Chapter Nine
Tremayne followed Doonan out the front door as soon as Eileen announced that she was going to make a pot of tea and that they should see to their horses. “Your daughter is a brave lass with a strong mind,” he remarked as they walked.
Doonan nodded as they approached the small barn next to his cottage.
The lieutenant hesitated, then said what was on his mind: “The last time I was in St. Ives, it was obvious that Flaherty was attracted to your daughter. He told me how she braved a stormy sea to rescue him, that O’Malley was going to request a special license from the duke.”
Doonan sighed. “All true.” He stared at Tremayne for a moment, then said, “It seems you have a soft spot for my daughter yourself.”
Tremayne blew out a breath. “She has a beautiful, courageous heart…and that heart is breaking, Doonan. Are you certain you cannot trust her with the truth about Flaherty?”
“Aye,” Doonan answered. “My Eileen understands why most of us in the village have turned to smuggling—not wrecking—to feed our families. She’s not had an easy time of it since her mum passed.
What she’s lacking is belief in her own beauty, that the right man will cherish her in spite of her beauty and the curves that most of the women in the village are jealous of. ”
“Flaherty’s a lucky man,” Tremayne said, meaning it. “If anything happens to him, I will stand in his stead to protect her.”
Doonan nodded. “I suspected as much, from what O’Malley has told me about the men in the duke’s guard and yourself.
I believe my daughter may not be concerned with someone offering to protect her, but may worry that, at some point the duke will have his men round up those of us involved in the free trade.
She wouldn’t want to put Flaherty in the middle of a decision to protect her, thereby breaking the law, if it meant breaking his vow to the duke.
” Doonan shrugged. “Not that I have ever heard of the duke’s men taking advantage of their position or connection to His Grace to subvert the law. ”
The pair continued to rub down their horses, and Tremayne said, “I do know for a fact that Flaherty and the others have been known to skirt the law, but you’re right that they do their best to remain within the confines of it.” He hesitated, then asked, “What are you worried about?”
“She’s my daughter. My name is well known to the excise men who have been sent to St. Ives to see that I do not ply my trade—at least openly. The last few excise men thought they were clever enough to skim their share of the profits before dealing with us in a way that satisfied His Majesty.”
Tremayne grunted. “I was here to save O’Malley from an ignoble death on the gallows in front of the Excise Office in the village, and I know how the wreckers and Cornish smugglers manage to make a profit working with Ruan—who will be arriving in just shy of two hours.”
“I trust Ruan,” Doonan told him. “He has proven to be a man who honors his word and does not tolerate dishonesty among his crew.” He met Tremayne’s steady gaze. “Neither do I.”
Tremayne let the matter go for the moment to ask, “Were you aware of your daughter’s plans to meet with Ruan?”
Doonan sighed. “I had a feeling she might seek his aid and advised the men I had guarding her to leave a dinghy tied up on shore…and to ensure she reached it safely.” He paused, then added, “Ruan and I have worked together long enough to have developed a respect and trust between us. Both of us demand absolute loyalty from our men.” He slowly smiled.
“Ruan admires Eileen’s fiery spirit and courage. ”
The lieutenant inclined his head. “You know that it must be killing Flaherty not to be the one to keep her out of harm’s way, even if he had not asked to marry your daughter.”
Doonan nodded.
“You should know that she had been weeping when I boarded Ruan’s ship.”
Doonan’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “I never thought the Frenchman would allow one of his men to attempt to—”
“He did not,” Tremayne interrupted. “Her tears had nothing to do with Ruan or his men. In fact, the man offered the same comfort I had.”
The smuggler’s eyes narrowed. “And what would that be?”
“A clean handkerchief.”
As he knew it would, Tremayne’s comment took the wind out of Doonan’s sails. “She’s strong, but her woman’s heart’s been bleeding ever since she heard about Flaherty’s demise.”
Tremayne wasn’t often affected by a woman’s tears. In his experience, more often than not, weeping was a feminine tool used to divert a man’s ire. “She was distraught after asking me about Flaherty’s wake, and if he had been shot in the head…” He let his words trail off.
Doonan sighed. “Always has to know every detail. That hard head of hers isn’t satisfied until she has every last bit of information in order to make up her mind. The details O’Malley came up with were gory.”
“Aye, they needed to have a strong grain of truth to them.” The lieutenant scrubbed a hand over his face.
“She won’t thank me for telling you, but after I answered her questions, she covered her mouth with her hand, trying to control the need to vomit.
I encouraged her to get rid of the bile in her belly. ”
Doonan clenched his jaw, then relaxed it enough to ask, “And did she?”
“Aye. That was when I offered my handkerchief.”
“Thank you,” Doonan rasped. “Now do you see why she cannot be told? Her emotions, or lack thereof, would give away the fact that Flaherty is not dead.”
“Aye,” Tremayne agreed.
Doonan continued, “According to O’Malley, his cousin’s thoughts are concentrated on exacting justice, and he has been demanding the right to go after Judson’s man Selkirk for trying to kill him.”
Tremayne nodded. “Sounds like something I’d do myself, take care of the blackguard who tried to murder me first. Flaherty was seen falling off his horse, by the sharpshooter who tried to crease his skull.
We added to the rumor that we had your men start down at the Randy Cock and the Mermaid’s Glass. It is grim enough to be believed.”
He stared long and hard at Doonan until the older man demanded, “What?”
“How long before Flaherty’s worry for your daughter has him forgetting our plans because of his need to see her?”
Doonan’s eyes flashed, while his expression remained neutral. “O’Malley mentioned tying Flaherty to a chair to keep him hidden at Penwith Tower.”
“How long do you think Flaherty can keep his eyes closed and lie still, impersonating a corpse?” Tremayne asked. “If I know Flaherty, he’ll be worrying that Eileen will either be well rid of him—and before you ask, yes, I have heard the rumors about her—or prostrate with grief at his passing.”
“I had not considered the consequences as you’ve stated them.
I should have, but didn’t.” Shaking his head as if to clear it, Doonan continued, “Flaherty will be all but blind. We’re going to wrap his head with bandages—clean ones, or Mollie O’Malley will have our heads—that will cover half his face, including his eyes. ”
Tremayne nodded. “If need be, I can knock him senseless and place him in the coffin for you.”
Doonan clapped Tremayne on the back. “That’s fine, then. Now I won’t have to ask O’Malley to do it.”
“If one of the Garahans were here, he’d be my suggestion. I’ve noticed the Flahertys seem more comfortable trading blows with their Garahan cousins than the O’Malleys.”
“I hadn’t noticed any rivalry, but it is good to know,” Doonan replied. “Now then, I’d best speak to Flaherty before we meet with Ruan and his men.”
“Has O’Malley spoken to Flaherty about Ruan being at the wake tonight?”
“He should be filling him in on the addition to our plans now.” Doonan gave his horse one last pat on his neck and said, “Tea should be ready by now. We’d best get back.”
*
Flaherty shot to his feet and swayed. Ignoring the pain slicing through his skull—back to front—he growled, “Are ye mad? The Frenchman wouldn’t want anyone to know that the rumors about his being on good terms with the Duke of Wyndmere are accurate!
He would never risk his business falling off because of customers worrying that he’s in the law’s pocket. ”
“Ye would see it that way,” O’Malley grumbled.
“How in the bloody hell else would I see it?” Flaherty demanded.
“Like the clever plot it is,” O’Malley reminded him. “Ye know that Ruan agreed to the work with the duke before on me behalf—this time ’tis to save yer fecking arse.”
“Hah!” Flaherty scoffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “’Twas me head and not me arse!”
O’Malley sighed. “Either way, ye’re here, aren’t ye?”
“Aye.”
“And ye aren’t dead from the latest attempt to kill ye, are ye?”
Flaherty ran a hand through his hair, groaning as he brushed against his most recent injury.
“Leave off touching the stitches, else ye’ll pull them out and bleed over me spare shirt.”
“Ye could have gotten the one from me quarters,” Flaherty mumbled.
“Me darling Mollie has both yer shirts soaking to try to remove the bloodstains from them.” O’Malley frowned. “Before mending the one with the holes in the shoulder—or did ye forget about getting shot in the back before ye took a dive off the cliff?”
Flaherty’s ire dissipated immediately. “I don’t mean to make extra work for yer wife. I’m grateful. Please tell Mollie I said so.”
O’Malley nodded. “Now then, listen instead of interrupting.”
“Very well. Continue with yer cockeyed plan to have Ruan here at me fine wake—ye won’t forget the jug of the Irish and mayhap one of jugs of poteen I’ve been saving in the back of the cabinet in me quarters.”
O’Malley grinned. “I have already rooted out yer private stash of the illegal brew—”
“’Tis only illegal for an Irishman to have it in Ireland…not in England.”
“Ye have the right of it. Where was I?”
“Ruan will be joining yerself at me wake.”