Page 30 of The Irish Gypsy

Her pains began around ten o'clock at night. Katie said to Mimi.

"I'll stay with her; you fetch the midwife."

By midnight, hard labor had begun in earnest, but no matter how they struggled, the child would not make its appearance. The midwife refused to panic. These things took time and ran their own course, and the lady was not built for childbearing.

Katie put on her cloak and slipped out the doorway. It was just striking one when she returned, a tall, dark figure close upon her heels.

Arguing voices came to Kitty through a haze of pain. The deep timbre of Patrick's voice started to curse and she called out to the midwife.

"He's no respecter of persons; let him come to me."

He knelt beside her, taking her hands. It lifted her heart to see how deeply concerned he was. He stayed beside her for four hours. When the child finally was born, Patrick was dizzy with relief.

"We have a daughter,"

he whispered tenderly. Kitty was too exhausted to speak. He turned to the midwife.

"How long will she be abed?"

"A lying-in is always a fortnight,"

she told him.

He turned back to Kitty.

"One month, one month from today I'll return. I'll come boldly for all the world to see; no more climbing the back stairs for me, Kitty."

She closed her eyes and nodded her understanding.

Flowers came every morning especially chosen by Patrick. There was no need for any card; she knew who sent them.

A full month hadn't quite gone by when he came striding into her private sitting room. She had just finished feeding her daughter and was rocking her gently to sleep. The energy he brought into the room with him almost made the air crackle.

"Kitty, it's all settled,"

he said, laughing, as he waved a telegram in the air.

"You're looking at the new president and chairman of the board of Hind of New York. If you don't like New York, we can live in Philadelphia. The gossip won't follow us to America. We'll be married before we sail. When can you be ready?"

She watched him talking and laughing. How handsome he was! Patrick was at his best when he was in control, directing everyone about him like some young god.

Kitty said very quietly.

"I'm not going."

He stopped laughing and turned to look at her.

"Not going?"

he questioned her.

She sighed deeply, reaching for words that would make her explanation less painful for him.

"A trip across the Atlantic would kill me right now,"

she said sadly.

He looked closely at the small, black-clad figure before him. Her cheekbones stood out so prominently, they looked like they might pierce the skin. Her wrists were so fine-boned they were skeletal. He knew her words told the truth. He was at a loss for the first time in his life.

"I'm going home,"

she said simply.

He knew he could rave and shout until he was blue in the face. It would alter nothing! Her mind was made up. He crumpled the telegram into his pocket, bent down to place a kiss on his daughter's brow and left quietly.

It took a week to pack the belongings she wanted shipped to Ireland. She put the huge house in the hands of her bankers and asked them to sell it for her. Katie and Mimi both agreed to accompany her to Windrush.

A small cavalcade stepped off the boat train on an evening in July. A chilly breeze blew off the Irish Sea, making Kitty thankful she had worn her furs. She carried her baby daughter, while her son, grown out of babyhood, walked beside her. Two young women followed, each struggling with a heavy case. Kitty tried to hail a porter to transport their luggage onto the overnight ferry, but before she had given him her instructions, two men strode purposefully along the platform toward them. She looked up startled as the tall figures loomed out of the darkness.

"Patrick!"

she gasped.

He tipped his hat and swept her a mocking bow. He handed the cases to the man standing beside him. He took the baby from Kitty and placed her in Katie's arms; then he swung Charles Patrick to his shoulder and commanded.

"Follow me!"

Kitty had to walk very quickly to keep up with him, but her heart was beating wildly and singing at the intoxicating nearness of the man.

"Madame, there are some women who are willing to sacrifice everything and follow a man to the ends of the earth. Ah, but how many men do you know capable of such a grand gesture? None, you say? Ah, there you are wrong, madame! Permit me the luxury of the supreme gesture."

He took his letter of appointment and contracts from his pocket and tossed them into the wind.

"But, Patrick,"

she protested.

"what do you intend to do?"

"Marry you, madame, before you elude me again,"

he said with a wolfish grin.

They went up the gangplank of his ship, and he swung his son to the deck.

"It's time our children were in bed. We'll see to them together tonight,"

he said with relish.

The maids were soon settled in their cabins and the children fed and put to bed. The anchor was lifted. They were going home!

Patrick picked up Kitty's furs and wrapped them about her closely. Then he took her hand and led her out on deck.

"This has to be done by moonlight,"

he explained. He took her into his arms and bent to claim her lips, shuddering with his great longing.

"Kitty, will you marry me?"

he asked humbly.

Soft and tender-eyed and sighing, she answered.

"Yes, my darling. When?"

"Now! The captain awaits us in the cabin below."

When they were finally alone, getting ready for bed, she was still breathless. He had again swept her off her feet, giving her little time to decide her fate. He could not get enough of looking at her. When she was ready for bed, he stooped and caught her in his arms, lifting her against his heart. Ecstasy thrilled within her. At long last she had her heart's desire. Under the covers he came close against her back and gathered her in his embrace.

"Patrick, what will you do now that you have thrown your career away?"

He nibbled the silky flesh of her shoulder.

"I don't know. And I don't care. Right now all I care about is you."

The faint, sweet perfume of her hair stole to him.

"What have you decided to name our daughter?"

he asked, trying to control his mounting desire.

"I'm going to call her Pagan! Pagan O'Reilly!"

"Good God, kitten, a name like that is just asking for trouble."

She slipped around in his arms to face him.

"I do always ask for trouble, don't I?"

She kissed him seductively.

"And you always manage to give it to me."

THE END