Page 27

F laherty rode up to the stables, trying to wrap his head around the fact that the blasted, blackhearted farrier had more than one plan to abscond with Mary Kate. For the love of God, she was a married woman—his wife !

Michael O’Malley walked over. “Hand her down to me. I’ll try not to wake her.”

Because of the fire and their close call with death, Mary Kate seemed fragile to Flaherty. Instead of leaping out of the saddle with the lass in his arms, as he’d done before, he nodded. “Have a care—she was knocked unconscious and needs tending.”

Michael stared at the bandage around her head. “’Tis starting to bleed through.” He looked at Flaherty. “Ye used her chemise?”

Flaherty shook his head and handed the stallion off to the stable master. “’Twas her idea. So was bypassing the physician in the village so that MacReady could sew her hard head back together.”

When Michael started walking toward the rear entrance to the building, Flaherty called out, “Give me back me wife!”

Michael grinned. “Didn’t think ye’d mind if I carried yer hardheaded wife into the house.”

Flaherty held on to his temper. But his failure to protect his wife, anticipating that the farrier had connections and would continue to try to kidnap her, even after he’d been captured, had his head pounding—and not where he’d been hit!

That they’d had such a close call in that burning barn had him frantic to get her alone and satisfy his worry that she had been injured elsewhere.

He needed to touch her, feel the connection of their bodies locked together as they made passionate love to remind him that they were alive—he had not lost the love of his life.

Michael paused at the back door and sighed. “There’s no pleasure riling ye when ye’re not responding in kind.” Without another word, he carefully shifted Mary Kate in his arms and handed her back to Flaherty. “MacReady should be having his tea right about now, and having a chat with Mrs. Romney.”

Flaherty nodded. “Thank ye.”

Michael opened the door. “Ye’ll let me know how Mary Kate fares?”

“Aye.” The door closed behind Flaherty, and a sliver of worry settled in the vicinity of his heart.

The lass hadn’t roused when he handed her off to Michael.

Was it more than exhaustion that had her so still in his arms?

Her breathing wasn’t shallow; ’twas normal.

Her coloring was a bit mottled because of the soot that he had not been able to completely wash off her face without the aid of soap and a soak in hot water.

He nodded to the footman stationed in the hallway leading to the kitchen. “Is MacReady in the kitchen?”

The footman frowned. “What happened?”

“Where. Is. MacReady?”

His tone got through to the younger man. “In the kitchen.”

Flaherty did not bother to thank the man—he’d worry about manners later. Right now, his wife needed MacReady to close her wound.

He burst into the kitchen. Mrs. Romney gasped and jumped up to fill a large bowl with hot water from the pot on the stove. Then she filled a smaller one, handing both to MacReady, who stared at the woman in Flaherty’s arms and asked, “What happened?”

“You can both wash up in the alcove, where I leave the pitcher full, or in the room at the end of the hallway.” Mrs. Romney eyed Flaherty. “You still have her blood on your hands.”

He glanced down and fought not to react. He’d had plenty of practice over the years, but the fact that the blood was Mary Kate’s brought it too close to home, hitting him in the heart. “I was more concerned with washing the gash at the back of me wife’s head to see how bad it was.”

“Forgive me, Flaherty. It’s just such a shock to see her in such a state.”

“She’s sleeping now, but was fully conscious when we left Squire Dean’s barn burning.”

“And what were the two of you doing on the squire’s property—near a burning barn, no less?” MacReady asked.

“Long story.” Flaherty didn’t bother to say another word as he retraced his steps to the room where the healing herbs, tinctures, and linens were kept. He laid his wife on the cot and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Mary Kate? Can ye hear me, lass?”

She mumbled something unintelligible.

“What did ye say?”

His wife blew out a breath and slowly opened her eyes. “I was having a wonderful dream until you called my name.”

“What were ye dreaming about?”

“I turned my head to smile at you, and I tripped and hit my head. It still aches.” She lifted her hand to touch her head, but he grabbed hold of her hand and kissed the back of it.

“Don’t be touching it just yet. MacReady’s right behind me with the hot water. We’ve both got to wash our hands before tending to ye.”

Mary Kate sighed. “I do remember asking you to bring me here.” She looked at MacReady. “Thank you.”

“I haven’t done anything yet,” he said.

“But I trust you, and know that you will take good care of me like you did Seamus…and the others.”

“Now then, lass, lie still while I wash up.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” MacReady asked her.

“A strange man galloped up to the stables and said Flaherty had had an accident and was hurt, calling for me.”

“Oldest trick in the book,” MacReady grumbled. “Then what happened?”

“We arrived at Squire Dean’s property…and that’s all I remember.”

“Blackguard must have hit you hard enough that you don’t recall.

” He elbowed Flaherty aside and washed his hands.

“Now then, help your wife sit up, so I can unwrap the bandage.” They worked quickly together.

MacReady murmured, “Hmmm…the cut isn’t very long, but it’s deeper than I’d like.

I may need to snip a bit of the hair around the gash, but you’ve got plenty to spare.

” He parted her hair and mumbled, “Flaherty, hold this hank of her hair away from the wound. Aye, like that. Be still, Mary Kate—I’m only snipping a bit.

It won’t show at all when you scoop your hair up on top of your head. ”

Flaherty cleared his throat, and MacReady nodded as if to silently assure him that Mary Kate would be fine.

“Now, if you can hold this other bit of her hair away from the wound, I’ll clean it out and thread the needle.

Mrs. Romney keeps them handy and dumped them in a bowl of just-boiled water for me.

I won’t have you fretting—or threatening me with dire circumstances—if I don’t take every precaution with your wife. ”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Mary Kate said. “I didn’t want to go the physician in the village.”

“I don’t blame you. You’ve seen me tend to others, and have helped me a time or two when I’ve patched up more than one of the viscount’s people.”

“You were meticulous taking care of Seamus.”

“A scar will only enhance his looks. You’ll have to keep an eye on the innkeeper’s daughter—she’s had her eye on Flaherty since his first patrol into the village. Now that he looks more roguish, she’ll be after him.”

“Don’t be putting false worry in her mind, MacReady!” Flaherty interjected. “No woman’s followed me since that one time when Michael and I escorted Lady Calliope and Mary Kate here from Wyndmere Hall, and ye know it.”

MacReady harumphed. “I heard that young woman still casts her lures at you every chance she gets.”

“Oh, does she?” Mary Kate asked.

“Be still!” MacReady ordered her.

“Forgive me, but you should not speak of inflammatory topics, or make such suggestions, when you have a needle and thread in your hands, especially when you are casting aspersions on my husband’s character.”

“I’m only speaking the truth, not telling tales. It’s not my business if the man only has eyes for you and doesn’t notice when another woman is trying to catch his attention.”

“I’m saying no one has tried.” Flaherty wanted to punch the man, but couldn’t, not while MacReady hadn’t tied off the last knot yet.

“So you have noticed when women flirt with you, Seamus,” Mary Kate said.

“Ah, lass, ye’re the only woman I have noticed since I pulled ye from the carriage. ’Tis easy to ignore the others.”

“But you barely spoke to me for the longest time,” she reminded him. “Why would you ignore the others when you were ignoring me?”

“And what would ye have had me do, when ye kept spouting off about Garahan?”

She sighed. “You are absolutely right. I don’t blame you, but I am glad to hear that you ignored the other women.”

“Finished! Kiss your wife so you two can settle your nerves. She’ll be fine and so will you.” When neither Flaherty nor Mary Kate moved, MacReady added, “Kiss her already!”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Flaherty gently drew her close, pressed his lips, gently, reverently, to her supple mouth, and groaned. “Lass, ye’ll be the death of me. How does yer head feel?”

“How does yours?”

“What’s this?” MacReady demanded. “Did you get knocked in the head, too?”

“I’m not bleeding.”

“And you have a hard head,” MacReady replied, placing his tools on the tray and leaving it on the table beneath the hanging cabinet.

“I’ll take care of clearing this away after I wash up.

The both of you look as if you could use a hot bath.

” He sniffed the air and added, “And a change of clothes. You smell of smoke.”

Flaherty was about to launch into the tale of what happened when MacReady raised his hand. “Why don’t you wait until you’re both clean and have changed your clothes? Then Mrs. Romney can ply you with tea and scones, and his lordship and Lady Calliope can hear the full tale.”

“That we can do. Would ye mind sending one of the footmen in with a tub, and have someone bring a change of clothes for us? I can tend to me wife.”

MacReady stood in the doorway, frowning. “You’ll not be doing what I know you want to be doing until she’s had a chance to rest. Tomorrow at the earliest. Neither one of you should exert yourselves with a fresh head wound.”

“Hasn’t been a problem for me before,” Flaherty mumbled.

“Oh?” Mary Kate sounded annoyed.

“I did not live like a monk before I met ye, lass.” He threw his hands up in the air. “I’ll apologize to ye both if ye send the bath, the hot water, and clean clothes.” MacReady opened his mouth to speak, and Flaherty groaned again. “Ye have me word to keep me hands to meself while me wife bathes.”

Mary Kate’s face reddened, and MacReady grunted before stomping into the hallway.

“I thought he’d never leave.”

“Thank you agreeing to wait until after I soak in a hot tub and scrub off the scent of burning wood.”

“Me pleasure, lass.”

She leaned close and pressed her lips to his. “I won’t mind if you want to make love to me tonight, but I’d rather be clean first.”

“Good thing I only promised to keep me hands to meself while ye bathed.”

Mary Kate smiled. “I need another kiss, Seamus.”

“Anywhere in particular?”

Her soft laughter eased the tightest knot of worry tangling in his gut. She tilted her head to one side and pointed to the spot beneath her ear. “You could start right here.”

Flaherty bent to kiss her neck as MacReady strode back into the room. “For the love of God, man. Can you not wait until later?”

Mary Kate put her arms around Flaherty’s neck and pulled him closer. “He might be able to, but I can’t.”