Alaina's Promise

by Meg Allison

  “Where’d he take off to?”

  Shannon met Torin’s gaze steadily and shook his head. “I don’t know. Me and the others helped him to his feet, him groaning and almost in tears for the pain.” Shannon grinned, his eyes sparkling with admiration. “Ah, what a lass you’ve got yourself, Torin! She’s a force to be reckoned when her back’s to the wall.”

  “So you don’t believe his story?” Torin asked. “That she…” He swallowed hard and looked away. He hadn’t believed a word of it. He knew Alaina well enough by now to see the purity of her spirit. But those who didn’t know her might believe the worst.

  “What? Believe that that lovely colleen would look twice at a scoundrel like Doogan?” Shannon’s eyes grew wide in surprise. Torin smiled at his old friend. “Who would believe that she would try to seduce him and then changed her mind? The man has his share of gall, to be sure, coming up with such a tale!”

  Shannon grunted, waving a hand dismissively. “Saints above, Torin! None but Doogan’s own mother would believe such nonsense and even then I’d wager she’d box his ears for lying. God rest her sweet soul. Mary Catherine is like to be spinning in her grave up North for the thought of what that lad of hers has become. He’s turning out just like his father—a bully and a brute.”

  “Has the sheriff been around this week, Liam?” Torin asked. “I need to tell him what happened.” Again the thought of what had almost happened to Alaina made him feel sick with guilt. If Doogan hadn’t been harboring such bitterness toward him. If it wasn’t for his past, Alaina wouldn’t be sitting in his mother’s house bruised and battered. She wouldn’t have had to fight for her virtue against a man who liked nothing better than to rough up women.

  “Lad, take a breath now,” Shannon said. Torin turned to meet his intense gaze. “She’s a strong one, Patrick’s lass. You thinking of the worst won’t do anyone a bit of good.

  “They say the sheriff has been taking care of troubles to the south. I sent one of my lads off to let him know what’s happened. All of our women need protection from the likes of Nick Doogan. We’ll make sure he doesn’t come near your Alaina again.”

  “She’s not mine, Liam,” Torin said. “’Tis not a blessing of which I’m worthy.” He pulled at Declan’s reins and started north.

  * * *

  Alaina heard the soft tapping echo up the stairs. She lay on her bed, staring up at the white ceiling. Her jaw ached. It felt like a mule had kicked her arm—the deep purple bruises a minor testament to her pain.

  She heard voices drifting up to her—Maggie’s and another, deeper voice. Alaina sat up, her heart thumping harder. Could Torin have come back after all?

  Sliding slowly to her feet, she crossed the room halfway before stopping abruptly. It could be Doogan. Perhaps he had sought her out to finish what he’d started. Fear washed over her, icy cold like stream water in November. If it was the loathsome man, she couldn’t very well leave Maggie alone to face his anger. There was no telling what he was capable of.

  Taking a deep breath, Alaina moved over the last few feet to the door and laid her ear against it. The door downstairs shut and the voices moved through the house. It all sounded peaceful enough—the male voice had a gentle, rolling quality about it. Alaina let out the breath she held. Her shoulders drooped as the tension ebbed away. It wasn’t Doogan.

  She stood there a moment, wondering if she should go downstairs and meet Maggie’s caller or remain in her room. She longed to stay upstairs―behind the solid door and away from prying eyes. But surely everyone within twenty miles had heard of her encounter with Doogan by now. Either way, it would be weeks before the bruises faded completely. She couldn’t very well hide away until then.

  Alaina closed her eyes and taking a deep breath she opened the door.

  “Alaina!” Maggie stood as she entered the parlor. Alaina glanced at the man seated beside her friend for an uncertain moment and then relaxed. He wore a dark cassock and a stark white collar around his neck, the uniform of a clergyman.

  “How are you feeling, lass?” Maggie asked, rushing to Alaina’s side. “Och, that bruise is a pitiful sight, you poor dear. Come, we have a visitor.” Maggie turned toward the priest and smiled. “Father Morris, this is Patrick’s girl, Alaina Ryan.”

  “’Tis a pleasure, Miss Ryan,” the cleric replied, nodding his head. Sharp green eyes smiled at her from a round face crowned with snow-white hair. “I would have been by sooner to introduce myself, but I had business in Galway that kept me some time.” His gaze moved to her dark, swollen cheek. “I arrived home this morning and heard news of your unfortunate encounter with Nicholas Doogan. I thought I should come by and see how you ladies were faring—if you needed any assistance. I remember Patrick well, though ’twas years ago that we last met.”

  Alaina tried to smile, but the pain in her face and the raw emotions stirred by the cleric’s remarks made it all but impossible. “Thank you, Father. I’m sure as soon as he’s able to receive visitors, he’d enjoy seeing you again.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” he asked, his gaze shifting between the two women. “Mr. Shannon told me the sheriff has been notified of Doogan’s behavior and I’m just sick at heart, Miss Ryan, that such a terrible ordeal has befallen you. Doogan has always been a difficult man. I’m afraid he and his sister did not have the best upbringing once their gentle mother passed on. That and their choice of companions set the stage for destruction.”

  Alaina felt Maggie go rigid beside her. Her arm tightened about her shoulders.

  “A poor upbringing or choice of companions is no excuse for attacking a woman in the street. There is no excuse for such behavior beyond the evil harbored in his own black soul.”

  Father Morris blushed, glancing about the room in discomfort. Alaina felt a bit sorry for him. She wondered at Maggie’s anger over such a simple remark.

  “I did not mean to imply such a thing was in any way acceptable,” he said. “But ’tis just that once Mary Catherine died, Nick and his sister Brigit were left alone by a drunken, neglectful father. They had no boundaries set, no one to look out for them. I’m afraid they both chose the wrong paths in life.”

  Alaina glanced at Maggie’s face. The woman’s eyes seemed to flash like lightning across the parlor. “If this conversation is going where I think it might, Father, then I suggest we end it now before I forget the meaning of Christian charity.”

  “Now, Maggie, really I didn’t mean—”

  “And just what did you mean, Father?” she asked. “My boy made his share of mistakes and then some, to be sure, but he is not to blame for the fall of Nick Doogan and that unfortunate girl. They both forsook any help offered them by their neighbors and the Church. They chose their paths and Nick remains there to this day! My boy has fought his way back off of it.”

  Father Morris held up both hands. Whether in protest or surrender, Alaina couldn’t be sure. “Maggie, please! I am sorry. You know I think the world of Torin. He is a good, honest man and he has done all anyone can do to repent of the past. On my honor, I hold nothing against him. Maggie, the truth be known, I admire the lad. Never in my life have I seen anyone turn their lives around in such a complete fashion.”

  Alaina looked from one to the other, uneasy at the words spoken. She felt as if she was hearing a conversation that was none of her business. Torin had a checkered past—that had been obvious for some time now. But Alaina knew that any confession to her should come from him, and not derived from the remarks of others.

  “Maggie,” she said softly, laying her hand on the other woman’s arm.

  Maggie looked at her and sighed, then glanced back at the priest. “I apologize, Father. Please forgive the outburst. This whole incident has been very upsetting to all of us.”

  Father Morris smiled and nodded. “Of course, Maggie. ’Tis my fault entirely. Seems I always manage to stick my foot in it. Please forgive me, both of you, for causing any further discomfort.”

  Maggie nodded. “Now, would yo
u like some tea, Father? I believe Alaina wished to visit with Patrick this afternoon, aye lass?”

  “Oh, of course,” the white-haired priest replied. “Don’t let me detain you. I need to be on my way as well.”

  “It’s been a pleasure, Father Morris.” Alaina extended a hand which he took.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Ryan. And would be my honor to perform the ceremony anytime you’re ready.”

  “Ceremony?” she asked with a frown.

  “Aye, the nuptial Mass?” His smile dissolved. “Oh, you are Catholic, are you not?”

  “Oh…” Alaina stumbled for something to say as she clasped her fingers together at her waist and stepped backward. “Yes, but we…we aren’t—”

  “We’ll let you know as soon as they’ve set the date,” Maggie added smoothly.

  “Wonderful!” the priest exclaimed. “’Tis a good thing I posted marriage announcements as soon as I heard the news of your visit, then. I was afraid I might have overstepped myself.”

  “Oh, uh, no, Father,” Maggie said as she firmly ushered him to the door. “You’ve done very well. Thank you.”

  “Yes, well, good evening, ladies. Give Patrick my best and let him know I look forward to talking with him soon.”

  “Thank you, Father,” Alaina murmured. “I will.”

  The door closed and Maggie stood silent with her back to Alaina.

  “Maggie?”

  “Aye?”

  Alaina stared at her, waiting for the other woman to say something. Finally she couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. “He thinks Torin and I are getting married.”

  “It seems that way, doesn’t it?” Maggie turned to face her with a smile.

  “Shouldn’t we tell him the truth?”

  “And that would be?”

  Alaina frowned and shook her head. Was she dreaming again? “That we aren’t, of course! What will Torin say when he finds out?”

  Maggie shrugged and headed down the hall toward the kitchen. “There’s no reason he needs to know. And I’m sure he’ll just laugh anyhow. Father Morris is forever putting the cart before the horse.”

  Alaina scampered down the hall after her, skirts lifted high in both hands. “Why do I feel like something’s going on?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Maggie said as she began the evening meal. “If the priest wants to believe Torin is getting married, ’tis no skin off my nose. We’ll all have a good laugh about it later.”

  “But he’s posted banns!”

  “Means nothing, lass. You don’t have to get married because of it—no worries, aye?”

  Maggie’s smile beamed at her from across the room and Alaina finally let the subject drop. But a small doubt niggled at her mind. She couldn’t help but wonder if dear, kind Maggie O’Brien had something up her sleeve.

  Something else bothered her as well. “Maggie, the Father spoke of Doogan and his sister—”

  “Aye, sorry for that, I am. You’d think a body would let the past go at last—especially a priest who’s job ’tis to be forgiving and forgetting.”

  “What do you think happened to Brigit?”

  Maggie shook her head. “She jumped of course. There’s no other explanation.”

  “But how? She feared the cliffs so very much. How could she bring herself to do something like that?”

  The other woman spun around, her eyes wide. “How can you be knowing that? That she feared the cliffs?”

  “Oh,” Alaina exclaimed, at a momentary loss. “Torin told me. Wasn’t it common knowledge? Didn’t you know?”

  Maggie crossed herself as she shook her head. “Poor lost child… Nay, I didn’t know the lass very well. Oh…” Her eyes filled with tears and she dabbed at them with the edge of her apron. “If only I had…I should have reached out to the girl, but I was so very angry with Torin. I didn’t think he should marry her—I wanted a better life for my son.”

  “Maggie, you’re not to blame.”

  “Maybe not, but neither is Torin. Whatever happened to the child, it was not his doing!”

  “Of course not! I never said otherwise, I just don’t see how—”

  “Alaina, I am sorry, but let the past rest,” Maggie insisted as she turned back to the sink. “Nothing good will come of picking at old wounds. We’ll never know what forced poor Brigit off those cliffs and we have to move on despite it.”

  Alaina stepped back, somewhat chastised. She’d let the question drop for now, but she couldn’t keep it from lingering in her thoughts. Sometimes the past should be laid to rest—but not if it still haunted those left living.

  “Go on now and rest a bit while I get supper done,” Maggie continued. “We’ll face your father together, later. He’ll have to know what’s happened for the bruises will take ages to heal.”

  “Oh, I can’t—”

  Maggie looked at her and smiled. “You can, and you must. But lay down for a while first. And don’t you worry, I’ll be at your side as long as you need me.”

  Chapter Ten

  “God in Heaven, who did this to you?” her father whispered as he took in the bruises on her face.

  “Daddy, I’m fine—”

  “Don’t be telling me lies when I can see the obvious!” he yelled as he struggled to sit in the large bed.

  “Please!”

  “Who did this?” he demanded.

  “The man from the pier at Ballyvaughn—Nick Doogan.”

  The pain in her father’s eyes made her want to weep, but she held back the tears. “Why?” Patrick asked. “Why would he do such a thing?”

  Maggie slipped in behind her then and placed a comforting hand on her back. “He’s a bad one, Patrick. Has been for years. But he turned his anger on Alaina because he hates Torin. I think he wanted to hurt him through her.”

  Patrick shook his head and a tear slid down his weathered face. “Come here, inion.”

  Alaina rushed to his bedside and sank down beside him. He pulled her into his arms and he rocked her gently as silent tears fell from her eyes. It felt safe in her father’s embrace.

  “What’s being done?” he asked Maggie, his voice more controlled.

  “The sheriff has been notified but no one’s seen Doogan since the attack. Alaina defended herself quite well, so I’m told.”

  “And Torin? Has he gone after the bastard?”

  “Nay, and he promised he wouldn’t.”

  “Good, can’t have him winding up in jail, can we?” He pulled back from Alaina and turned her face from one side to another. “You poor, sweet lass. Did he hurt you anywhere else?”

  “No, daddy, he didn’t…” She swallowed hard and forced out the words she’d yet been able to say. “He didn’t rape me.”

  He closed his eyes, his shoulders sagged with relief. “Thanks be to God.”

  “And to James Sloan—he’s the one who taught me to defend myself.”

  “Yes, dear old James,” he said with a smile. “He’ll definitely be in my will now, bless his soul. But he’s still too old for you, lass.”

  Alaina laughed out loud and smiled back at her father whose eyes twinkled with a faint trace of humor. It reminded her of the times they’d had little but love and laughter to survive on…and that had always kept the hope burning bright.

  “Torin’s gone,” she said. “He went to help his friend mend fences.”

  “Ah, then, ’tis all the more reason for me to stop lying about feeling sorry for myself.” He moved his legs so he could get out of bed and held out a hand. “Come on, ladies, there’s work to do. Got to get me strength back if I’m to defend two beautiful women from the bastards in this world.”

  “Daddy!”

  “Ah, don’t go scolding me now, inion. ’Tis time I got out of bed. I’ve a mind to dance at a ceili—the sooner, the better.”

  * * *

  “Mama! Mama! ’Tis Torin’s pretty angel!” The young male voice rang over the valley as two small children ran toward the white limestone cot
tage. Smoke poured from the chimney rising from the thatched roof, scenting the sea air with the sweet, pungent odor of burning turf.

  A young, plump woman with streaked blond hair emerged from the open doorway, drying her hands on an apron that hung about her, tied high just above her very pregnant stomach. As they rattled closer, Alaina was surprised that she recognized the young boy. He was the same lad she had encountered during her first moments in Ballyvaughn. Apparently he was still under the impression that she was a celestial spirit. Alaina smiled down at the children, their upturned faces glowing back at her with their own heavenly light and innocence.

  “You must be Willie,” Alaina said, to which the children’s mouths dropped open in wonder. She laughed, turning her attention to the mother as Sean Riordan pulled the rig to a halt near the cottage and dismounted.

  “Hello!” Mary Katherine O’Malley exclaimed as she stared at Alaina with open curiosity. “Is this Miss Ryan?”

  “Aye, Mary Kate,” Sean replied. “This is the lady, herself. And her da, Patrick. Alaina, Mr. Ryan, this lovely angel is Mary Kate O’Malley—a cousin of yours, I do believe.”

  Mary Kate blushed as she patted her head. “’Tis a grand pleasure to meet you Mister Ryan, Miss Ryan. I wish I’d known you were coming this mornin’. We aren’t quite ready for company.” Maggie hopped down from the carriage. “And Maggie, I’ll be glad to have your hands for helping. From what I hear we’ve quite a crowd coming to the party.”

  Alaina smiled at her cousin. “Oh, please, call me Alaina. And I’d love to be of help as well, if I may?”

  Mary Kate nodded emphatically. “Well, of course you can!” At that moment, a young red-haired girl tugged at her sleeve. “Oh, this is my girl, Molly, and I think you’ve already met our Willie. He’s spoken of nothing else these past two months but the O’Brien’s lovely angel. There be many more cousins round about, too. But you’ll meet many of them tonight at the ceili.”

  Torin walked out the cottage then with another, much taller man, who was soon introduced as Tom O’Malley, her cousin’s husband. But Alaina found she only had eyes for Torin. The sight of him after such a long week’s absence made her heart race like a jackrabbit running from the hounds.