Page 17

P arks was waiting at the designated spot—just as he’d promised Monroe.

Anxious to have the job over and done with, he waited to hear hoofbeats approaching his hiding spot halfway up a tree.

He scanned the road and the area around him while he thought over their lucrative deal.

Even if Monroe did not manage to follow through with his plan to deflower Mary Kate Donovan—which didn’t weigh on his conscience at all—the farrier had paid Parks half of his fee beforehand.

His end of the bargain was to lie in wait and fire a warning shot guaranteed to spook Flaherty’s horse to rear up and throw him.

Parks grinned, imagining the laughable sight of the Irishman being unseated and tossed through the air like the clump of dirt he was.

Half an hour later, Parks cocked his head to one side and grunted. “About time.” He lifted his rifle and used the sight to line up his shot. Aiming for the road—one foot in front of Flaherty’s horse—he fired.

*

Flaherty tightened his grip on the reins and thanked God that he’d had the lass in front of him on the horse and not behind.

“Easy, laddie. ’Tis just some eedjit poaching at this hour of the night.

” With the gelding under control, he brushed his lips to Mary Kate’s temple. “Crisis averted, lass. Not to worry.”

A heartbeat later, another shot struck the ground right in front of the animal’s front hooves. Flaherty held on as he tried to calm his horse, keeping one arm firmly around Mary Kate.

Her gasp of terror arrowed through him as he felt the horse’s front hooves leaving the ground.

The gelding was strong, but with the combined weight of two people and someone firing shots so close to this hooves, the animal lifted up and gave a massive shake of his body, tossing Flaherty and Mary Kate off his back.

On alert, Flaherty shot to his feet as the third shot came from the same direction, grazing his cheek.

He dove toward Mary Kate, who was lying in a heap at the edge of the road, and slapped a hand to the wound.

Blood oozed through his fingers, but he didn’t give it more than a moment’s notice.

He had to check the lass for injuries, but he needed to get her out of the line of fire from the sharpshooter trying to kill them.

“I’m going to lift ye, lass, and pray to God that I don’t injure ye further.” He gathered her to his heart, and her moan of pain sliced through his resolve. “Hang on, lass!” Like a man possessed, he ran toward the safety of the trees on the opposite side of the road.

Laying her on the ground, he quickly checked for obvious signs of a broken bone—none. But her sharply indrawn breath when he tried to rotate her ankle hinted of a sprain or torn ligaments. Having had both, as well as a broken bone or two, he knew it would already be swelling.

Mary Kate bit her lip, cutting off another moan of pain, as she opened her eyes and gasped, “You’re bleeding.”

“Aye.” She patted his side, distracting him. “What are ye doing?”

“Where’s your cravat? You always have a spare or two in your pockets.”

He sat back on his heels, relieved that she was aware enough to be concerned about something other than her ankle. He fished one out of his frockcoat pocket and handed it to her. “Why aren’t ye flinging yerself into me arms to protect ye from whoever is shooting at us?”

She blinked. “How would that help our situation?”

He snorted. God he loved this woman!

Mary Kate leaned toward him and placed the folded-up cravat against his bloody cheek. He clamped his jaw down against the discomfort. “Ye’re a brave woman, wife of mine.”

“We aren’t married yet, Flaherty.”

“A while ago, ye were calling me Seamus. Are ye vexed with me, lass?”

She shook her head. “I get cranky whenever I’m thrown from a horse and twist my ankle.”

He held his chuckle inside to remark, “Ah, so ’tis me horse ye’re vexed with.”

“And whoever shot at us. Do you think he’s waiting for us to show ourselves?”

“Could be. Though he’ll be in for a surprise in a few minutes when Garahan comes galloping up the road.

He’ll have heard the rifle shots by now, as he wasn’t far behind us.

All we need to do is wait a few minutes.

I need ye to stay here, under the cover of these trees, while I wait for him. Will ye promise me that ye won’t move?”

“I could help.”

“’Tisn’t up for discussion, lass. I need yer word.” When she still did not answer, he added, “I can wait all day, but I’d rather stand at the ready to warn Garahan about the sharpshooter in the trees on the other side of the road.”

She reached for his hand and gripped it hard. “I promise, Seamus.”

“There’s a lass. I’ll be right back. Wait right here.” When she frowned at him, he added, “Ye already promised.”

“Yes, I’ll wait right on this spot.”

He hauled her close and kissed her. With a quick prayer that the Lord would watch over the headstrong lass, he slid from their hiding spot without a sound. Flaherty fully expected her to try to follow him on her injured ankle—but hoped she wouldn’t.

Scanning the area, he found a spot where the trees thinned, giving him an unobstructed view of the road. He saw the wagon with a horse tied behind it and gave a short, sharp whistle, then flattened himself on the ground.

A warning shot skimmed close enough to the top of his head to part his hair! An answering shot sounded close, and he knew Garahan had taken advantage of the shooter’s mistake—his cousin had gotten a bead on the man and returned fire.

The sweet sound of agony had Flaherty smiling as he rose to his feet and stepped through the trees to greet his cousin. “Right on time. While ye collect our second prisoner—Parks, I’m thinking—I’ll go fetch the lass. She’s sprained her ankle.”

Garahan frowned. “Hard to do while riding double on a horse.”

Flaherty’s heart started to pound as he remembered that moment suspended in time when he’d felt the gelding rising on his hind legs and knew they would get thrown. “Bloody bugger shot the ground in front of us, and then a second shot right by me horse’s front hooves!”

Garahan clenched his jaw before relaxing it enough to say, “I’ll be a moment.”

Flaherty did not bother to watch his cousin cross the road—the injured shooter’s shouts were enough to let him know the other man had been hit. Mayhap he had only been dislodged from his perch—either way, he was making enough noise to hint at an injury that prevented him from escaping.

Flaherty snorted as he made his way over to where he’d left the lass. She wasn’t there! He bellowed her name and paused to listen… Silence.

His heart began to pound and sweat broke out on the back of his neck as he searched the ground for signs of a struggle, but surely he would have heard something, wouldn’t he? If not him, then his horse, whom he just noticed was no longer there.

“ Mary Kate! ”

“Ye sound like a wounded bull, Flaherty.”

“Dermott?”

“Aye, who else were ye expecting to show up and watch yer back?”

Flaherty scrubbed a hand over his face and noticed he was still bleeding—he’d thought it stopped.

Pulling the cravat out of his pocket a second time, he refolded it so a drier part was on the outside.

He pressed it on his face as his cousin walked toward him leading two horses—Flaherty’s with Mary Kate on its back, and Dermott.

“I was expecting Garahan, as he was to bring the prisoner and his wagon to Chattsworth.”

“His lordship and Lady Aurelia are waiting for ye at Chattsworth.”

Flaherty acknowledged Dermott’s comment with a nod and walked over to his horse. Reaching for Mary Kate’s hand, he pitched his voice low and said, “Ye should know that I never admit to faults in front of witnesses—especially one of me brothers or cousins.”

“Faults?” Dermott asked.

Flaherty growled at his cousin, but never let his eyes stray from the lass. “When ye weren’t where I left ye, fear nearly ripped me heart out of me chest.”

“Do you have a spare cravat, Dermott?” Mary Kate asked. “I think Seamus needs a dry one.” Dermott handed it to her, and she gently placed it on his cheek. “Hold it on tight now, Seamus. We need to stop the bleeding.”

He grunted. When he did as she bade him, she whispered, “I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”

“Well, now ye know.”

“’Tis good to know that ye have two flaws, cousin.”

Flaherty turned to glare at Dermott. “One flaw.”

“Well now, I’m thinking ’tis two. Ye’re jealous of any man who pays attention to yer pretty bride-to-be, and ye have a tearing fear that someone will take her from ye.”

He could not think of anything to counter his cousin’s words.

“Am I wrong?”

Flaherty sighed. “Nay, but I’ll ask ye to keep it to yerself.”

“For a time,” Dermott agreed. “Let’s get ye back to Chattsworth Manor. I’m thinking yer pretty face’ll need a stitch or two to keep ye from bleeding all over yer spare coat.”

“How do ye know it’s me spare?”

Dermott grinned. “We all received two frockcoats—yer other one was ruined when ye were shot. Ye haven’t forgotten that, have ye?”

“No chance of that,” Flaherty quipped as he mounted one-handed, settling on his horse’s back. He pulled Mary Kate onto his lap and sighed. With her in his arms and two prisoners ready to be carted off for questioning by the viscount and the earl, all was right with his world… For now .

After he and the lass were wed, his life would be nearly perfect. He could not wait to marry her.