Page 21 of A Wager with the Matchmaker (A Shanahan Match #3)

21

Alannah tiptoed down the servants’ stairway, her cloak on and the hood up. As she stepped out onto the main floor, the light from the parlor illuminated the hallway.

The whole family had congregated in the front room while Mr. Shanahan had gone up to his room to change. He’d just returned and was speaking to his family while waiting for the coachman to bring around his horse so he could ride to the brickyard.

Could she go with him? Dare she ask?

If she attempted to travel by foot, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to find her way in the dark. And she would be much too late to intervene and possibly too late to prevent Torin from being hurt since at least fifteen if not thirty minutes had elapsed since Kiernan had left.

Even now, if she rode with Mr. Shanahan, the damage might already be done. What good would she do then? Was she being foolish to think she could rush off to the brickyard under such circumstances?

Torin had warned her that if anything happened to him, she wasn’t to go out. Besides, if she showed herself there, she would only distract Torin and Kiernan and make them angry after how hard they’d worked to keep her safe and out of Shaw’s hands.

Her heart sank low.

Madigan and Quinlan were sharing every detail they’d ever heard about the Farrell gang—the cockfighting in basements, the knife brawls in alleys, men losing fingers and toes and even eyes, and more.

Alannah had already learned enough during her time living in the Kerry Patch, had witnessed the brutality and fighting between the rival gangs. Now she whispered a prayer for her brother’s safety and for Kiernan’s, but like so many prayers, they seemed to hit the ceiling and fall back down upon her shoulders.

“Let me go with you,” Madigan insisted. “I know how to handle the rifle.”

“I do too,” Quinlan’s younger voice chimed in.

“No, you’ll be staying home.” Mr. Shanahan spoke firmly.

Before they could protest or say anything else, another knock came against the front door, this one less urgent but still firm.

Alannah slipped out the back door. She wouldn’t go to the brickyard, but she couldn’t stay at Oakland. She didn’t want to risk the possibility of bringing danger to the Shanahans’ doorstep. She’d been thinking about it all the while she’d gone up to her room to get her cloak.

If Shaw and his gang could do something like that at the brickyard, who would stop them from attacking the Shanahans’ home too? Especially if they realized she was there?

“May I help you?” Mr. Shanahan asked to whoever had just been knocking.

What if a worker from the brickyard was bringing an update? She couldn’t go until she learned the latest news. She paused and listened.

“Oh aye, you can be helping alright.” The voice, with its Irish brogue, was familiar, but she scrambled to place it.

“Oh?” Mr. Shanahan’s tone took on a chill.

“I’m here to collect Alannah Darragh.” The demand carried through the entryway and out the back door. The voice most certainly belonged to Shaw.

Her pulse raced forward, and she pushed farther back against the house. She was too late. The danger had already arrived.

Silence settled over the entryway, and Mr. Shanahan didn’t respond right away. Did he know who Shaw Farrell was? Would he recognize him?

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Shanahan said. “Mind you, who did you say you were? And why exactly are you here for our maid?”

“Go get her,” said another voice, this one gruffer.

“Now hold on, Charlie,” Shaw said. “Let’s be polite about the matter.”

“Get us the girl,” the second man—Charlie—said again, this time slower, as if that proved he was polite.

Alannah shuddered. After weeks of hiding successfully from Shaw, all it had taken was the rumor today to give away where she was. He’d probably heard of Kiernan sleeping with her the same way every other person in the countryside had. Now that Shaw finally knew where she was, he’d come after her.

Should she just step inside and hand herself over?

She reached for the door handle. But even as she tightened her grip, she couldn’t make herself open the door. Torin would rather die than sacrifice her to Shaw. She suspected Kiernan would feel the same way.

“What business do you have with our maid?” Mr. Shanahan asked again, and this time, his voice dropped to a dangerous level.

A beat of silence ensued.

“You cannot be threatening me with your gun,” Mr. Shanahan said, “and expect me to allow you access to one of my hired staff.”

Had Shaw or Charlie pulled a gun on Mr. Shanahan?

Alannah was tempted to peek through the back door to find out what was going on. But she held herself stiffly against the house, her mind starting to whirl. Why wasn’t Shaw at the brickyard with the rest of the gang? Why set the destruction in motion and then come after her? Maybe he figured no one would be able to oppose his taking her, especially if Kiernan had already dashed off to rescue his brickyard.

“Put the gun away, Charlie.” Shaw again spoke smoothly, almost diplomatically. “I’m sure Mr. Shanahan doesn’t want any violence tonight. Not with his family watching.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Mr. Shanahan’s tone remained hard. “You’ll never get away with harming me or my family.”

“Just go get the girl, Mr. Shanahan. Then we’ll return to the brickyard and put an end to the fighting.”

“She belongs to my son Kiernan, so she does. He’s intending to marry her.”

“She belongs to me .” Shaw gave up the last pretense of friendliness. “Kiernan has known she’s mine all along, and he’s been trying to keep her from me.”

“Is that right, now?” Mr. Shanahan’s question dripped with disbelief. “What would the young woman say if we questioned her?”

“She’d choose me.”

Mr. Shanahan didn’t respond immediately. “Very well. Let’s bring her down and ask her which man she prefers, you or Kiernan. If she wants Kiernan, then you leave her and go on your way.”

“Fine,” Shaw stated, almost as if he already knew who she’d choose—him.

But could she? She shook her head. Ach no, she never could, not even for a wee minute.

Mr. Shanahan called out an order to one of the maids. Footsteps hustled down the hallway toward the back servants’ stairway.

Before anyone opened the door and happened to see her standing there in the darkness, Alannah ducked into one of her hiding spots behind the big potted plants—the place she used from time to time during the day when she took a reading break.

With the large fern leaves hanging down over her, she slid the wicker chair in position to cover her the rest of the way. It was difficult enough for someone to see her there during the daylight. She guessed it would be harder in the darkness, even by lantern light.

As she huddled low, her heart thudded so loudly, she feared it would give her away.

She waited tensely for someone to step outside and call her name, but as the moments passed, the door remained closed. Worry continued to beat a steady tempo against her chest. All the while, her mind scrambled to find a solution to the conflict with the Farrell gang. Was there a way to keep those she loved safe?

Those she loved.

A sweet but piercing ache sliced through her. Oh aye, she loved Kiernan. She could deny it all she wanted, but she’d been falling in love with him since he’d helped her find shelter at his sister’s home.

He’d been so kind and considerate from the first moment she’d met him. And his concern for her the night of the fire in St. Louis—her pulse always raced whenever she thought of how he’d acted. He’d come stomping into the O’Briens’ house calling for her, his voice frantic.

She’d been in the dining room packing valuables for the O’Briens to save from the fire. When she stepped into the hallway and Kiernan’s eyes landed upon her, the relief in his expression had been so unexpected that she had the wildest desire to rush to him and bury her face against his chest.

Of course at the time, she’d been embarrassed by the strength of her desire for Kiernan, had known it was inappropriate to be thinking of him so informally. But as he stalked down the hallway toward her, all brawny and handsome and intense, she hadn’t been able to resist him when he scooped her up and carried her through the house, out the back door, and directly to the waiting carriage.

That was the trouble with their match. He was still very much irresistible. Which was why she’d kissed him.

She let her fingers linger over her lips, the memory of Kiernan’s mouth upon hers earlier in the day. He’d kissed her as if she was the most precious thing he’d ever touched. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. The kiss impacted him just as it had her. She couldn’t forget that he’d even met with his parents and convinced them to agree to the match with her.

A man’s call resounded from the side of the house nearby. “I’ll check the kitchen and the other buildings. You look around the grounds.”

It was Shaw and Charlie. They’d apparently moved their search outside.

Maybe she should have left while she could still make her escape. Even though she was mostly hidden behind the plant and chair on the porch, if they examined the area thoroughly, they might spot her.

“If she really did leave,” Charlie called, “my guess is she went to the brickyard.”

Rays of light began to penetrate the darkness of the backyard, and a moment later, the two men, each carrying a lantern, stepped around the house. One of them made his way across the yard toward the summer kitchen. The other veered near the veranda, holding his lantern low and shining it underneath the porch.

She tried to scoot farther behind the plant and chair. There was a crack between the two, and if the light hit her just right, he’d probably see her face or possibly her hair.

The light bobbed closer.

She scrunched her eyes closed, as if somehow that could keep her hidden. All she could do was pray fervently that Charlie wouldn’t decide to come up on the veranda.

At the squeak of the back door, her eyes shot open. More light spilled outside, which was not what she needed.

“You’re trespassing, Mr. Farrell!” Mr. Shanahan stepped outside. “I suggest you be moving on your way if you don’t want to make more trouble for yourself.”

“If you’ve got nothing to hide,” came Shaw’s response by the summer kitchen, “then you won’t mind us taking a look.”

Mr. Shanahan started to say something else, but a woman’s voice cut him off. “’Tis alright, Da.” Zaira. She’d followed Mr. Shanahan out onto the porch. “Alannah went to her room and got her cloak the moment she heard about the attack at the brickyard. She’s probably halfway there by now.”

“They have no right to take her.” Mr. Shanahan’s reply was low and angry. “She’s Kiernan’s.”

Alannah hugged her arms around herself more tightly. Under any other circumstance, Mr. Shanahan’s words would have warmed her. But at the moment, all she could think about was figuring out how to get Shaw and Charlie to leave without harming any of this dear family and their property.

Footsteps padded down the veranda her way along with a small light.

Had Charlie come onto the porch now?

As the light drew nearer, she stiffened and waited for a shout that would alert Shaw of her whereabouts. But at the sight of a full skirt and Zaira’s womanly figure, Alannah breathed out her relief.

Zaira ambled over to the wicker chair, placed a candle on the side table, then began to lower herself.

What was the young woman doing? She needed to find a different spot to sit, a spot that wouldn’t be so close to Alannah and wouldn’t draw unwanted attention.

As Zaira reclined, she scooted the chair closer to the plant. Then she spread out her skirt, drawing one side over her crossed leg in such a way that it blocked the opening between the chair and the pot.

Alannah could no longer see anything. But that also meant neither Shaw nor Charlie could see her. Had Zaira guessed she was hiding on the veranda and purposefully positioned the chair to conceal her even more?

There was no other explanation.

Zaira was so sweet. Alannah wanted to reach up and squeeze the young woman’s arm to silently communicate with her, but she couldn’t risk moving. She also wanted to ask Zaira how she’d known about the hiding place. Maybe Zaira had passed by when Alannah had been so engrossed in a book that she hadn’t realized anyone had noticed her.

Some of the tension in Alannah’s body eased. Even so, as the two men continued to call out to each other, she waited, unmoving.

After a few moments, the lantern light grew brighter, and Zaira drew herself up and flounced her skirt.

“Did you find her, Mr. Farrell?” Zaira’s tone held a note of accusation.

“Any more buildings on the property?” His reply was curt, almost frustrated.

“I guarantee if there were more, she wouldn’t hide in any of them, not if she knows you’re coming after her.”

The gang leader was intimidating, and Alannah was surprised at how composed Zaira was remaining while talking to him.

Even so, the young woman was playing a dangerous game with one of the most notorious men in St. Louis. Alannah couldn’t let her come to harm. But she had the feeling someone was going to get hurt, maybe even killed. And there would be nothing she could do to stop it....