Kieran walked into the cavernous chamber that would be the men’s new prison for a while . . . and came face to face with Ross Trenerry.
“Thank you for your help,” Trenerry said in his thick-as-treacle accent. “We won’t forget it.”
“I’d rather you did, and the rest of the Ashfords, too. That includes Deirdre.” Kieran stepped forward—
And ran into Trenerry’s fist slamming against his jaw.
Chapter 25
Kieran reeled back against the stone wall, tasting blood where he’d bitten his tongue. “What the devil—”
“Ross,” Chloe gasped.
Ross grabbed Kieran’s arms with surprising strength and leaned in close, pinning him to the wall. “That’s for thinking a woman like Deirdre would ever give herself to any man but her husband. If you don’t love her enough to believe that, you don’t deserve her, and I’ll take her away.”
“You try to,” Kieran said with deadly calm, “and you will not find a corner of this world safe. Understand?”
“You two are acting like children,” Chloe protested. “Ross, let go of my brother.”
Ross did. He stepped back and smiled. “I understand. I think you’re a”—he glanced at Chloe—“rotten Englishman, but Deirdre loves you.”
Kieran rubbed his swelling jaw. “I can’t even begin to hope you are right in that. All I can hope for is that this is enough to show her that I love her.”
“We should get back to her,” Chloe said. “Perhaps she has given you a son.”
“A son?” He saw stars for a moment, an overwhelming wish to be with his wife, with his baby. “Yes, my son.” He held out his hand to Trenerry. “Thank you.”
Ross shook it. “Take care of her.”
“You take care of these men. And I’m sorry about Old Wat.”
Pain twisted Ross’s face. “Don’t tell Deirdre straightaway. It’ll break her heart. He was there when she was born.”
“I will wait.” Kieran clasped Chloe’s elbow. “Someone will be back to see that you have everything you need. I doubt the soldiers will find you here. If they come, though, scatter.”
“We have our plans,” Ross said.
Chloe told Kieran about Blaze on their way back to Bishops Cove. “You will not try to catch him and hang him for nearly killing you, will you?”
“How could I?” The nearer they drew to the house, the more excited and the more anxious Kieran grew. “Had he not done that, Deirdre would have got away from me.”
They crept into the house and up to their rooms. Kieran took one look at himself in the mirror and knew he had to do something about his hair in the event that prison authorities began to make the rounds of local houses asking questions about escaped prisoners. He wanted no one to recognize the ragged mane now spilling around his face. Chloe could manage it, he knew, but that would take so long, and Deirdre—
No, he had to wait. She was an Ashford. Her safety depended on him looking as usual as possible. But he swore he heard a cry from below. It made his heart race and tugged him to the door.
Chloe met him there with shears in hand. “You look terrible. A few snips to make you look more like a lord than a laborer.”
“But Deirdre—”
“Is inclined to geld you at the moment, according to Sally. Now sit. You know as well as I that soldiers are likely to make an appearance here soon.”
“We have just committed treason.”
“More like helped justice. Now sit.”
Kieran sat, but the few minutes Chloe spent shaping his hair into something resembling respectability felt like an hour. When he heard a scream, he jumped and nearly lost a chunk out of his other ear. He could not bear the idea of her suffering because of him, because he had used her for his own ends.
“But I love her.”
“I know.” Chloe brushed up the hair and dumped it onto the fire. “And she—”
Another cry ripped through the night.
Kieran sprang to his feet and raced for the door. He took the steps two at a time, then vaulted over the banister halfway down the last flight and landed on the hall floor just as pounding sounded on the front door.
The soldiers arrived as he heard the cry of his first newborn baby, a baby he might never see.
Waving Addison and half a dozen servants back, he stalked to the door and yanked it open. “You had best have good reason for this interruption, sirrahs.”
“We do, man.” A young man with lieutenant’s epaulets on his shoulders stepped forward. “Where is your master?”
“I am Lord Ripon. Who is your master?”
His ears strained to hear another infant wail, for signs that all was well inside the birthing chamber.
“My lord.” The lieutenant saluted. “Where have you been all evening?”
“I beg your pardon? How is that any of your business?”
“It is the king’s business, my lord.” The lieutenant spoke in staccato bursts. “We have received information that if trouble occurs at the prison we should make certain all the Ashfords can account for themselves.”
“And who, pray tell,” Kieran drawled, trying to sound indifferent, “would tell you such a Banbury tale?”
“None of your concern, my lord.” The lieutenant laid his hand on his small sword. “We need all of you Ashfords to account—”
Another shriek resounded from the birthing chamber.
Kieran shot upright. “My wife!”
Why would she do that if the baby were already born? Something had to be wrong.
Going cold all over, he started to slam the door in the lieutenant’s face. “My wife is in childbirth. You must go.”
The lieutenant pushed his way into the hall. “What I must do is discover . . .”
“Discover what, Lieutenant?” Chloe, looking positively wanton wearing a silk dressing gown and with her hair spilling down her back, glided down the stairs.
“Um . . .” The man gulped.
Kieran leaped for the door to Deirdre’s chamber. He heard a baby’s cry, the low murmur of voices, and nothing else. Good or bad? Women died in childbirth. But not Deirdre. Not Deirdre.
He turned the door handle. Locked. He began to pound on it.
Behind him, Chloe flirted outrageously with the lieutenant, talking about Tyne and Juliet in Plymouth—“You do know Admiral Barrington, do you not?”—Deirdre and Mama “seeing to ladies’ business,” and her brother and herself banished until the business was over.
Kieran pounded on the door again. “Deirdre? Mama? Someone let me in.”
The key turned.
“What is all this about, Lieutenant?” Chloe asked.
“We do not like to say, my lady,” the lieutenant said.
Mama opened the door and, though small, managed to block the entrance. “You can’t come in here yet.”
“Please.” Kieran felt like a schoolboy begging for a holiday treat. “I want to see my wife.”
“She doesn’t want to see you,” Mama said. “What are these men doing here? And Chloe, you’re in your dressing gown.”
The lieutenant turned on Mama. “You are American.”
Mama stepped into the hall and closed the door with a firm click. “I am Lady Tyne and just happened to be born in America when it was under the Crown. Now how may I help you, man? Speak your mind and be gone.”
“You have blood on your gown,” the lieutenant said. “And we killed one of the escaping prisoners and may have wounded others. If you have a wounded man in there—”
“That blood,” Mama overrode him in her gentle voice that somehow always managed to supersede anyone’s bombast, “is my daughter-in-law’s.”
Deirdre’s blood? Kieran looked at the patches and streaks on the apron Mama wore over her dress, and spots danced before his eyes. He took a long, deep breath and leaned against the wall. Men did not swoon, but he felt lightheaded enough to do so.
“She has just given birth,” Mama continued. “And no, sirrah, before you even cons
ider it, you will not go in there and look.”
The mewing wail of an infant penetrated the door as though even the new Ashford intended to proclaim that they were all too occupied that night to be up to mischief—or treason.
His child.
Kieran regained his equilibrium and smiled. “Leave our house at once, Lieutenant. If you do not, I will have you forcibly removed.”
“You cannot treat an officer of the Crown in such a manner, lordling or not.” The lieutenant made the declaration as he edged toward the door, glancing between Phoebe’s blood-streaked clothes and Chloe’s dishabille. “I was merely doing my duty.”
“Of course you were,” Chloe purred. “We are sorry you were misdirected.”
“Perhaps,” Kieran said, “you should look in the cove before the fishing boats go out at dawn. Any escapee worth his salt would head for the sea, would he not?”
“Of course. Of course.” The lieutenant bowed. “And, um, congratulations, my lord.”
Kieran stalked behind the man until he and his underlings were outside the door, then he shot the bolts home and turned to his mother. “Why can I not see my wife and child? Does she . . . despise me so?”
Mama smiled. “She hasn’t been paying you compliments for the past hour or two, and my vocabulary has increased tenfold. But no lady would have her husband see her looking her worst.”
Kieran glanced at the door that he knew to be unlocked. “I do not care what she looks like.”
“My dear.” Mama laid her hand on his arm. “We have enough to do in there without having to revive a man your size who has just fainted.”
He felt his cheeks heat. “I would never.”
Chloe snorted. “You nearly did at the sight of Mama’s apron. Just imagine seeing Deirdre. Childbirth is a bit messy.”
“You shouldn’t know that, young lady,” Mama exclaimed. “And you should be dressed if you’re coming down here. You, too, Kieran.” Mama squeezed his arm. “At the least change your shirt. By the time you get back down, you can see your wife and babies.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kieran charged up the stairs. On the landing, her words nearly knocked him flat, and he spun back toward her, noting that Chloe wore a look of shock that must mirror his own face. “Babies?”
She laughed. “Yes, Kieran, it’s twins.”
Deirdre had never been more exhausted in her life. Hauling lines in a hurricane had been less of a struggle than giving birth. But the results were worth the effort, she knew the instant she held her son in her arms. He was tiny and wrinkled and red fuzz covered his scalp, but he was warm and breathing and perfect in every tiny finger and toe. She didn’t know she possessed so much tenderness inside her until this being her body had produced rested in her arms.
Then she saw her daughter. She had black fuzz on her head and hadn’t yet stopped complaining about entering the world since a surprised midwife had eased her into it. That made Deirdre smile and cry.
“She’s got black hair like her father.”
But Ross had black hair, too. Would they think—would Kieran believe—that another man sired these babies?
Her babies!
“We should try to feed them straightaway,” Mrs. Barnes said. “Do you have a wet nurse, since the babes are early?”
“No wet nurse.” Deirdre made the proclamation without even looking for Phoebe’s guidance. “They are mine to nourish.”
“Hmm.” Mrs. Barnes sniffed. “Modern girls. But it’s your place to guide her, Lady Tyne.”
Deirdre looked at Phoebe then, wondering if she would disapprove.
She nodded. “We’ll find a wet nurse if her milk isn’t sufficient for both.”
“Then you should try straightaway,” Mrs. Barnes said. “But let us get you cleaned up first. Lord Ripon wishes to see you.”
Deirdre’s head shot up. “He does?”
She vaguely recalled pounding on the door, but had been in too much discomfort still, not to mention shock over learning she had been carrying two babies, to pay much attention.
“What does he want?”
“To see his babies, of course,” Mrs. Barnes said.
“But he—” Deirdre looked down at her daughter and stroked one red cheek. “What does it matter what he thinks?” she murmured to the infant. “You have me to love you.” Aloud, she said, “He puts me through all the work, makes me go through the pain, and wants to trot in here to—what?—play the proud father now that it’s all over? No thank you. He can wait until perdition is an iceberg.”
“He wants,” Phoebe said, taking the baby girl from Deirdre, “to see the wife he loves, as well as his children.”
Deirdre turned away, her tears now stemming from pain in her heart rather than the joy of seeing her children. “He doesn’t love me.”
“You need rest,” Mrs. Barnes said. “You’ll feel better about things in a bit.”
Deirdre didn’t believe her, but she allowed herself to be bathed and dressed in a fresh nightgown, then tucked into the bed. Two of the older maids arrived to help clear away any signs of the birth except for the two infants in the cradle. When she woke, both were crying, and she nursed them for the first time. The boy had to be shown what to do, but the girl latched on at once. That made Deirdre laugh.
“My daughter. How am I going to raise a daughter?”
But she knew. In the past eight months, she had learned that being a female carried special rewards of friendship and giving she would never trade away.
“But you’re still going to learn to sail.”
Phoebe laughed and took the now sleeping child from Deirdre. “Will you see Kieran now? He’s been cooling his heels in the hall for hours, and wearing grooves in the stone with his pacing, I have no doubt.”
Deirdre sighed. “I suppose it can’t be avoided.” She lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes. “Send him in.”
Through her lashes, she watched Phoebe lay the baby in the cradle, then go to the door. Deirdre closed her eyes. Maybe he would think she was asleep.
But when the door opened and closed and she heard a heavier tread than Phoebe’s on the floor, she raised her lids enough to watch him enter.
He glanced toward her, then went to the cradle. He stood there in silence, head bowed, hair—heavens! What had he done with his hair?—falling over his cheek. His shoulders rose and fell, and the next breath he exhaled emerged in a ragged sigh. When he turned toward Deirdre, she saw that his cheeks shone with tears.
Her eyes popped open wide. “Kieran?”
Wordlessly, he paced across the room and sank onto the chair beside the bed. “My dearest wife—” His voice broke, and he took her hand in both of his. “I . . . Deirdre, I . . .”
All the pain and anguish he had put her through in the past eight and a half months, especially the past twelve hours, slipped away beneath a tide of love so profound she thought her heart would burst. She didn’t care if he doubted her. She would spend a lifetime convincing him of her love and faithfulness. She owed him that much for all the games she had played to free her crew.
“Will you forgive me,” she asked, “for what I tried to do? I haven’t been a good wife, so it’s no wonder you think me faithless, but I love you dearly and will try—”
He cut off her flow of words with his lips. When a drop of moisture splashed onto her cheek, she reached up her hands and cupped his face, wiping away his silent tears that had to be costing him every ounce of Ashford pride he possessed, yet he was making no move to conceal them from her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Then her heart skipped a beat. “The babies? Is something wrong with them no one’s telling me?”
“No.” He raised his head and swiped his sleeve across his face. “They are perfect like their mother.”
“And their father.” She stroked his cheek with her fingertips, came up short at the swelling on his jaw. “What happened?”
He smiled. “Ross Trenerry hit me for thinking you would give yourself to any man but
your husband.”
“Ross? In the prison yard? They’ll put him in the black hole again and he—”
Kieran kissed her again. “No, dearest Deirdre, he did it in the caves beneath the cliffs.”
“But how?” Her head spun. “I couldn’t help them find their way there.”
“I could. Chloe and I could.”
“Not possible. It’s treason. Your family. Your father may disown you.”
“He may.” Kieran gazed at her with those sleepy eyes that would, she did not doubt, seduce her for the rest of her life. “But I could think of no other way to show you how much I love you than to help your crew escape.”
“Oh.” She began to sob. “I thought you abandoned me. I thought you wanted nothing to do with the babies because it has been barely over eight months and I’ve lied to you and led your sister into danger and—why are you laughing?”
He slipped his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder. “What a pair we make. I have been such a fool. If you hadn’t tried to save your crew, I doubt I could love you so much. As for Chloe, she will get over her tendre for Trenerry now that he will be far away from England. And as for the other . . . Trenerry did not need to hit me. I already knew I had been making a terrible mistake. Will you believe me, that I love you?”
“Yes.” It was all she could say for a few moments. She stroked his shorn hair. “What happened?”
“It was the best disguise I could manage in a hurry. Shall I keep it this way? It covers my ear except when the wind blows.”
“I don’t know. I think I like it long. You made a perfect pirate.”
“I was never a pirate. The only thing I stole was your heart.”
They were laughing over this, Deirdre complaining doing so hurt, yet unable to stop, when the door burst open.
“There you are, Kieran,” Juliet cried. “Is it true there are two of them? This is so wonderfully exciting. But, Kieran, you are—oops.”
My Enemy, My Heart (The Ashford Chronicles) Page 34