home. You’re safe.”

Maggie looked up at Nora, who swore softly at the exposed skin under the bandaging. Wrinkling her nose at the fetid smell, she blanched at the sight of his leg. “Oh, Philip,” she breathed.

“Don’t cut it off,” he pleaded.

Nora called for Seamus, demanding cheap alcohol and rags, along with boiling water and soap. Turning to meet Dunmore’s bleary gaze, she shook her head. “There aren’t red streaks yet, but the skin is festering.”

“I bound it as best I could,” he said, crying out again as she removed a piece of fabric stuck to his skin.

“Well, you did a good-enough job,” Nora said, staring at him appreciatively for a moment. “Neither Maggie nor I could have set your leg any better.”

Sweating profusely, Dunmore attempted a smile that appeared more like a grimace. “I passed out for a few days afterward. I think.” He looked at Maggie with bleary confusion. “How long has it been since the accident?”

“A month,” she whispered, her fingers stroking through his long beard. She smiled her thanks to her father, when he entered with a jug of firewater, and her brothers carried in other supplies.

“That long?” His gaze shone with interest, before he hissed with pain, as Nora continued to work on his wounds. “I swear I tried to get back to you as fast as I could.”

Maggie shook her head, her eyes luminous, as her hands continued to hold his. “Don’t fret,” she soothed. She stiffened as he jerked in pain, sighed, and passed out.

“Finally,” Nora grumbled. “He’s far too hardheaded. He should have passed out a half hour ago.” She swiped at her brow with her forearm and motioned Maggie over to her side. “I need your help.”

With great reluctance, Maggie kissed Dunmore’s brow and rose to help Nora.

“As you said, Maggie, don’t fret. You’ll have plenty of time to sit in that chair and to keep vigil. He won’t be going anywhere for a while.” Nora’s smile was momentarily filled with teasing, before she focused on Dunmore’s wounds and the task at hand.

Maggie joined her, losing herself in helping Nora, with the knowledge that all she did would lead to Dunmore healing that much faster.

* * *

Maggie sat beside Dunmore’s bed, holding his hand, as she listened to the house settle for the night. She recalled the many nights Eamon had sat with his Phoebe, and now Maggie understood how he had felt. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to ensure Philip improved.

Resting her head beside him, she continued to hold his hand, as she listened to his deep, even breathing. Never had a sound been so sweet. She squirmed around a little, placing her head on one arm on the edge of the bed, and soon she had slipped into a light doze.

Jerking awake, Maggie stared with bleary eyes around her, searching for the reason she awoke. Her hand gripping Dunmore’s ached, and she gazed at him, as he twitched, squeezing her hand to the point where she must have awakened. “Philip,” she breathed. “It’s all right. You’re back in Fort Benton.”

“No!” he arched up. “I won’t let you separate me from her any longer, do you hear?” His eyes opened, fever glazed and filled with defiance. “You won’t keep me away from her this time.”

“Philip,” she soothed. “I’m right here.” She swiped at his brow with a dry cloth. “Everyone is fine. You’re home.” She yanked on his hand, preventing him from reaching for his leg and pulling on the fresh bandages and the poultice they hoped would help his leg heal.

She winced, as she knew he needed time to heal and to regain his strength. However, she was unable to mask the kernel of delight that his concern was for her, even when he was unconscious and fighting a terrible fever. “I love you, Dunmore.”

Dunmore struggled a little more but soon settled into sleep again. His even breathing soothed Maggie’s concern, and the fierce grip on her hand eased. Maggie sighed with relief.

“Maggie,” Seamus murmured from the door. “Is he well?”

She looked to her father to see him barefoot in a loose shirt that hung nearly to his knees and black trousers. Although evident he’d just awoken, his gaze was alert and attentive. “He’s fighting a nightmare. And he’s feverish.”

Seamus sighed and rubbed at his temple. “I doubt I’ll find much ice right now.”

He wandered away, and Maggie sighed, although she knew it was her role to fret and to keep vigil over Dunmore. Just as Eamon had watched over Phoebe, so had Declan when Lorena was hurt in the fire. Now it was Maggie’s turn. When Seamus returned with a cup of tea, she looked at him with wonder. “Da?”

“I’ll make you a cup in a minute.” He flushed. “I won’t pretend to be a healer, but, living with you these past years, I’ve learned that willow bark tea makes everything better. It’s time for his next cup, aye?”

Unbidden, her eyes filled with tears, as she looked at her father’s earnest expression. “Da,” she croaked, her voice thickened by deep emotions. “Thank you.”

Seamus handed her the cup of tea and moved to the other side of the bed, hefting Dunmore up with a groan. “He might have been missin’ for a month and not eating much, but he’s still a big man.” He nodded to her, holding the tea. “Come, lass. Coax him to drink it. I’ve added the honey.”

Maggie crooned to Dunmore, and soon more tea was in him than on him. When Dunmore rested again, she let out a sigh of relief and stared at her father with love and appreciation. “Thank you, Da.”

Seamus reached forward, his hand clasping hers. “I’ve always liked the lad. I never objected to him, Maggie. I simply wanted more time with you, aye?”

Maggie nodded.

“I forgot an important lesson in my desire to keep you all to myself, and I’m sorry, lass.” When she stared at him warily, he murmured, “The one thing we’re never guaranteed is more time.

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