“I failed you that day,” he insisted, his green eyes filled with his misery.
She made a soothing sound, before she nodded. “Aye, that day you did, and your penance is living with that knowledge.” She took a stuttering breath. “No punishment could be worse than what you live with now.” She clenched his hand. “I’ll survive.”
Niall swiped at his cheeks. “You don’t hate me?”
Maggie shook her head. “You didn’t hurt me, Niall. He did. He abused me. Don’t take on his sins, for they are his alone.” She waited until her brother gave a jerk of his head and rose. After she heard him slip from her room, she waited a moment before calling out softly, “Why are you hiding in the shadows?”
A soft chuckle was her answer, and then Dunmore entered her room on silent feet. “How did you know I was there?”
She closed her eyes and inhaled. “I can smell you.” She opened her eyes and met his tormented gaze. “I wished for you.”
“Maggie,” he breathed, as he collapsed onto the chair beside her, his hand gently stroking her head. “I heard you call out. I’m sorry I was so slow to arrive. I was asleep on the couch.” His gaze bore into hers, as though through sheer force of will he could ease her of her painful memories.
“I’m not,” she said, reaching forward to grab his hand. “It gave me time with Niall. And now you can hold me in your arms, as I try to sleep again.”
Dunmore stared at her, unmoving, as his thumb caressed the soft skin of her palm, silently tracing cuts and bruises from her ordeal.
“Unless you find the idea revolting,” Maggie stammered, as the silence between them became pronounced.
He smiled, his gaze filled with a deep tenderness. “No, beloved,” he said in a soft voice. “I feared you’d not want me by you again.” He crawled over her, fitting himself behind her, as he pulled her back into his front, his arm wrapping around her middle. “Ah, heaven,” he breathed. “You smell so sweet.” He buried his head in her neck, inhaling deeply.
“It’s from the lavender bath,” she whispered, gasping in pain, when he pressed against a bruise on her back. “I’m covered in bruises, Philip. I didn’t feel them so much before because I was so excited to be home. Now, … now all I seem to feel is pain.”
“Forgive me,” he whispered, lowering his head to kiss the top of her shoulders and her upper back. His hold on her gentled even further. “Do you want more willow bark tea?”
“No, just hold me.”
“You’re home. You’re safe. Sleep, beloved.”
Maggie relaxed into his embrace, trusting in Dunmore, as she fell into a restful sleep.
* * *
A few weeks later in early September, Maggie walked from her parents’ house with her younger brothers chattering around her. Although they weren’t tall and strong like Ardan, Kevin, or Declan, she knew the sheer number of them would protect her. Besides, she’d seen them scrapple in the backyard, and she knew they were tough and tenacious. They’d keep her safe.
She bristled at the sensation that she was in danger. However, she jolted at every unexpected sound, then fought a whimper when men stared at her with just a bit too much interest. Thankfully her younger brothers, Henri, Oran, and Bryan appeared oblivious to her distress. As they neared the bookstore, she fought a desire to race inside. Instead she kept her pace even and slow.
Dunmore had been out of town for days, and she hadn’t realized how out of sorts and vulnerable she would feel without him. Although his leg wasn’t fully healed, he had insisted on working again, as the busy season was about to end. She missed the reassurance of seeing the patient concern in his gaze every evening. Of feeling his hand brush against her back or over her hand, subtle acts of affection that nearly brought her to tears. Even though she knew he would be gone only a short while, a deep fear had taken root that something would happen to him and that he’d never return.
As they entered the bookstore, her brothers raced away to find Declan, eager for one of his stories. They never realized that Declan, in his subtle way, was teaching them. Maggie stilled, as she saw no one tending the front of the store. “What do you think you’re doing?” she blurted out to the woman, attempting to stuff a book into her pocket.
“Why must you always meddle?” Janet Davies snapped. Although she was Aileen’s aunt, she had never been accepted into the O’Rourke family due to her mistreatment of her niece. Miserly with her love, affection, and compassion, she thrived on discord and provoking pain. It was also rumored that she was currently without a benefactor, as Uriah Chaffee had gone missing after the kidnapping of Lorena. Placing a hand on her hip, Janet Davies attempted to affect a superior stance, although her gaze gleamed with shame.
“I’ll meddle whenever I see a family member being robbed blind,” Maggie snapped, holding her hand out for the book. She wiggled her fingers, waiting until Janet slapped it into her palm.
“It’s not as though the O’Rourkes don’t have enough money already.” The older woman glared at Maggie. “If you’d just stayed gone, if you’d done what any decent woman would have done, remained with the man who ruined you, then I would still have my Uriah. This calamity would not have befallen me.”
Maggie stood dumbstruck in front of her, her vision filled with horrifying images of what it would have meant to remain with Jacques. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” she finally gasped. Focusing on Janet and pushing aside the terror she lived with, Maggie blurted out, “You’ve brought your own misery upon you.”
Shrieking, Janet rushed toward Maggie with a hand raised to hit her. However, her hand never landed on Maggie’s cheek, as Maggie grasped Janet’s