Chapter Two #2
She blew out a frustrated breath, wondering when Da would arrive with the physician.
Flaherty’s forehead and shoulder needed stitching.
Eileen winced thinking of the entry and exit wounds from whoever had shot him in the back.
Dr. Wolcock would probably have to probe the wounds to ensure no fragments were left inside Flaherty. Her stomach roiled at the thought.
She had cleansed his wounds thoroughly, covered and wrapped them with clean linen.
Waiting for her father to return with the doctor should not have any adverse effect.
At first she wondered why her father had insisted he go for the physician to stitch Flaherty’s wounds, until he reminded her that Flaherty was one of the duke’s men.
As such, it was his duty to see that Flaherty received the best care.
He had further reminded her—as if she had forgotten—that Flaherty, O’Malley, and Coventry’s men had protected not only the duke, but St. Ives.
The men were instrumental in getting rid of the crooked excise official who had threatened, then bribed, more than half the town to do his bidding.
She had not argued with her father, but the longer he was gone, the more she questioned her decision.
She was acting totally out of character, questioning her thoughts and deeds.
She attributed it entirely to the auburn-haired giant she’d pulled from the deep.
Thoroughly annoyed with herself, she murmured, “I can wield a needle and boiled thread. We keep a ready of supply of them.”
The deep, rumbling chuckle surprised her. She dropped the cloth and had to retrieve it from her lap. Cupping Flaherty’s face in her hands, she stared at his closed eyes. “Are you awake or dreaming, Flaherty?”
“Answer me question first. Have I died and gone to Heaven, then?”
She snorted. “Not hardly.”
He cracked open one eye, then the other. “Then what are ye doing in me bed, Miss Doonan?”
His suggestion had her swallowing a gasp.
She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing his question shocked her.
He had already done that, and more, when he ruined her reputation without realizing the consequences of his words and actions.
Up until Flaherty had begun his campaign to embarrass her, speak of her without so much as a by-your-leave, there had been one or two men in the village that she had been considering setting her cap for.
Though, to be honest, since Flaherty and O’Malley had arrived the year before, she had been distracted by the charming Irishman.
Irritation sharpened her voice. “It is you who are in my bed.”
Despite the bruising on his face, and the blood staining the bandage on his forehead, his lazy smile did things to her insides. Not that she would never admit it, least of all to him!
“Well now, lass, how did I manage that?”
How could he turn everything she said around, as if it had a double meaning?
And blast it all, those unbidden thoughts were now stuck in her mind.
Ignoring the taunt, she answered truthfully, “Jumping off a cliff, getting bashed against the rocks, and nearly drowning. You have yet to thank me for pulling you out of the sea.”
He frowned up at her. “’Tisn’t possible without help. Ye cannot weigh more than seven and a half stone, lass.”
She was not about to admit that she weighed quite a bit more than that. How could he even think she weighed less than a hundred pounds, given her overblown curves?
Her temper simmered. Her curves were what he’d hinted as the reason she’d captivated him and every man who entered the Mermaid’s Glass and had them lusting after her.
“Even you must realize that moving a body floating in salt water is not the same as dragging a body across dry land. It is much lighter and easier due to the composition of the water.”
A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. “Admit ye had help during the raging storm, and I might be believing ye.”
That comment set flame to her temper, adding to the fire in her belly. “Admit that your offhanded comments about my face and form had rumors flying, and the two men I had hoped would ask permission to court me ignored me instead!”
He stared at her, and for once his neutral expression changed to one of guilt-laced shame. “Ye had yer heart set on two lads? How were ye going to choose between them?”
She pursed her lips to keep from shouting at the man.
The idea that Mr. MacManus’s eldest son, Cormac, or Rafferty’s eldest son, Dermott, would finally be interested enough to look at her twice was laughable.
They were men now—Cormac five years older than her and Dermott three years older—and both good looking.
They worked alongside their fathers and had known her all her life.
She had always wondered if they would ever look at her twice once her figure took on the shape of an hourglass, rather than an apple.
Flaherty reached out a hand to brush against her cheek. “Ah, lass. Surely ye had a plan in mind to capture their attention.”
She shrugged.
“After risking yer life to save mine, ye can at least confide that much in me.”
“I was trying to decide which gift to give them,” she whispered.
Flaherty’s jaw went slack. His mouth hung open for a few moments before he snapped it closed. “Ye could have repeated what ye just said to me. That alone would have convinced any man to drop to their knees in front of ye, begging for yer hand.”
“But they don’t know which gift I’d be offering,” she huffed. “I have two that I’m quite good at.”
He stared at her as if she were either mad, or a delectable sweet he wanted to gobble up.
Unnerved, she rose to her feet and took a step back from him.
As the look in his eyes intensified, she wondered what he was thinking.
Then she decided she did not want to know.
She hadn’t even told him what her special gifts were.
When he struggled to sit up, she pointed a finger at him. “Do not move until Dr. Wolcock arrives! Da should be back with him soon.”
The sound of carriage wheels and horses snorting decided for her—she had to tell Flaherty before her father and the physician walked into the cottage, else who knew what he’d be thinking the entire time the doctor patched him up!
If Da caught him staring at her the way he was now, he’d demand answers that she did not have.
She blurted out, “I’m an expert fisherwoman and can catch, fillet, and fry up a fine fish dinner.”
Flaherty tilted his head to one side, but did not say anything.
Footsteps slowly approaching the door had her adding, “I’ve a fine hand making flaky crust for meat pies. My husband would never go hungry—just ask Mrs. MacManus, Mrs. Rafferty, or Mrs. Doyle.”
The door opened and her father smiled. “Flaherty, you’re up! A vast improvement from when Eileen and I carried you inside. Have you met Dr. Wolcock?”
Flaherty shook his head. “I’ve heard ye treat yer patients with kindness and do not demand immediate payment from those struggling to make ends meet—no matter if it be bartered goods or services.”
The physician approached the cot. “If it wasn’t for the fact that I need to keep my supply of medicines and herbals to treat my patients, I wouldn’t take payment at all.”
Flaherty stared at the doctor without speaking. Finally he said, “Ye’re a rare physician, Dr. Wolcock.”
“So I’ve been told. Now then, let’s have a look at your head first, as you’ve bled through the bandage. Then we’ll see about digging out the lead ball.”
“There’s an entrance and exit wound in his shoulder, doctor,” Eileen told the physician. “I did my best to clean Flaherty’s wounds, but I was afraid to scrub too hard and hurt him.”
Dr. Wolcock listened, then nodded and said, “I’m quite sure you did a thorough job.
You have every time I’ve needed you to step in and assist me in the past when tending the good villagers of St. Ives.
I’ll need to inspect his wounds thoroughly before closing them—would you mind lending a hand, Eileen? ”
“I would be happy to. The water’s hot, and I have already laid out my supplies—boiled threads, and three of my sharpest needles.”
“I’ll see to the horses for you,” Doonan said. “This could take a bit of time.”
“Aye, thank you, Iain.”
As her father walked past her, he pitched his voice low, “I told the doctor that when I left Flaherty was still unconscious, and asked that he not discuss the details of the situation. ’Twill protect your reputation.”
“I was giving aid to a severely injured man. How could anyone see that as wrong?”
“Small-minded people think all manner of things when two unmarried people are left alone,” he reminded her. “Do we have anything to offer the doctor with his tea? ’Tis a damp night.”
“Just the bread that I baked early this morning, but it’ll be a treat with the fresh-churned butter and your favorite of my jams.”
“The spiced plum?”
“Yes, Da.”
“That’ll be fine, then. What of Flaherty—do we have any broth to give the poor man. He’ll be on an invalid’s diet for at least a sennight—mayhap a fortnight—considering that in addition to being shot, he plunged into in the briny sea, and then rolled in the sand.”
“There’s a pot of beef broth simmering on the stove.
I’ll do my best to persuade Dr. Wolcock to let him have a slice of bread with his broth.
You’re right that being awake when the doctor arrived should count in his favor.
” She paused for a moment, then rasped, “Thank you for speaking to the doctor about my part in caring for Flaherty, Da. You know I would never do anything to bring shame on your head, or Flaherty’s. ”
He hugged her close. “That you think of us first, then yourself, should be proof enough to anyone with eyes that see, and ears that hear. Don’t fret. Flaherty will honor his pledge to marry you…or else!”