“I love her too,” he whispered. “I could see the delight in your gaze.” He kissed her hand, still cupping his cheek. “And I was so eager to become your husband.”
“Yes,” she murmured. “The absolute joy I felt knowing I would be your wife.” Her grin faded as she saw his eyes fluttering as he battled sleep. “Cormac?” she whispered. In answer, a soft snore sounded.
She sat up in her wedding finery, as her husband rested crossways on the bed. “Oh, what am I to do with you?” she whispered. She bit her lip because she knew she couldn’t ask her brothers for help. They would never cease teasing them if they knew Cormac fell asleep on her on their wedding night. Thus, she eased off a boot, and then the other, hoping her struggle would wake him up. Instead, he seemed to be more comfortable, and he curled onto his side.
Rising, Niamh wandered to a trunk and flipped it open. Inside, she found heavy blankets. After tossing one over him, she pulled one out for herself and sat in a chair in front of the fire. With a rueful smile, she admitted to herself that her nerves about her second wedding night had been completely unfounded.
Waking in fits and starts, Cormac shivered and stretched. He swallowed and tried to pry his eyes open but felt as though he had walked on the prairie for days. Shivering and then moaning, he pushed and pulled at the blanket, uncertain if he wanted it to cover him or not.
“Cormac,” Niamh whispered. “Drink this and you’ll start to feel better.”
He sniffed, smelling coffee, and he allowed her to ease him up. After taking a swig of the lukewarm drink, he set the mug aside and peered at her with a bleary gaze. “Niamh, love, why are you here?”
She chuckled. “We married yesterday, Cormac. Or don’t you remember?”
With a groan, he bowed his head and sighed with pleasure. “Yes. You wore a beautiful dress, and your hair shone like a shimmering sunset.” He frowned as he leaned up on his elbows, his expression filled with pain. “I don’t remember easing you from your gown.” His gaze took in her serviceable green woolen dress.
She shrugged. “You didn’t. You fell asleep a few moments after arriving here.”
Groaning, he ran a hand over his face. “God, forgive me, Niamh. I never meant to be such a disappointment.”
She laughed and took his hand. “No, you delight me,” she whispered. “The fact that the toasts and the meager amount of whiskey affected you …” She shrugged.
“You’re delighted I can’t handle my liquor better?” he asked, as though she had just handed him the greatest insult.
“Aye,” she said, as she beamed at him. “Connor could have drunk all my brothers and father under the table and then done it again. ’Tis a relief to see how different you are from him.”
Groaning again, Cormac tugged on Niamh’s hand, until she fell forward and rested in his arms. “I never took to drink like he did.” He breathed in deeply of her subtle scent, sighing with pleasure at the feel of her beside him. “I’ve always hated feeling like this.” Kissing her head, he murmured, “There’s too much to do to be bogged down with a frequent hangover.”
“’Tis because you are a good man, Cormac. An’ determined to provide well for us.” She raised their joined hands and kissed his.
With a muttered curse, he whispered, “I dreamed of a night of passion between us, Niamh, before we moved into his home. Not a night where you listened to me snore.” He grumbled as she giggled at his accurate assessment of how she’d passed the evening.
“We’ll have our passion, Cormac.” She paused and bit her lip. “But not yet. I still need a little time.”
With a sigh, he rested his forearm over his face. “I’m a fool to have missed my chance with you.”
“You didn’t miss it.” She kissed his arm and then his cheek. “You postponed it, a shíorghrá. Nothing more.”
Chapter 13
A howling wind blew, threatening more snow, and Cormac pulled his fleece-lined jacket tighter around him. He had lost his scarf, and his oxen had trampled his knit hat, so he huddled in the cold outside the O’Rourke warehouse. Cormac knocked on the door again, cursing the fierce wind, as he feared it would prevent anyone inside from hearing him. After his third knock went unanswered, he tried the door and eased it open. “Hello?” he called out.
“Yes?” Seamus O’Rourke answered from a side room Cormac knew was his office.
“It’s Cormac.” He stood in the large room, staring at the nearly empty shelves. “Hello, sir,” he said, with a deferential nod to Seamus. “Seems you ordered well last year and sold out of most of your supplies.”
“Aye, we had a good year.” He shrugged, as though a thriving business was not all that important. “Mary an’ Maggie were returned to us. Niamh’s happy again. That is what made the year tremendous.” He tilted his head to the side to study the younger man. “I have a sense that’s not what brought you by.”
Cormac chuckled. “Astute as always, Mr. O’Rourke.”
“Seamus, lad. We’re family.” He stilled as he saw the restless unease thrumming through Cormac. “How’d you know to come here rather than the big house?”
Shrugging, Cormac moved to the small stove in Seamus’s office to warm up. “I saw the light and thought I’d try here.” He stared at the stove, as though in a trance. He jolted when Seamus clapped him on his shoulder and pushed him to a chair near the stove.
“Sit. Tell me what’s botherin’ you, lad.”
Cormac paused, his mind a jumble of questions and competing loyalties. “It’s more a desire to understand, sir,” he said in a low voice. “Niamh and I have been married a few weeks. But little has improved.” He closed his eyes, as though he’d imparted too much. “I beg your pardon, sir.”
“You think I don’t know my daughter grows more prickly than a hedgehog as the days pass?” Seamus sighed. “We all see it, lad.”
“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, ducking his head with the shame of admitting his inability to keep his wife happy.
“Do you truly want my advice?” At Cormac’s nod, Seamus leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His blue eyes shone with sincerity as he beheld his son-in-law. “Burn down the house you’re livin’ in. Too many memories are there, none of them good for my daughter. Move back to your wee cabin. You’ll make do.”
Cormac jerked at Seamus’s blunt words and then nodded. “Yes, that house must be demolished.” He gazed at Seamus inquisitively for a moment. “But perhaps not burned.”
Seamus flushed and nodded. “The second thing ’tis not easy for a father to speak of.” He closed his eyes and firmed his shoulders before blurting out, “Take my daughter to bed. Rid her of the doubts festerin’ inside her.”
“Sir,” Cormac gasped, as he flushed as red as the fiery wood inside the stove. “I don’t want to rush her.”
“You call this rushin’?” Seamus chuckled. “You’ve been married a few weeks, an’ you do little more than kiss her on the top of her head. How do you think that makes her feel, lad?” He waited as Cormac covered his face with his palms, as though mortified to have such a conversation with his father-in-law.
“How did you do it?” he whispered. At Seamus’s perplexed look, Cormac asked, “How did you help Mary past her fears and doubts and prove your love?”
Seamus closed his eyes, as though suffering a body blow. “Ah, lad.” He sighed as he relaxed into the chair. After a long moment spent contemplating the stove, he murmured, “Mary an’ I had a history too, aye? But it was one of love and passion, which you never had with Niamh. You had longing and hope and disillusionment.” His eyes shone with remorse as he stared at Cormac. “And, aye, I had disillusionment too. And fear. Fear she’d never overcome her time with Francois.”
Seamus paused, as he took a deep breath and then expelled it. “But then I had my own fears. I’d failed my second wife. What if I’d changed since I was with Mary and couldn’t be the man she needed me to be?” He shared a terror-filled gaze with Cormac.
“But you were
the man she needed,” Cormac argued.
“Aye, I was. I was patient and constant in my love.” He paused, as though remembering a not-too-distant scene with his wife. “And I listened when she reassured me that she needed more from me than a brotherly embrace.” Seamus battled embarrassment and faced his son-in-law. “Face your fears, Cormac, so you can help Niamh through hers.”
“Damn,” Cormac rasped, as he dropped his head into his hands. The wood crackled and popped in the stove for many minutes. Finally Cormac spoke again. “All this time, I’ve allowed her to cloak herself in her fears, afraid I would never be the man she truly needs.” He paused. “I’ve allowed Connor to keep us apart.”
Seamus reached out and gripped Cormac’s shoulder. “He’ll always be with the two of you. He played an indelible role in your lives, aye?” When Cormac nodded and rubbed at his eyes, Seamus paused. “What more is it, lad?”
Cormac rose, pacing to the far end of the small office and then back again. “He was my brother, and all I feel is anger. And such hatred.” He ducked his head. “And I’m so ashamed.”
“Why, Cormac? You didn’t harm Niamh. You’ve cherished her since the day you met her.”
The younger man turned away to stare at the evening-blackened world outside, as though looking for a lodestar. “I didn’t stop it,” he whispered. “I suspected, and feared, what was occurring, and did nothing. And that is my greatest shame.” He ducked his head as he gripped the windowsill.
For long minutes, the office was silent. So silent, Cormac feared Seamus had slipped out on soundless feet, so disgusted with him that he couldn’t bear to spend another moment in his presence. With an aching heart, he turned to return to Connor’s home, stilling when he saw Seamus, staring at him with an infinite amount of patience. “Sir,” he gasped in surprise.
Seamus rose, his eyes squinting to see Cormac stiffen, as though awaiting a blow. Slowly he raised his arms to rest his hands on the younger man’s shoulders. “You failed her, Cormac. And that is your burden to bear.” Seamus clamped his jaw shut a moment before he choked out, “An’ ’tis mine as well. As it is her brothers. We all suspected but couldn’t bear for it to be true.”
“I don’t understand, sir,” Cormac whispered.
“Do you wonder at the distance that existed between Maggie and Niamh before your weddin’?”
Cormac watched him with confusion.
Seamus shrugged in a self-deprecating manner. “Maggie returns, while bein’ threatened by a man the likes of Jacques Bergeron. Her brothers an’ I vow we will do everythin’ in our powers to protect the wee creature. Vow she’ll never suffer again. An’, all the while, we ignore poor Niamh and all she was sufferin’.”
“You’re being too harsh, Seamus.”
“Perhaps, but I hate that I didn’t see what was right before me. I couldn’t bear the thought I had allowed my daughter to marry a brutal man, never mind a lazy, worthless one.” He flushed but did not take back his words, even though they were said against Cormac’s brother.
“How do you think I feel? He was my brother,” Cormac whispered.
Seamus moved to lean against his desk. “Explain somethin’ I don’t understand. What happened to make Connor go to the Bordello that night?”
Cormac flushed and shook his head.
“’Tis shameful?”
“No,” Cormac said, with an emphatic shake of his head. “Not for me. I fear it is for Niamh.” He closed his eyes. “She believes we caused Connor’s death.”
“How?” Seamus asked, as he crossed his arms over his chest, his brows furrowed, as he attempted and failed to puzzle out Cormac’s words from what he knew about the night Connor died. “He drank too much, lost at cards, and went to the Bordello, lookin’ for someone other than his wife to beat. What more is there to know?”
Cormac closed his eyes and massaged the back of his neck. “Ah,” he murmured and cleared his throat. “There’s the small matter of him finding Niamh kissing me. In their kitchen.”
“Oh, lad,” Seamus whispered. “I’m surprised he didn’t kill you.” He paled. “Or Niamh.”
Cormac’s eyes gleamed with righteous anger. “He promised her that he’d ‘take care of her’ when he got home. I warned him, if he ever touched Niamh again, I’d kill him. That I’d never consider him family if he continued to harm his wife.” He closed his eyes, as though reliving the argument. “We said horrible, unforgiveable things to each other. And then he died.”
A yawning smile spread, and Seamus gave a small whoop. At Cormac’s perplexed look, Seamus gripped his shoulder. “Don’t you see, lad? You did defend Niamh. When she needed you most, you were there.”
“I beg your pardon, sir, but you have faulty logic. If I hadn’t been caught kissing my brother’s wife, I wouldn’t have needed to defend her.”
Shaking his head, Seamus continued to beam at him. “No, no matter what he saw, Connor would have found a reason to lash out at Niamh. Think, lad. When does Niamh shy away from you?”
“Whenever she fears I’ll strike out,” Cormac whispered. He shared a tormented stare with Seamus. “Which is all too frequent.”
“Aye, which means Connor always looked for an excuse to hand out a punishment. Men like that refuse to be responsible for their actions, Cormac. They like to believe others have pushed them to do what they had to do.” He sobered. “For Mary, ’twas because the dinner was late. Or she didn’t smile readily enough. Or she called her daughter Maggie, rather than Margaret.”
“Utter nonsense,” Cormac sputtered.
“Aye, to men with honor, aye. To weak men, looking for a reason to feel superior, they were justifiable reasons to warrant their abuse.” Seamus looked around the office, as though noting the late hour. “Come. ’Tis time for supper. An’ time for you to woo your wife.”
Cormac stilled at Seamus’s departure. “Will you and Mary watch Maura?” At Seamus’s nod, Cormac smiled. “I have one last thing to ask of you.”
Niamh let out a huff of annoyance as she stood on the steps of Cormac’s cabin. She knocked on the door, listening for his footsteps as they approached. Somehow she could tell they were his and not Connor’s. Rather than an impatient pounding as Connor stormed to the door, as he stormed through life, the slow cadence of Cormac’s walk reminded her of a lilting dance. “Fool,” she muttered to herself for her fanciful thoughts, as she shivered again in the cold. She whispered the single word to herself again as the door burst open to reveal her handsome husband. Her husband who still didn’t want her.
“Niamh,” he breathed, his blue eyes lit with delight. “You came.”
“Da made it sound urgent,” she said, as she brushed past him into the warmth of his cabin. She moved to the stove to warm her feet and hands. “Why are you here and not at home?” She shivered as she felt him along her back, his nimble fingers playing with the pins in her hair. When his breath teased at her nape, she gasped and arched back into him.
“That isn’t our home, Niamh. I was a fool to be convinced to live there.” He whispered in her ear, “I’m tired of living with a ghost.” He reached around the front of her, releasing the clasp of her cloak and easing it off her. He backed up just enough to allow it to pool at her feet before he stepped forward again, his warmth as captivating as any heat emanating from the stove. “Aren’t you?”
“What?” she gasped, as she arched into his light touch down the front of her dress and then back up again. She tilted her head to one side, as he gave her breathy kisses along her neck. “Cormac,” she moaned.
“What?” he asked in an innocent tone. “My wife is cold, and I wanted to warm her.”
“Please, warm me some more,” she whispered. “I …” Her shoulders tensed for a moment, until she felt soft kisses along her shoulder blades. “My dress is damp and should be removed.”
“Excellent idea,” he said, humor lacing his voice. “I’d hate for my beloved to catch a chill.” His adroit hands released the buttons along the front of her dress, all
owing him to give her a full-body hug as he remained behind her. His large body held her cocooned in his warm and loving embrace, while his mouth planted soft kisses alongside her neck.
His fingers, always skilled, seemed to slip easily to the side, gently caressing the curves of her breasts and then the softness of her belly, as he eased the buttons open. By the time he slipped the dress over her shoulders and to her hips, Niamh was panting and shivering with each touch.
“How is your corset, love?” he whispered.
“Soaked,” she gasped.
“Wonderful,” he teased.
Cormac repeated the same tortuous, loving caresses as he eased open the ties. Niamh’s moans melded with his, as he continued to caress and to tantalize her with the passion smoldering between them. When she was free of the corset, Niamh took a deep breath as she fell backward into his arms. All that separated them now was her shift. Rather than a gentle kiss to her neck, he nipped the point her neck met her shoulder, pausing when she yelped. “Forgive me,” he said, as he moved to step away. His arms dropped from her, ending his contact with her.
“No,” she cried out. “No, please. I’ve never known such pleasure, Cormac. Don’t stop. Don’t tease me and then stop.” She turned to face him, her hazel eyes glowing with passion. “Please, show me what we can have. Show me what it is to be treasured.”
“You have always been treasured,” he said, passion and love lighting his gaze.
“Never before now. Never until you,” she whispered. “Please, a shíorghrá.”
“You never have to ask twice,” he whispered, as he swooped down to capture her mouth in a rapturous kiss. “If there’s ever anything you don’t like, tell me. If you want to stop, tell me.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “I’ll never be angry with you, Niamh, for speaking your truth.”
She smiled tremulously and cupped his cheek. “Make love with me, husband.”
Pioneer Yearning: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Three Page 15
