Extended Epilogue #2
He glanced down into the smiling face he woke to every morning. “Aye, lass?”
She brushed the tips of her fingers along his jaw to his chin, near that very spot where she’d punched him all those years ago. “I love you.”
“Ah, lass, I depend up yer love.”
“Fenton?”
“Aye?”
“Kiss me.”
“They’re doing it again,” Roisin grumbled to Bridget, pointing at their parents.
Fiona and Saoirse heard their sisters and looked over their shoulders to where their parents stood, in the middle of the chaos of sailors rescued, the duke’s men, and their grandfather’s smugglers lending aid.
“Da spends as much time kissing Ma as he does telling us we’re too young to be kissing anyone,” Fiona mumbled.
Saoirse turned to her twin and slowly smiled. “What he doesn’t know…”
“…won’t get you or me in trouble,” Fiona finished, then elbowed Saoirse and pointed to Meggie. “Look!”
Finnian rolled onto his back and stared up at the angelic face leaning over him. “Are you sure you aren’t an angel?”
Meggie smiled and turned one shoulder toward him, laughing. “See? No wings.”
His hoarse chuckle had her brushing a hank of blond hair off his forehead and immediately frowning at the jagged cut nearly hidden in his hairline. “You’re hurt. I can patch you up at our cottage.” She rose to her feet. “Da! We need to take Finnian back to our cottage so I can tend to his wounds.”
Moira glanced down at the man she knelt beside. Now that Padraig had emptied his guts, right after Finnian had, she noticed the way he held his arm tight against his stomach. “Is it your shoulder or your arm?”
He stared up at her for a few moments before answering, “My wrist.”
“We have a ready supply of bandages, slings, herbs, and more. Our ma taught us everything we know about healing.”
The dark-haired sailor held her gaze for a moment before asking, “Do all earth angels have the power to heal?”
Moria smiled. “This one does.” She stood. “Da! We need Ma’s healing supplies and help setting Padraig’s wrist.”
“I’m not ready for Meggie to wed,” Eileen said to Flaherty.
“And I’m not ready for Moira to either,” he grumbled.
“We need the wagon, Da!” Meggie called.
“And your splints, Ma!” Moira added.
Neither sister noticed the way their parents were staring at them. Resigned, Flaherty pressed a kiss to Eileen’s temple. “I’ll be speaking to Finnian.”
“And Padraig,” she reminded him.
“Aye, lass. Padraig, too.” He whistled to O’Malley as he strode over to where his cousin stood. “We need the wagon!”
O’Malley was too busy glaring at another two sailors lying a few feet away. “Me daughter should not be spending this much time talking to those two.”
“Did ye catch their names?”
“Giles and Martin,” O’Malley said before clenching his jaw.
“English?” Flaherty glanced at the men. “Well now, I’m thinking that once these two, and the ones making calf eyes at me two eldest daughters, heal up, we should invite the four of them to our next session honing our bare-knuckle skills.”
O’Malley relaxed his jaw enough to reply, “Done!”
“Once we take their pride down a few pegs, they’ll be ready to listen and learn.”
O’Malley chuckled. “Aye. We may be older…”
“…but we’re meaner,” Flaherty said. “With the scars to prove it.” He frowned at Giles and Martin. “I thought Boadicea’s heart was set on Nate Pritchard. He’s grown into a fine man, still protective of his ma—and yer daughter.”
O’Malley sighed. “Apparently, too protective to hear Cia’s side of the story, which happens to involve one of the Rafferty boys.”
Flaherty chuckled. “Have ye had a word with Nate?”
“Aye. We both know ’tis me feisty daughter who needs a talking to.”
“And how did that go?” Flaherty asked with a straight face. He knew ’twas no laughing matter.
“Mollie shooed me out of the room and told me to take a walk and cool me head.”
“That well?” Flaherty stared at Meggie, then Moira, and asked, “Any advice for me? I’m thinking I’ll be needing it.”
“Aye,” O’Malley grumbled. “Don’t have daughters.”
Flaherty snorted with laughter. “Faith, between us, we’ve eleven daughters!”
O’Malley looked up at the storm clouds. “We’ll have to be cagey about it, but I’m thinking we could end up with fine sons-in-law.”
Flaherty grinned at his cousin. “Ye’ve always been the thinking man.” He glanced at the scene around him and heard his daughters calling him. “I’d best be getting the wagon over to Meggie and Moira. We’ll stop and collect Giles and Martin on our way to me cottage.”
O’Malley nodded. “Oh, and Flaherty?”
“Aye?”
“We’d best not tell our wives about our plans, until we’ve done a thorough vetting of the lads in and around St. Ives and pooled our resources with our brothers and cousins.”
“Excellent suggestion.” Flaherty turned his head and watched as Giles skimmed the tips of his fingers on Boadicea’s cheek. “You there! Giles!”
The sailor jolted, dropped his hand, and turned to look at Flaherty. “Aye?”
“Mind yer hands!” Flaherty warned.
O’Malley spun around and stalked over to stand behind his daughter. “Me daughter’s spoken for.”
Giles glanced from O’Malley to Flaherty and back. “She’s pledged to that redheaded old man?”
Flaherty roared with laughter. The lad’s head must still be addled with seawater. “Ever been issued a bare-knuckle challenge, boy-o?”
Giles lifted his chin, eyes narrowed. “You’d be the first.”
“I’ll have to go easy on ye,” Flaherty told him. “Or it might be yer last.”
O’Malley shook his head. “Boadicea is me daughter. ’Tis me right to challenge the lad as a way to showing me solidarity to ye, cousin.”
Flaherty was about to reply when he noticed the grim-faced, broad-shouldered man striding toward Boadicea, who now had Giles’s head in her lap. “Well now, it seems yer daughter’s intended has come to claim his bride-to-be.”
“Let go of Cia!” Nate growled, reaching down to help her to her feet.
Instead of cooperating, O’Malley’s daughter yanked her hand free. “Can’t you see that Giles is hurt, and I’m tending to him?”
Nate’s frown was fierce. “I’m seeing it, all right.”
And that was when the fight started…