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F laherty dismounted as the stable master took the reins from him.

“His lordship wishes to speak to you—on an urgent matter.”

He swallowed the curse and inclined his head. “Aye.” Instead of heading for the side entrance to the building, which would lead him directly to the viscount’s study and library, he walked to the rear entrance, closest to the kitchen, where he hoped to find his wife.

“Where are you going, Flaherty?”

Irked that the stable master would question him, as if he hadn’t heard the man the first time, he didn’t bother answering.

He lengthened his stride and was crossing the threshold when he heard the sound of raised feminine voices coming from the kitchen.

“Must be a discussion over which teacakes to serve.” Chuckling to himself, he strode past the first room and came to an abrupt halt—Mary Kate was sitting up on the edge of the cot where, just yesterday, he’d held her still while MacReady stitched her head wound.

Rushing into the room, he had his arm around her as he asked, “What’s happened? Were ye feeling faint? Does yer head pain ye?”

Blue-violet eyes stared into his, and he could not decide if she had been hit on the head again and was dazed, or if she was still marveling over the fact that they had indeed outwitted death and lived to see another day. “Seamus, you’re here.”

“Were ye expecting someone else, lass?”

Her lips lifted and the smile transformed her face from beautiful to stunning. “I’m happy to see you. Please take me home.”

“That’s me intention, mo ghrá , but the viscount wishes a word with me first on an urgent matter.”

Her brow furrowed. “Then why didn’t you go directly to see him?”

Flaherty bent and gently pressed his lips to hers. “Because ye’re me wife and yer wellbeing is just as important to me. If the viscount doesn’t understand, then I’ll be giving His Grace notice that I am leaving me position within his guard.”

Shock drained every ounce of color from her face. “But you cannot do that.”

“Last time I checked, lass, I’m a free man and able to make me own decisions. If I choose to leave, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“But you took a vow to the duke.”

“That I did, and I have honored it every day.”

“Who will take your place?”

“No doubt someone else Coventry has hired. He has been steadily gathering a group of injured former military men. Some of whom ye’ve met—Tremayne, Hennessey, Bayfield, and Masterson, to name a few.”

Mary Kate placed her hands on either side of her husband’s face and stared deeply into his eyes.

Was she looking for a shadow in the depths?

Would she ask him something he was not ready to discuss with her?

It felt as if she were searching his mind, thinking to find the true reason he would leave the duke’s guard.

Some things were more important than holding on to a good-paying position—even one where he got to work alongside his cousins, and for a man he admired, the Duke of Wyndmere.

Fighting for what one believed in—the Irish had been doing that all their lives.

The poor lass did not realize her worth to him.

He’d finally found something more important that his position within the guard, more precious to him than his own life—his wife.

“Do ye not understand that now we are wed, ye are the reason I live and breathe, Mary Kate? Ye’re me heart, me love. Haven’t ye heard me calling ye mo chroí, mo ghrá ?”

“Yes, and I thought I remembered that it meant something along those lines, but I was afraid to upset you if I asked. I didn’t want you to be angry with me.”

Flaherty paused for a moment as a realization occurred.

People had often spoken of his temper and anger as if it were a defining part of him that was to be avoided.

Was it so noticeable that others would rather steer clear of him than listen to him rail at something that irritated him?

Though it would break his heart to hear her answer, he needed to ask…

“Lass, are ye afraid of me?”

“No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

As if she’d lost her mind, he very quietly reminded her, “Ye said ye didn’t want me to be angry with ye.”

“And I mean it. I don’t like being at odds with you, although as your wife, it will be my duty to soothe your temper. I have some ideas about that.”

He blew out a breath. “I am all for listening to yer ideas, and have a few of me own. But before we discuss them, I need to ask, are ye the only one who feels that way? Do I come across as having a temper to ye?”

Instead of answering him, she snorted with laughter. Snorted!

“’Tisn’t a proper response, wife.”

She laughed harder. When he growled at her, she managed to stop laughing. “Seamus, everyone knows of your temper and respects it. Of course, no one wants to get on the wrong side of it—they’d be foolish to want to do so. I’d go so far as to say your temper is a formidable weapon.”

“But ye’re me wife. Ye should not have to worry about saying anything that would anger me, lass.”

Mary Kate sighed. “Well, that is good to know, because I am quite sure I shall be pricking your temper for the rest of our married life. I do believe it is my formidable weapon.”

And as quickly as that, his worry evaporated. Mary Kate had a way of making sense of his world and the things that worried him. Maybe it was because his eyes had been opened to the possibility of losing his life and his wife so soon after marrying her. “This must be what Emmett felt like.”

“Emmett O’Malley?”

“Aye, lass. He and Michaela had only just said their vows the night before he was knifed in the back. He nearly died—actually, Tremayne and Garahan’s brother insisted that he had.

I’m thinking I would like to have a conversation with Emmett and listen to what he swears was a visit to Heaven, where he spoke with his da and grandda…

and their first cow Siobhan. To hear Tremayne tell it, apparently there’s something I never knew—cows earn their angel wings, too. ”

Mary Kate stared at him and shook her head.

“Not that I doubt what Emmett saw and heard, but I do believe we should arrange for a day to ride into London to visit with Emmett and Michaela. Mayhap they could see to it that Tremayne and Garahan’s brother would be available to speak to us as well.

By the way, which brother is it, Aiden?”

“Nay, Aiden Garahan’s married to Emily, and they live in a fine cottage on the grounds of Wyndmere Hall.”

“Then it must be Ryan.”

Flaherty shook his head. “Nay, Ryan’s married to Prudence, and they live in a cottage in the Borderlands on the grounds of Summerfield Chase.”

Mary Kate put her arms around Flaherty’s neck and lifted on her toes, trailing kisses along the line of his jaw, distracting him. “Then it must be the brother who was injured and wears an eye patch.”

“Aye, lass, ’tis Darby. He’s married to Aimee and lives in Captain Coventry’s building near Grosvenor Square.”

“If you speak to the earl, and I speak to Lady Calliope, we may be able to arrange the time.” Before he could reply, she nipped his bottom lip, fused her mouth to his, and burrowed into his embrace.

He was lost in the lush kiss they shared and did not hear footsteps approaching the room until someone cleared their throat.

“Flaherty!”

“Feck me, lass,” he whispered against her lips. “I’d forgotten about the viscount.”

“Bloody hell, Flaherty!”

He coughed to cover his laughter, knowing the viscount also had a temper. Flaherty kissed her temple and murmured, “Definitely should not have ignored his request.” In a louder voice, he said, “Excuse me, wife. Hold that thought and yer kisses.”

He loosened her hold around his neck, slid his arm around her waist, and tucked her against his side, then turned to face the viscount. “Ah, yer lordship. I was on me way to see ye.”

“Apparently the words urgent matter were lost on you.”

“They were not. Did ye forget what happened just yesterday and think there was a chance I would not check on me wife before speaking with ye?”

Affronted, Chattsworth grumbled, “Of course I remember what happened. Otherwise, we would not have let your wife spend the day sleeping. She needed to recover.”

Flaherty clenched his jaw and held tight to his control.

He should not let his anger have free rein in speaking to the viscount.

Such an action could weigh heavily on how his brothers would be treated after he left the duke’s employ.

And as of this moment, that was now his plan.

He fully intended to resign from His Grace’s private guard.

No man would ever tell him to put his wife last. He needed clarification from the duke if that was in fact what was expected of him.

Depending upon the duke’s reply, he would either ask to be relocated to another of His Grace’s properties, or resign.

Before he could put his plan into motion, he would ensure that the earl and his family were well protected.

As of right now, he only needed to send word to Coventry to ask that a temporary replacement be sent to Lippincott Manor at once—he could also ask Gavin King of Bow Street to send one of his men.

There were half a dozen or more that Flaherty could recommend off the top of his head.

Men who knew the drill, and had spent time protecting the earl and his family when asked to lend their additional aid.

But first, he would put the question to the viscount. “Are ye telling me, as a member of the duke’s guard, that I’m expected to put the duke and his family before me own wife’s wellbeing and safety?”

“No one would expect you not to protect your wife, Flaherty.”

“’Tisn’t an answer, yer lordship. ’Tis an evasion. Answer me question.”

The viscount glared at him. “That sounded like an order.”

“Ye can take it however ye wish, yer lordship, as long as ye answer me question.”

“You swore a vow to protect the duke and his family with your life.”

“And by God, I have! Or did ye forget I was shot in the back twice, and more recently had a lead ball carve a groove in me cheek?”

“You took two lead balls in the back protecting Dermott’s wife,” Chattsworth reminded him before admitting, “Although it was after you had stopped those men from abducting Lady Aurelia.”

Flaherty was incensed. Had the viscount just glossed over the fact that Dermott’s wife had been in danger and deserved to be protected? Did the other men in the guard know that they were expected to put the duke and his family first—even now that they were married, with babes of their own?

He swallowed the bitter truth and turned to his wife. “We’re leaving, Mary Kate.”

She stiffened. “Of course. Please let her ladyship know that I shall return tomorrow.”

“Nay, lass,” Flaherty said. “We leave for London immediately.”

Chattsworth looked shocked. “You’d walk away from your duties? What of your vow?”

“Do ye think, just because ye have a fancy title, that yer life, and those of yer wife and son, are more deserving of me protection than me own wife or me cousin’s wives and babes?”

Before he said something he might regret, Flaherty swept his wife into his arms and slipped around the viscount. “Not a word, Mary Kate,” he rasped.

He strode out of the rear door and stalked over to his mount.

Placing the lass on the horse’s back, he quickly mounted behind her and pulled her onto his lap.

He met the stable master’s direct look and said, “Tell Garahan I’ll send word to Coventry and King.

The earl and his family will not go without protection. ”

Flaherty tightened his hold on his wife and rode away from the stables.

Neither of them spoke as his gelding picked up the pace to a fast trot and they rode along the winding drive leading to the road that would take them to London.

He had contacts in the underbelly of London, as well as on the docks and in and around the Dark Walk.

Part of the duke’s guard’s mission had been to develop even more contacts within all levels of society.

He would use his cousins’ and brothers’ contacts as well.

No one would be able to say that Flaherty left in a temper and did not fully see to the protection of the duke’s brother, and the duke’s cousin, and their families.

He’d given his word, and he intended to keep it—one last time.

Then, and only then, would he be ready to send his resignation to His Grace.

He would no longer be the Duke’s Champion.