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F laherty found the path Garahan had mentioned and dismounted, urging his horse to follow with a tug on his bridle. “’Tisn’t much further, laddie. We have to find the lass, and when we do, I may need yer help with a well-placed hoof or two.”

The animal lifted his head as if he agreed.

“I knew I could count on ye. Garahan said he’d give me a head start before he entered the path behind us.”

The woods thinned out just ahead of him, and he spotted the lean-to the stable lad had heard Monroe and Parks discussing. It was poorly made. If the stacks of logs were any indication, a good stiff kick to the bottom log would bring the stacked walls down. He’d remember that as a last-ditch option.

Flaherty placed his hands on either side of his gelding’s face.

“Ye need to keep quiet as the mouse that shares yer stall in the earl’s stables.

” The animal gave a soft snort. “Good lad.” He led him over to a stand of fir trees and raised his hand, palm out—a sign he’d used before with the horse to stay.

Confident that the animal would, Flaherty crept to the other side of the trees, where he had a clear view of the doorway.

No door. ’Twould save time. He wouldn’t have to break it down to get to Mary Kate.

The sound of a scuffle and muffled shriek had him moving closer. The need to burst through the opening had him by the bollocks , but he knew one wrong move could mean the lass might be injured. He had to listen carefully to assess the situation before diving through the opening headfirst.

“You’ll thank me when I’m through with you,” a deep voice promised.

Flaherty’s blood shot straight to boiling. He tilted his head back, roared the Flaherty battle cry, and launched himself through the doorway. He grabbed Monroe by his hair and yanked him away from Mary Kate. “Touch her again and die!”

The farrier tried to loosen the Irishman’s hold on him but couldn’t. “Bloody hell!”

Flaherty’s eyes locked on the lass, then he scanned her for injuries, from the top of Mary Kate’s head to the toes of her half boots. “Are ye hurt?”

She shook her head, and relief speared through him.

“You couldn’t have waited for another ten minutes. I’d have gotten what I wanted by then.”

The man he’d yanked away from the lass had just made his last mistake.

Flaherty saw red! He spun his prisoner around, planted his meaty fist in the man’s face, and knocked him off his feet.

The sound of the man’s nose breaking was music to Flaherty’s ears.

The satisfaction of watching the man bleed took the razor-sharp edge off his anger.

While the farrier howled in pain, Flaherty stepped over him, extending his hand to Mary Kate.

Hers felt so fragile in his. The need to protect and defend her threatened his ability to control his anger.

Despite the riot of emotions swirling inside of him, he gently pulled her into his arms.

When she trembled, he sought to distract her. “Ye didn’t answer me question, lass.” She huffed against his chest until he eased his hold on her. Drawing her back, he noticed the gag around her mouth. “Forgive me, lass. Let me untie that.”

Her exhale was followed by the sound of her gagging. Flaherty quickly spun her away from him. “Easy now—let it out if ye need to. No shame in giving in to the urge to cast up yer accounts.”

She shuddered but didn’t throw up. Wavering on her feet as he untied her hands, she reached for him once she was free. But he shook his head. “Hold that thought for a moment while I tie up this bugger with the rope he used on ye.”

The fiery-haired lass complied. When he’d tied the farrier’s hands behind his back, he drew her to him again. “Now then, I believe ye were standing here.”

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her head in his chest. “I prayed you’d come for me, Seamus.”

Hoping to prick her conscience to distract her, he murmured, “And here I thought ye’d be praying for Garahan to rescue ye.”

Mary Kate tilted her head back until her eyes locked on his. Her expression was a mix of exasperation and temper. He didn’t mind the latter, but worried a bit about the former.

“I take it ye weren’t waiting for Garahan, then.”

“I was not, and I am embarrassed that I had unknowingly hurt Melinda by harping on Garahan’s saving me for the longest time. He may have been there when I was cast out of Lady Kittrick’s town house, but you were the one to pull Lady Calliope and me out of harm’s way when the carriage tipped over.”

“That I was, lass…with a bit of help from Michael.” He bowed his head until his forehead was resting against hers. “Did ye sort things out with Melinda, then?”

“After the viscountess pointed out that I’d hurt Melinda’s feelings, I apologized to her ladyship for causing strife in her home. Then she told me I needed to apologize to Melinda—which I did, and to you for refusing to see you the other day. If you’ve forgotten, I can apologize to you again.”

“Well now, it would seem that ye’ve taken care of the situation without me interference and did the right thing.

Ye’ll not regret it. Me cousin’s a bit hardheaded, but there’s no man I’d rather have at me back than James Garahan.

” He had to press his lips to hers in a tender kiss of promise.

He winked at her, hoping to see her smile.

Flaherty knew she would be all right if she smiled.

“I was in the garden,” she whispered.

“I have on good authority that ye spend a good bit of yer free time there. Having been raised on a small farm back home, I understand the need to be amongst the green and growing things. Ma always said weeding her vegetable and herb patch soothed her soul.”

“Seamus?”

The expectant look in her eyes had him hoping she’d tell him that she loved him and was grateful for his rescue. He could not wait to hear her say the words. “Aye?”

“Could we please leave?”

Close enough. He swept her into his arms and stepped through the doorway.

“Did you walk here?”

He snickered. “Not hardly—’tis more than a few miles from either the viscount’s estate or the earl’s.

” Flaherty whistled, and his horse walked toward them from the stand of fir trees.

“I’ll set ye on the lad’s back. Can ye manage to stay on me horse while I deposit the blackguard in the back of his wagon? ”

“Of course.”

She sounded a bit miffed, but she’d earned the right to that emotion after what she’d been through—and nearly suffered—at the hands of the man he wanted to beat senseless. “I’ll be right back.”

He collected the farrier, dragging him outside. “I’d carry yer sorry arse, but I’m not wanting yer blood all over the back of me frockcoat. I’ve already ruined me spare coat when I was shot.”

Wisely, Monroe lifted his gaze to nod before he dropped his head to stare at his feet. “Up ye go.” Flaherty hoisted the man into the wagon, satisfied when he groaned.

The sound of someone approaching had Flaherty moving to stand in front of his horse and Mary Kate. “Don’t worry, lass, I’ll protect ye.”

The feel of her small hand resting on his shoulder was a balm to his soul. “I know you will.”

Garahan burst through the foliage. “Well now, it appears if ye didn’t need me help after all.”

“As a matter of fact, I’d be beholden to ye if ye’d drive me prisoner to the village. I need to take Mary Kate to Chattsworth.”

“I’m thinking the viscount—and the earl—will be wanting a word with Monroe before we take him to the constable,” Garahan said. “I’ll follow along behind ye. By now the earl and Lady Aurelia should be waiting with the viscount and Lady Calliope for us to return with Mary Kate.”

Flaherty reluctantly agreed. “’Tis true, their ladyships will be worried about ye, lass. We can send one of the stable lads or footmen to fetch the constable and have him meet us at the viscount’s estate.”

“Now ye’re talking sense, cousin. Lead on.”

Flaherty mounted behind Mary Kate and gently pulled her onto his lap. “Rest yer head on me shoulder, lass.”

She relaxed against him and his heart rejoiced. The woman he loved was safe and in his arms. What more could possibly go wrong?