“He … He …” She tried to say more, but the words clogged in her throat, and she began to shake.
Pulling her close again, Dunmore rolled to his back and held her against his chest, his arms lightly holding her, as she winced at any firmer touch. “You’re safe. You’re cherished. You’re protected.” He continued to murmur words of love and encouragement, until she had calmed again.
He tensed, as she pushed back and gazed at him with a resolute look. “What is it, love?” He ran a hand over her ratty hair, careful not to entangle his fingers there.
“Do you believe I loved you?” she asked in a small voice. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, relaxing when she saw the patient love within his. “I only ever wanted you.”
Dunmore clenched his jaw tight and then released a pent-up breath. “Maggie, I can’t bear to imagine what you suffered, but I will need to know.” He paused, as she stared at him in horror. “I have to know.” He closed his eyes for a long moment, and a tear trickled out. “I couldn’t bear to do something, say something, that would ever bring you pain.”
“Oh, Philip,” she whispered, as she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his in a butterfly-soft kiss. She lifted her head, staring at him in wonder. “I worried I wouldn’t feel the same. That nothing would feel the same,” she breathed. She raised a shaking hand to trace it over his lips. “But I still feel everything for you.”
He groaned and wrapped his arms around her, easing her head onto his shoulder again. “You’ll heal, my love, and then we’ll marry. You’ll never fear again. I promise you.”
“I’ll be afraid forever,” she whispered, clinging to him, as a shiver ran through him at her words. “He’s still alive, Philip. He’s still alive.”
Dunmore held a dozing Maggie in his arms for long minutes, as he cherished the feel of her against him. He fought against imagining hunting Jacques down and killing him, but he knew that was a futile struggle. One way or another, the man would pay for what he had done to his precious Maggie.
* * *
Dunmore emerged from the bedroom, and a gaggle of women entered the room with pans of water, towels, soap, and fresh clothes. He watched in wonder at the soft chatter and the soothing voices, as they shut the door firmly behind them. With a soft smile, Dunmore acknowledged Maggie needed the coddling of her womenfolk as much as she needed time in his arms. He tried not to feel jealous.
A hand slapped onto his shoulder, and he met Ardan’s gaze. “You’ll have time with Maggie again soon enough. Come. Enjoy some supper and fill us in on what you learned.”
Dunmore stared hard at Ardan. “Do you share what Deirdre tells you in confidence?”
Smiling, Ardan shook his head. “No, nor would I expect you to. But I’m certain one or two things were revealed that you can share with us.” He coaxed Dunmore into the kitchen, the table crowded by O’Rourke men.
“Sir,” Dunmore said, as he nodded to Seamus. He sat near Seamus, noting that the steamboat captain, A.J. Pickens, had joined them this evening. He and Seamus had been holding a low conversation, as private as a conversation could be in a crowded room, before Dunmore arrived. “Mr. A.J.,” he murmured.
“How’s the young’un?” A.J. demanded, as he leaned forward. His brown eyes were intent on Dunmore, as though he were able to discern truth from lie.
“Distraught,” he whispered, as he ran a hand over his head and beard. “I don’t know what happened. She can’t talk about it yet.”
Seamus nodded. “Aye, ’twill take some time for her to feel safe and secure. Then she’ll speak.” He looked at the man who loved his daughter. “You must be patient and be willing to wait.”
Glaring at Seamus, Dunmore nodded. “You know I’m willing to do anything for her. Including agreeing to a fool’s bargain.”
A.J. let out a chortle. “Well, if this don’t remind me of when I was courtin’ my Bessie. Her father was up in arms ’cause he wanted better for his daughter than a river rat. Couldn’t understand no man would ever love her as much as I could.” He gave Seamus a warning glance that had the older man calming.
Dunmore nodded to Kevin, who set a cup of tea in front of him and motioned to the kitchen. “I’m not hungry right now.”
“There’s stew on the stove, meat pies and bread in the basket,” Kevin said. “We’re not havin’ a formal dinner tonight, so, whenever you are hungry, help yourself.”
Giving a subtle nod to indicate he understood, Dunmore took a sip of tea from the mug and sighed with pleasure. Although he usually preferred coffee, he had come to like the strong tea brewed by the O’Rourkes. “I do have some news.” He waited as everyone in the room quieted at his soft pronouncement. “He’s still alive.”
A gentle murmur spread through the O’Rourke men, and Dunmore took another sip of tea. After a long moment, he met Seamus’s gaze that gleamed with anticipation. “I want it understood he’s mine.”
Seamus and Dunmore stared at each other a long time. “Perhaps,” Seamus finally murmured. “I can understand your desire to want to hurt him.”
“Hurt him?” Dunmore’s gaze was ablaze with fury. “No, Seamus. I want to rip him limb from limb. I want to draw and quarter the bastard. I want him to experience fear and terror, the way my Maggie did, and for him to know there will never be mercy for a man like him. I want him to suffer and to know what hell is on this earth, before he dies and goes to hell.” He let out a deep breath, before he closed his eyes.
“You don’t know what your lady suffered,” A.J. said in a soft voice.
“Any moment of fear is a moment too many,” Dunmore rasped.
“Aye,” Seamus said. “Aye.” He cleared his throat, as he waited for his sons to continue to chatter, giving them a little privacy. “Forgive me, Dunmore, for ever doubting you.” He met the younger man’s fiery gaze. “I allowed a father’s fear that no man would be good enough for his daughter to blind me to the man I know you to be.”
Dunmore swiped a hand over his jaw and shook his head, as he let out a stuttering breath, easing some of the rage he held within. “A raving lunatic bent on revenge?”
Seamus stared at him solemnly. “No, a man in love, determined to avenge and to protect the woman he adores above all others. Forgive me for ever doubting.”
Dunmore nodded. “Should I ever be blessed with a daughter, I already know I’ll act much in the same way.” He reached over and squeezed Seamus’s shoulder, before rising to fill a bowl with stew and to grab a few pieces of corn bread.
His gaze moved to the closed sickroom door, and he fought his desire to be with Maggie. To hold her. To see what she’d suffered. To reassure her that, no matter what had occurred, he would cherish her forever.
* * *
Lorena stirred, waking and moaning, as she tried to lift her head. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath, as she willed the pain in the back of her head to subside.
“Shh, love, you’re at my parents’ home. I’m here,” Declan murmured.
She felt him raise her hand and kiss her fingers. “Declan,” she breathed. “You’re here. You’re not a dream.” She raised her hand, her fingers shaking, as they moved in the direction of his voice. She sighed with pleasure, when she traced her fingers over his silky beard.
“Of course I’m here,” he murmured, turning his head to kiss her palm. “I’ll not leave your side, until you’re well enough to return home.”
“Gavin?” she asked.
“He’s fine but missing you. Samantha is taking good care of him, and our family spoils him.” He ran his fingers through the silky hair at her brow. “Open your eyes, love. Let me see your beautiful eyes.”
Attempting to comply with his request, her eyes flickered, and she squinted at him, smiling as he came into focus. “My Declan.” When she saw him battling tears, she frowned, her thumb rubbing beneath his eye. “I’m fine.”
He fell forward to kneel by the bed. “I’ve been terrified,” he rasped. “I feared you’d never fully wake. Yo
u’ve opened your eyes a few times, but you didn’t know who any of us were. You looked at me like I was a stranger.”
“I’m sorry. I never meant …” She broke off what more she would have said, as he covered her lips with his finger and arched forward, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Raising her hand, she stroked it over his head and shoulders, as he quietly sobbed. “I’m here, my love. I’ll recover.”
After a moment, he leaned away, scrubbing at his face with the edge of his shirtsleeve. “Aye, you’ll be as fit as you ever were.” He stared at her, before blurting out, “I’m sorry. I never thought your uncle would dare kidnap you after we’d wed.”
She paled, her eyes widening. “My uncle?” she breathed. “He did this to me?” she asked, as she touched the back of her head. At his nod, she looked at him with unveiled panic. “I can’t remember anything. I left the store to visit Deirdre and then nothing.” Her eyes widened with terror. “Did they … Did they …” She quivered, unable to ask anything more.
“I know they hit you over the head and trussed you up, so you couldn’t move. As far as Mum and Nora could tell, the only blood on you was from your head wound. Nothin’ else happened to you.” His brilliant blue gaze shone with anger and pain. “The fact you were hurt is a torment for me, love.”
She gazed into his eyes, a smile blooming. “You found me, didn’t you?” she whispered. “Somehow I know that.” At his nod, she sighed with pleasure. Her gaze left his, and she glanced around the room, becoming rigid with tension. “Why am I in Maggie’s room? Where is Maggie?” She paused, listening to the quiet commotion coming from downstairs. “What’s going on?”
Declan kissed her hands again. “Jacques stole you and Maggie too. She’s just returned to us tonight.” His gaze glowed with the torment of having seen his sister so mistreated. “What you hear is everyone’s joy to have you and her returned to us.” He nodded at the unspoken question in her gaze. “She suffered, Lo, but I don’t know how badly.”
“Oh no,” Lorena whispered, her hand rising to tug at his shirt. “I need you beside me. Hold me in your arms. Help me feel safe.”
“Shh, love,” he whispered, as he eased her up, grimacing as he saw her battling pain at any movement. He slipped into her bed and sighed with pleasure when she rested her head on his chest. “I’m here. No one will hurt you. You’ll heal, my love.” He kissed her temple reverently, as he felt her relax in his arms, giving thanks he had not lost her.
* * *
Maggie gripped the blanket to her, as the women of her family approached her. A large tub had been placed in the corner, and buckets of warm water had filled it. Now they stood expectantly, waiting for her to release her hold on her protective covering. “I’m fine,” she stammered out. “There’s no need to worry about me.”
When her mum approached and stroked her hand over her bird’s-nest hair, Maggie flinched. Although she expected her mum to stop, her mum continued to work her fingers through the tangled locks. “Will you have to cut it off?” Maggie whispered.
“Perhaps a few locks but not all of them,” her mum murmured, intent on her work. When Niamh handed her a comb, Mum muttered her thanks, and she continued picking at the strands of hair, tangled into knots. “You’ve such lovely hair, Maggie darlin’. ’Twould be a shame to cut it.”
“Although it would grow back,” Deirdre said, with a brave smile.
Maggie looked at her sisters-in-law, noting that Phoebe and Lorena were missing. “Who was in the wagon with me?” When they stared at her in confusion, she asked, “Phoebe or Lorena?”
“Lorena,” Niamh said in a soft voice. “She’s still recovering from the blow she received.”
Staring at her womenfolk, Maggie shook her head. “Why would they hurt her? They had me.”
Cupping her face, Mary looked deeply into her daughter’s eyes that were so much like her husband’s. “’Tisn’t your fault, Maggie. The men at fault are the ones who arranged the nefarious business.”
At Mum’s silence, Deirdre spoke. “Jacques and Uriah Chaffee.”
“Uriah?” Maggie sputtered. By now, her fierce hold on the blanket had eased, and she sat in front of her family, her tattered undergarments visible.
“Yes,” Mary said. “We can discuss him later. Suffice it to say, he will suffer. Now, lass, ’tis time for a wash.” She stared at her daughter. “Do you want to be alone?”
Maggie stared at her mother and shrugged. “Yes, but I fear I’m out of courage.”
Her mother stroked a hand over her cheek and then down to her shoulder. “No, my brave girl, you aren’t, and you never will be.” She eased Maggie to standing and helped her to the tub. When she stood next to the tub, Mum lowered the blanket and then lifted the tattered linen chemise off of Maggie. Unable to stifle a gasp, Mary gaped at the bruises and the red marks blooming on Maggie’s back, legs, and arms. “Oh, my sweet girl.”
Niamh traced a finger over a mark on her back. “Oh, Maggie,” she breathed, her voice breaking.
Maggie ducked her head. “I encouraged him to beat me, until I passed out,” she whispered. “I thought a good beating was better, … was better …” She shrugged, unwilling to finish the sentence.
“Is anything broken?” Aileen asked, as she added a drop of lavender oil to the bathwater.
Maggie dipped her toe in, before she climbed into the tub. “I don’t think so. I can breathe without too much pain. I can walk and move everything, even though it hurts.” She sat in the tub, hunched over for a moment, before she relaxed and eased to rest her back against the sloped edge of the tub. She winced and squirmed, until she found a comfortable position.
Mary knelt beside her, running the comb through her now tangle-free hair. When she was satisfied that her daughter’s hair would not become ensnared by anything, she poured cups of fresh water over Maggie’s head. Then she began to gently shampoo Maggie’s head, her fingers gently kneading into her scalp.
“Heaven,” Maggie murmured, as she leaned into her mother’s soft touch.
“You’ve always loved having your hair brushed and washed by me,” Mary said in a soft voice. She smiled. “’Twill be something for Dunmore to learn to do.”
Maggie tugged her legs up to her chest again. “I’d never want him to see me in the bath.”
Deirdre sat on a chair and met her sister-in-law’s mortified gaze. “He’ll see you at some point, Maggie.” Her smile was one of wise acceptance.
Aileen’s was of impish joy. “Yes, and you’ll have the most wondrous encounters when he does.”
“Aye,” Niamh said, with a pleased sigh.
Flushing, Maggie ducked her head. “It won’t be like that between us,” she stammered out. “We’ll continue on like brother and sister.” She ran her hand through the warm sweetly scented water, as her heart raced at the thought of being so vulnerable and so exposed to anyone. Even Philip.
Her mother spoke in a soft voice. “No need to rush anything. You’ll find your footing again.”
Maggie nodded, although she didn’t believe her mother’s words. She feared she would never again feel safe and secure.
Chapter 10
She was surrounded by water. The raging current propelled her downstream, and she shrieked as her back slammed into a boulder. She tilted her head up, spitting and sputtering, as she tried to breathe in air and to not drown. As suddenly as the rapids had appeared, the river calmed. In vain, she tried to remember her brothers’ lessons on floating. Finally coming to rest on her back, as she bobbed down the river, she gazed at the darkening sky, praying for help. Never had she felt more alone.
Gasping awake, her eyes flew open at the insistent shaking. “What? What?” she stammered. “Is everything all right?” She gazed into the terrified stare of her younger brother, Niall.
“Maggie, you were gasping and thrashing,” he whispered.
Stuttering out a breath, Maggie curled onto her side, her arm wrapped over her belly. “I’m fine,” she said in a quivering voice,
failing in her attempt at bravado. “There’s no need to worry about me.”
The candle on the bureau cast a faint light, and he settled on the chair beside her bed. “Of course there is. Were you thinking about him?” he asked in a hesitant voice, his green eyes glowing with interest and guilt, while his black hair stood on end.
“Of Dunmore?” When she met Niall’s exasperated expression, she shook her head. “No, of neither of them,” she murmured, refusing to say Jacques’s name. “I dreamed of the time I floated down the river. After I escaped. There were rapids, and I crashed into a boulder.” Her hand pointed to her back, wincing, as though she had just collided with the stone, and the bruise was fresh. “I feared I’d drown, and then, when the river was peaceful again, I thought I’d die alone, as I stared at the sky, watching the stars. The world never seemed so big. Or so empty before. I thought I’d drift along forever. Alone … forever.” She spoke as though in a trance.
“Maggie,” Niall rasped, reaching forward to clasp her hand, startling her from her memories. He bowed his head in a penitent manner. “Everything you suffered is my fault. I’m sorry. Tell me how you want me to be punished, and I’ll gladly, … I’ll gladly bear whatever it is you want me to.” He broke off, when Maggie ran a hand over his clenched fists.
“No, Niall,” she whispered. “None of this was your fault.” She stared at him with a gaze filled with love and compassion, a tear trickling down her cheek. “If you had been with me that day, he would have found another time I was alone. I suspect he would have snatched me when I went to the privy or the chicken coop. I never had a brother’s escort then.” She let out a deep breath, as a few more tears fell.
“I failed you that day,” he insisted, his green eyes filled with his misery.
She made a soothing sound, before she nodded. “Aye, that day you did, and your penance is living with that knowledge.” She took a stuttering breath. “No punishment could be worse than what you live with now.” She clenched his hand. “I’ll survive.”
Pioneer Devotion: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Six Page 13
