Chapter One #3
Mille nodded, ducked back inside, and shut the door.
Flaherty doubted it was any warmer inside the coach, but at least she and her babe were out of the breeze, which had picked up again.
He felt another rush of blood add to the warmth beneath his shirt and wondered if it was because his heart had begun to pound when he’d noticed the lass’s exceptional figure.
Short of shifting both his frockcoat and waistcoat out of the way to lift up his shirt and examine the wound, he would not be able to see the extent of the damage until they arrived at the manor house.
He did not need to touch the spot to see if it still bled—the warmth confirmed it.
“I need your help mounting. Please, Mr. Flaherty?”
The frustration in Pippa’s tone had him setting aside the minor discomfort of his wound.
He had a job to do. “Aye, lass.” He bent again, ignored the shaft of pain, and laced his fingers a second time.
She placed one small-booted foot in the makeshift stirrup and hoisted herself onto the horse’s back, but didn’t quite manage to get her leg over the animal’s back.
At the sight of her well-rounded backside level with his mouth, Flaherty silently swore and gnawed his lip.
Thoughts of biting the curvaceous bottom far too close to his face were difficult to ignore.
God, help me! he thought. ’Tis been far too long since I’ve bedded a woman that this one should be tempting me!
Finally, she managed to scoot far enough onto the horse’s back to seat herself. Her worried expression had him forcing a neutral look on his face. “Are you in terrible pain?”
He’d never admit to the lass the thoughts, or the desire, running riot through him. “I’ll live.” He handed her the other horse’s reins. “Can ye manage both animals?”
Pippa inclined her head, as if she were royalty and he her servant. He wasn’t, but he’d save reminding her of that fact until after they were safely within the walls of Summerfield Chase.
“Of course I can manage. I grew up in my father’s stables, until I was four and ten, and he forbade me to spend my days there.”
Her reply got under his skin, like a sliver of wood.
Flaherty turned toward the carriage, but before he could speak, Millie was standing in the doorway with her babe bundled close against her, her woolen shawl covering the infant’s head.
He rushed over to help her step down. “Have a care, Mrs. Trentchester.”
“Millie.”
“Aye, Millie.” Her hand was cold to the touch.
Steadying her next to his horse, he said, “Hold still a moment.” He slipped out of his coat, wincing when he had to move his injured side.
Thankfully the blood had yet to soak through the heavy wool of his waistcoat.
“I’m going to tuck me coat around yerself and yer babe. ”
She stilled and let him pull the frockcoat snugly around her.
“Now then, don’t be worrying that me horse cannot carry the three of us. This fine gelding is strong as an ox, and has an even temperament. He’s a good lad.” Flaherty scratched behind the animal’s ear. “Aren’t ye?”
The horse’s whinny had Millie smiling and Pippa laughing softly.
Bracing himself, he gently lifted and settled Millie and her babe on his horse and mounted behind them.
“I need to pull ye into me arms and on me lap to keep a draft from blowing around ye while we ride. ’Tis just over half a mile from here. ”
“I’m grateful, Mr. Flaherty—”
“Just Flaherty.” He shifted her until she rested against his uninjured side, then wrapped his arm around her so she was snuggled against him. “Close yer eyes and try to rest.”
Flaherty looked over his shoulder and was pleased to see the lass was behind him, leading the other carriage horse. “Ready?”
“Yes, Mr.—”
“Just Flaherty.”
“I’m ready, Flaherty.”
*
Pippa could not believe the irritating man had managed to get a reaction she never expected out of her.
Judging by the way he shifted ever so slightly the closer they got to their destination, he was in pain.
Remorse slithered up from her uneasy belly.
She hadn’t meant to keep her finger on the trigger.
When he stepped toward her, his expression thunderous, the need to put distance between them had had her stepping backward and stumbling.
Knowing it would probably prick the man’s pride to the point where he was suffering, she moved her mount closer to his. Pitching her voice low, she asked, “How much farther?”
He frowned, but answered, “See that copse of fir trees up ahead?”
“I do.”
“Watch for a road just beyond it, on the left. That will lead us to the baron’s home.” He mumbled a curse and straightened in the saddle.
“Do you need to stop?”
“Nay, ’twould disturb yer friend, and she and her babe are sleeping.”
When Pippa saw the road ahead, she fell back so Flaherty could ride in front of her to lead the way.
“Brace yerself, lass,” he called over his shoulder as a manor house came into view. “I’ll be needing to signal O’Malley and Garahan that we need their help.”
“What kind of—”
The loud, short, sharp whistle had Millie jolting, and her babe crying.
“Now you’ve done it.” Pippa heard an answering shrill whistle and the pounding of hoofbeats racing toward them.
“Flaherty!” A blond giant of a man, dressed in black like Flaherty, rode toward them.
“Where’s the trouble?” The second man on horseback had dark hair and was equal in size to the fair-haired man. He too was dressed in black.
A quick glance at Flaherty had her realizing all three men were not only dressed alike, but were built alike—broad through the chest and shoulders, and tall as trees! She swallowed her unease to ask, “Are these the men you spoke of?”
Flaherty grunted, and Pippa realized he had to have been hiding how much pain he was in. She blurted out, “He’s been shot!”
The woman in Flaherty’s arms stirred, and her son let out another wail of distress. “Pippa? Are we safe yet?”
The blond giant leapt off his horse and approached Flaherty’s horse slowly. “Aye, ye’re safe now. I’ll carry ye inside.”
Pippa noticed the man’s eyes widen in surprise, and wondered if it was at how slight Millie was, or that her babe was only a few days old. She needed to warn him. “Please be gentle with Millie and little Roarke. He is only three days old.”
“God in Heaven!” the blond man said.
“Sure and he watched over these three, O’Malley,” Flaherty rumbled. “Their carriage is half a mile from here. ’Twill be easy to spot when we send someone to fetch it. ’Tis the black one with the broken wheel.”
“What about the sharpshooters who got a piece of ye?” the dark-haired man asked.
Flaherty glared at Pippa. “’Twas just one, Garahan, and not much of a sharpshooter.”
“I did not mean to shoot you,” she reminded him, watching Garahan dismount.
Flaherty growled. “I’m not so certain of that, lass.”
Both men stopped to stare at her, and Garahan asked, “Why in the bloody hell did ye shoot Flaherty?”
“’Twas an accident,” their auburn-haired savior admitted. “O’Malley, take Mrs. Trentchester and her babe inside. Garahan can help the lass dismount.”
“I’ll be hearing the whole of yer tale once we have them inside,” O’Malley murmured.
He strode toward the back of the building with Millie and her babe in his arms. Someone must have either heard the whistles or seen O’Malley approaching, because the door swung open and hands were ushering them inside.
Worry speared through Pippa. “Will Millie and Roarke be safe?”
Garahan grunted. “Do ye care?”
“Of course I care!” she huffed.
“Well then, why did ye shoot me cousin when he was obviously trying to help ye?”
“Cousin?”
“Aye, Flaherty’s cousin to meself and O’Malley. Well?” Garahan demanded.
She shrank back from the growl in his voice until Flaherty muttered, “Leave off, Ryan. I’ll tell ye all about how she landed on her ar—er…bottom to perfect her aim, after ye help her off the bloody carriage horse.”
Garahan narrowed his gaze and finally grunted. “Fine.” Without much effort on the man’s part, she was off the horse and on her feet a moment later. Garahan turned his back on her and studied Flaherty. “Which side is it?”
“Left.”
He braced his shoulder beneath Flaherty’s good arm and warned, “Take a deep breath and hold it.”
“How is that going to help?”
“For feck’s sake,” Garahan swore, “just do it, Dillon!”
Flaherty had to be in pain. Pippa’s eyes stung with unshed tears, and she had to steel herself not to cry. The last thing she needed was the men thinking she was not only a horrible person for shooting Flaherty, but a weak one for giving in to tears.
She noticed Garahan kept his arm around Flaherty’s back and started walking toward the manor house, only to stop when two men came running from the stables.
“These two fine animals without saddles are carriage horses,” Flaherty told them. “They’ll appreciate a good rub-down and a cupful of oats and water after ye’ve cooled them down.”
“Right away, Flaherty. And an apple for your gelding?”
“Aye. Thank ye.” He finally looked at Pippa, and for a fraction of a moment, she saw the true depth of his pain.
“I am so sorry. I never mean to shoot you.”
“Faith, I believe ye, lass. As me cousins will be certain to tell ye, the ladies are all after the same thing.” He slowly smiled at her. “And ’tisn’t to shoot me.”
Garahan snickered. “Let’s get that wound looked at.”
Standing there, she wondered whether or not she would be welcomed into the house once the truth was out. Because accident or not, she had shot one of the duke’s men!