After everyone had eaten, he watched his children scurry away for their day’s work. Maggie and Mary remained in the kitchen, and he was thankful Niamh had opted to return home with her little ones. Right now, Seamus wished for as few as possible to know of his foolish action.
“Maggie,” he said in a soft voice, “my beautiful lass, come here.” He motioned for his youngest daughter to approach him and smiled with encouragement, as she sat near him in the chair Mary usually took during meals. Raising his hand, he swiped under her eye, frowning at the dark marks. “You didn’t sleep well, lass.”
Rather than jerk her head away from his soft touch, she remained motionless. “No,” she said in a soft voice. “I had much to consider, and I was unable to sleep for hours.”
“Forgive me,” Seamus said, dropped his hand to cup her cheek. “Forgive me for loving you too much and not wanting to let you go so soon.”
Maggie shook her head in confusion, causing his thumb to scrape against her cheek. “I don’t understand, Da. You could never love me too much.”
He gave a mirthless chuckle. “Aye, I could an’ I have. I loved you so, so that I didn’t want to share you. I was selfish.” He gazed into her beautiful blue eyes, so like his, and then to her hair, red and brown and shimmering in the sunlight coming through the window. It reminded him of a younger Mary. “I’ve had so little time with you. Of all my babes, I was denied so much time with you.”
Maggie’s eyes filled. “Da, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I’d think you’d be afraid you’ll never get rid of me.”
“Oh, Maggie love,” Seamus whispered. “Forgive me.”
“I don’t understand,” Maggie said in a low voice, her gaze flitting to her mum before focusing on her father again.
Seamus took a deep breath, his gaze sober and intent, as he looked at her. “I asked Dunmore to stay away. To wait another year before you became serious about each other.”
Maggie froze at his words. Her cheeks flushed, and then she jerked away, rising as she stepped back from her father. “You what?” At his tormented nod, she ran a hand over her head and spun to the door and then spun back again, nearly twirling to the ground. Her hand shot out, gripping the back of a chair to anchor herself in a world she now felt rudderless in. “How could you?”
Seamus flinched, as though she had shrieked at him, although her question was in a low keening voice. “I have no excuse. I saw you in his arms, an’ I overreacted.”
“I love him,” Maggie whispered, tears coursing down her cheeks. “Do you know what it did to me to have him treat me as … nothing?” She held a hand to her heart. Suddenly her expression brightened. “This means he does care for me?”
At her mother’s grin, Maggie gave a whoop and spun for the door. “Da, you’re not forgiven until we’ve made up.” She raced away, the door slamming behind her.
Seamus sat, his hands shaking, as he fought to calm his racing heart. Mary pushed at the table until she could edge between it and his chair, climbing onto his lap. He banded his arms around her, holding her tight. “She’ll forgive me?”
Mary kissed his neck. “Aye, soon. Dunmore an’ she will have a little time together in the livery or away from town, an’ then she’ll be the woman we know and love. Free-spirited and full of optimism.” She kissed his head. “Forgive yourself, Seamus, for being human.”
He groaned, holding her tightly to him, as the quiet house settled around them.
* * *
Maggie ran from her home to the livery, determined to confront Dunmore. To make him admit that what had been blooming between them wasn’t merely a figment of her imagination. She was irate he would allow her father’s wishes to dictate how he would interact with her, but all she wanted was to have him look at her with the love and devotion she was accustomed to seeing in his gaze.
Her gait hitched, as she thought of the word love. She had suspected for a few years that Dunmore loved her. She knew he had esteemed her, as her brothers did their wives. Until today she had been unwilling to name that emotion. However, now that she had suffered through believing his affection for her had changed, she knew she needed him to admit what he felt.
With a deep breath, she stepped inside the livery. Promising herself she would be as equally honest, she approached his horses, smiling as they nickered at her. After she scratched behind their ears and ran her fingers down their snouts, she turned to seek him out. Usually he approached every time she was with his horses.
She poked her head into the tack room, pasting on a smile as she saw the livery owner, Mr. Harrison, reading one of the five-and-dime novels that her sister-in-law, Lorena, sold at her store. “Excuse me, sir.” She waited until he set down the book and peered at her over his spectacles. “Could you tell me where Mr. Dunmore is?”
“Dunmore?” he asked, glancing with longing at his book. “Why, he left this morning.” He opened his book again, as though nothing more were to be said.
“He couldn’t have.” Maggie fought panic, as she felt her impersonal smile fade. “His horses are out there.” She waved to the stables.
“Ain’t no law sayin’ a man can’t use
