Chapter Three #2
She prayed Flaherty’s constitution was akin to that of the ox he was built like—he was certainly as stubborn as one!
Just in case, she said an extra prayer that he regained his strength and stamina.
She hadn’t thought of marrying in the last few years, and only recently had decided to set her cap for Cormac MacManus, or Dermott Rafferty… if Cormac wasn’t interested.
Exhausted from diving into the waves during the worst of the storm, and pulling the mountain of a man from the sea, she felt her eyes grow heavy.
“Do you have any questions for me, Eileen?”
She blinked, snapping back to the present. “Not that I can think of.”
The physician nodded and began giving her instructions for Flaherty’s wound care.
She knew most of them, but listened intently just the same.
When the doctor and her father started talking, she let her mind wander.
What would marriage to Flaherty be like?
Where would they live? Would she still be able to work at the Mermaid’s Glass?
For the first time since the rumors began to circulate in and around the village that she gave her favors freely, she was thinking of her future without trepidation. Not long after the rumors started, she’d heard that both Cormac and Dermott were courting village girls a few years younger than her.
Dr. Wolcock called her name a second time.
“Forgive me, doctor, I was going over our supply of herbs in my head. What did you ask me?”
The doctor frowned. “How much seawater did you swallow? You’re visibly pale and obviously exhausted.”
“Probably not as much as our patient, though he was able to give some of it back once we got him on shore.”
“Don’t discount the fact that your body is susceptible to a lung ailment after diving in after Flaherty and being out in the storm itself.” He turned to her father. “Keep an eye on her, Iain.”
Da stared at her, worry in his gaze. “I will.”
Had he been thinking of her mother, or had her voice betrayed how tired she was?
Da helped Flaherty lie back on the cot. Once he had, he frowned at her. “You need to change out of your damp clothes, then get some rest.”
She ignored that and asked, “What are you going to do?”
“I need to round up a handful of men to watch the cliffs and the shoreline.”
“Why?” she asked. “There isn’t a ship due.”
Flaherty answered, “Whoever shot me in the back will be anxious to see if me body washes ashore.”
A sliver of fear slithered up her spine at his matter-of-fact tone. She shivered. “You know who it was, don’t you?”
Flaherty ignored her question. “Ye’re chilled. Best listen to yer da.”
“Use the changing screen, Eileen. Flaherty will be fine while you change into dry clothes. I’m going to see Dr. Wolcock out.”
“Listen to your father, Eileen,” the physician reiterated. “Dry clothes and something hot to eat to start, but rest is just as important. Do not jump right into your normal routine.”
“There now, you’ve heard it from the doctor, too,” her father said.
“You’d best be getting changed and pouring out tea for the three of us by the time I return.
” He squinted at Flaherty, who was watching them, listening.
“And some of that broth and bread for our injured guest. I have a feeling Flaherty will be hungry.”
Eileen turned to find Flaherty staring at her. He shrugged. “I could eat.”
“You won’t go hungry.” Her father and the doctor were already at the door when she remembered: “Dr. Wolcock, forgive me for not offering you tea and bread. I have my father’s favorite spiced plum jam and fresh-churned butter to offer with it. Won’t you stay just a bit longer?”
“Mrs. Wolcock worries when I’m out during thunderstorms.” The physician smiled and added, “She claims I’m not getting any younger.”
“I’m sorry you’re leaving without at least a hot cup of tea in you, along with our grateful thanks.”
“I’ll be back midmorning to check on the patient, and would be happy to take you up on your offer then.”
“I’ll be gone by then,” Flaherty announced.
“Not unless you want to bring trouble to my door,” Doonan replied.
Flaherty and her father shared a long look, as if they had a silent conversation and agreed on whatever they discussed. Was someone watching their cottage and reporting their comings and goings?
The doctor frowned. “You’d best be on that cot, or in the chair beside it, when I return in the morning, Flaherty.”
Flaherty grunted in reply, and Eileen had to swallow her snort of laughter. She’d learned early on in life to never laugh at anything Da said—unless he was already laughing.
Doonan opened the door, and waited for the physician to step outside first. As soon as the door closed behind them, Flaherty was trying to sit up.
Eileen could not believe that after the list of instructions, and the physician’s order to stay on the cot, the man was trying to get up.
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
“You will not get off that cot, unless it’s to use the chamber pot, or to sit in the chair to sip the broth I’ll heat for you. ”
Blue fire flashed in his eyes as Flaherty opened his mouth, then closed it. He seemed to think better of whatever he’d been about to say.
“I will not hear of you leaving until Dr. Wolcock agrees that you’re fit enough to leave.”
Flaherty’s eyes flashed with a combination of temper and desire.
Entranced, she had no idea what he was thinking, and was more than a little worried about the lightning-fast shift in his emotions.
He blinked and his eyes twinkled with what she could only think was devilment.
“Well now, lass,” he drawled, “if ye’re after feeding me, I may change me mind. ”
Her belly quivered with uncertainty, but she ignored it and stalked over toward the cot. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and completely lost all train of thought as his eyes darkened to midnight blue. What had she wanted to say to him? Heaven help her, she had no idea!
As if in a trance, she closed the distance between them and whispered, “I cannot think straight when your eyes change hue, and you look at me like that.”
“’Tis me irresistible charm,” Flaherty told her. “Ye’ve started a fire burning inside of ye, lass. I cannot wait to set it free.”
“Fire?”
He reached for her hand and tugged her onto the edge of the cot beside him.
Before she realized what he was about, he’d removed the ribbon holding her hair and watched her tight braid loosen and begin to unravel.
It was always a chore to braid her stubborn curls into submission.
She did so whenever accompanying her father at night.
Running his fingers through the wavy strands, he watched in fascination as they sprang into wild curls that cascaded to her waist. He twirled a strand around his forefinger, then let it go.
“Yer hair is mesmerizing, lass. ’Tis as if it has a life of its own.
Me ma would have a fit if I didn’t help ye dry it. ”
“Which is why I keep it in a braid. I scoop it up and pile it on top of my head when I’m working at the tavern, though honestly, between the weight of it and the pins, it makes my head ache.”
His eyes never left hers as he rubbed a strand between his fingers, then lifted it to his nose and inhaled. “Roses… Nay, ’tis more herbal.” She shrugged. He inhaled again and asked, “Rosemary?”
“Yes.” Though why it mattered what herbed oils she rubbed into her hair or added to the soap she washed with, she had no idea.
The intensity in his gaze had shiver bumps popping out all over. When he lifted the strand to his lips, every thought in her head evaporated, along with her ability to speak.
“Faith, yer beauty unmans me, lass. Just thinking that ye’ll be warming me bed—”
She untangled his hand from her hair and sprang to her feet, easing a step back from the cot and the man. “Not until after we wed.”
He frowned at her. “I’d never ask ye to anticipate our vows, lass.”
“It is best that you understand now that I won’t. Even though you felt the need to voice your opinion of me, based solely on my appearance, that I would willingly do so.”
The light in his eyes dimmed. “If it takes the rest of me life to make up for causing ye pain from opening me big mouth and speaking without thinking, I promise that I will make it up to ye, mo chroí.”
Her anger softened. “Da used to call Mum that.” She felt tears burning the backs of her eyes and blinked furiously, refusing to cry. “She truly was his heart.”
“As ye will be mine, mo ghrá.”
“Will I be your heart and your love, Fenton?”
“The way ye say me name has me thinking of firelight, and yer ink-black hair spread across the white of me pillow.”
The very thought of it unnerved her. She scooted farther away from him.
“Da will return soon, and I’d better change before he does.
” She did not look back over her shoulder, but she heard a soft, deep chuckle.
Flaherty was far more dangerous than she’d imagined.
It was one thing to have his attention, but another entirely when he whispered in Gaelic to her.
Eileen kept a chemise and gown folded on the bench behind the dressing screen.
It was cooler behind it. The wooden screen blocked the heat of the fire.
She shivered, undressed, and quickly put on the dry clothes.
The stockings were the hardest to remove.
She ended up rolling them off. Barefoot, she grabbed a shawl off the peg on the wall, draped it over her shoulders, and rounded the screen.
A deep, rumbling groan had her racing to Flaherty’s side. “What is it? Where do you hurt?” When he didn’t answer, she brushed a lock of auburn hair off his forehead and cupped his cheek in her hand. “Please tell me, so I know which herbal to give you.”
Flaherty closed his eyes for a heartbeat, then opened them. The desire in their depths answered her question.
“You are not feeling pain from your injuries, are you?”