Her Irish Surrender

by Kit Morgan

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “There’s a Bible on the dresser. Read from that. Psalms would be good.”

  He listened as she crossed the room and got the Bible. She sat again, and he felt the soft brush of air on his arm as she flipped through the pages. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters …” she read.

  Lorcan leaned against the pillows as he listened, and tried to take comfort in the words.

  “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil …”

  Speaking of evil, he should talk with the Sheriff about what happened. If he was forced into a fight and injured, who else was? What other men did that madman use to fuel his sadistic pleasure? For that’s all it was when it came down to it. Lorcan stayed away from fights like that, no matter what the pay. In fact, the only reason you got paid after such a fight, was because you were the one still alive and standing.

  “Is there any particular Psalm you’d like me to read to you?”

  Lorcan sighed, and tried to keep the troubled sound out of his voice. “Why don’t you start at the beginning, and see how far you get before you to return to work.”

  She was silent for a moment, and then flipped through the pages again. Her scent was the same as before, and he sensed her leaning toward him. “Blessed is the man that walketh not in the council of the ungodly…”

  Her voice was sweet, melodic, and began to lull him to sleep. How would it be to wake up to such a creature each day? To see her sweet smile in the morning sunlight, taste the honeyed nectar of her lips each night? Lorcan’s jaw tightened. But why even think about such things? What woman would bind herself to a blind man? Have to see to his needs, make sure he didn’t walk out in front of a horse or moving wagon? Lead him about from day to day. How would he support her? What could he do? His life at Brody’s Books would be over. And what of his parents?

  Lorcan’s fists clenched. What if …

  Nine

  Adaline stood fidgeting in front of the stove. She’d been working alongside Polly since she got home from the bookshop, and was about to see the fruit of her labor. Or in this case, the fruit of her pie, the first she’d ever made. “Oh, I hope it turns out all right!”

  “Stop that,” Polly scolded. “Worrying won’t make this pie bake faster.”

  “I hope he likes it.”

  “Trust me,” Polly began with an exaggerated wave of her hand. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned living in Clear Creek, is that pie is like a miracle-cure for men.”

  Adaline quirked an eyebrow but said nothing. She was too nervous. In New Orleans she and Aunt Priscilla kept a maid and a cook. Until the money ran out, that is. There was never a need to learn how to use a kitchen. “Oh, dear.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I just realized I don’t know how to make a thing!” She looked at Polly aghast. “What am I going to do?”

  “You’re not getting married tomorrow. You have some time to learn.”

  Adaline took one of Polly’s hands. “You’ll teach me, won’t you?”

  Polly patted her on the shoulder and laughed. “My dear, you have nothing to worry about. Between myself, Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Brody, you’ll learn enough to keep Lorcan happy.”

  Adaline blushed a furious red.

  “Oh, there’s no denying it,” Polly told her. “We all knew it would turn around, besides, you’ll be living with the Brodys’ and I’m sure Mrs. Brody will have you baking every morning with her.”

  Adaline sat, her legs weak with happiness. “I never knew it could come out of nowhere and hit me.”

  Polly laughed. “What?”

  “Feeling the way I do about Lorcan. I don’t know what happened.”

  “Sometimes when you take care of a man like you’ve been taking care of Lorcan, the part of your heart that wants to love someone, comes out. In your case, you were meant to love him anyway. You are his mail order bride, after all.”

  “Was. But it’s all turning out the way it was supposed to.”

  “But isn’t it nice to have a little time to get to know him first?”

  Adaline looked at her as Polly poured them each a cup of coffee. “Yes, it is. I miss him.”

  “He’s trying to get better. Don’t worry over the fact you haven’t seen him for a few days.”

  Adaline sighed. True, what were a few days? (Other than pure torture.) She so enjoyed reading the Psalms to him, and he’d fallen asleep listening to her. When she left his room she had to fight the urge to kiss him on the forehead. Polly was right, something in her had rose up and wanted to care for him, see him get well, and then work at his side. Was this love? Or, the fact she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, and worried over him until it came time to go to the bookshop? When Mrs. Brody told her the doctor wanted him to rest as much as possible for a few days, her heart sank. Something didn’t feel right, and when she questioned Mrs. Brody about it, the woman could offer no answer. They were just following the doctor’s orders. But this afternoon, the doctor informed Mrs. Brody Lorcan could have a visitor, and Adaline wanted to make it special.

  “I think it’s done,” Polly said. Adaline hopped up to take the pie out of the oven. She gasped in delight as she took, and set it on the worktable to cool. “Do you think it turned out?”

  “Looks good and smells good. Don’t worry, that’s Grandma Waller’s recipe. She’s the best pie-maker in Clear Creek.”

  “Can you write it down for me?”

  “Certainly dear. Now why don’t you go put on your prettiest dress. Let him see you at your best. The pie will still be here when you come back.”

  Adaline stared at the golden crust, and breathed in the scent of cinnamon. “I hope he likes it.”

  “Will you stop?”

  Adaline giggled and blushed. She did have it bad. If this was a precursor to love, then she was in trouble! So was Lorcan, he was going to get fat from all the pies she planned on baking! After all, if they were to be married, as everyone insisted, she was going to need the practice.

  Adaline laughed at the thought, then dashed upstairs to change her dress.

  * * *

  “There is always good news and bad new to something like this,” Doc Henderson said as he sat next to Lorcan’s bed. “The good news is you seem to be getting better, your vision is normalizing. The bad news, if you fight again, you run the risk of losing your sight forever.”

  Lorcan nodded as he looked at him. He was fuzzy, but at least he could see him. The darkness had faded to light over the last couple of days, and he thanked God it did. He was beginning to worry. “How long until my vision is fully restored?”

  “Hard to tell. I’ve heard of men, women too, whose eyesight got better for a time then…” he shook his head. “Nothing. They lose it completely.”

  “That’s not encouraging. You’ll be keeping this to yourself, of course.”

  Doc Henderson sighed heavily. “You know how I feel about this, you must tell your family if it goes bad again. They’ll need time to prepare themselves.”

  “Prepare themselves?”

  Doc Henderson leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees. “Son, going blind is one thing, suddenly being blind another. If you lose your eyesight, they’re going to have to make a few adjustments. You’ll not be able to work in the bookshop for a time, at least not until you come up with a system. And you’ll have to learn a few things. Now, there’s a school for the blind up in …”

  “Stop,” Lorcan commanded. “I’ll hear none of it. If it happens, I’ll deal with it then. For now, say nothing. If someone is going to tell them, then it needs to be me. I don’t want them to worry unless there’s a … good reason to.”

  Doc Henderson shook his head in resignation as he sat up. “All right, son, have it your way. But take my advice, once your eyesight gets back to where it was, the only way you’re going to keep it there is to stop fighting. One good blow, and you coul
d be blind forever.”

  Lorcan nodded. “I understand.”

  “Now, I believe there’s a young lady waiting in the parlor to see you,” Doc Henderson said as he stood. “And either she’s brought you a pie, or your mother has taken to baking in the evenings.”

  Lorcan smiled.

  Doc Henderson leaned toward him. “She’s mighty pretty, Lorcan. Why don’t you marry her, have some kids, forget this fighting business.”

  “Don’t worry, Doc. I’ve already decided on all counts.”

  “Glad to hear it. I’ll send her in on my way out.” He left the room, but didn’t close the door behind him. Sure enough, within moments Adaline stood on the threshold, a fresh- baked pie in her hands.

  Lorcan felt a rush of heat as he took in the sight of her. She came toward the bed, and became fuzzy as she did. He was able to see things at a distance, but not close up yet. “What have you got there?” he asked.

  “Ah, well …” she cleared her throat. “I thought since you’ve been cooped up in here for days, you might like a treat. Your mother’s cookies and pies have been selling out before she’s had a chance to set any aside for you. So she says, anyway.”

  “She’s right. I haven’t had pie in over a week.” He sniffed the air. “Mmmm, smells like apple.”

  “It is. I … I hope you like it.” She set it down on the dresser, then came back and sat in the chair.

  “What are you doing?” he asked with innocence.

  “Huh? Sitting …”

  “Aren’t you going to give me a piece of pie?”

  “Oh! I’m sorry!” she said as she stood. “Wait right here.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, don’t go anywhere.” She slapped her forehead. “I mean, I’ll be right back!”

  Lorcan laughed as she rushed from the room. She was nervous to have him taste her baking in front of her. She was also adorable. He sighed and closed his eyes. As soon as his sight was fully restored, he was going to ask her to marry him. In the mean time, he planned on having fun with her.

  She came back, a fork and knife in one hand, a plate in the other. She went to the dresser, cut him a slice, and brought it to him. “I have a confession to make,” she said, her voice nervous.

  He cocked his head. “Really?”

  She nodded.

  “And what might that be, Miss Adaline Dermont?” he asked as he took the plate from her.

  “This is my first pie.”

  He froze, eyes wide, and looked at her as if she’d just delivered the most horrible news. It was all he could do to keep a straight face. She sat stock-still and stared back, her expression frozen. At least it looked that way. How was he to tell? A tiny sound escaped her and it almost did him in.

  Ah, that’s how. He took the fork, cut off a bite, and raised it to his lips. “I’m not going to fall dead or anything am I?”

  She gasped. “Lorcan Brody! That wasn’t a nice thing to say.”

  He laughed, took the bite, and began to chew. “Mmmm,” he mumbled. He suddenly stopped, coughed, sputtered (for added effect) and crossed his eyes.

  “Stop it, you horrid man!”

  He laughed, she joined him and he had a thought. “Take this will you?” he asked as he handed her the plate.

  “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”

  “Oh, I like it fine,” he said as he leaned back against the pillows.

  “Then what’s the matter?”

  He gave her a huge grin. “It will taste so much better, if you feed it to me.”

  “What?”

  He laughed. “C’mon, you know you want to. Admit it, you liked seeing me helpless the day you fed me lunch.”

  “Lorcan Brody, you … you …”

  He could sense her glee, and hoped he didn’t just sentence himself to having pie smeared in his face. But no, that’s not what Adaline did. She took the plate, cut off a bite, and using her other hand, brought his face toward her. The feel of her fingers against his chin was excruciating. He wanted to kiss them, nibble them, take them in his mouth if he could.

  “Open up,” she said, her voice soft.

  He clenched his fists in a vain attempt to still his heart, and obeyed. She gave him the bite and he chewed slowly, the sweet taste of apple assailing his senses, as did being so near to her. “Guess what, Adaline?” His voice had dropped in pitch, and he smiled. He couldn’t see her well, but could sense she was looking into his eyes.

  “What, Lorcan?”

  “You sure do make a good pie.”

  She sucked in a tiny breath. “Thank you.” She cut off another piece and fed it to him. “I suppose you think I’m going to do this for you all the time.”

  He chewed, swallowed, “Of course.”

  “Never,” came out a breathless whisper.

  He smiled. “Then … I’ll feed you.”

  He heard her gulp. “This is not a proper conversation for us to be having.”

  “I know,” he said, his voice a rasp. He reached up, and lucky for him, caught the stray curl he guessed was there. He pulled her toward him. “Then lets stop talking.” Before she could protest, he wound his fingers in her hair and pulled her mouth to his.

  He’d been hit in the head, crushed beneath bodies, dragged, kicked, and suffered all sorts of bodily injury in the ring. But nothing was as mind numbing as kissing Adaline Dermont. Heat shot through him, and a tingling ran from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. His torso felt like it was on fire, not to mention other parts of him, and he somehow found the sense to let go of her, and reach for the plate in her hands.

  She sat back, breathless, and stared at him.

  He smiled. “Aye, you sure make good pie …”

  * * *

  Adaline couldn’t believe it. She’d been kissed by Lorcan Brody! Aunt Priscilla would be scandalized! Adaline, on the other hand, wanted him to do it again, but all she did was sit there, speechless.

  He looked at her, his face still bruised, eyes puffy, but not as bad as days past, and smiled. Even black and blue, he was still the handsomest man she’d ever met. “Have I over stepped my bounds, Miss Dermont?”

  She shook her head no, her eyes fixed on him, “I … I think I’m supposed to slap you. But … you already look like you’ve had quite enough slapping, so I’ll forego it for now.”

  He smiled, and his shoulders shook with silent mirth. “And if I kiss you again, what then? As you’ve said, I already look a mess.”

  “Then if you kiss me again, I … I shall have to remove your pie from the room.”

  His eyes widened. “I’ll behave, I promise.”

  She blushed as she smiled, and put a hand to her chest. “That would be wise considering your mother and father are in the next room.”

  “Aye, and probably kissing.”

  “Lorcan, no …”

  “Yes! You don’t know my Maither and Da.”

  “If that’s the case, then I know where you get it from.”

  “What?”

  She blushed and turned away.

  He reached over, and took her hand in his. “I’d like to kiss you again, if I may.”

  Her blush deepened. It was one thing to be surprised by his kiss, another to know one was coming. What to do? Would he think her wanton if she gave her consent? Or would he …

  The thought was cut off, and the next thing she knew she was in his arms, the plate of pie balanced between them, as he stole another kiss. His lips were soft, and for a scant second she wondered if kissing hurt him, considering his bruised face. But all thought left when his tongue delved into her mouth, and she moaned in response. He set them apart, his breathing ragged. “Ah, lass … you’re killing me.” He swallowed hard and looked at her. “Adaline … what was I thinking?”

  “Lorcan …”

  “Adaline … Addy.”

  She smiled at the nickname. “My aunt calls me Ada,” she whispered.

  “Ada …” he said, trying it out. “No, I think I’ll call you Addy.” He brushed a curl out of h
er face. “Beautiful Addy.”

  “Ahem …”

  Adaline and Lorcan flew apart. What was left of the pie, fell to the floor with a plop, as the plate landed with a clatter. Mr. Brody sauntered into the room with a smile. “Shall I send for Reverend Franklin?”

  Adaline and Lorcan took one look at each other, and burst into laughter. Lorcan sobered first. “There’ll be time enough for that.”

  “Any more time, and you two will make me a grandfather. I’ll be speaking with him in the morning then.” He took his pipe out of his pocket, and put it in his mouth. “Carry on.” He turned on his heel with a smile, and left the room.

  Adaline’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Carry on?”

  “You heard the man!” Lorcan chortled and pulled her into his arms.

  “Lorcan Brody, let go of me!”

  “The match is done! We’re not in Ireland, if we were, there’d be courting and all sorts of goings on. But not here, things happen a lot quicker. If I hadn’t been such a fool, we’d already be married.”

  She stared at him. Marriage. Her body trembled with delight.

  “Here now, are you cold?”

  “No,” she said, her voice softened again. “Not at all.”

  He raised a single eyebrow. “Is it me then, have I set you to trembling, lass?”

  She looked into his eyes. “I’m afraid so, Mr. Brody.”

  “Lorcan.”

  She smiled again. “Lorcan.”

  “Lorcan Brody. Let me hear you say it.”

  She licked her lips. “Lorcan Brody.”

  “Now say your name, lass.”

  She thought it odd, but did it. “Adaline Dermont.”

  “No,” he said and shook his head.

  “No?”

  He shook his head again. “Adaline Brody.”

  Her eyes widened, and she let go a shaky breath as another tremor passed through her.

  “Say it,” he whispered as he brought his face to hers.

  She swallowed, her mouth dry. “Adaline Brody,” she said against his lips.

  “Yes, you are,” he said, and then claimed what they both knew, was now his.