“No, never,” he said, as he pulled her tight again. “Forgive me, Maggie. For ever making you doubt.” He shivered again.
Maggie pressed him back, frowning at the deep lines of pain that had been etched on his face. His eyes were fever bright, and a fine sheen of sweat covered his brow. “You’re ailing,” she whispered. “Mr. Harrison!” she shrieked. “Mr. Harrison!” she yelled again, as Dunmore fainted in her arms. When the livery owner finally poked his head out of the tack room, she motioned him over.
“Never did I think to see you acting so shamefully,” he said, with a raised brow, barely sparing a glance for the insensate man tangled in her skirts. The man with long hair and unkempt beard who looked like a ruffian was below his notice.
“It’s Dunmore, you fool!” she hissed. “Go find Da and my brothers. We have to aid him.” She nodded, when he jolted at the news it was one of his best customers and a friend who rested in her arms. After Mr. Harrison raced away to do her bidding, Maggie stroked a hand over Dunmore’s head. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll find a way to make you better.”
She sat with an unconscious Dunmore in her arms in the radiant sunlight, praying she could fulfill her promise.
* * *
Seamus, Cormac, Kevin, Niall, and Lucien raced into the livery, stopping only when they saw Maggie on the ground, a man in her arms. “Mags?” Kevin asked, as he approached her. “Cormac says he found Dunmore, but …” He gazed at the man in Maggie’s arms in disbelief. “That can’t be Dunmore.”
“’Tis Dunmore,” she said, her gaze full of hope. “But he’s ailing. I don’t know why or from what. We must help him.” She looked at her father and brothers, as though doubting they would aid her.
Seamus approached her. “You have to let him go, lass, so we can carry him home. Run ahead and tell your mum and prepare a room for him.” He waited, as she stared at him. “You can let him go, Maggie darlin’. We’ll take care of him and bring him to you.”
Maggie eased out from under Dunmore, her hands stroking his head again, as he moaned and clung to her. “No, my love,” she whispered in his ear. “Let Da and my brothers help. I’ll be with you again soon.” She rose, stilling at his plaintive “Maggie.”
She fell to her knees, cupping his face, as she focused on his bleary gaze. “Trust us,” she whispered. “I’ll see you in a few minutes at the house.” She kissed his forehead and then rose, running in the direction of home. Barreling up the front steps, she called out for her mother. “Mum!”
Mary approached from the kitchen. “Maggie? What’s happened?”
“Dunmore. He’s alive. Cormac brought him back to me,” Maggie gasped. “But he’s sick. Hurt. Injured.” She waved her arms around. “I don’t know!”
Mary gripped her shoulders. “Shh, love. He’s alive. We’ll care for him. We’ll do what we must to ensure he improves.” She motioned for Maggie to follow her. “Let’s prepare the room. ’Tis overrun with children’s toys, an’ we must have space to work.”
They entered the spare room on the main floor that had been used as a bedroom and a sickroom in the past but had most recently been turned into a playroom for the O’Rourke grandchildren. Declan’s nanny, Samantha, had lived here when she and Gavin had first arrived, but she now lived in a spare room over their new bookstore and school, continuing to help with Gavin.
Maggie and Mary tossed toys in baskets, pushing everything for the children to one side of the room. They made the bed, stepping back from it, just as Seamus and Kevin entered with Dunmore.
“’Tis ready,” Mary said, as her astute gaze roved over Dunmore. “Maggie, put a kettle on to boil water, go for Nora, and see if Aileen can come with you too.”
Maggie looked at her mother, as though she were betraying her. “No, Mum, I can’t leave him.”
Mary cupped her daughter’s head. “You can and you must. You’re still my baby daughter, and you’re unwed. You’ll not be undressin’ him.” She waited, as Maggie flushed. “Go.” Looking at Lucien, she said, “Go with her.”
Maggie left the room, put a kettle and a pot on the stove, and left for the Bordello, Lucien by her side. Although she knew her mum was only trying to protect her reputation, it stung that Maggie would be separated from Dunmore for even a few minutes. She wanted to be beside him. Always.
“Don’t worry, Maggie,” Lucien said in a soft voice. Compared to her father’s sons, Lucien was more soft-spoken, although he was just as opinionated. “He’s back. He wouldn’t have struggled so hard to return to you to die.”
Maggie let out a huff of air at his statement. “We don’t always have a choice.”
“He’s as stubborn as you are,” Lucien said, with a wry smile filled with humor. He looked very much like their mother, with her thick auburn hair and hazel eyes, although he was much taller and with broader shoulders. Thankfully he had Mary’s calm demeanor, rather than his father Francois’s erratic, more violent nature.
“Come,” Maggie said, trotting in the direction of the Bordello. “The sooner we convince Nora to aid us, the sooner I’m with Dunmore again.”
* * *
Maggie stood outside the bedroom door, nibbling on her fingernail, as she waited for permission to enter. Never before had she wished she had the temerity to disobey her mum. Even though Maggie knew her mother was attempting to protect her tattered reputation, Maggie wished she could be present.
When Seamus emerged, she gripped his arm. “Da?” Her gaze filled with pleading. “Let me go in.”
“Not yet, love,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “They have to clean him up a bit more.” He jerked around at a horrible yowl of pain, as Maggie raced around him to gain entrance to the room.
Maggie burst inside, her astute gaze taking in Dunmore covered in a sheet, his arms and chest exposed. Bruises in a kaleidoscope of colors covered his body, and she frowned. “Why?” she whispered. “He shouldn’t have bruises like this if the accident were a month ago.” Approaching him, she clasped his hand and swiped her fingers over his brow, bending forward to whisper into his ear. He calmed with her soothing words.
“Keep talking to him,” Nora said, breathless and sweaty, as she worked on the other side of the bed. She pulled back her side of the sheet, exposing two twigs tied together, with fragments of cloth around his lower leg. “I have to see if this needs to be reset.”
“Reset?” Maggie whispered. She looked at Nora, with a horror-filled gaze. “Oh, no.” Grabbing Dunmore’s hands, she raised them to her lips, kissing his fingers, as she spoke to him. When he jerked and arched with pain at Nora’s prodding and poking, Maggie held on tight. “You’re with me, my love,” she whispered. “You’re home. You’re safe.”
Maggie looked up at Nora, who swore softly at the exposed skin under the bandaging. Wrinkling her nose at the fetid smell, she blanched at the sight of his leg. “Oh, Philip,” she breathed.
“Don’t cut it off,” he pleaded.
Nora called for Seamus, demanding cheap alcohol and rags, along with boiling water and soap. Turning to meet Dunmore’s bleary gaze, she shook her head. “There aren’t red streaks yet, but the skin is festering.”
“I bound it as best I could,” he said, crying out again as she removed a piece of fabric stuck to his skin.
“Well, you did a good-enough job,” Nora said, staring at him appreciatively for a moment. “Neither Maggie nor I could have set your leg any better.”
Sweating profusely, Dunmore attempted a smile that appeared more like a grimace. “I passed out for a few days afterward. I think.” He looked at Maggie with bleary confusion. “How long has it been since the accident?”
“A month,” she whispered, her fingers stroking through his long beard. She smiled her thanks to her father, when he entered with a jug of firewater, and her brothers carried in other supplies.
“That long?” His gaze shone with interest, before he hissed with pain, as Nora continued to work on his wounds. “I swear I tried to get back to you as fast as I co
uld.”
Maggie shook her head, her eyes luminous, as her hands continued to hold his. “Don’t fret,” she soothed. She stiffened as he jerked in pain, sighed, and passed out.
“Finally,” Nora grumbled. “He’s far too hardheaded. He should have passed out a half hour ago.” She swiped at her brow with her forearm and motioned Maggie over to her side. “I need your help.”
With great reluctance, Maggie kissed Dunmore’s brow and rose to help Nora.
“As you said, Maggie, don’t fret. You’ll have plenty of time to sit in that chair and to keep vigil. He won’t be going anywhere for a while.” Nora’s smile was momentarily filled with teasing, before she focused on Dunmore’s wounds and the task at hand.
Maggie joined her, losing herself in helping Nora, with the knowledge that all she did would lead to Dunmore healing that much faster.
* * *
Maggie sat beside Dunmore’s bed, holding his hand, as she listened to the house settle for the night. She recalled the many nights Eamon had sat with his Phoebe, and now Maggie understood how he had felt. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to ensure Philip improved.
Resting her head beside him, she continued to hold his hand, as she listened to his deep, even breathing. Never had a sound been so sweet. She squirmed around a little, placing her head on one arm on the edge of the bed, and soon she had slipped into a light doze.
Jerking awake, Maggie stared with bleary eyes around her, searching for the reason she awoke. Her hand gripping Dunmore’s ached, and she gazed at him, as he twitched, squeezing her hand to the point where she must have awakened. “Philip,” she breathed. “It’s all right. You’re back in Fort Benton.”
“No!” he arched up. “I won’t let you separate me from her any longer, do you hear?” His eyes opened, fever glazed and filled with defiance. “You won’t keep me away from her this time.”
“Philip,” she soothed. “I’m right here.” She swiped at his brow with a dry cloth. “Everyone is fine. You’re home.” She yanked on his hand, preventing him from reaching for his leg and pulling on the fresh bandages and the poultice they hoped would help his leg heal.
She winced, as she knew he needed time to heal and to regain his strength. However, she was unable to mask the kernel of delight that his concern was for her, even when he was unconscious and fighting a terrible fever. “I love you, Dunmore.”
Dunmore struggled a little more but soon settled into sleep again. His even breathing soothed Maggie’s concern, and the fierce grip on her hand eased. Maggie sighed with relief.
“Maggie,” Seamus murmured from the door. “Is he well?”
She looked to her father to see him barefoot in a loose shirt that hung nearly to his knees and black trousers. Although evident he’d just awoken, his gaze was alert and attentive. “He’s fighting a nightmare. And he’s feverish.”
Seamus sighed and rubbed at his temple. “I doubt I’ll find much ice right now.”
He wandered away, and Maggie sighed, although she knew it was her role to fret and to keep vigil over Dunmore. Just as Eamon had watched over Phoebe, so had Declan when Lorena was hurt in the fire. Now it was Maggie’s turn. When Seamus returned with a cup of tea, she looked at him with wonder. “Da?”
“I’ll make you a cup in a minute.” He flushed. “I won’t pretend to be a healer, but, living with you these past years, I’ve learned that willow bark tea makes everything better. It’s time for his next cup, aye?”
Unbidden, her eyes filled with tears, as she looked at her father’s earnest expression. “Da,” she croaked, her voice thickened by deep emotions. “Thank you.”
Seamus handed her the cup of tea and moved to the other side of the bed, hefting Dunmore up with a groan. “He might have been missin’ for a month and not eating much, but he’s still a big man.” He nodded to her, holding the tea. “Come, lass. Coax him to drink it. I’ve added the honey.”
Maggie crooned to Dunmore, and soon more tea was in him than on him. When Dunmore rested again, she let out a sigh of relief and stared at her father with love and appreciation. “Thank you, Da.”
Seamus reached forward, his hand clasping hers. “I’ve always liked the lad. I never objected to him, Maggie. I simply wanted more time with you, aye?”
Maggie nodded.
“I forgot an important lesson in my desire to keep you all to myself, and I’m sorry, lass.” When she stared at him warily, he murmured, “The one thing we’re never guaranteed is more time. Cherish what you have with him. I’ll not stand in your way again.” He rose, moving to kiss her on her head, before he left her to sit beside Dunmore.
* * *
Three days later, Maggie entered Dunmore’s room, after being forced to her room for a night’s rest. Her mum had sat with Dunmore all night and was now upstairs sleeping. Although Maggie felt guilty for giving up her vigil, she knew the rest would aid her, as she continued to care for him.
“Where have you been, Maggie?” his deep, quiet voice asked, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.
“You’re awake!” she gasped, racing to his bedside. “I feared you’d never awaken.”
He smiled at her, reaching forward to cup her face. He stilled his instinctive action, lowering his hand before he touched her. “Forgive me,” he whispered, grunting, as he squirmed around in the bed.
“For what?” she asked, leaning forward, as though chasing his soft caress. “Do you regret returning to me?” She flushed, as his astute gaze met hers, boring into her.
“Never,” he murmured. “I don’t know what is real and what is a dream.”
Maggie bit her lip, sitting on the edge of the chair, as her finger stroked his arm, evoking a shiver. “What do you remember?”
“Fragments,” he murmured. “Falling into your arms. Waking in pain, but then calming because you whispered into my ear. You singing to me, as I thought I’d die from the fever.” He paused, his gaze shining with a mixture of hope and fear. “You whispering that you loved me.”
She nodded, her eyes rounded as she met his gaze. “All you say is true.”
His brows furrowed. “All of it?” At her jerk of her head, his hand rose, cupping her cheek. “You love me?”
Maggie’s eyes filled, and she shrugged, although her head turned, so his palm caressed her cheek. Kissing his palm, she said in a small voice, “Of course I do. I thought you no longer cared for me.”
Dropping his hand, so he could push himself up in bed, Dunmore swore softly and blanched, as pain ripped through him. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he hissed breaths in and out, as he attempted to calm the agony in his leg.
Finally he looked at Maggie again, unable to hide his deepest emotions. “I’ve adored you since the moment I met you. It wasn’t long after we met that I knew I’d love you forever.” He smiled, some of the tension seeping from him, as she stared at him in wonder. “I love you, Maggie. I’ll love you in this life and the next.”
“Hush,” Maggie admonished. “No talk of the next life. I want this one together to be long.” She raised a shaky hand to trace over his cheeks, frowning at his sunken cheekbones. “I hate how you’ve suffered.”
With a groan, Dunmore rested his weight against the pillows. “I can’t remember the whole time I was away. After I bound my leg, I must have blacked out for a time.”
“How did you make it back to us?” Maggie asked, her fingers now tangled with his.
“I awoke in a ravine, miles from the stagecoach accident.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how I got there. I crawled, for days, hopeful I’d find someone or a road. I finally did, although I looked like a wild man.” He sighed. “The men who first found me took turns beating me. Thought I would die anyway, and they might as well have a little bit of fun.” He motioned to his chest.
“That’s why you’re covered in bruises,” Maggie whispered.
He nodded. “Thankfully, just before I passed out, a man came along with a wagon and tossed me in the back. I don’t remember mu
ch, until I came to in a livery days later.”
“Where?” Maggie asked.
“Bannack,” he said. “A town I rarely traveled to. I’ve no need, as taking passengers to Helena or Virginia City keeps me busy enough.”
Maggie ran a hand over his head. “What’s important is you’ve returned.”
“The memory of you gave me the strength to not give in to the temptation to give up and die.” He kissed her fingers. “Dying would have been much easier than suffering through the trip here and the Madam’s attentions.”
Maggie giggled. “Forgive me, but that sounded like something indecent occurred.”
His gaze glowed. “Never apologize for sharing your joy with me. For sharing yourself with me. It’s what I most dream of. Moments with you.” His thumb stroked her cheek, and he gave her a gentle tug, urging her toward him. “Kiss me, darling. Ease my pain.”
She smiled, resting a palm carefully on his chest, before pressing her lips gently against his. With a sigh and a groan, the kiss deepened, and she soon found herself sprawled on the bed beside him. When she moved, she pressed even more closely against him, and he grunted in pain. “Oh, forgive me.”
“You’ll be forgiven if you kiss me again,” he breathed, as he kissed along her cheek to her ear, nibbling on the tender flesh of her lobe.
She giggled and sat back, so her forearms rested gently beside him. “No.” She pressed her fingers against his mouth. “I can’t abide hurting you. Don’t ask that of me.”
He stared at her in confusion. “You’d hurt me to heal me. This is no different.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Incorrigible.” With an exasperated look, filled with loving tenderness, she shook her head again. “No, Dunmore. I’ll only hurt you to save your life. You won’t die if I don’t kiss you.”
“I feel like I will,” he muttered, urging her forward, so she rested her head on his chest. “Heaven.” He breathed in deeply of her subtle scent, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
Pioneer Devotion: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Six Page 7