Patrick's Promise

by JoMarie DeGioia

  The Banshee’s full, lush mouth turned down in a pout. “I seen how he is now. Better.”

  “Tara healed him. Aye, I brought her here against her will, but she healed Devlin’s soul. She’s the mother Devlin deserves.”

  Her rosy mouth twisted. “Ya’ be in love with the mortal!”

  Patrick gave a firm nod. “Aye.”

  The witch turned her shocked gaze at Tara, who came to her feet. Tara placed her arm around Devlin’s shoulders as the boy faced his mother. She could feel a power in the little boy’s frame as heat shot up her arm. It was strong and bright and truly magical.

  “The little lad…,” the witch began, her wavering voice giving away her confusion.

  Devlin stared at the Banshee, his eyes clear and his stance strong. He raised his right hand, pointing one finger at the witch.

  “Go,” he said, his sweet child’s voice strong and clear.

  Patrick spared a glance at his son, a smile breaking through for an instant before he scowled at the Banshee.

  “You heard the boy, witch,” he said. “You can’t deny his power.”

  The witch’s shoulders slumped, and with that the wind died down as swiftly as it had started. The sucking sound of it stole Tara’s breath.

  “Aye, Braunach,” the Banshee conceded. “The lad’s power’s as strong and pure as yer bloody honor.” She faced Tara, hatred mixed with the resignation on her lovely face. “Ya’ can have the little devil, mortal. He’ll make ya’ miserable the whole of yer days.” She slid her gaze to Patrick. “And so will Patrick MacDonald.”

  With that, the Banshee flew out the front door of the house.

  ***

  Patrick knew she wouldn’t be back. Not for him and not for Devlin. She was forced to acknowledge the truth in Devlin’s command, and even her parting shot at Tara was more smoke than fire.

  “My God, lass,” Patrick said, rushing to Tara’s side. “When you came up against the witch I nearly died.”

  Tara smiled up at Patrick. “He’s all right, Patrick. Look at him.”

  Patrick looked down at Devlin to find the boy staring clear-eyed up at him.

  “Papa,” he said.

  Patrick fell to his knees, grabbing the boy by his shoulders. “Ah, son. Pray, don’t believe a word of what I told the witch when she had you.” His throat was tight with tears as he gave the child a gentle shake. “You’re good, Devlin. You’re loved. You’re a MacDonald.”

  Devlin smiled, and it was a sight more beautiful than Patrick had ever seen. The boy laughed then, and the sound was as light and pure as MacDonald gold. Patrick’s heart soared as he saw this first true emotion from his son.

  “I love you, Devlin,” Patrick said, hugging the boy tight.

  Devlin cuddled against his chest. “I love you, Papa!”

  He cried then, holding on to Devlin. “I’ll be the father you deserve, son. You have my promise on that.”

  Patrick heard Tara’s sniffling beside him and closed his eyes. He silently thanked God for giving him this chance, this miracle. This redemption.

  His family joined them then, loud and wonderful as they welcomed both Devlin and Patrick back into the MacDonald clan.

  “Ah, laddie,” Seamus beamed. “You came back to us, you did!”

  Devlin grinned up at his great-uncle. “Aye,” he giggled.

  Sean ruffled Devlin’s red-gold curls and the boy laughed again. Mrs. O’Grady mopped at her eyes with her apron, bending low to gently touch the boy’s cheek.

  “I’ll fix ya’ some of my biscuits, Devlin,” she said with a nod. “Aye, that I will.”

  Patrick looked at his family, seeing the forgiveness that had always been there. Tara saw it, he knew. Tara had told him they would always love him. Ah, he’d been a bloody fool.

  He released Devlin and stood, looking from Sean to his uncle. “Uncle, I don’t know what to say.”

  Seamus waved a hand at him. “Off with you now, lad. ‘Tis late and the little lad be needin’ his sleep, I wager.”

  ***

  Tara stood off to one side as Patrick reconciled with his family and with himself. Devlin was whole and well. And she wouldn’t wish it any other way.

  “Come, son,” Patrick said, lifting Devlin into his arms.

  The child hugged his father as Tara watched. Patrick stopped as he turned down the hallway, glancing at her over his shoulder.

  “Lass?”

  Tara didn’t wait for another invitation. She followed him to the bedroom, catching Devlin’s twinkling gaze. He held her in his charm too, she thought with a smile.

  “There you go, son,” Patrick said, setting him on the little bed.

  Devlin yawned as Patrick removed his shoes.

  “Good night, Papa,” he said softly. “Good night, Tara.”

  “Oh, good night, sweetheart,” she said, bending to kiss his cheek.

  Devlin smiled sleepily up at both of them before turning on his side. Tara sat beside Patrick. As she watched, the little boy settled himself for sleep, and his every motion was smooth and easy. Patrick was as quiet as she was, just drinking in the sight of Devlin falling gently into slumber for the first time in his life.

  “I felt nothing for the Banshee, lass,” Patrick whispered at last. “You know that, don’t you?”

  Tara hadn’t known for sure, and she couldn’t help but smile her relief.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” she admitted.

  He turned toward her then, his brow furrowed. “He’s well now, Tara,” he said. “I can take you home if you wish it.”

  Tara shook her head. That connection, that belonging she’d unknowingly wished for her whole life, struck her straight in her soul.

  “Patrick,” she began. “I am home.”

  He smiled, the expression pure and bright. “Ah, lass.”

  He hugged her, and she returned the embrace. As she ran her hands over his back, she felt something different. Beneath her fingers, through his shirt, she could feel that his shoulder was smooth.

  She pulled back and stared up at him. “Patrick, your scar.”

  “What?” He pulled at his shirt, baring his shoulder to her. “What is it?”

  She touched his skin, which was smooth and clear beneath her fingertips.

  “It’s gone, Patrick,” she said. “Your scar is gone.”

  Patrick reached over to feel it for himself. “The Banshee’s mark,” he rasped. He grabbed Tara to him again. “You healed me, lass. As well as you did Devlin.”

  Tara sighed as she settled against his chest.

  “I’ll be the man you deserve, Tara,” he said. “You have my promise.”

  “You already are.”

  Epilogue

  The day was crisp, and the sunlight beamed through trees ablaze with oranges and reds and yellows. The air was pure, and Patrick sucked in a breath as he stood on the steps of the church in the dell. He was marrying Tara this day, as incredible as that should be.

  “Papa,” Devlin said beside him, giving a tug on Patrick’s black breeches.

  Patrick smiled down at his son. “Aye, son?”

  “Tara’s my mama now?”

  More than once both he and Tara had assured Devlin of his place in the MacDonald clan, and of the love they all had for him. They didn’t know how much of his encounter with the Banshee the boy remembered, but there were still some nights when Devlin woke from nightmares and asked for him. And for Tara.

  “Aye, Devlin. Tara will be your mama from now on.”

  Devlin gave a firm nod and turned to face the people now walking up the lane toward the church.

  “Congratulations, Patrick MacDonald,” the butcher said, a grin on his face. “Yer bride be a fine lass.”

  Patrick took the compliment, one of many he’d received over the past weeks. The people in the dell had warmed to Tara’s goodness. He smiled to himself. How could they not?

  “Good morning,” nodded the dressmaker. She ruffled Devlin’s curls before dropping a wink in Patrick’s
direction. “Oh, the dress I made for you bride! She’ll take your breath away, I daresay.”

  “I don’t doubt that, Mrs. McKay,” he returned with a bow of his head.

  The lady laughed. “I best be joinin’ her, then!”

  The dressmaker entered the church, bound for the little room where his bride awaited the ceremony—hopefully with less impatience than he felt at the moment.

  Patrick shifted in his shining MacDonald boots as he greeted more folks from the dell. Even the two blond lasses who had shunned both Tara and his son came to the ceremony, though their identical smiles seemed forced. Patrick couldn’t have cared less. He was marrying his Tara and that was all that mattered.

  He’d taken her back to Indianapolis after Devlin’s startling recovery, still unsure if she’d wish to stay there. But she’d insisted her place was with him and Devlin, among the MacDonald family. Only when she’d arranged her affairs and begged him to take her home did he believe she really was his, body and soul.

  Thank the Lord for Brianna. She brought Tara back and forth to the future on shopping expeditions, sparing Patrick the trouble if not the expense. He admitted he favored Tara’s round little bottom in the future breeches she wore now and again, and the sneakers Devlin wore most days weren’t bad, either.

  Devlin tugged on his pants again. “There, Papa!”

  Patrick looked down the lane as his family made their way toward the church. Seamus wore his usual bright green, and looked more dapper than ever in deference to the occasion. Sean was subdued in contrast, in both dress and demeanor. But Patrick’s younger brother smiled as they approached.

  “Beautiful day for a wedding, lad,” Seamus beamed. He shook Devlin’s little hand. “And don’t you look the image of your papa, Devlin! Your mama will be so proud.”

  “Tara’s my mama now, Uncle,” Devlin said proudly.

  “Aye, Devlin,” Sean said. “You be a lucky lad there.”

  Luke and Brianna came next, urging Bryce between them. The two youngest MacDonalds greeted each other with hugs and giggles, at last pulled apart by Brianna.

  “There now, boys. Can’t have you less than handsome for this wedding.”

  Patrick shot her a look of thanks he hoped conveyed all he felt for Luke’s wife. The woman was a friend and sister to Tara, and eased her way here.

  “Brother,” Luke grinned, nudging him with his shoulder. He looked at Brianna, now taking Bryce into the church, and leaned toward him. “I take it you be itchin’ to get this over with, aye?”

  Patrick rolled his eyes. His blasted honor demanded he keep himself from Tara’s bed these past months, and the torture was greater than he’d imagined.

  “Aye,” he said, a wealth of meaning in the word.

  Luke nodded. “See you inside, then.”

  The last of the guests arrived and Patrick and Devlin entered the church. Brianna had done a splendid job with the decorations, though he barely noticed the flowers dressing each trim pew. Tara’s two men approached the altar, standing side by side as they waited for Tara to make her appearance.

  When Uncle Seamus rose from his seat and hurried toward the back of the church, Patrick’s heart began to pound. After what seemed like forever, his uncle escorted Tara toward the altar.

  Ah, she took his breath away. Her thick sable hair was swept up and decorated with tiny white flowers to match her satin dress. Mrs. McKay hadn’t been exaggerating. But he’d take Tara in clothing as simple as her future breeches and be grateful for her.

  “Hello, Patrick,” she said, her eyes bright and her cheeks pink.

  “Hello, lass,” he returned.

  Seamus let out a sound of amused satisfaction and joined Sean and the family in the front pew. The priest, a round man who’d served the people of the dell for as long as Patrick remembered, smiled at the couple. And after but a few words, Patrick and Tara were joined together. Forever.

  Patrick kissed his wife. When he lifted his head, Devlin eased his way between them.

  “Mama!” he cried.

  Tara bent to kiss him. Patrick lifted Devlin in his arms and the three of them smiled toward the congregation. They would raise Devlin together now, their child blessed rather than cursed with magic. Patrick had kept his promise to his son and to himself. His sin was absolved by love, and he knew his vow brought more than his son to him. It brought Tara into his life, and he would keep his promise to her forever.

  Author’s note:

  The Child with Special Needs

  Stanley I. Greenspan, M. D., Serena Wieder, Ph. D., with Robin Simons

  ISBN 020140764

  About the Author

  JoMarie DeGioia is a bestselling author of Historical and Contemporary Romance. She’s known Mickey Mouse from the “inside,” has been a copyeditor for her tiny town’s newspaper, and a bookseller. A hybrid author, she also writes Young Adult Fantasy/Adventure stories, New Adult Romance and Paranormal Romance. She gets lost in DIY projects around the house and works out plot ideas during long runs. She divides her time between Central Florida and New England.

  Discover other books by JoMarie DeGioia

  The Gentlemen Undercover series, including

  A Hero and a Gentleman

  The Dashing Nobles series, including

  More Than Passion

  Pride and Fire

  Just Perfect

  More Than Charming

  The Cypress Corners series, including

  Finding Harmony

  Taming Jake

  Loving Cassie

  Winning Ben

  The Gifted YA Fantasy/Adventure Trilogy, including

  Gifted

  Braunachs of the Dell series, including

  Luke’s Gold

  Connect with me online

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/JoMarieDeGioia

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JoMarie.DeGioia.Author

  Website: www.jomariedegioia.com