Chapter Seventeen
Flaherty’s jaw dropped when Doonan escorted Eileen into the sitting room. Rory jabbed him in the side with his elbow. “Yer mouth’s open.”
Seamus stood on the other side of him, chuckling. Dillon flanked Seamus, and surprised Flaherty when he told Seamus to shut his gob. O’Malley stood beside Rory and snickered at his cousins. “Ah, brotherly love.”
Flaherty ignored them all. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the vision walking toward him.
Her hair was loosely braided and lying across one shoulder—Mollie’s doing, no doubt, as it wasn’t the haphazard braid he’d become used to seeing Eileen wear.
It was intricate, and had tendrils of ink-black silk brushing against her face, her neck, and shoulders.
His thoughts strayed from the sanctity of the vows they were about to take to firelight caressing skin the color of fresh cream and—
He felt the sharp jab to his ribs again, and blinked.
Doonan’s jaw was clenched and his brothers and O’Malley were stifling their laughter.
“An intelligent man would pay attention,” O’Malley said.
“Especially when his father-in-law-to-be is about to place his beloved daughter’s hand and trust in that man. ”
Flaherty swallowed his pride and shrugged. “Faith, if yer daughter weren’t the most beautiful woman on God’s green Earth, then I wouldn’t have trouble paying attention. Sure and I’m thinking ’tis yer fault—and that of her sainted mother, God rest her soul.”
“Well now, you’ve brains in your head after all,” Doonan said, placing Eileen’s hand in Flaherty’s.
“Good save,” Rory whispered to him.
“Keep yer mind above yer waist,” Seamus whispered in his other ear.
Flaherty had to steel himself not to give in to the laughter tickling the back of his throat.
Dillon cleared his throat loudly to cover the fact that he was laughing, and O’Malley coughed to cover the fact that he was too. Bloody buggers had heard Seamus and Rory’s comments.
Flaherty glanced at the vicar, who was speaking softly to Mrs. Castleton, and then turned to Eileen, who was staring at his mouth. God, he needed to kiss her! He rasped, “We’re ready for ye, vicar.”
The clergyman smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Castleton. Forgive me, just a last-minute detail to discuss. As your special license is in order, and with my having spoken to Iain”—the vicar nodded to Doonan—“I’m honored to marry one of our own from St. Ives”—the vicar beamed at Eileen—“Miss Eileen Doonan to one of our benefactor’s trusted private guard, Fenton Flaherty.
In his private missive to me, His Grace expressed his pride and gratitude for your service to him, Flaherty, and wishes you and your bride all the happiness he and his duchess have found. ”
Flaherty’s chest filled with warmth at the duke’s words, and he wondered if His Grace had said the same to his brothers—and cousins—but decided not to ask.
It wasn’t important. Marrying the woman who’d quickly become the center of his life was all that mattered.
They’d build a life between them, raise a family of raven-haired lasses and auburn-haired sons.
Thinking of their future children had his thoughts turning back to firelight, cream-colored skin, and—
Twin jabs hit his ribs—hard—on either side simultaneously.
He nearly gave in to the pain of his battered ribs, but held strong.
He shook his head. Seamus and Rory meant to see that he didn’t let his mind drift to the delights that would be waiting for him after their vows—which would be after the celebration, if Mrs. Castleton and the others had anything to say about it.
And according to the note Mrs. Castleton had received, she had orders from the duke to see that it did.
The vicar smiled at Flaherty and the woman standing beside him. Lord, she deserved a handsome man—not that he was unaware that his looks were pleasing to the opposite sex, but he was riddled with scars. Not just the latest ones to his head and shoulder. What if she—
And then he remembered their earlier conversation, where he mentioned he’d be finding her scars on their wedding night, then shocked her by asking if her scars were on her firm derrière.
Somehow—probably due to the poke in the middle of his back, no doubt from either O’Ghill or Tremayne, who had remained standing behind him and the lass once the vicar began to speak—he managed to respond when the vicar asked him to repeat his vows.
His mind drifted again when the lass repeated her vows while staring at his mouth. He needed to get a hold of himself, or he’d never last through the wedding supper Mrs. Castleton had prepared for them.
“You may kiss your bride, Flaherty.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. The rumbling chuckles surrounding them warmed his heart. His family and friends approved. He nipped Eileen’s bottom lip, then soothed it with a featherlight kiss. Drawing her snug against his side, he bent and whispered, “One toast.”
Eileen whispered back, “Toast?”
“Aye, if ye’re hungry, ye’ll have to wait—I can’t, lass,” he confessed. “’Tis killing me.”
Her hand cupped his jaw as her lips brushed his cheek. “Thank God! I don’t want to wait either.”
That was all Flaherty had to hear. He swept his wife off her feet and spun her around for all to see. “Me bride and I thank ye for standing up for us, but ye’ll need to be celebrating without us.” He kissed her lavishly to the cheers of his brothers, O’Ghill, and Tremayne.
Doonan stepped in front of him before he could leave the room. “You promised to take care of my daughter, and see that she has everything within your power to give her.”
“Aye, and I mean to,” Flaherty said, a smile tugging at his lips.
“But the supper—”
O’Ghill surprised him by speaking up. “Tremayne and I asked Mrs. Castleton to prepare a meal for ye.”
“Aye,” Tremayne agreed. “It will be delivered outside the last door on the right on the second floor.”
Flaherty grinned. “Faith, ye’re the thinking men. Thank ye.”
O’Ghill snorted. “Ye eedjit, I wasn’t thinking of ye, but of yer lovely bride.”
Flaherty shook his head. “Well then, I’ll thank Tremayne.”
“No need,” Tremayne replied. “I was thinking of your beautiful bride, too.”
Flaherty frowned at the pair. “Well, ye’d best stop thinking about my wife right now, or else I’ll be going a few rounds with the both of ye—at the same time.”
O’Ghill laughed. “Promises…”
“…promises,” Tremayne finished.
“That it is,” Flaherty said with a nod as he carried his bride from the room to the well wishes of all gathered.
He stepped over the threshold, into the hallway, and strode to the sweeping staircase.
As he took the steps two at a time, his mind kept replaying the scene that popped into his head earlier, of firelight and cream-colored skin that begged to be caressed.
“Fenton?”
He paused, blinked, and looked down into Eileen’s smiling face. “Aye, lass?”
Her soft smile had him sighing. “You’re about to run out of hallway.”
Her words had him shaking his head. “Ye’re going to be the death of me, lass.”
Worry darkened her eyes to the color of midnight. “I hope not. I did not rescue you, mourn you, then rejoice at the miracle of your coming back to life only to have to live through mourning you again so soon. Promise me you won’t put your life in danger.”
“Ah, lass. I would if I could, but ye must know me duties are fraught with danger. ’Tis why His Grace chose me cousins and me brothers to join his private guard. We’re hard to kill.”
Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over. Undone by them, Flaherty kissed them from her cheeks and softly urged her, “Open the door, lass.”
She sniffed back her tears and did as he asked. When he’d carried her over the threshold, he kicked the door shut with his heel.
“You can put me down now.”
He grunted. “Now that I’ve got a hold of ye, I’m never letting ye go, Eileen-lass. Ye’d best get used to it.” Her lilting laughter warmed his heart. “What’s so amusing?” he asked.
She brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. “It is going to make things a bit awkward when you need to ride out on your patrol.”
“Me horse is strong enough to carry two.”
She traced the tip of her finger along the line of his jaw. “Just think of how it difficult it would be for me to undress—”
“’Tis me duty and pleasure to help ye, lass.”
“Then there is bound to be an issue when I need to step over the rim of the copper tub to bathe.”
“Not at all, for I’ve a mind to bathe with ye.”
She swallowed audibly. Ah, that idea interested and distracted her. He shifted his hold on her, to extract a curl from her long eyelashes. He pressed his lips to her throat and inhaled. “Ye don’t smell like yerself, lass.” He sniffed her neck a second time and grumbled, “Ye smell like roses.”
“Mollie was kind enough to add rose petals to my bathwater.”
“’Tisn’t that I don’t like the scent, lass, but I’ve come to crave the herbed scent of ye.” He brushed his lips to her chin. Her cheek. Her brow. “Rosemary ’tis a clean, fresh scent that I will forever hold in me heart alongside me love for ye.”
“I need to replenish my supply.”
Flaherty noted the way her voice dipped low, as if she’d thought of something troubling. “What is it?”
She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I only just now realized that my supply wasn’t really just mine, it was for my da and me. What will he do now that he’s alone?”
Flaherty inhaled slowly, soothed by the feel of his wife in his arms. The need to help her see that she could still be a part of her da’s life was more important at the moment than his need to make love to her—though that need had him by the throat and the bollocks.
“Is that yer way of asking if I’d mind if ye tended to his home now that we’ll be living in ours? ”
Her eyes showed a flash of confusion before she asked, “We have a home?”
“Aye, lass. His Grace enclosed a separate note for me, offering his home, unless we want to build a cottage on his land. Then we are welcome to stay here until our cottage is finished.” He walked over to the bed and placed her on it.
Going down on one knee, he held her hand in his and said, “Did ye truly worry that we’d have to live in the barracks? ”
She lifted a shoulder, the movement far more delicate than when he shrugged. “Between the wake, your order that I would have to stop working in the tavern, and then getting ready for the vicar to marry us, it did cross my mind.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her knuckles—one at a time. “O’Malley and Mollie have rooms on the opposite end of the hallway from us. The duke wanted them to have the master bedroom and the nursery beside it.”
“That is so kind of the duke,” Eileen replied.
“His Grace takes care of his own,” Flaherty told her. “We’re to have the rooms at this end of the hallway—’tis a fair distance from O’Malley and Mollie’s rooms, which will afford us a bit of privacy.”
“It is quite large for a manor house,” she said. “But what of Mr. and Mrs. Castleton? Are we taking over their rooms?”
“Not at all—they have rooms on the ground floor, and have since they were hired by the fourth duke.”
“I see.”
“Would ye rather we lived in a cottage, like the one ye shared with yer da?”
She stared at their joined hands and fell silent.
“Ye had no trouble telling me what ye thought before we wed, so what’s stopping ye now?” Her eyes flashed with temper, as he’d hoped they would. “Ah, much better. I’d rather have ye glaring daggers at me than looking as if ye were afraid to tell me yer thoughts.”
“Afraid?” she huffed. “Of you? I’ll have you know, Fenton—”
He shot to his feet, lifted her into his arms, spun around, and sat down. “There she is! The lass that has had me by the bollocks from the moment I walked into the Mermaid’s Glass. I couldn’t take me eyes off ye and fell head over heels for ye.”
“You made it quite clear what you thought of me.”
“Now, lass, I thought we’d gotten past that. Ye said ye forgave me. Have ye changed yer mind?”
She crossed her arms beneath her full breasts, distracting him until she said, “I haven’t changed my mind, and would never go back on my word once given.”
“Ye’ve a warrior’s courage and loving heart, lass. I don’t know that I deserve ye, but I’m keeping ye.”
She smiled. “Well, to tell you the truth, I had not thought to toss you back where I’d fished you out.” She narrowed her eyes. “But if you try to tell me what to do again—”
Flaherty couldn’t resist kissing her before she finished her threat.
He plundered her mouth, all the while bound and possessed to give her a reason why she wouldn’t be tossing him back into the sea.
He changed the angle of his kiss, and vowed to unlock the passion he knew lay sleeping inside of her.
Flaherty had sensed, when first he met her, that she was not only a woman with strong convictions, but one who, once she gave her heart, would trust enough to give her body to the man who stirred that passion.
Tasting her fully, drunk on the flavor and the feel of her, he made a silent vow that he would never let her regret marrying him. After all, he’d called her his heart. She’d said he was her love. Flaherty intended to teach her just how deep that love could be.