Chapter Nineteen #2
A few hours later, frustration added fuel to the fire of Flaherty’s temper. “Are ye telling me not to confide in me wife after she already discerned that two of her brothers are no doubt making their way toward Summerfield Chase even as we speak?”
Tremayne calmly asked, “Would you go against a direct order?”
Flaherty inhaled deeply, ready to blast the lieutenant with his temper, but could not. Tremayne had the right of it. “Ye know I would not. ’Tis just that I’ve never been in this position before. Though, recently, I’ve had the suspicion that O’Malley and Garahan have with Caro and Prudence.”
Tremayne nodded. “Coventry has with Miranda as well, but there are times when I would think it would be permissible to bend the rules, but only after you ask the person directing the operation—and you know for a fact that that isn’t me—for permission.”
“Aye.” Meeting the lieutenant’s direct gaze, Flaherty asked, “Do ye have a quarter of an hour to spare?”
“Aye.”
Flaherty grinned. “Well now, as it happens, so do I—’tis the time allowance between shifts. Care to go a few rounds in the outbuilding?”
Tremayne laughed. “I won’t even need half that amount to time to knock you off your feet.”
“Care to make that a wager? I’m thinking I may need the extra blunt now that I’ve a wife—and her best friend and babe to provide for.”
As they walked toward the stables, and the outbuilding just beyond, Tremayne asked, “Do you mean to tell me Millie and her babe are going to be living with you?”
“Aye. Until we can find substantial proof of her brother-in-law’s threats, I gave me word she’ll be under me protection—Garahan and O’Malley have too.”
“And you cannot do that unless she is near at hand.”
“Aye.” Flaherty opened the door and waved his hand for Tremayne to precede him. “’Tisn’t much, but it has been home for a couple of years. As well as the safest place to store munitions and extra weapons. Until recently, the three of us bunked here prior to marrying.”
The lieutenant scanned the room and nodded. “I see that you’ve cleared a large portion of the room.”
Flaherty slipped out of his coat and tossed it on a bench along the wall. “We rarely require more space to maintain our bare-knuckle skills.” He slowly smiled. “How rusty are yers?”
The lieutenant removed his frockcoat and tossed it next to Flaherty’s. In a few moments, they had removed their cravats and waistcoats. Rolling up his sleeves, Tremayne asked, “Do we have time for best two out of three rounds?”
Flaherty snorted with laughter. “I’ll only need one blow to take the starch out of yer legs.”
With that, the men exchanged blows. Tremayne wavered on his feet, but did not go down. Flaherty followed his right cross with two quick jabs to the throat—both of which the lieutenant blocked, before delivering an uppercut that had Flaherty’s head ringing.
“Faith, ye’re harder to knock out than I thought!” The door burst open and hit the wall twice, but neither Tremayne nor Flaherty turned to see who it was. They were both determined to win the fight decisively with a knockout.
“Why did ye not wait for us?” Garahan demanded.
“Ye know we aren’t supposed to be sparring in the middle of the morning,” O’Malley barked.
Flaherty gritted his teeth and delivered another right cross, this time putting every ounce of his strength and his anger at the situation his wife, Millie, and her babe were in behind it.
Tremayne dropped his hands, rubbed his chin, and blinked.
“Hell of a blow,” he rasped, reaching for Flaherty’s shoulder.
Flaherty coiled, ready to strike another blow, but noticed Tremayne’s eyes weren’t focused. “Ye’d best sit down, lieutenant. O’Malley, toss that bucket of cold water on him.”
“Aye,” Garahan agreed, “that should do the trick and fix his vision.”
That done, Tremayne cursed, then shook his head, sending droplets of cold water everywhere. “I could have done without the bath, O’Malley.”
Flaherty and his cousins snickered. “Let’s have a look at yer eyes, boy-o. The dazed look is gone.” He grunted. “Works every time.” Turning to Garahan, he said, “Toss me that drying cloth for our friend here.” He handed it to Tremayne. “Need me help?”
Tremayne chuckled. “You’ve helped enough, Flaherty. I need a shot of—”
Before he finished speaking, he had his choice of three flasks. He grabbed the one Flaherty offered. “I may need more than a shot.”
“Drink as much as ye need. I can refill it, as I keep a supply of the Irish here with our ammunition.”
Tremayne emptied half the flask, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and gave it back. “Thanks, Flaherty. I have just one question.”
“Oh?” Flaherty said. “What’s that?”
“I hit you square in the chin with that uppercut. Is your jaw made of granite?”
O’Malley and Garahan laughed. “We’ve been building up the callus on his chin,” Garahan replied.
“Aye,” O’Malley agreed. “A few years ago, ’twould have knocked him flat.”
Flaherty chuckled. “I wish I could lie and say it isn’t true, but I cannot. Lads, we’d best get back to our duties. I’ve a wife to check up on—”
“Ye might want to let the ladies have a bit more time,” Garahan suggested. “Caro and Prudence were on their way to yer cottage with two baskets loaded with provisions.”
“I suppose I could wait,” Flaherty said.
“Give them half an hour—I’ll have one of the men cover the rest of yer shift,” O’Malley said.
“I’ll do it,” Tremayne said. “After all, it isn’t every day a man bests me in a round of bare-knuckle.”
“How many hardheaded Irishmen have ye sparred with?” Flaherty asked.
The lieutenant chuckled. “As of today, I’d say six, possibly eight—and all of them related to you, Flaherty.”
“I’ll be taking that as a compliment—”
Flaherty stopped midsentence as the shrill whistle they’d taught the men who protected the baron and his family sounded in the distance. “Trouble!”
As one, the cousins reached for their rifles, shoved the door open, and ran like hell toward the sound. Two more whistles sounded as one of the men guarding the perimeter shouted to the roof top guard, “How many?”
The guard on the roof lifted his spyglass and called out, “Three—no, wait, four! Riding in formation with two in the front, one injured rider in the middle—his head is bandaged and his arm is in a sling. One man bringing up the rear.”
“How far off?” O’Malley called out.
“They just rounded the curve by the copse of trees, should be here—To arms, O’Malley! The brigands are armed to the teeth!”
O’Malley reacted with a calm every man in the guard adopted when faced with the enemy.
“Garahan, get the horses. Tremayne, go with him. Flaherty, warn Timmons and his lordship. Move the women, the twins, and Millie’s babe to the nursery with two guards posted at the door and one at either end of the hall. ”
Flaherty thanked the Lord for the foresight to have someone fetch his wife as soon as he arrived for duty. He had a moment of fear wondering if the lass would venture back to their cottage without telling him.
Shaking that thought from his head, he concentrated on the dire situation they were in.
Flaherty knew they had time to ready their defense, given the distance, and that the riders approaching were not galloping.
He sprinted toward the rear door of the house, and heard O’Malley give the order for two of their auxiliary guard to man their posts in the treetops on either side of the road leading up to the estate.
A warning shot over their heads should be a surprise that the bloody bastards riding up to Summerfield Chase were not expecting!
As he reached the door, he saw Garahan and two men galloping toward O’Malley.
He knew O’Malley would mount up and hold one of the horses for him.
Flaherty yanked the door open, ready to shout for Timmons, but the butler and Summerfield were waiting for him.
The baron had a brace of pistols tucked into his waistband—and the butler had a blunderbuss.
“We heard the signal. The women are in the nursery,” the baron said. “All of the women, Flaherty, your wife included—along with Percy, Phineas, and Roarke. Two men are stationed outside the nursery, one at the head of the staircase and one guarding the servants’ staircase. What is the status?”
Flaherty managed to nod, though his guts were tied in knots.
He had a wife, as well as her best friend and babe, to protect, and it added a new level of responsibility to his critical thinking.
“Thank ye, yer lordship. I’ll let the men know.
They’re waiting for me to mount up. We’ll be waiting for the brigands to arrive. ”
“How many?”
“Four.”
“Armed?”
“Aye, yer lordship. We’ve got our sharpshooters in position on either side of the drive, men on the roof, and more in position by the outbuildings. O’Malley, Garahan, Tremayne, and I will be on horseback, on the rise—the first thing the riders can see as they approach.”
“What if they shoot first?” one of the younger footman asked.
Without hesitation, Flaherty replied, “I doubt they will. If they are approaching armed, they know me cousins and I are stationed here. They are either working for Millie’s brother-in-law and have nefarious plans…or they could be me wife’s brothers with plans of their own.”
“You aren’t afraid,” the footman said. “Are you?”
Flaherty grunted. “Nay. ’Tis themselves that should be afraid of us!”
“If the situation changes, give the signal,” Summerfield ordered him.
“Aye, yer lordship. Tell the women not to worry, and tell our wives we love them!”
“Done.”
Flaherty sprinted outside, confident that Summerfield and Timmons had the matter well in hand. “I passed along yer messages!”
O’Malley and Garahan nodded. Though they had not asked, Flaherty knew from past experience to pass along word from his cousins to their wives that they loved them. It wasn’t the first time trouble had come to Summerfield Chase…and it would not be the last.
He swung into the saddle and joined his cousins and Tremayne as the first line of defense between the unknown and those he’d vowed to protect with his life.