“Do you believe I loved you?” she asked in a small voice. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, relaxing when she saw the patient love within his. “I only ever wanted you.”
Dunmore clenched his jaw tight and then released a pent-up breath. “Maggie, I can’t bear to imagine what you suffered, but I will need to know.” He paused, as she stared at him in horror. “I have to know.” He closed his eyes for a long moment, and a tear trickled out. “I couldn’t bear to do something, say something, that would ever bring you pain.”
“Oh, Philip,” she whispered, as she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his in a butterfly-soft kiss. She lifted her head, staring at him in wonder. “I worried I wouldn’t feel the same. That nothing would feel the same,” she breathed. She raised a shaking hand to trace it over his lips. “But I still feel everything for you.”
He groaned and wrapped his arms around her, easing her head onto his shoulder again. “You’ll heal, my love, and then we’ll marry. You’ll never fear again. I promise you.”
“I’ll be afraid forever,” she whispered, clinging to him, as a shiver ran through him at her words. “He’s still alive, Philip. He’s still alive.”
Dunmore held a dozing Maggie in his arms for long minutes, as he cherished the feel of her against him. He fought against imagining hunting Jacques down and killing him, but he knew that was a futile struggle. One way or another, the man would pay for what he had done to his precious Maggie.
* * *
Dunmore emerged from the bedroom, and a gaggle of women entered the room with pans of water, towels, soap, and fresh clothes. He watched in wonder at the soft chatter and the soothing voices, as they shut the door firmly behind them. With a soft smile, Dunmore acknowledged Maggie needed the coddling of her womenfolk as much as she needed time in his arms. He tried not to feel jealous.
A hand slapped onto his shoulder, and he met Ardan’s gaze. “You’ll have time with Maggie again soon enough. Come. Enjoy some supper and fill us in on what you learned.”
Dunmore stared hard at Ardan. “Do you share what Deirdre tells you in confidence?”
Smiling, Ardan shook his head. “No, nor would I expect you to. But I’m certain one or two things were revealed that you can share with us.” He coaxed Dunmore into the kitchen, the table crowded by O’Rourke men.
“Sir,” Dunmore said, as he nodded to Seamus. He sat near Seamus, noting that the steamboat captain, A.J. Pickens, had joined them this evening. He and Seamus had been holding a low conversation, as private as a conversation could be in a crowded room, before Dunmore arrived. “Mr. A.J.,” he murmured.
“How’s the young’un?” A.J. demanded, as he leaned forward. His brown eyes were intent on Dunmore, as though he were able to discern truth from lie.
“Distraught,” he whispered, as he ran a hand over his head and beard. “I don’t know what happened. She can’t talk about it yet.”
Seamus nodded. “Aye, ’twill take some time for her to feel safe and secure. Then she’ll speak.” He looked at the man who loved his daughter. “You must be patient and be willing to wait.”
Glaring at Seamus, Dunmore nodded. “You know I’m willing to do anything for her. Including agreeing to a fool’s bargain.”
A.J. let out a chortle. “Well, if this don’t remind me of when I was courtin’ my Bessie. Her father was up in arms ’cause he wanted better for his daughter than a river rat. Couldn’t understand no man would ever love her as much as I could.” He gave Seamus a warning glance that had the older man calming.
Dunmore nodded to Kevin, who set a cup of tea in front of him and motioned to the kitchen. “I’m not hungry right now.”
“There’s stew on the stove, meat pies and bread in the basket,” Kevin said. “We’re not havin’ a formal dinner tonight, so, whenever you are hungry, help yourself.”
Giving a subtle nod to indicate he understood, Dunmore took a sip of tea from the mug and sighed with pleasure. Although he usually preferred coffee, he had come to like the strong tea brewed by the O’Rourkes. “I do have some news.” He waited as everyone in the room quieted at his soft pronouncement. “He’s still alive.”
A gentle murmur spread through the O’Rourke men, and Dunmore took another sip of tea. After a long moment, he met Seamus’s gaze that gleamed with anticipation. “I want it understood he’s mine.”
Seamus and Dunmore stared at each other a long time. “Perhaps,” Seamus finally murmured. “I can understand your desire to want to hurt him.”
“Hurt him?” Dunmore’s gaze was ablaze with fury. “No, Seamus. I want to rip him limb from limb. I want to draw and quarter the bastard. I want him to experience fear and terror, the way my Maggie did, and for him to know there will never be mercy for a man like him. I want him to suffer and to know what hell is on this earth, before he dies and goes to hell.” He let out a deep breath, before he closed his eyes.
“You don’t know what your lady suffered,” A.J. said in a soft voice.
“Any moment of fear is a moment too many,” Dunmore rasped.
“Aye,” Seamus said. “Aye.” He cleared his throat, as he waited for his sons to continue to chatter, giving them a little privacy. “Forgive me, Dunmore, for ever doubting you.” He met the younger man’s fiery gaze. “I allowed a father’s fear that no man would be good enough for his daughter to blind me to the man I know you to be.”
Dunmore swiped a hand over his jaw and shook his head, as he let out a stuttering breath, easing some of the rage he held within. “A raving lunatic bent on revenge?”
Seamus stared at him solemnly. “No, a man in
