Sister of Rogues

by Cynthia Breeding

  Jamie ran a hand through his hair. “So where do we begin to look? They could be anywhere in Ireland.”

  “Or he could have taken Fiona out of the country,” Ian replied.

  “Probably not,” the warden said. “Mr. O’Reilly is the Earl of Adair. He has property here—an old castle that has been in his family for centuries.”

  Ian raised an eyebrow. “Why would an earl be housing inmates from an asylum?”

  “Taxes, I suppose. His father was killed at Vitoria, leaving his widow near penniless. The English require all non-Anglican Irish to tithe as well. He will return.”

  “Is O’Reilly a decent mon then?”

  “He seems to be, but…” Mr. Kelly paused.

  “But?”

  “Well, the matron who resides there did say Mr. O’Reilly seemed to take an extraordinary interest in your sister.”

  Jamie narrowed his eyes again. “How so?”

  “He seemed to grant her special favors. The matron said they spent time together alone in the library.”

  Jamie cursed. “Then there might be an element of truth to the letter?”

  “I do not know that.” The warden shrugged. “I suppose it’s possible. Your sister is very attractive and Mr. O’Reilly is young and unattached.”

  Jamie’s eyes blazed molten gold as he turned to Ian. “If the mon has ruined Fiona, he will answer to me.”

  Ian set his jaw. “He will answer to both of us, brother.”

  Having found out from Meara there were no ships in the harbour about to depart was a small relief for Kier, although the woman didn’t know why Fiona had suddenly packed her valise and left in the middle of the night. From their limited conversation, he’d gotten the idea Meara was not overly concerned that Fiona was gone.

  The public carriage wasn’t due to pass through Cobh until the afternoon, which gave Kier about three hours to scour the town and find her. Since she’d contacted the Sisters of Charity in Dublin, the church here was the logical place to begin.

  He was met inside the door by a monk who lifted one eyebrow slightly when Kier told him he was inquiring about a young woman having asked for shelter sometime in the night or early morning. Silently gesturing to follow him, the monk led Kier through the choir and behind the altar to a recessed door that opened into an office behind the church proper. A man with coppery hair was already seated across the desk from the priest.

  The priest looked at the monk as Kier stepped inside. “Another one?”

  The monk nodded, backing out and closing the door and Kier turned his attention to the priest. “I have come to inquire—”

  “No doubt about our recent arrival,” the priest finished for him. “I am Father O’Brien. Please have a seat.”

  Kier took the only other available chair. “Is Fiona MacLeod here then?”

  The auburn-haired man narrowed his amber eyes slightly. “Who are you?”

  “Kier O’Reilly, Earl of Adair,” he replied, not sure if using his title was of any good. People outside the pale of Dublin appealed to a higher order than aristocracy. “And who would you be?”

  The man studied him before answering. “Aiden Mulvey.”

  For a fleeting second, Kier was taken aback. This man with a fighter’s build was married to the hawk-nosed, reed-thin woman at the cottage? Kier had never seen two more incompatible-looking people. Somehow he’d expected Sister Ruth’s brother to be older too. He’d envisioned a scholarly man, perhaps a bit stooped, with scant grey hair.

  “Fiona was staying with you. Why did she leave?”

  “That is what I have come to find out.” Aiden turned back to the priest. “Can I see her now?”

  “I need to see her too,” Kier added.

  Father O’Brien looked from one of them to the other. “In a moment. I have some questions first.”

  Aiden looked annoyed, but whether at him or the priest, Kier didn’t know. He squelched his own impatience. “Of course.”

  “Aiden, I’ll begin with you. Why was Fiona staying with you?”

  “My sister sent her with a note saying she needed shelter until she could board a ship to England.” Aiden shifted his gaze to Kier. “Fiona was fleeing a dangerous situation in Dublin.”

  The priest looked at him too. Kier wondered how much to say. It didn’t sound as though Fiona had told anyone about being an inmate at the asylum. He wasn’t about to either, lest the authorities get called. “I plan to marry her.”

  Father O’Brien’s eyes went wide and Aiden snorted. “I don’t think she wants to marry ye if she’s running away.”

  Kier managed not to glare at him. “I have not asked her yet.”

  “That’s a relief,” the priest said.

  Kier frowned, but before he could ask why, the priest turned to Aiden.

  “Fiona told me she felt she was creating tension between ye and your wife.”

  “Nonsense. Meara sees temptation for me lurking around every corner.”

  Temptation? Kier’s frown deepened. Had the man tried to take liberties?

  “Regardless of what Meara might think, Fiona was quite clear she did not want to continue to stay at your home.”

  Kier balled a fist and then placed his other hand over it. He had learned long ago to keep his temper in check, although right now, he longed to smash Aiden’s nose in. Kier forced his hand to unclench. A church was hardly the place.

  “I want to honour my sister’s request,” Aiden said smoothly. “If my wife insulted Fiona, I can take care of that. If you’ll let me see her, I’ll take her home.”

  “She is not going anywhere with you,” Kier interrupted. “I am taking her home with me. To Dublin.”

  The priest looked at both of them and then sighed. “Perhaps we should ask Fiona what she would like to do.” He picked up a small bell Kier hadn’t noticed before and rang it. Instantly, the door opened. The monk who’d escorted him in must have been standing guard outside.

  “Yes, Father?”

  “Bring Fiona to us, please.”

  Kier ignored the glowering look Aiden was giving him while they waited in uncomfortable silence. Since he didn’t want to bring up the asylum, he would apologize for the misunderstanding they’d had and pray Fiona really understood she could trust him. That it was safe to come home. Everything else could be explained later.

  He stood as the door opened, ready to rush to her and gather her close in a courtly manner, but he nearly tripped over his own feet when he saw her.

  Fingering a wooden cross, murmuring softly, her eyes demurely downcast, Fiona moved forward, dressed as an acolyte nun.

  Fiona stopped abruptly as she saw two pairs of booted feet on the floor ahead of her. When Samuel, the monk, had come for her, she was sure Father O’Brien had more questions. The story she’d concocted about wanting to join a convent in Scotland had been sketchy, so she’d been trying to act the part of an earnest novice by keeping her gaze downcast and not making eye contact.

  She recognized Aiden’s voice. “Get your things, Fiona. I’m taking ye home.”

  “I will be the one taking her home.”

  Fiona’s breath shuddered as the sound of Kier’s voice. She jerked her head up, widening her eyes at the sight of him.

  “Wha…what are ye doing here?”

  “I have come to take you home.”

  Fiona’s fingers felt like ice, frozen to the wooden cross. “I…I willnae go back.”

  “See?” Aiden asked Kier triumphantly, “she doesn’t want ye here.”

  “She did not say that.” Kier looked at Fiona. “You do not have to go back to the same…circumstances. Things have changed since you left.”

  She studied him, trying to decipher what he meant. “Is the woman who treated me so harshly still there?”

  “She will be gone,” Kier replied. “She no longer
has authority over you.”

  “Fiona, were you abused?” Father O’Brien asked.

  “Aye.”

  The priest turned to Kier. “Perhaps you should explain.”

  “My…housekeeper took a dislike to Fiona and treated her badly when I was not there to intervene.”

  Father O’Brien drew his brows together as he turned his attention to Fiona. “You worked for Mr. O’Reilly?”

  Fiona flashed a glance at Kier and then lowered her eyes while she nodded. Perhaps nodding was not quite as big a lie as saying it.

  “Yes,” Kier said, a tiny bit of relief sounding in his voice. “I own an old castle that requires a great deal of upkeep.”

  The priest looked over Fiona’s attire. “Was the abuse the reason you decided to join a convent?”

  Fiona kept her gaze downcast. “I didnae see another way to survive.” She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping a lightning bolt didn’t strike her for another lie.

  “It is a common enough thing to do,” Kier interjected.

  “So you did not hear a call from God to do so?” Father O’Brien asked Fiona.

  She took a deep breath and raised her chin. “N…no.”

  “I see.” The priest leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers on his desk. “God wishes no one to be forced into His service. You are relieved of the habit.” He turned back to the men. “Now the question is who will take the girl home?”

  “I will,” Aiden said. “Fiona wants to return to Scotland. I will see that she does.”

  “No. Fiona needs to return with me.” Kier turned and took her hand. “Trust me. Please. If you do not like the changed conditions, you will be free to return to Scotland from Dublin. I give you my oath on that. Trust me. Please.”

  At the touch of his hand, a flood of other memories washed over her, her resolve to leave breaking like a crashing wave. A tingle shot up her arm and then slid down her spine to pool low in her belly, like the sea lapping at the shore. Trust me.

  Did she?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Kier had done it. He’d convinced Fiona to return to Dublin with him. For a while yesterday afternoon, he had not been sure. Fiona had requested time to think and Father O’Brien had allowed him and Aiden only five minutes each to plead their cases with Fiona privately. Kier certainly did not want to propose marriage in so short a time. He was pretty sure women didn’t want to be told they were getting married. So he’d used his time to swear to her on everything he held sacred, including his mother’s grave, that Fiona would not be returning as an inmate of the asylum. As an earl—albeit a poor one—his title still could be used to persuade the warden to release Fiona into his custody until Walter Avery, whoever he was, could be found. Kier had given his oath to her that he would replace Ada and Seamus with kinder custodians as well. At the mention of those two, Fiona’s eyes had swelled with tears and she’d asked about Dulcee and Lona.

  Kier wasn’t sure if promising a better life for the women had been the deciding factor for Fiona, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was she had finally approached Father O’Brien late in the afternoon—after he and Aiden had sat for several hours glaring at each other—with her choice. Partly because she was concerned over Aiden’s intentions, she would return to Dublin.

  It seemed to Kier he was the lesser of two evils. Now all he had to do was explain about the marriage as soon as he got the chance.

  Since they’d missed the coach yesterday, Fiona had spent the night safely ensconced in a guest room at the parish while he’d taken a room at the local inn. They’d broken their fast that morning in the public room along with two rather inquisitive ladies who were also going to Dublin, so conversation had been limited.

  “I am Inna,” the older woman said once they were settled in the carriage, “and this is my daughter, Maureen.”

  “I am Kier and this is Fiona.”

  Inna looked at him expectedly. From the rather prudish set of her mouth, he knew she was waiting for more. “My wife.” He hoped the women wouldn’t notice the startled look Fiona gave him. He wished he could tell her it would be a fact soon enough.

  “I see.” Inna looked over Fiona. “Ye look awfully young. I can’t imagine ye are much older than my Maureen.”

  The younger girl smiled shyly. “I am four-and-ten.”

  Fiona smiled at her. “I am a bit older. Eight-and-ten.”

  “Hmmm.” Inna looked at Fiona’s hands, which thankfully were gloved. “How long have you been married?”

  “Uh—”

  “Actually, we just got married last week,” Kier said and put an arm around Fiona’s shoulders to draw her closer. “We took a short trip to Cobh to celebrate.”

  “I see,” Inna said again, looking skeptical.

  Apparently, Fiona decided to play along because she snuggled closer. Her soft breast pressed against his side sent blood pulsing to his groin, but it was nowhere near the jolt he felt when Fiona rested one hand on his thigh. She gave him an innocent look as though she had no idea what affect her touch had so close to his swelling shaft.

  “The idea of marriage is so new to me,” Fiona said to the woman. “I am still getting used to it.”

  God in heaven. Fiona actually managed to blush when she said it. The idea that she could be saying those words for real in just a few days made Kier stifle a groan as his cock swelled farther. Fiona’s fingers shifted and he grabbed her hand before it could inflict further damage.

  Maureen was looking at him wide-eyed. For a moment, he thought she might have noticed the bulge in his pants, but then he remembered he was wearing a frockcoat that thankfully covered the area. By Saint Patrick, Fiona addled his brains. He couldn’t even remember what he wore? He felt an even greater fool for holding Fiona’s hand in the air as though it were something to be inspected. No wonder the girl was watching him. Quickly, he brought Fiona’s hand to his mouth and swept a kiss across her gloved knuckles. Another mistake, since now he wanted to feel her bare skin beneath his lips. And not just the flesh of her hand…

  Fiona gasped slightly, which caused her breasts to rise beneath the thin linen of her plain gown. Luckily, the neckline of the dress was quite proper and no hint of cleavage showed. Kier wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle that right now with the direction his thoughts had taken.

  Kier shook his head to clear it, which was hard to do since he was still grasping Fiona’s hand to keep it from straying to parts best left untouched in the presence of Inna and Maureen. He didn’t really understand what had gotten into him. Lady Jane Claire had never brought forth the kind of reactions he had when he was around Fiona—and Lady Jane Claire had allowed him use of her body.

  Fiona squeezed his hand just then and gave him a smile that made his blood heat even more. Demurely, she looked down and then tilted her head sideways so she could gaze at him through her lashes.

  The minx was flirting with him. Flirting when she knew he couldn’t respond. Not that it wasn’t what he deserved since he’d said they were newlyweds. Again, he envied the husband who—even for a short time—had enjoyed her in his bed. Soon Kier would have that privilege as well. Soon she would truly be his wife. Nothing would separate them again.

  He was still lost in those pleasant thoughts when the carriage pulled into the inn at Waterford for the night. The coachman jumped down to open the door and escort the mother and daughter into the inn. Kier stepped out and lifted Fiona down, his hands encircling her small waist. He was half-inclined to pick her up and carry her since his fingers didn’t want to seem to let go, but Fiona made the decision for him, stepping away. She smoothed her skirt and then took the arm he offered her.

  It was only when they were inside and the innkeeper assigned them a room together that Kier realized he was in for a long night of agony.

  She should never have flirted with hm. Several hours had passed since their interch
ange in the carriage and still her body felt as though it were on fire. Not even the tepid water sent up for her hipbath had squelched the heat radiating through her, although the long soak had felt heavenly.

  Kier had disappeared shortly after their arrival, and Fiona thought by the time he returned to escort her down to the main room for dinner, her equilibrium would have returned. Not so. Kier had come back freshly shaven and smelling of soap and spice. The blue glint of his dark eyes when he’d looked at her loose hair cascading down her back had only alerted every nerve ending to start tingling again.

  Dinner could have been sawdust and mud for all she could remember. She wasn’t even sure if she ate. They were alone now, with nothing left to do but go to bed.

  Fiona glanced over at the structure. It looked soft and inviting, the mattress and pillows plump with feathers, and it certainly was big enough for two.

  Kier followed her gaze. “You can have the bed. I will sleep by the hearth.”

  Fiona glanced over to the fireplace. “The floor is stone.”

  He shrugged. “I have had worse.”

  “But the bed is big enough for two.” As soon as the words were out, Fiona felt herself blush. It was on thing to flirt a little in the carriage, but she sounded like a complete wanton. “I mean—”

  “The floor will be fine,” Kier said. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about our return to Dublin.”

  Fiona frowned. She didn’t want to hear about Dublin right now. Even if Kier had assured her Ada would no longer control her, she would still be an inmate. “Let’s nae talk tonight.”

  “But—”

  “’Tis enough time tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  “Nae. Let us sleep.”

  Kier stared at her and then finally nodded. “As you wish.” He removed his boots and then laid his frockcoat on the floor by the fire.

  “Ye cannae lie on the floor.”

  “I will be fine.”