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“Q uit moving, Flaherty!”

“I’m sitting on the fecking chair, aren’t I?”

MacReady, the viscount’s right-hand man, grumbled, “Stop talking! I can’t sew the wound closed if you keep moving your mouth.”

Mary Kate shot to her feet to defend her fiancé, and immediately sucked in a breath as pain seared through her injured ankle.

Flaherty heard and growled, “Sit!”

She felt her cheeks warm as her temper ignited. “I shall stand if I wish to. And may I remind you, Mr. Flaherty, I do not have to listen to you until we are married.”

“There’s where ye’d be wrong, lass.” MacReady grumbled under his breath and tugged on the thread he was using to close the wound. Flaherty flinched. “Finish it, MacReady!”

Garahan chuckled. “He’d have finished a quarter of an hour ago if ye’d just kept yer gob shut. It’s taken him twice as long to bind together the puny groove that sharpshooter carved into the side of yer face.”

Mary Kate had yet to sit back down when she heard Flaherty draw in a deep breath and just knew he was prepared to blast Garahan. She touched his arm, surprised when his gaze shifted to hers.

“As I was saying, lass, ye’re hurt, and I know from experience that yer twisted ankle is swollen.

Ye should be elevating it on a pillow, as MacReady recommended.

Why is it that ye haven’t heeded his warnings and instructions when he went to the trouble to check the bone to ensure ’tisn’t broken?

The man has enough to do without tending to our injuries out of the goodness of his heart only to be ignored. ”

When she did not respond, he asked, “If ye don’t intend to heed MacReady’s instructions, why should I?”

Botheration! Flaherty was right, but Mary Kate was not quite ready to admit it. She tried to appeal to his sense of duty instead. “Seamus, please let MacReady stitch your wound closed. Their lordships are waiting to speak to you.”

She hated the fact that she could not keep the worry from her voice.

Flaherty had enough to worry about, and he did not need to take on her worries as well, especially since he was already concerned about her sprained ankle.

But his latest wound was far from insignificant.

From her point of view—which was too close to Seamus for comfort—she had a distinct feeling that the pistol ball that grazed his face would not slow the Irishman down one bit.

MacReady’s needle pierced Flaherty’s face again and again as the boiled thread drew the edges of the wound together. How many more times could he be shot before it slowed him down? It had been three times in the last few weeks! She shuddered, thinking that the next pistol ball might be his last…

“’Tis a paltry wound,” Flaherty grumbled. “And MacReady’s taking forever to close it.”

“If ye’d close yer mouth,” Dermott said, “I’m thinking the man would be able to finish the last few stitches quickly.”

Frustrated with Flaherty, but unable to voice that frustration because she knew the man had to be in pain, she tried again. “Seamus, please?”

There was no way that he would refuse her when she asked him so sweetly. Could he? While she worried over the thought, MacReady tied off the threads. “Done!”

Flaherty grunted. “About fecking time.”

“I heard that!” the Scotsman replied.

“I meant ye to.” Flaherty got to his feet, reached out a hand to her, and frowned. “Ye’re looking tired, lass. Instead of sitting with yer foot elevated, I’m thinking ye need to lie down.”

“It’s the middle of the day! Why on earth would I need to lie down?”

“Did ye hit yer head when we were tossed off me horse?”

Mary Kate nearly bit off the tip of her tongue to keep quiet.

Anything she said would no doubt rile the man she would be marrying in a few hours’ time.

Were all men so difficult to get along with when they wanted their way?

And how was it that a man’s mind concentrated on one thing, when a woman’s concentrated on something completely different? She may never know the answer.

“I did not land on my head,” Mary Kate said.

Flaherty’s gaze rested on her for a moment before he asked, “Then why do ye look as if ye were out all night scouring the stables?”

Mary Kate fought to keep her irritation under wraps. She owed it to the poor man. Flaherty had been grazed across the cheek not two hours earlier. Any closer and…

She shoved that thought aside and thanked MacReady.

“The bandage around my ankle is snug enough that the pain is at a minimum.” Needing to prove that she wasn’t as badly hurt as Flaherty thought, she put more weight on it and retained her balance.

Patience was called for. “One of my duties is to ensure her ladyship’s horses are bedded down for the night. I take my duties very seriously.”

“I’m thinking ’tis the stable master’s duty ye’ve just described—and ye know it. Yer job is to say goodnight to her horses.”

She fought to keep her expression bland, though it was not easy. “Do you have any other personal criticisms, Flaherty?”

“Facts are not criticisms, though if and when I have need to criticize ye, lass, it will be to keep ye safe from harm. And when I do, ye’ll not be needing to ask. Ye’ll know.”

Mary Kate wondered why she felt the need to contradict everything Flaherty said or did. Examining her feelings, it hit her that she hadn’t always done so. She respected him and his position within the duke’s guard. Truth be told, it had started after he ordered her to leave.

She had accepted his apology, and it was time for her to let go of the hurt feelings she held tight to her breast. It was time to fully forgive him.

He truly did not recall anything that he said or did while fevered.

And another thought plagued her—it would not be well done of her to challenge him in front of others.

It could undermine his authority and encourage others to do the same.

From now on, if there was an important point that they disagreed on, she would speak to him about it privately.

Heaven only knew how often that would be happening.

Flaherty questioned her more than she was used to.

In order to keep the status quo, she would have to bite her tongue until she and Flaherty grew more accustomed to how each other thought and acted upon those thoughts.

Her allegiance had been to Lady Calliope and Lord William.

Once she and Flaherty wed, would he be competing for that top spot?

Mary Kate could not imagine that he would want to feel as if he were in a tug-of-war with Lady Calliope for Mary Kate’s attention.

It would put her smack in the middle, with her husband on one end and Lady Calliope on the other, vying for her undivided attention.

That would only add to the messy broth already in the pot of her life!

“Flaherty!” The earl strode into the kitchen and paused.

Mary Kate sensed that he was assessing Flaherty’s health.

The earl’s swift nod in Flaherty’s direction was the only indication that he’d found him fit for duty.

“I see you’ve gained another scar in service to my brother.

Be assured, I shall inform him of your latest injury. ”

If Mary Kate had not been watching the man she were to marry so closely, she would have missed the flash of concern in the depths of his deep blue eyes as he shot to his feet to stand before the earl.

But she had been keeping close watch and had seen it.

Was Seamus worried that the duke would remove him from duty for being shot three times inside of a few weeks?

She had heard whispers of the duke’s new guard that was divided into groups that scoured the bowels and dregs of London’s stews, while others were stationed in and around the Dark Walk.

Still others were assigned near the docks.

All of the duke’s newest London recruits kept up with the latest rumblings in the underworld, gathering pertinent information relating to the duke and his extended family from all levels of society.

Enemies had seemed to crawl out of the woodwork when His Grace successfully restored his family’s reputation and filled their empty coffers.

His elder brother’s mismanagement and lack of respect for the title had nearly destroyed what their father, the fourth duke, had accomplished before he died.

Mary Kate had heard more than one rumor that the fifth duke, the current duke’s eldest brother, had been on the road to perdition for some years.

Many had hoped to lead the sixth duke down that same road—all the while continuing to fill their pockets with the coin they planned to fleece from the dukedom.

The sixth duke was a man of high integrity and principles who had no intention of gambling or spending his nights with lightskirts or actresses.

Anticipated coin had been lost, forcing those who thought to gain it to try other avenues to discredit the newly minted duke—ruin via rumor, innuendo, scandalbroth, and lies.

She shifted closer to Flaherty’s side, balancing more of her weight on her good ankle.

Though she longed for a sign that he was not angry with her, she would never interrupt him when the earl was speaking to him.

She stood silent for a few minutes more, relieved when he placed a hand at her waist and kept it there.

Did he need the physical contact as much as she did?

A bond had been formed months ago…the first time he kissed her.

Then he’d kept proving that he cared for her.

Deeply. She marveled at his strength and concentration—even after being shot in the face.

“I don’t think ye should bother His Grace with the scratch on me face, yer lordship. Only required a stitch or two, and MacReady has taken care of the task.”

“Eleven,” Mary Kate corrected him. “I counted.”