Page 23 of The Duke’s Man-At-Arms (The Duke’s Guard #11)

O ’Malley felt as if he were on tenterhooks waiting for Haversham to deliver a message…or show up at the duke’s town house. “Where is the bugger? What is he waiting for?”

He scanned the garden and the wall behind it. It was rather large for being in the city, but small compared to his parents’ farm. Nothing caught his eye, so he continued on his rounds of the third-floor interior.

Anxious to get the meeting with his father-in-law over with, he could not help but wonder just how angry the man would be at not having any say in his daughter’s marriage. O’Malley stopped to look out of the window at one end of the long hallway, and watched a well-sprung carriage with a fine pair of geldings slowing down as it approached the duke’s residence.

He heard his relief coming up the servants’ staircase and went to meet Findley. “Take as much time as you need,” Findley offered. “The rest of us have the exterior and interior well guarded.”

“Thank ye—this should not take too long.”

“Will Michaela be joining you?”

“Aye.”

Findley snorted with laughter. “Then it might take longer than you think.”

With that troubling thought in mind, O’Malley descended to the first floor, stopping in the kitchen to fetch his wife. “There ye are, lass.” He held out his hand, and she brushed hers on the apron she wore. Her cheeks were flushed and more than a few soft brown tendrils had come loose from the knot she’d fashioned on the top of her head.

Tempted to twirl the tendril brushing against the hollow of her throat around his finger, he stared into her eyes. “Ye look lovely, lass.”

She smiled up at him, and he was tempted to do more than kiss her.

After clearing his throat, he added, “Yer da has arrived. Are ye ready to speak with him?”

A frown wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. “Will you be escorting me and leaving, or staying?”

What kind of a man would leave her to face her father’s ire alone? “I’ll be by yer side, lass. We’ll face yer da together. Ye have nothing to worry about.”

Michaela didn’t reply as she turned her back to him and asked him to untie her apron. He settled his hands around her waist for a moment, marveling at the strength in the petite woman he’d married, before untying the knot.

She spun around, but did not lose her balance, obviously accustomed to having her arm in a sling, then tucked in a few loose hairpins. “Do I have any flour on my face?”

He brushed the tips of his fingers along the curve of her cheek…not because she had flour on her face, but because he needed to touch her. “There.”

“Thank you, Emmett.” She lifted to her toes and kissed his cheek. “We’d best not keep him waiting—it grates on Papa’s nerves, and then he becomes quite surly.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, mo chroí .”

He held out his arm and felt a rush of warmth as she slipped hers through it. He led them to the door to the main part of the town house, and he heard her breathing change. She was inhaling and exhaling short, sharp breaths.

He closed the door behind him and gently turned her to face him. “Lass, what has ye fretting?” When she did not answer right away, he frowned, wondering if it had to do with last night. “Did I exhaust ye? Are ye suffering any ill effects from our—”

Michaela put her hand over his mouth and shook her head. “Nay. I was trying to remember the last time my father and I had a conversation.”

“How long ago was it?”

“I honestly do not recall. A year ago, mayhap longer.”

The lass was trembling. “Why don’t I speak to yer da alone? That way ye don’t have to concern yerself with whatever ye’re worrying about. He’ll ask me a few questions, and I’ll respond. Nothing to cause ye worry.”

“I am not afraid, nor am I a coward.”

O’Malley tilted his head to one side and stared at her. He watched the wealth of emotions manifesting themselves on her pretty face. “I did not say that ye were.” When she fell silent, he offered, “I can escort ye to our bedchamber if ye need to rest.”

She drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I will not hide ever again.”

O’Malley’s gut warned him that he was not going to like the direction his wife planned to take the conversation with her da. With a nod, he held out his arm for the second time, and once more, she linked hers with it. “Best tell me what ye’re planning to say before ye pick up a teacup.”

Her gasp had him shrugging.

“I needed to warn ye ahead of time. I cannot tell from yer frown whether ye plan to lob a full cup of tea at yer da’s head or whack him with a saucer to get his attention.” When she didn’t say anything, he sighed. “The tea set belonged to His Grace’s grandmother. ’Tis of sentimental value, especially to Her Grace.”

Michaela started to laugh, a musical sound that warmed his heart.

“There’s the woman I love. Ye had me worried, lass. Now then, let’s get this conversation over with so we can move past it.” He paused outside the door to the library, leaned close, and whispered, “I cannot wait for out next lesson in loving.”

Michaela’s eyes widened. “What do you have in mind?”

“Lips and tongues will be involved.”

Her face flushed a lovely shade of rose. He decided to do her a favor and touch the tip of his finger beneath her chin, silently letting her know that her mouth was open.

O’Malley knocked and was bade to enter. He opened the door and waited for Michaela to precede him.

“Michaela!” Her father immediately frowned, taking in her sling and stiff posture. “What were you thinking marrying a man you hardly know?”

Without missing a beat, she replied, “I trust Emmett with my life, Papa.”

“Trust isn’t a reason to marry, daughter.”

“It is essential in the man I marry.”

Colborne glared at O’Malley, who did not deign to respond to the challenge his father-in-law silently threw down.

“Why would my daughter marry a man with no connections to the ton , and a farmer from Ireland to boot?”

O’Malley bit down on the need to blast the irritating man with his reasons. Before he could verbalize what he wanted to say—without cursing—Michaela replied, “I love him.”

“You only accepted one offer of escort to a ball a dozen years ago. How—”

“Ten years.”

Colborne locked gazes with Michaela. “Love will not feed and clothe you.”

O’Malley’s guts were churning as the tension built inside of him. But again, Michaela was quick to respond. “Emmett can more than provide clothing and food for us, Papa. If you have nothing more to impart, I am needed elsewhere.”

“With your arm in a sling? What possible help could you be to anyone? I blame O’Malley for your current condition and demand that you return home with me at once!”

With a nod worthy of a queen, Michaela turned to O’Malley. “I’m ready to return to the kitchen, Emmett.”

“How do you expect me to grant my blessing on your marriage when O’Malley has already banished you to the kitchen?”

The lass spun around so fast, O’Malley had to move quickly so she did not fall on her face without having both arms to balance her. “Have a care, lass.”

“Her name is Michaela,” Colborne said.

“I followed your advice once before, Papa, and it cost me everything!”

When Michaela sagged against his side, O’Malley cradled her against him and kissed her temple. “Now is not the time, Dr. Colborne. Yer daughter is past the age of consent. We exchanged vows last night. I would think you would wish us well.”

Colborne refused to look at him. Instead he glared at Michaela and growled, “I will not let you throw away your life on this…this Irishman !”

Michaela locked gazes with her father. “I paid a heavy price for listening to your advice once before. Lord Haversham lured me into the garden during Lord and Lady Andrew’s ball. He asked about my hopes and dreams…then mocked me when I shared them with him.”

Before her father could utter another word, Michaela rasped, “He brutally violated me. When he was through, he vowed to destroy my reputation and yours if I ever spoke of what he did.” Tears filled her eyes and spilled over. “I never uttered a word against him, nor mentioned what happened, to save your reputation because I knew in my heart it was the only thing you valued after Mum died.”

O’Malley watched the doctor’s posture change, his shoulders slumping forward. The man looked as if he’d suffered a blow. The urge to plant his fist in the man’s face had O’Malley clenching his jaw and fisting his hands. His wife had suffered at her father’s hands as well as what she endured from her attacker. Her da had failed her, too.

“Why did ye not demand that yer daughter speak with ye?”

“She had a virulent fever, and I was afraid…”

“Ye were not the one attacked. Ye suffered nothing but the inconvenience of not having yer supremely gifted daughter at yer side in yer blasted surgery! She heals with her hands, her heart, and her words. And by all that is holy, if ye raise yer voice to me wife again, I’ll wrap me hands around yer throat.”

The doctor held his gaze, and O’Malley sensed the man was thinking about accepting the challenge. But at the last moment, Colborne inclined his head. “I still believe you should return home with me, daughter.”

“If you have nothing else to say to me, Father, I’ll bid you good day.”

Shock had the older man’s mouth opening, but no sound emerging.

“Well now, I’ll escort ye, lass.” O’Malley glanced over his shoulder and said, “I’ll send Jenkins to ye. He will show ye out.”

“What about tea?” Colborne sputtered.

“Mayhap another time, Father,” Michaela replied.

O’Malley slipped his arm around his wife when she wavered on her feet. He sensed that she would not want him to carry her, though the urge to do so was hard to ignore. He leaned close and said, “Lean on me, lass, till we’re on the other side of the door.”

She seemed to steady once his arm was around her and she gave him a brief nod.

Satisfied she would not falter before they reached the door to the servants’ side of the house, he walked toward the duke’s butler at his station in the entryway. He was about to speak when Michaela said, “Jenkins, I believe my father is ready to leave. Would you mind showing him out?”

“It would be a pleasure, Mrs. O’Malley.”

“Thank you, Jenkins.”

O’Malley sensed his wife’s strength was flagging. He urged her through the door, closed it behind him, and swept her into his arms. “I’m putting ye to bed, lass.” Incensed that her da would treat her without care or concern, he urged, “Close yer eyes and rest yer head on me. I’ve got ye, and I won’t be letting ye go.”

“I love you, O’Malley.”

“I’m a fortunate man, Michaela, and love ye too.” He carried her past the kitchen and the startled expressions on the women’s faces as he shook his head and kept walking. When he reached the other end of the hallway, one of the footmen filling in as a member of the duke’s guard opened the door for them, closing it quietly behind O’Malley.

“’Tis safe to give in to yer tears, mo ghrá —no one is watching.”

She placed her hand over his heart. “I have no intention of wasting any tears on my father. I need to rally my strength to heal so I can be of use to those who need me.”

They reached the top of the stairs, and O’Malley shouldered the door open. “ I have great need of ye, lass.”

Her soft laughter wrapped around his heart like a hug. “That is not quite what I meant.”

He paused outside of their bedchamber. “Ah, but ye’re thinking ye wouldn’t mind testing me idea of making love by the light of day.”

Her face flamed, and he felt the tension that had built up in her waiting for the confrontation with her father slowly dissipate. He shifted Michaela in his arms to open the door. Closing it behind him, he said, “What I wouldn’t give to spend the rest of the afternoon getting to know ye more intimately.” His frustration ramped up at the thought of making love to his wife, knowing she was exhausted and needed to rest. “Ye need to close yer eyes and rest. I’ll send someone up to check on ye in an hour’s time.”

Gently laying her on the bed, he brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and bent to capture her lips. Her taste went to his head like a cup of poitín . With a groan, he broke the kiss and straightened. “I’d best go now, or Garahan’ll come looking for me.”

“Emmett?”

He looked over his shoulder. “Aye?”

“Thank you.”

“Me pleasure, lass. I’ll always stand for ye. Right or wrong, no matter the cause. I’ll be there to protect and support ye.” Her eyes were already closing when he told her, “Rest now.”

“I only need a few minutes.”

“Take them, mo chroí .” He stepped into the hall, quietly closed the door, and nodded to another footman who’d be standing guard until O’Malley returned. “She’s sleeping. See that she isn’t disturbed.”

“Aye, O’Malley.”

Satisfied his orders would be obeyed—especially by the lass—he took the staircase to the third floor to return to his shift. Making his rounds, he prayed for an uneventful afternoon.

All hell broke loose a quarter of an hour later.