Chapter Five
“What was she thinking, Doonan?” MacManus asked.
Doonan shrugged. “You know my Eileen. She sees someone in trouble and she needs to fix it.”
“In the middle of last night’s storm? Raging seas. Thunder. Lightning? She could have drowned herself and the man!”
Doonan slowly smiled. “My daughter is an excellent swimmer. You know how strong-willed the lass is. She knew the risks.” He paused to scan the alleyway and the buildings on either side of them.
Relief filled him. No one had wandered within hearing range.
“She learned to swim as soon as she could walk, or have you forgotten what happened when she was five and your eldest ten?”
“How could I?” MacManus asked. “When Cormac came home with the soggy puppy in his arms and your daughter trailing behind complaining, I thought he’d left her in the water to rescue the pup first. My wife had to hold me back. I wanted to wring his neck!”
Doonan nodded. “He had left her in the water, but only after she badgered him to save the pup first—reminding him that she didn’t need his help.” When his right-hand man fell silent, Doonan asked, “Tell me again, what was the expression on his face?”
MacManus snorted. “Resigned exasperation! Eileen has never let him forget that she could have saved the pup without his help, and that when he jumped in that he’d nearly drowned herself and the dog.
She never thanked him.” He sighed. “And that’s why marriage between my Cormac and your Eileen would never have worked, no matter how hard we may have tried to maneuver those two toward it. ”
Doonan fell silent for a moment. “Aye. She’s a stubborn woman, and will not likely apologize for that time with rescuing the pup either.
Never will. She has a hard head. Takes after me—not her mother, God rest her soul.
I had hoped that Cormac and Eileen would grow up to discover that love can follow if best friends marry.
Her mother and I started out that way…childhood friends.
” He waited another moment before adding, “If Eileen were more like her ma, she and Cormac would have made a fine match.”
MacManus agreed. “But as we both have seen over the years, from the way Cormac clenched his jaw every time Eileen started to harangue him over God knows what, it would never have worked. When do you think your daughter will quit reminding him that she still is the better swimmer?”
“Right after she stops reminding him that the five years between them didn’t make him smarter, just older,” Doonan replied.
“You’re right. It probably is a blessing that Cormac never asked for her hand.
” His shoulders slumped. “And now she’s gone and involved herself in matters that will have repercussions. ”
“Aye,” MacManus agreed. “Pulling Flaherty from the sea will have gossip circulating until the next mail coach arrives in time to take the tale all the way back to London!”
A sliver of worry lodged itself at the base of Doonan’s neck. He rubbed at the spot. “Do you think the news will reach the Customs or Excise Offices?”
“I’d be counting on it,” MacManus answered.
Doonan felt the man’s steady stare and finally acknowledged the unspoken question.
“It would not have mattered what Eileen was wearing—her smuggling trousers, or one of the gowns she saves for working at the Mermaid’s Glass—either would have been plastered to her by the time she dove into the waves. ”
“There’s talk,” MacManus told him.
“I knew there would be.”
“I’ve already alerted Rafferty and Doyle. We’ve covered the village and the moors beyond, spreading the news of her valiant rescue of Flaherty.”
“I’m grateful.”
“Have you spoken to the duke’s man and asked his intentions?”
“I have. Flaherty isn’t the one balking at the marriage.”
“That’s better news than I’d hoped for. All things considered, it should not have come as a surprise to him. After all, it was his big Irish mouth that cast aspersions on your daughter’s reputation.”
“He must have had one too many ales not to have realized that he was the source of the rumors.”
MacManus grumbled, “My sons, Rafferty’s too, have been staunchly denying Flaherty’s innuendos from the first—even though they have been on the receiving end of Eileen’s sharp tongue ever since we first assigned one of them to walk her to and from work.”
“It has eased my worry considerably,” Doonan admitted. “Once she’s serving tankards of ale, she’s under the watch of at least one or two of our men.”
“No place safer,” MacManus agreed, then added, “Our lads have been known to be swift to wield their blades first—and ask questions second.”
Doonan laughed. “’Tis why Ruan and his crew agreed to a truce in the first place.”
MacManus grinned. “We fight as dirty as Ruan and his men.” He waited a beat, then asked, “How long do you think it will take the new excise man to figure that out?”
“If he’s like the rest of the men that have been assigned to St. Ives,” Doonan said, “I’d give him six months, maybe more.”
“We’ll use that time wisely and tuck away enough goods for our families—and those in need—to have stores that will last through the winter.”
Doonan patted MacManus on the shoulder. “Flaherty’s going to send an urgent message to the duke asking for a special license.”
“Do you think His Grace will send one? Flaherty works for him—he isn’t a member of Society.”
“From the look on Flaherty’s face, I believe he will.”
“That’s fine, then. Rafferty and I will have our sons spread the word of Eileen’s bravery and Flaherty’s—”
“Not yet,” Doonan interrupted. “We need proof that it was one of Judson’s men who shot him in the back.”
“I didn’t hear that he was shot,” MacManus said.
“I was getting around to it,” Doonan said. “Now that you know, you’ll understand why I do not want my daughter’s name mentioned with Flaherty’s.”
“Aye, ’tis a matter of her safety,” MacManus agreed.
“It is. You’ll let Rafferty and the others know?”
“I will.”
Doonan nodded. “I’d best be getting back home. I don’t want to have to fend off any other rumors, when my daughter’s heart was in the right place rescuing the man.”
“I’ll ask the lads to keep their eyes and ears open.”
With a grunt, Doonan spun on his heel and stepped to the left, while MacManus went to the right. Separating was essential; it kept small minds from creating false narratives and loose lips from spreading them.
*
Flaherty watched Eileen’s head start to fall forward. Poor lass was exhausted—not that he was in any better shape, but he must have rested enough while unconscious that his eyes weren’t drooping shut.
He wondered what more he could do or say to convince the lass that he truly hadn’t meant for his thoughtless comments to become barbs the villagers of St. Ives used to berate her.
But in his defense, one look at the woman’s curves, and his head went on a side trip to a room lit by a crackling fire, and two bodies entwined—specifically her legs wrapped around his waist and his cock—
“Randy bugger,” he grumbled. “Unless and until the lass truly forgives ye, ye won’t be getting within ten feet of her, let alone doing what ye’re thinking, even after ye’ve wed!”
The faint hoot of an owl had Flaherty cocking his head to one side. The second hoot had him rising slowly, so as not to disturb his curvaceous, black-haired guardian. He walked to the rear of the cottage, slowly opened the door a crack, and slipped through.
“What are ye—” O’Malley began.
“Doing here?” Flaherty finished. “Thought I might go for a stroll last night along the cliffs while I was there, practice cliff diving and swimming.” He glared at O’Malley. “What the feck do ye think I’m doing here?”
“After what I heard ye’ve been saying about Miss Doonan, I couldn’t say.” O’Malley’s eyes flickered from the bandage wrapped around Flaherty’s forehead to the equally fresh bandage wrapped around his neck to the shoulder. “Ye look like hell.”
“Feel like it. What are ye doing here? Ye’ll attract attention, and that’s not what the lass needs right now.”
“Where is Miss Doonan?”
“Sleeping.”
O’Malley scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I know it’s been hard on ye with every last one of us married, but did ye have to tumble Doonan’s daughter the minute ye got her alone?”
Flaherty’s hand shot out, grabbed his cousin’s cravat, and twisted it. “Ye’d best be swallowing those words and never be repeating them! Eileen fell asleep in the chair next to the cot where I was resting—doctor’s orders. I didn’t touch her!”
O’Malley shook free. “Well then, ye won’t mind coming with me.
Talk’s spreading about ye being shot, tossed off the cliff, and drowning in last night’s storm.
Seeing ye out on patrol will put paid to those rumors.
We need to get ye back on yer horse and riding the southern patrol.
’Tisn’t as necessary to ride up past Penwith Tower—not too many residents wander past there or the duke’s manor house. ”
“I cannot leave her alone. She’s exhausted.” Flaherty raked a hand through his hair and rasped, “She saved me life, Finn. I owe her.”
“I heard low voices coming from the alleyway near the Randy Cock. It was Doonan and one of his men. He’ll be heading back here, I’m thinking.”
“Why’s that?” Flaherty asked.
O’Malley shook his head. “Are ye daft? What da in his right mind would leave his only daughter alone with the likes of ye, all things—and rumors—considered?”
“I never thought what I’d said would be repeated outside of the Mermaid’s Glass.”
O’Malley stared at the bandage around his cousin’s head. “Just how hard did ye get bashed in the noggin?”
Flaherty raised a hand to the bandage, then let it drop to his side. “Twice—at least, that’s how many times the lass said it bashed into the rocks.”
O’Malley winced, then froze when he heard a door open and close, a deep voice calling Flaherty’s name. He grabbed hold of Flaherty, tossed him over his shoulder, and ran along the back of the cottage to where he’d left his gelding. “Go! And don’t stop until ye’re at the tower.”
“But—”
“I’ll do damage control and demand to know what Doonan knows about yer disappearance and supposed death.”
Flaherty did not want to leave the lass, but to protect her, he would have to. “I’m needing a special license.”
“Send the missive as soon as ye get to the tower. Tell His Grace that it’s an emergency.”
“Haven’t they all been?” Flaherty grumbled as he mounted the horse. He was glad the path leading around the back of the Doonans’ cottage was a mix of cinders and dirt—the sound of the gelding’s hooves were muffled.
“Doonan!” O’Malley shouted. “Where’s Flaherty?”
Relieved that his cousin would distract his future father-in-law, Flaherty kept his head down.
But no one was hanging about. ’Twas midmorning, and most of the village women were still at their daily chores.
By now, they’d be simmering and stirring a pot of stew.
Mayhap slicing the bread they’d baked a few hours ago for tea.
His stomach rumbled and he rubbed at the ache.
“I could do with some bread and a bowl of stew meself.”
As he followed the road out of the village toward Penwith Tower, he decided he’d stop to beg a bit of bread and whatever Finn’s wife might have to go with it.
If their babe hadn’t kept her too busy this morning, then he’d ask for jam on the bread.
With a pot or two of tea, it would be a good start toward filling his belly.
When he was within sight of the tower’s new curtain wall, he took note of Kelly standing guard.
Flaherty saw movement out of the corner of his eye a heartbeat before he heard the shot fired.
Leaning low, he felt the heat of a lead ball close to his injured shoulder.
He brushed a hand over the horse’s neck to ensure the animal was unharmed, then pressed his thighs against the gelding’s sides, rumbling, “Run, laddie!”
The horse took off like an arrow loosed from a bow as a second shot sounded from behind.
Flaherty felt a searing pain part his hair a heartbeat before he was weightless…
floating. His last thought was of the buxom lass he’d promised to protect.
As utter darkness claimed him, he wondered: who would watch over her now?