“Aye, I know you believe it was all harps and fields of shamrocks,” she smiled wryly, as Maggie let out an involuntary giggle. “An’ I know that’s how your da wants you to believe everything was between us.” She smiled with satisfaction, as her gaze turned distant for a moment. “And it was. For the most part. But then, my da wanted Seamus to give up bein’ a farmer. Wanted him to be a fisherman.”
“A fisherman?” Maggie whispered. “Isn’t Da seasick when he’s on a boat?”
Mary’s gaze gleamed with humor. “Aye, an’ he’s a man of the land.” She flushed, ducking her head a moment, before meeting her daughter’s gaze. “All I could see was that he wasn’t followin’ my father’s wishes. The man I loved said no to my father. An’ I never even considered how we didn’t know any fishermen nor how was Seamus to become a fisherman if we didn’t even own a boat? All I could see was that Seamus was goin’ against what my da wanted.” She paused a long moment, before she said in a soft voice, “I had to learn an important lesson.”
Maggie shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“If I loved Seamus, I had to believe in him. In whatever he did. And not allow the whims of my family to change Seamus, as he attempted to please me.” She giggled. “An’ my da had no interest in Seamus giving up his land. ’Twas good land before the famine. ’Twas a test to see if Seamus was strong enough to be his own man.”
“What happened between you and Da?” Maggie asked.
“We fought an’ yelled at each other. And then I saw him look over the land—with almost as much love as he looked at me—while he considered giving it up. I knew then I could never ask such a thing of him. That I had no right. My father’s wishes be damned. I knew then that Seamus’s happiness was as important as my own. We married within a month and were happy for a time. He and my da had a deep mutual respect, each for the other.”
“You’re happy again.” At her mother’s gentle nod, a few tears rolled down Maggie’s cheeks. “The difference in your story and mine is you knew Da loved you. He wanted you.” She shook her head and then shrugged her shoulders in defeat. “Dunmore doesn’t want me.”
Her mother’s hands on her shoulders tightened. “You know that to be a lie, lass. For years, he’s been dedicated only to you. Don’t doubt him now.”
“He wanted nothing to do with me!” Maggie cried out, her breath emerging in gasps again. “Nothing. He looked at me as though I were a … an annoying child he had to tolerate. He didn’t call out to me when I left. He didn’t care that he hurt me.”
Mary frowned, as Maggie fell forward into her embrace again. “Oh, my sweet girl. I know there’s been some sort of misunderstandin’. I know how much he cares for you.”
Maggie clung to her mother. “No, it was all a game.” She took what comfort she could, instinctively understanding her torment wouldn’t cease until she had destroyed all emotion for Dunmore. She feared she would never be successful.
* * *
Dunmore entered the kitchen behind Cormac, watching with veiled envy as Cormac embraced his pregnant wife, Niamh, before picking up his daughter, Maura, for a kiss. Their son, Cillian, was in Aileen’s lap. Dunmore noted this would be a large family dinner, although almost all O’Rourke dinners were large, as they had twelve children, and five had married. He bit down bitterness that Maggie wouldn’t be the sixth O’Rourke sibling to marry.
“Dunmore,” Seamus said, a note of surprise in his voice. “I hadn’t thought …” He broke off what more he would have said, while Dunmore stared at him, not concealing the contempt in his gaze.
“Cormac invited me,” he said gruffly, before sitting down near the end of the table, where the younger boys tended to sit. Bryan, Henri, and Niall gasped with delight at his presence, peppering him with questions about his trips throughout the Territory.
“Do you see Indians?”
“Do you ever worry they’ll scalp you?” Bryan asked, making a motion with his hand as though he were losing his hair.
“Do you shoot many people?” Henri asked.
Dunmore stared at the boys, slowly changing into men, and chuckled. “Aye, I see Indians sometimes, but they tend to keep their distance. I’ve never had reason to worry much about my scalp, and I’ve yet to have a reason to shoot a passenger.” He grinned at them. “But I’m always prepared.”
They chortled and continued their inquisition. Dunmore was thankful for their eagerness to speak with him, as he steadfastly ignored Maggie’s entrance into the kitchen and her startled gasp at his presence. Even though he never looked in her direction, he knew exactly where she was at all times. His feigned joviality became increasingly taxing, as her quiet anguish spread over him, like a miasma of despair.
Kevin—the second eldest O’Rourke sibling, who sat beside his wife, Aileen—studied Dunmore and his sister with concern. “I’m surprised you are back already, Dun. Maggie didn’t mention you’d returned.”
Dunmore flit a glance in her direction, stiffening when he saw her sitting with rounded shoulders and bowed head, as she studied her bowl of stew. “I returned late last night. I’ll leave again soon. There’s nothing keeping me here, as the busy season has begun.”
“Nothing keeping you here?” Lorena asked with confusion, as Maggie flinched. Lorena sat beside her husband, Declan, the fourth-eldest O’Rourke sibling. Her cheeks flushed nearly as red as her hair, as she fought indignation on
