She gasped as he kissed her under her ear, a surprisingly tender spot that befuddled her and made her lose her train of thought. “Eamon,” she gasped, as she raised her hands to tangle in his thick black hair.
He continued to kiss his way down her neck to her collarbone before kissing his way up the other side. “Yes, my love?” he asked, his breath raspy, as his eyes gleamed with passion. He placed a finger over her lips and shook his head. “I fear you’ll ask a question that will ruin the moment.”
She flushed and then smiled, joy and happiness filling her expression.
He paused, stunned at the transformation. “I thought you beautiful before. Now you are a goddess,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her deeply before she could protest. His hands roved over her, awaking nerve endings she didn’t know she had.
Finally he broke away, falling to his side as he panted for breath, although he kept one arm wrapped around her waist and a leg hitched over her, resting his head beside hers. “Soon, Bee. Soon.”
She ran her hands over his back and through his hair, any pain in her leg momentarily overshadowed by the passion they had shared. Never before had she felt such elation as when he touched her. She tried to convince herself that this was just as special for him too.
Chapter 11
Niamh Ahern poked her head into Phoebe’s room. “Hello. Do you mind if I sit?” she asked with a chagrined smile. She waddled forward before Phoebe said anything. “I’m Niamh. Eamon’s sister. I haven’t met you already because the baby was acting up.” She rubbed at her protruding belly.
“Niamh?” Phoebe whispered, saying her name haltingly. Nee-ev, she said silently in her mind, trying to remember a way to pronounce her name properly. “You’re his older sister.”
Niamh smiled and nodded. “Aye. An’ I’m awaiting the arrival of my second wee beast. As far as anyone can tell me, he’s late. But he’s the one to make the schedule, not me.” She gazed fondly at Phoebe, her hands on her belly. “My daughter, Maura, is keepin’ my parents entertained.”
“You are fortunate,” Phoebe said, her hands playing with the blankets. She then fiddled with her hair.
“You look gorgeous, an’ you know it,” Niamh said with a teasing smile. “There’s no need to fret about how you look with family. Family doesn’t care. We know the best and the worst about you, yet love you anyway.”
Gaping at her, Phoebe stared at her in stunned silence.
Niamh watched her with apprehensiveness, her ease evaporating as she saw her sister-in-law fidget. “At least that’s how it always was in the O’Rourke household.”
Clearing her throat, Phoebe said in a weak voice, “Not in the Mortimer home.” As Niamh stared at her with a friendly openness that encouraged the sharing of secrets, Phoebe said, “Appearances were vital. What you wanted or needed was never important if it conflicted with your social obligations. Or to appear as attractive as possible.”
Frowning, Niamh continued to rub her fingers over her belly. “How odd.” She shrugged. “But then it could be because I was mainly raised by men. I never learned the ways of women.” She glowered for a moment. “I never cared to acquire any of the skills my stepmother wished to teach me.”
Phoebe relaxed at Niamh’s easy conversation, and her fingers lost their death grip on the blankets. “My mother always despaired of my disinterest in how to style my hair or to bat my eyelashes at a man.”
Niamh chortled with laughter. “I never knew that was possible, until I saw the Madam.” She nodded, leaning forward, imparting a deep secret. “She’s close friends with Mum and Da.” She groaned and rose to pace a few steps. “Oh, this one had better decide to come soon. I can’t handle many more days like this.”
After a short circuit around the room, she sat again beside Phoebe. “Now, tell me all about the wedding. I’m devastated I wasn’t there.”
Phoebe paused as she considered her wedding day, and then she shrugged. “It was like any normal ceremony. The priest gave us a blessing. We celebrated with family and had cake.”
Frowning, Niamh studied Phoebe. “Well, I know ’twas no normal ceremony as the groom had to walk toward you, not the other way ’round.” She raised an eyebrow with a wry expression, as she waited for Phoebe to say more.
“That is true. I wished I could walk to him in my new gown.” Her gaze was distant. “The ceremony was lovely. He sat beside me, held my hand, stared deeply in my eyes. Made me believe for a moment …” She shrugged to banish her foolishness.
Niamh absently ran her hand over her abdomen, her gaze intent as she studied Phoebe. “I know what it is to have little faith in a man’s promises. In his words.” She reached forward to grip her sister-in-law’s hand. “I know what it is to wish my life were different and to feel powerless to change how things are.” She took a deep breath, debating how much more she would share. “I was married before Cormac. To his brother.”
“His brother?” Phoebe gasped. “Isn’t that scandalous?”
Niamh laughed and nodded. “Most likely. I’ve found that, if I have my family’s blessing, I do not much care for the townsfolk’s opinion. They’ll focus on something else soon enough.” She paused. “The most important thing I learned, Phoebe, is to look to what a man does, not what he says.” She paused as she saw Phoebe battling tears. “What has Eamon done?”
“One moment he acts as though I’m precious to him and the next as if he wishes he were far away from me! The ceremony was lovely, but then he spent almost the entire celebration away from me, barely sparing me a glance.”
Niamh frowned. “Did you smile at him or give him any indication you wanted him beside you?”
“I shouldn’t have to do that! I’m his wife now.”
Rising again to pace and arch her back, Niamh shook her head. “Nay, Phoebe, men are as prickly, or more, than we are. If he’s uncertain of how you feel, he’ll be less inclined to spend time with you. When did he seek you out?”
Blushing, Phoebe shrugged her shoulders and tugged at the blankets. When Niamh stared at her patiently, as though she were a recalcitrant child, Phoebe sighed and finally spoke. “When I was having trouble with my sisters. We don’t have the best relationship. He came over to smooth things between us. And then your father gave a blessing.” She paused. “Eamon didn’t return again until he had to defend me from my horrible uncle.”
Unable to hide her delight at the unfolding tale, Niamh sat again and tried to lean forward, but her pregnant belly impeded such movement. “Oh, I hate that I missed such an interesting day! Did they fight your uncle?”
“No, but Eamon ensured Uncle understood I’m now an O’Rourke and that no Mortimer sister is to be harmed.” She paused. “And the Madam was here. She seemed like a very nice woman.”
Niamh burst out laughing. “Oh, what a day. No wonder you can’t make heads nor tails of what occurred.” She patted Phoebe’s hand. “And Nora is. She’s quite remarkable.” After taking a deep breath and shifting in her chair, Niamh said, “How I love Da’s blessings. What did he say?”
Phoebe closed her eyes, remembering the solemn moment and the discomfort Eamon had attempted to hide immediately after his father had intoned his benediction. “He said, ‘May happiness and joy fill your days, unimpeded by sorrow. May your hands be forever employed, and may hunger and want never visit your home. May your lives know an ever-greater love, with despair ever absent. I wish you every blessing, Eamon and Phoebe.’” With a sigh, Phoebe opened her eyes, fighting tears.
“Oh, Da,” Niamh whispered, extracting a handkerchief to wipe at her nose. “He’s always had a way with words.” She giggled. “And your attempt to mimic his accent wasn’t half bad.”
Phoebe laughed. “Oh, I know it was awful. But it sounds better the way he said it.”
“In any accent, the blessing was beautiful. And heartfelt.” Niamh considered her sister-in-law. “Why should it make you uncomfortable?”
“Your family marries for love, Niamh. Mine marries out of des
peration, if we marry at all.” She ducked her head, as though she had said too much.
“Well, you are married now. And I’ll continue to hope his blessing proves true for you. I have a sense you’ve had little good fortune in your life as of yet. I think Eamon could be just what you need.” She winked at her. “And you’re exactly what Eamon needs.” When Phoebe rolled her eyes at her in exasperation, Niamh said, “Eamon defending you from your sisters and your uncle shows his care of you, Phoebe. Surely you see that?” Niamh frowned as she studied Phoebe as though she were someone she failed to understand.
Picking at a loose thread, Phoebe muttered, “I hate that he feels this need to protect me. I can protect myself! And I hate that he only married me out of pity.”
Niamh laughed. Ignoring Phoebe’s glare, she swiped at her eyes. “Oh, I haven’t had such a laugh in days. Thank you for distracting me from the upcoming birth and Cormac’s absence.” With exasperation, she gently chided, “How can you seem so smart but truly be so foolish? Eamon would never marry out of pity.” She swiped at her cheeks. “Oh, how I wish I could have seen the two of you together.”
Phoebe huffed out an aggrieved breath.
“As for protectin’ yourself, we all know how well you can do that,” Niamh said with a soft note of reproach in her voice. “Allowin’ a man to care for you, to shelter you, doesn’t mean you’re weak, Phoebe. It shows you trust him and have faith in him. I’ve found ’tis somethin’ a man needs.”
Sitting in contemplative silence, Phoebe whispered, “How do you show your husband you trust him?”
A pleased smile spread, as she had a far-off look in her eyes when considering her husband. “Oh, we have a different sort of relationship. I’d known him for years before we married, although I had to overcome my fear that he was like his brother. Irrational though it was, it was still a fear I had.” She sighed. “I show him by seeing him and not Connor. I show him by believing he’ll never hurt me the way Connor did. I show him by turning to him for help, even if I could do the task on my own. Just because I could do it on my own doesn’t mean I have to.” She shared a long look with Phoebe. “The hardest thing you’ll ever do is love, Phoebe. For, if you truly love, you’re laid defenseless if he hurts you. If he doesn’t feel the same. If he mocks you.”
Niamh leaned forward to grip Phoebe’s hand. “Believe you are worthy of his love. Believe you deserve more than a chaste kiss on your forehead at night.” When Phoebe blushed, Niamh smiled. “Passion between a wife and her husband is to be celebrated, for ’tis too often a rare gift.” She rose with a groan. “I must let you rest. Welcome to the family, Phoebe.”
* * *
“Winnifred, this is not a sound idea,” Lorena whispered, as she walked beside her sister in what she hoped was a calm manner. For years, she had successfully hid her deepest emotions and had mastered the art of displaying only the emotions accepted by society. Never did she show the rage or the soul-crushing despair hidden deep inside. She had agreed to bury her deepest emotions to be a part of the family again after her disappointment. However, after watching the O’Rourkes and the way they confronted the pain from their past, she had begun to wonder if denying all she had lived through was truly wise.
“Quit being such a ninny. You know that’s why Mama always favored me. I was like her. Brave. Bold. Daring.” Winnifred walked with a sassy sway to her hips, reveling in the attention garnered as she lowered her lashes in a flirtatious manner. Her smile of satisfaction spread at a low whistle. “Oh, we’ve spent too long cooped up in that house.”
Lorena felt a bubble of resentment toward her youngest sister. Although Mama had instructed Lorena to care for Winnie and to learn from Winnie’s example, Lorena fought doubts that her mama had been wrong. “You know Mr. O’Rourke doesn’t want us walking around town unchaperoned. It isn’t safe, Winnie.”
Winnie halted, her eyes snapping with irritation as a black tress curled around one cheek. “I’m sick and tired of having to live by his dictates. Not even Mama was so strict.”
Lorena nodded. “Mother had a different notion of how we were to act.” Although her words seemed to mollify Winnifred, her youngest sister failed to hear the irony in her voice. “Winnie,” she whispered as she grabbed her sister’s arm, pulling her up short. She stared at the man who approached them with disdain. “Uncle.”
“Oh, what a fine day it is to see my nieces free of the yoke of those troublesome O’Rourkes.” He rocked onto his heels, his voice loud enough that it carried to the curious bystanders. “I couldn’t believe they had made you two precious young women work for them. Like you were little more than servant girls to earn your keep.” He sighed in a dramatic fashion at the injustice thrust upon them.
Lorena studied her uncle and shook her head. “They had a different sort of occupation in mind for us than you, Uncle.”
He choked at her words, as though coughing up a bone. After a moment, he recovered and shook his head. “Oh, how you misunderstand me, my darling nieces. All I’ve ever yearned to do is care for you.”
Lorena looked to Winnifred, her frown intensifying as she sensed Winnifred being taken in by the lies he spouted. “Is that before or after we earn our daily wage as a whore for you?”
“Lo!” Winnie gasped. “Don’t be rude to our uncle. He’s our only living relative.”
Uriah Chaffee gripped the lapels of his black jacket and smiled at the youngest Mortimer sister. “Finally one of you has seen sense,” he said with an avaricious gleam to his gaze. “I’ve always known my dear sister couldn’t have raised three half-wits.”
“No, just one,” Lorena muttered. She heard a snort behind her and looked over her shoulder to see Finn O’Rourke leaning against a post, watching the unfolding scene. His presence eased some of her tension, and she faced her uncle again.
Winnifred either didn’t hear her or ignored her as she took a step toward their uncle, dragging Lorena with her, as Lorena had looped her arm through Winnifred’s. “Uncle, I fear we would be disappointments to you, as far as your idea for an auction would go.” She waited a long moment as he stared at her in disbelief.
“Are you telling me that you’re … that you’ve had …” he sputtered and shook his head. “Damnation,” he muttered. “I should have suspected as much with Marilda as your mother.”
“Mother was a good woman,” Lorena snapped.
“As good as the Madam,” Uriah said with a glower. “So neither of you will do for a virgin auction.” He boldly looked them up and down. “Never worry. I’ll find some other use for you. For now, don’t allow yourselves to become entangled, especially not with an O’Rourke!” He spun on his heel, muttering under his breath about women always ruining all of his best-laid plans.
“Winnie, how could you?” Lorena whispered.
“I thought he should know. That way, he can focus on giving us our inheritance without expecting anything from us.” Winnifred shrugged, believing her rationale were sound.
“Eejit,” Finn hissed from behind them. “You’ve give him more ammunition. Any regard he would have had for you is gone.” He looked at each sister. “Now that he knows you aren’t … chaste”—he glowered at Winnifred, as she tilted her head up in defiance—“he’ll have even less concern for you.”
Winnifred freed her arm from Lorena’s and stood with her hands on her hips. “Who are you to sneak up behind us and listen in on our private conversations?”
“You can hardly consider a conversation private when on a boardwalk, Winn.” He looked around at the number of men loitering about. “And you should take pride in the fact you’ve proclaimed you’re eager for another bedmate to the whole town.” He spun on his heels and stormed away.
“I did no such thing,” Winnifred hissed with a stomp of her foot. She looked to Lorena who shook her head with regret.
“Come, Winnie. Let’s return to the house. We only have one day off a week, and it’s proven to be too much of an adventure for me.” Lorena walked the short di
stance to the O’Rourke house, sighing with relief when they entered the home she had begun to consider her sanctuary.
Chapter 12
“How’s married life, Phoebe?” Winnifred asked a week after the wedding. Against Maggie’s objections, Phoebe had insisted she wanted to have time alone with her sisters. Now Winnifred sat beside Phoebe’s bed, her hair in a perfect coiffure and wearing one of the pretty silk dresses she had brought from Saint Louis. Today, a soft breeze blew in through the open window, cooling the room on a hot day in late June. “Do you like your husband’s attentions?” She gazed intently at her middle sister.
Phoebe tried not to squirm under the scrutiny but knew she had failed when Winnifred preened with triumph that her barb had hit its mark. Phoebe hated that she felt dowdy in one of the three cotton dresses she had worn since arriving at the O’Rourke house. Today’s was a faded blue with tattered cuffs. She fought envy when looking at her unharmed perfectly beautiful sisters. “Of course I do.”
Winnifred rolled her eyes as she smirked at her sister. “I’ve heard he won’t touch you. Not truly. That he’s only biding his time until you have your own home, and he can be his own man. That the thought of having to bed you makes him ill.”
Clearing her throat and attempting to find any scrap of bravado, Phoebe chuckled. “No gentleman would ever talk about what occurs between husband and wife. He’s very respectful, Winnie.”
Lorena frowned, her book forgotten, as she watched the exchange between her two sisters. “Winnie, that’s enough,” she whispered in protest at her sister’s cruel words.
“Tell me that after he starts to visit the Bordello regularly,” Winnie snapped, ignoring Lorena’s warning, her cheeks heated, and anger filling her gaze. “He’ll discover what pleasure truly is and won’t ever seek out your company again.”
“He won’t. He wouldn’t,” Phoebe stammered, unable to hide her shock or distress. “He’s respectful and caring.”
Pioneer Longing: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Four Page 15
