willing women, as they knew they would soon leave for duty to fight for the Union. Refusing to focus on the certainty of their separation, Deirdre spun dreams for Alonzo and her to share when he returned. About the farm they would own after they s
old their café. Of the children they would have. Too soon, the pounding on the door interrupted her time with him, and she knew he would leave her. Deirdre groaned as the pounding intensified.

  “No, don’t go,” she whimpered, as the strong arms around her released her. “Please, don’t leave me alone again.” A soft reassuring murmur came. A kiss to her head. And then she was alone. Pulling the blankets up, she covered her head, crying to have lost her love. Again.

  Again? She pushed through the wisp of her dream, fighting to awaken as the bed dipped beside her once more. Strong arms secured her against his chest once more, and she breathed in deeply of the spicy, musky sent. Her mind rebelled at that, as her husband never smelled like this. “What?” she gasped, as she pushed and struggled to free herself and wake up. “Where am I?”

  “Shh, love.” A deep, melodious voice with the soft burr of Ireland soothed her. “You’re well. You’re safe.”

  “Ardan,” she said, as her eyes opened, and she took in his worried expression. She traced a finger over his beard, noting that, although she had slept like the dead, he appeared to have barely slept at all. “Why are you here?”

  “I was worried about you.”

  She jerked back. “You’re in my bed?” She yanked on the covers, but he rested on them, so they didn’t budge. Her panic abated when she saw they were both fully dressed. “I don’t understand. I don’t remember.” She felt panic returning, attempting to swallow her whole again.

  “Shh, love,” Ardan repeated, cupping her cheek and staring deeply into her eyes. “You’re well. Maggie an’ I are here to care for you, and Buford understands you are ill today an’ will not be cookin’ in the café. Niamh an’ Mum will do what they can, but ’twill be limited.”

  “No!” Deirdre gasped, pushing away from him and vaulting from the bed. “I must work. I must earn my way …” She screamed with pain as she tried to walk, tumbling to the floor.

  “Deirdre!” Ardan leaped over the side of the bed to kneel beside her. “What happened, lass? What hurts?”

  “My ankle,” she gasped. “Oh, I can’t walk on it at all,” she whimpered. Without thinking she leaned into him as he eased his arms around her and carried her back to her bed.

  “’Tis swollen,” he said, as he ran his fingers lightly over it. “You must have hurt it when you fell last night, racin’ from the house.”

  “Why would I have—” Her eyes widened, as the memory of the night before rushed back, and she paled and then flushed. Tears threatened, and she took gulping breaths, as a subtle quivering began. She barely noticed as he rested beside her on the bed, pulling her into his arms. She nestled her head against his shoulder, fighting for control.

  “Let go, Deirdre,” he whispered, as his hands tangled in her unkempt hair, slipped loose from the knot at the nape of her head after a night’s rest. “Let out this sorrow.”

  She shuddered as he tenderly kissed her forehead. Clamping her eyes shut, she attempted to cease the tears from falling, but they would not be stopped. A keening sob burst forth, an echo in her memory from the previous night, and she clung to him.

  Absently she heard him speak in a soft voice. Something about ice, a doctor, time, and cherished. Words from the present jumbled together with memories from the past, and her hold on him tightened. “Don’t let me go,” she rasped. “Please.”

  “Never,” he promised, his hold on her equally fervent but never evoking discomfort.

  Finally her grief waned; her tears abated, and she lay on him, gasping and shuddering. “Forgive me. That was unseemly.”

  “None of that,” Ardan said in a low disgruntled voice. “That was honest and pure, Deir,” he whispered, shortening her name to sound like dear. “Don’t hide yourself away again. Please.”

  She hid her face against his chest, flushing. “I’m mortified.”

  He ran his hands over her back, his soft touch soothing her. “Don’t be, love. You have every right to your sorrows. As we all do. Da is devastated he hurt you.”

  She shook her head, the memory of holding Maura in her arms evoking a sweet agony. “I never wanted to hold another child again. Smell her sweet baby scent. Hear her gurgle of laughter.” She swallowed a sob as she choked out, “Have her pat my face and giggle up at me.”

  “Your lass died,” Ardan said in a matter-of-fact voice that still held tremendous sympathy. At her nod, he groaned and buried his face in her hair. “I’m so sorry, love.”

  She took comfort from his acceptance of her grief. Resting in his strong arms, she allowed herself to mourn all she had lost. Her husband. Her daughter. Her home. Her dreams. For a moment, she gave herself permission to dream of a life with a man like Ardan. Of hearing him call her his love—and mean it. Right now she was too emotionally exhausted to fight off her yearnings. “I’m so tired,” she whispered.

  He kissed her head and eased out from under her. “I know. Grief causes the worst exhaustion.” He met her startled gaze at his understanding. “I asked Maggie to see if there’s still ice in the ice house. Last I heard, they were runnin’ low. If ’tis the case, we won’t have anythin’ to help you with your ankle. The doctor should be on his way.” At the soft knock, he looked to the ajar door. “Maggie.”

  She entered with a shake of her head. “There’s no ice and no doctor. He left to attend an ailing passenger at Cow Island.” She bit her lip. “I ran into Dunmore. He said he has experience with hurt ankles and would like to help, if permitted.”

  Deirdre ran a hand over her skirts, ensuring her legs were covered and earning a sardonic look from Ardan. “If Mr. Dunmore is willing to aid me, I’d appreciate it.”

  “It’s just Dunmore, ma’am,” a deep voice called out from the hallway. “No need for formalities.”

  Deirdre stifled a gasp and then nodded at Maggie for the man to enter. For a moment, Deirdre noted Maggie moving to the corner of the room and watching the stagecoach driver’s every move with fascination. Dunmore was a tall lanky man that only a fool would believe easy to fight. Deirdre had a sense he’d be a menace in a brawl. Dunmore had a steely determination about him, and his blue-green eyes appeared to discern the reality of the situation with ease. He relaxed at seeing Ardan present, and his strong hands took off his hat, revealing long russet-colored hair sliding free over his shoulders.

  He approached the bed and nodded at her, his gaze focused on her ankle. “May I, ma’am?” At her nod, he reached forward to examine her ankle.

  The minute he touched her swollen joint, she gasped, her whole focus on the agony her grief had allowed her to temporarily ignore. “Oh, that hurts.”

  Dunmore moved her foot one way and then the other, watching her reaction closely. “You tripped last night?” he asked.

  “I don’t know what I did,” she whispered. “All I know is that I fell.”

  “In a gopher hole,” Ardan said.

  Dunmore grunted at that knowledge and then stood. “I know I’m not a doctor, but it doesn’t appear to be broken. I think it’s a sprain, but that will still take plenty of time to heal.” He turned to face Deirdre. “If possible, ma’am, I’d rest as much as I could and keep it raised.” He looked to Maggie. “If you and your mum have any, I’d brew willow bark tea for the pain.”

  “I have some downstairs,” Deirdre said. She acted as though she would rise, only falling back to the bed when Ardan placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her in place.

  “You’re not goin’ anywhere today, Deirdre. Perhaps not tomorrow either,” Ardan said.

  “Thank you, Mr. Dunmore,” Deirdre said. “When I’m feeling better, I’ll make a treat, just for you.” She watched as he smiled shyly at her and slipped from the room—but not before he cast a covetous glance at Maggie. Deirdre groaned as she sat up, leaning against the pillows. “Aren’t you needed at the warehouse?” she asked Ardan.

  “No, but I can tell you need some time alone. Perhaps Maggie could help you change, an’ then I’ll return to see how you are.” He kissed her forehead an
d left.

  Deirdre watched him, fighting the sensation of feeling bereft at his absence. A feeling she had never wanted to experience again.

  Ardan wandered downstairs to find his mum and Niamh cooking in Deirdre’s kitchen. He paused in the doorway, noting the tense silence between the two women. Although he had trouble believing his mother was never leaving again, his love for her had never been in doubt. Niamh, though, swaddled herself in a deep resentment and refused to allow any of their mother’s tenderness to free her of her bitterness at the years of separation.

  “Mum, Niamh,” he said, as he entered. He smiled at them, seeing his mum’s relieved expression at his presence. “Thanks for helping Deirdre today.”

  “’Tis the least we could do after causing her such anguish,” Mary said. “Poor Seamus is beside himself.”

  Niamh slammed down a pan and glared at her mother. “You’re not to blame Maura, Mum. She did nothin’ wrong.”

  Mary stared at her daughter in confusion. “No one did anything wrong, Niamh. ’Twas a horrible misunderstanding.” After a moment she shook her head. “No, ’twas time for that poor woman to face what she hid from. An’ I’m glad we were there to help ease her through it.” She stared at her eldest. “I’m glad you were there, Ardan.”

  He nodded at his mum but focused on Niamh. “No one is blamin’ wee Maura, just as no one blames Da. Deirdre’s feelin’s were goin’ to bubble up at some point, Niamh.”

  Niamh turned to glare at him, her hazel eyes glowing with an emotion he couldn’t understand. “I see you’re forgiven now that you’ve acted like her knight in shinin’ armor.” Her voice was laced with bitter disdain.

  Shaking his head as he and his mum shared a concerned look, he crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s happened, Niamh? You’ve been pricklier than usual but never mean. Now you’re cruel, an’ you seem to relish it.”

  She sobbed and ran from the kitchen, a paring knife still in her hand. Ardan watched her go but didn’t race after her. “Feck,” he muttered and then whispered his apology for swearing in front of his mother.