by Pamela Clare
She started to protest, but Finn press his fingers to her lips.
“The English will come for Ruaidhrí. They might well come for you, too.” There was grief in his eyes, but also strength. “Had I sent you both away the first time Jamie offered to take you, we might all have been spared great pain. I’ll not risk either of you again.”
“But Finn, we cannot go without you!”
Finn closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, met her gaze. “Aye, you can. You must. I will follow with Aidan and Muirín when I am able.”
“Muirín?” Bríghid and Ruaidhrí asked the question at the same time.
“Aye, she’s my wife.” He smiled.
Bríghid heard Matthew and Jamie offer their congratulations, but she could do little more than gaze, amazed, into her brother’s blue eyes. Beneath the exhaustion, beneath the worry, she saw deep contentment. He was in love. “Oh, Finn! Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Last night didn’t seem the right moment.”
“My brother a married man!” Ruaidhrí chuckled, slapped Finn on the back. “Of course, there’s no explainin’ Muirín’s choice.”
* * *
Ailís stood to the side, fingered the coin Finn had given into her keeping, watching as he told them of his wedding. Inside her, the baby kicked.
The pox. The iarla had been sick with the pox. And now she likely carried that dread sickness, too, and would die or go mad like him. She’d shown no sign of it, but maybe that took time. Or perhaps she had been spared.
Either way, Ruaidhrí would not want her. He hated her now, even though she had helped him in the end. He would never forgive her. He didn’t understand what it was to live on the streets, no shelter from the wind and rain, not even straw to sleep on, a crust of bread a luxury. She’d only done what she’d needed to do to survive.
She held the coin to her mouth, bit it.
No one seemed to notice she was there. They had forgotten her already. They had each other. Tears fell down her cheeks, but she dashed them away.
“Ná tóg orm é, a Rhuaidhrí.” Forgive me, Ruaidhrí.
With one last glance at his handsome face, Ailís slipped away.
* * *
“That’s why I can’t go with you now, Bríghid. They’re waitin’ for me in Clare.”
Jamie saw the grief on Bríghid’s face, wished for the world she didn’t have to go through this. She’d been through enough already.
Her voice trembled with emotion. “But why must Ruaidhrí and I go? Can we not also stay with Seanán? With the iarla dead, is that not far enough away?”
Finn shook his head. “No, little sister. I won’t take that chance.”
Jamie knew he’d have to ask her soon. One question. Five words. What was the worst she could do?
Laugh at him, as Sarah had done.
Turn away from him.
Reject him.
She turned on Ruaidhrí. “Have you nothin’ to say about this?”
Ruaidhrí shrugged. “It’s the right thing, Bríghid. Besides, Finn said he’d box my ears if I defied him.”
“So that’s it. We’re off to America. Finn’s off to Clare.” Bríghid turned to face Jamie, met his gaze, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “And what is to become of Ruaidhrí and me? Will Ruaidhrí work in your fields? Will I peel potatoes in your kitchen, wash your floors, darn your stockings?”
Jamie was about to tell her he hoped she would, indeed, do some of those things, but as his wife, not as a servant. But the next thing she said stopped him.
“I’ll sail to America, but only if we live in Maryland with other Catholics.”
Maryland.
She didn’t want to be with him. She wanted to be with people of her own faith. But then he hadn’t told her. She didn’t know. If he told her, would it make a difference?
There was only one way to find out.
“You won’t have to go to Maryland to find other Catholics, Bríghid.” Jamie took her hands in his. “You’re looking at one.”
Jamie heard her brothers’ surprised gasps, heard Matthew mutter something that sounded suspiciously like, “It’s about bloody time.”
She looked up at him, clearly confused. “What?”
“I found a way.”
Then Jamie told her how, when she’d been fighting for her life, he’d made Father Owen a promise. If she lived, he would convert and become a Catholic. Jamie had kept that promise, had spent many an hour meeting with the good Father in between sessions of Parliament. “The deed was done to the good Father’s satisfaction two days before the earl took you from London.”
She gazed up at him, her eyes full of worry. “But, Jamie, is it not against Sasanach law? Is it not a kind of treason?”
He smiled, lifted a strand of hair from her face. “Aye, love. I’ll never hold a seat in the House of Burgesses. I could be stripped of my lands, though I have taken measures to prevent that. I could find many doors closed to me that previously were open.”
“You did this for me?” Bríghid stared at him with wide eyes. “Such a price to pay!”
He cupped her cheek in his palm. “Nothing they can do to me could equal the price I would pay if I had to live my life without you, a Bhríghid.”
Bríghid could scarce believe what she was hearing. Jamie was a Catholic. He’d converted so they could be together. He wanted to live his life with her.
Was this a dream?
Then, bare, blistered chest and all, Jamie knelt on the frozen ground before her, pressed her palm to the pulsing beat of his heart. “Mo ghrá thú, a Bhríghid. I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you in that clearing, and I’ll never stop loving you. Marry me.”
Joy beat like a bird’s wings in her breast. Warm tears slid down her cheeks. She sank to her knees before him, her hand still pressed to his beating heart. “You are everything to me, and you have been since the night you chose not to take what you were given. Aye, Sasanach, I’ll marry you.”
Matthew cleared his throat. “I’ll go wake the priest.”
It was only when they went to board the ship that they noticed Ailís missing. And though Ruaidhrí called for her and searched the length of the pier, they did not find her.
Chapter Thirty-five
Father Owen would later remember it as perhaps the hastiest wedding he’d ever performed, and likely the most unusual. Both bride and groom were bruised, yet glowed with happiness. The bride had a gown, but everyone agreed there was no time for her to put it on. The groom smelled of smoke and had managed to slip a shirt over his painful burns by force of will alone. The bride’s brothers—one of whom was bruised and scorched and the other of whom was not—looked both stunned and pleased. And the guests—Lt. Hasting and a motley group of crewmen—watched with smiles on their faces, some of the crew weeping openly.
But for all its haste and strangeness, it was perhaps also the most joyous wedding Owen had performed. As he stood on the deck of the ship and spoke the words that would bind Jamie and Bríghid together, he knew they would each do whatever it took to ensure the safety and happiness of the other. Bríghid had found a man willing to walk through hellfire for her sake, and Jamie had found a woman whose love for him would always be his salvation.
It was enough to make an old man believe again.
* * *
Bríghid was sure she must be dreaming. She was marrying Jamie. In a moment, she would be his wife.
“Do you have the ring?”
“Aye, Father.” Jamie turned to Matthew, who held out the most beautiful rings Bríghid had ever seen.
Poised on the band of gold was a deep blue sapphire.
She could scarce more than whisper. “Oh, Jamie!”
Jamie slid the ring onto her finger, clasped his warm hand reassuringly over hers.
“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen. You may kiss the bride.”
A slow smile spread across Jamie’s face. His gaze met hers. His eyes filled with heat.
/> And then Bríghid was lost in him, lost in the feel of his lips against hers, lost in his scent, in the press of his hard body. She knew people were watching—her brothers were among them—but she could not get enough of her husband.
Her husband.
Then through a mist of joy and desire, she heard Ruaidhrí whisper. “Can we get some breakfast? I’ve had naught to eat for weeks but bread and water. I’m bloody hungry!”
Her gaze met Jamie’s, and she saw the amusement in his eyes. Her laughter joined his as the sun shot shafts of golden light across the morning sky.
* * *
“It’s time. You cannot tarry, Jamie. The town has begun to stir.”
“Aye.”
Matthew and Jamie embraced. “Any word for Elizabeth?”
“Give her both my love and my thanks. We could not have gotten through this without you both.”
“She’s going to kill me when she hears what she missed. You know how Elizabeth is about weddings—weddings and babies. You’re like a son to her, to both of us. I’m damn glad to see you safe—and happy.”
Bríghid stood on her tiptoes, pressed a kiss to Matthew’s cheek. “Give Elizabeth my love and my thanks. You were both so kind to me.”
“You’re welcome, my dear. It was our great pleasure. Take care of Jamie for us.”
“I will.”
Matthew’s peg leg clicked against the gangplank as he walked ashore to await Finn.
Bríghid fought to sort through her tangled emotions. Such joy and such grief on the same day—it was almost beyond bearing. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried so much or for so many different reasons.
She looked up into her older brother’s blue eyes. “Promise, Finn, you’ll come as quickly as you can.”
“I promise.” Finn pulled her into a tight embrace, kissed her forehead. “Be strong, little sister. Know that I love you, and I’ll see you again soon. All will be well. You’ve got a good man and a good life ahead of you.”
Then he held her out before him, lifted her chin, and looked into her eyes. His voice broke as he spoke. “Da’ would be right proud of you if he could see you today, Bríghid—aye, and Ma, too. I am proud of you. Never forget that.”
She fought to hold back the sobs that welled up inside her. “Thank you, Finn, for everything. Give Muirín our love. And tell Aidan I miss and love him.”
“I will.” He released her, then took Ruaidhrí in a fierce hug. “Stay out of trouble, Ruaidhrí. Watch your temper and your tongue.”
Ruaidhrí’s voice was tight. “Aye.”
Finn turned to Jamie, shook his hand. “Take care of them, Blakewell.”
“I will.”
“I know.”
Then Finn and Jamie embraced, and Bríghid could see the affection and respect that had grown between them.
With that, Finn turned and walked down the gangplank.
Bríghid fought her grief, felt Jamie’s arms enfold her. “Farewell, Finn! May God keep you!” she called.
“And you!” He blew her a kiss.
The anchor was weighed. Sails snapped, filled by wind. The ship lurched forward.
On the pier below, Finn and Matthew stood, hands raised in farewell.
Bríghid could hold back no longer. As the ship sailed out of port, she stared at the vanishing landscape of her homeland, at rolling green hills and sandy shore, and she wept. She wept for Finn and Aidan and Muirín. She wept for the grave of her mother she would never see again, for the sacred wells she had visited that would know her prayers no more, for the holly and hawthorn she would not bedeck with ribbons come spring. Most of all, she wept for the bittersweet dream that was Ireland.
She felt Jamie’s reassuring touch on her shoulder, felt Ruaidhrí’s hand take hers.
Together, they stood in the wind, watched as first Finn, then the shoreline, vanished from view.
“You’ll see him again soon. Matthew will see to it.” Jamie kissed her hair.
“And Ireland? Will I see it again?”
“Perhaps some day—when it is safe.” He turned her to face him. “Meanwhile, I’ve got a gift for you.”
Ruaidhrí had wandered off and was talking about the ship with Father Owen and one of the crewmen.
Bríghid sniffed, couldn’t help but smile. “Where did you find time to buy a wedding gift?”
He shrugged, grinned. “It’s just a little something I picked up.”
“Show me.”
He reached into his pocket, placed something hard and metal in her hand.
The dragon brooch.
All trace of the iarla’s blood had been washed a way. The gold and garnets had been polished until they sparkled. She looked up at him, astonished. “How…?”
“There was a moment in the fire when I was all but certain I was going to die. I was suffocating and could scarce stand—then I saw the brooch on the floor. The fire had not claimed it. I grabbed it, thought of you, and knew I’d do anything I had to do to get out of the fire so that I could be with you again. My brave Bríghid.” He wiped the lingering tears from her cheeks with his thumb.
Bríghid gazed at the brooch in her hand, looked up at her husband. “I’ve got a little somethin’ for you, too.”
The lusty look in his eyes told her just what he thought she meant.
She smiled, took his hand, placed it over her womb.
For a moment, he looked puzzled. Then his eyes widened, and the air left his lungs in a rush. “A baby?”
“Aye.”
“Already? Are you sure?”
Her flux was a good two weeks late. Her breasts felt sore and heavy, and she was ever sick to her stomach. “Aye, I’m sure.”
His gaze softened, and he looked at her with such tenderness it made her heart ache. “That’s twice today you’ve made me the happiest man in the world.”
Then he took her gently in his arms and held her.
She closed her eyes, nestled her head against his shoulder, felt the sea air in her hair. Grief and fear began to melt away like frost in the sunlight.
* * *
His Majesty’s Commonwealth of Virginia
Blakewell’s Neck, Lancaster County
March 31
Everything was different—the trees, the shape of the land, even the smell of the air.
Bríghid stood on the deck, watched the pier draw nearer. She could see them clearly now, recognized Cassie and Alec from the painting. Beside them stood a man who looked very much like Alec. That must be Nicholas.
In a few moments, she would meet them all.
She felt Jamie’s reassuring presence behind her. “You’ve nothing to fear, love.”
She let herself lean back against him. “I’m not afraid.”
He kissed her hair. “Bréagach, thú.” Liar.
The anchor was dropped, the gangplank lowered.
Jamie took Bríghid’s hand, motioned to Ruaidhrí and Father Owen, and led them ashore.
No sooner had they set foot on land than Cassie took her brother in a fierce hug. “Oh, Jamie, when we got your letter, I feared the worst! It’s so good to have you safely home!”
“It’s good to be home, Cassie. I’d like you to meet my wife, Bríghid.”
Cassie kissed Bríghid on the cheek, embraced her. “You are even more beautiful than Elizabeth described, Bríghid.”
Bríghid felt warmed by Cassie’s words, and her fear faded away. “And you’re as pretty as the painting.”
Cassie and Alec looked just like the painting, if a bit older. Cassie’s curls were now shot through with strands of silver, Alec’s dark hair now touched with white.
“I’m charmed to meet you, Bríghid.” Alec stepped forward, lifted Bríghid’s hand to his lips, and kissed it. “We’ve heard so many wonderful things about you. Welcome home.”
“Am I to have a chance to meet the lovely bride?” A man who looked like a younger version of Alec stepped forward and lifted her hand to his lips. His dark hair was tied back with a r
ibbon. The sparkle in his blue eyes could not fully mask the shadows that hid in their depths. “Jamie has done well for himself.”
Bríghid couldn’t help but blush.
“Nicholas.” Jamie’s voice was tight with emotion.
Bríghid stepped aside as Jamie and Nicholas grasped one another in a fierce embrace. She could feel the emotion between them, the deep bond, and found herself fighting tears.
“I thought you were—”
“I know.”
The moment passed. The men parted.
Nicholas slapped Jamie affectionately on the back, winked at Bríghid. “Why do you always get the prettiest women?”
Then Jamie introduced Ruaidhrí and Father Owen. Both were welcomed in the same friendly fashion. Bríghid had to fight not to giggle as Ruaidhrí shook Alec’s hand, looking up at Alec as if he were meeting royalty.
“’Tis an honor to be meetin’ you, Sir.”
Ruaidhrí had changed these past weeks. Gone was the angry boy who’d always been one step away from being shot or hanged. In his place was a capable young man and hard worker. He’d taken to life at sea, proving himself an able hand at the rigging. Already he was begging Jamie to let him join the crew of one of the family’s ships, and Jamie had promised to talk it over with Alec.
As soon as the introductions were completed, Jamie took Bríghid’s hand. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get my wife home. She’s had a long journey and needs rest. I’d like Takotah to see her as soon as possible.”
Takotah. The Indian woman Jamie found so beautiful.
Bríghid told herself she had no reason to feel jealous. Even if Jamie had once cared for Takotah, even if he had loved her and taken her to his bed, he was Bríghid’s husband now.
“Are you sick, Bríghid, dear?” Cassie looked at her with concern.
“Sick?” Bríghid shook her head. “No, not exactly.”
Then Cassie’s eyes widened in delight. “A baby!”
“Aye.” Bríghid felt herself blush to the roots of her hair as Jamie’s family offered their congratulations.