Instead he stood as still as a pillar, as the woman he loved ran from him. He swallowed, battling against a bitterness he never thought to feel toward a man he had always admired. Although Seamus had promised he would discuss his concerns with Maggie, it was evident he never had. And now she had the impression Dunmore wanted nothing to do with her. That he had used her. That he had trifled with her.
Swearing, he spun on his heel and stormed to the tack room for his hat. After retrieving it, he departed, marching out of the livery and away from town. Too much of the town was owned by an O’Rourke, and Dunmore had no desire to meet with another O’Rourke today. Not when he felt like committing murder.
He walked away from town, upriver, on a faint path with waist-high grass all around him. After a half mile, he paused and found a rock to perch on, as he studied the river and the cliffs across from him. Rather than noting the beautiful scenery, he saw Maggie, as she gazed at him with hope and adoration. He closed his eyes, as he recalled holding her in his arms. The sweetness of her kisses. The difficulty in letting her go.
Rubbing at his head, he knew Seamus was correct in being concerned for his youngest daughter. Although world-wise in ways, she was only twenty years old. At thirty-one, Dunmore knew he was older than her family would like for her.
He had agreed to wait one more year. “One more year,” he said in a low growl. He didn’t know if he would still be sane by then. Nor did he know if Maggie would still want anything to do with him by that point.
* * *
“Maggie, my girl!” Seamus O’Rourke called out, as she raced away from the livery. A tall man, he moved with lithe grace. His black hair grayed more each day, and the increasing number of fine lines at his mouth and eyes were due to the laughter and the joy in his home, ever since Mary and Maggie had returned three years ago.
She spun to face her father, swiping at her face as another tear fell. “Da,” she croaked out. “I … I find I’m allergic to hay.” She sniffled and clamped her jaw tight to prevent a sob from bursting forth.
“Or allergic to somethin’ in the stables?” he muttered, as he pulled her into his arms. “What has you weepin’ so, lass?” He kissed her on her head, as she collapsed against him, cushioned against his chest.
“Oh, Da,” she whispered in a broken voice, “he doesn’t want me.”
“What?” Seamus whispered. “Dunmore?” He eased her away to stroke his fingers over her wet cheeks. Staring into her striking blue eyes, he smiled. “I’m certain ’tisn’t true, little love.”
“I know it is,” she cried out. “He wouldn’t touch me. Wouldn’t hold me.” She flushed, as she ducked her head. “Forgive me, Da. It’s unseemly to speak like this with you.”
Seamus studied her, frowning at her defeated posture. He hadn’t seen Maggie like this since she first arrived at his house, when she had been afraid of her own shadow. Since she had discovered her place in the O’Rourke family, she had bloomed into the strong, passionate, opinionated woman he’d always envisioned she would be. “I’m sorry, love,” he murmured.
She jerked away, stepping back a pace, as she brushed at her cheeks. “Aye,” she said in a low voice. “I should never have been such a fool. I know what men want.” She spun away, racing for the large O’Rourke home.
Seamus followed her, his gaze intent, as he ensured she arrived safely. Although nearly a year had passed since they had received the warning that Jacques Bergeron remained intent on harming Maggie, Jacques had yet to appear. During the almost eighteen years that Seamus had been separated from both Maggie and Mary, Mary had married Francois Bergeron and had borne him two sons. After Francois’s death, she had continued to live with Francois’s brother, Jacques, as he supported her and her children.
Now Jacques remained in the Territory, working as a miner, although he was also a successful trapper. Even though he was technically uncle to Henri and Lucien, Seamus would never consider Jacques family. Not after he had abused and terrorized Mary and Maggie, before they returned to him. With a sigh, Seamus knew he must remain vigilant, for a man like Jacques would eventually return. And he’d have his sights set on Seamus’s beautiful daughter.
With a frown, he pushed aside concerns about Jacques and focused on the current predicament. Seamus rubbed at his forehead, knowing he had failed his daughter. He needed to speak with her about Dunmore. He only hoped the damage his promise had wrought was not permanent.
* * *
Lorena O’Rourke walked to the levee, her gaze alert, as she looked for the man rumored to have returned to Fort Benton. She knew her husband, Declan, and the entire O’Rourke family would be delighted upon Captain A.J.’s return, and she too looked forward to his reunion with everyone. However, she needed to speak with him privately.
Married not even a year to Declan, she had never experienced such joy as the moments she spent with her husband. Although almost every day was passed in each other’s company, she never tired of speaking with him. He had as inquisitive a mind as she did, and she hoped he would understand her need to search alone today.
When she stood amid the bustling men, working to diligently stack crates and attempting to find some semblance of order, she interrupted a pair, before they returned to the steamboat for another load. “Excuse me,” she said.
When they looked her over in a speculative manner, admiring her red hair gleaming in the sunlight and her curvy figure, she shook her head and took a step away from them.
