Pioneer Devotion: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Six

by Flightner, Ramona

  He froze at her comment. “Yes, I’ll always limp, although I hope, as I regain strength, it won’t be as pronounced.” He paused, his gaze becoming more guarded, as he met her tormented expression. “Do you no longer want me because I’m not strong enough?”

  She shivered and shook her head. “That has no bearing on anything.”

  He squeezed her shoulders, giving them a little shake. “Answer me. Does the idea of being with a cripple disgust you?” His eyes were as bright as when he had a fever and filled with dread. His cheeks were flushed a dark red. “Maggie, I …” He broke off, his voice filled with devastation.

  She pushed at him, but he wouldn’t release his hold on her shoulders. “Let me go.” When he continued to hold her, she pushed again, arching and struggling and doing everything in her power to free herself. “Let me go!” she screamed.

  “No,” Dunmore whispered. “Not until you tell me why you’re acting like this. Not until you tell me what’s changed between us.”

  “I hate you,” she gasped, her gaze roving around and filled with panic. “I hate you!”

  He released her with such a sudden swiftness that it took her by surprise, and she fell forward to her knees. Sobs burst forth, and she buried her face into her legs, her body shaking.

  “Forgive me,” he whispered. “I should never have held you against your will. I’m sorry, Maggie. I never meant to hurt you. To make you remember.” He broke off and wiped at his mouth, turning to stare at the creek. “I can understand why you’d despise me.”

  “Philip,” she gasped out in a soft, sorrowful voice. “I can’t have you. Don’t you understand?”

  He heard the torment and the anguish in her voice and knelt in front of her, grimacing slightly at the pain it evoked in his leg. “No, my darling, I don’t.” Brushing at strands of her loose auburn hair that shone red in the sun, he gazed at her with adoration, love, hurt, and confusion.

  “I’m not the woman you need,” she said, with a small sob. “I’ve got no courage.” Her body shook with a silent sob. “I … I’m terrified of leaving Fort Benton again. I can’t go on adventures with you. I can’t be the woman you need.” She repeated the last sentence as though it broke her heart.

  Edging closer to her, so that his knees tangled in her long skirts, he stroked his thumbs over her cheeks. “Oh, my precious Maggie, if you never leave this town again, it wouldn’t matter to me. I’ll always return to you. I don’t care what you do or where you go, as long as we’re together. As long as you are mine, and I am yours …” He swooped forward and gave her a soft kiss. She returned his kiss, her hand rising to scrape through his beard.

  After they broke apart, she stared at him a long moment. “I don’t care that you have a limp. I don’t care if you lose a limb,” she whispered. “You returned to me, and you’re here.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m not making sense.” She took a deep breath. “Never call yourself a cripple again, Philip.”

  “What was that all about, Maggie?” he asked, his hands fisted on his thighs, so he didn’t reach forward to grab hold of her again. “You hurt me, and I don’t understand why.”

  She reached forward and clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “I told my mum and sisters that I would be content, if we were like brother and sister.” She stared into his incredulous gaze. “I know that to be a lie.” She fought a smile, as he let out a relieved breath before she sobered.

  “I spoke with Mr. A.J.,” she said in the merest of whispers. “He made me see that I’m not very good at being loved.”

  Dunmore’s gaze glowed with understanding. “Oh, beloved,” he breathed. “Just as you love me, no matter what happened to me while I was away, limb or no limb, limp or no limp, I will love you, Maggie. Whatever happened.”

  She stared at him, as though transfixed by what she saw in his gaze, her eyes filling with tears. “You need to know what happened. What I did.”

  He nodded. “I do. I’ll wait until you’re ready to tell me.”

  She stroked a hand down his arm and then pushed herself to standing. “I’ll never be ready, but I need to speak of it. It’s like a tumor, eating away inside me, ruining everything good.” She gazed at him and held out her hand, a sigh of relief escaping when he rose and clasped her hand.

  She stared at him for long minutes, gazing deeply into his eyes, seeing only his steadfast devotion and love. “How do I deserve you?” she whispered, a moment before she took a deep breath and firmed her shoulders. “I was terrified when he tied me to the horse and set off across the prairie. I knew I’d never see any of you again.” She closed her eyes. “That by the time he was done with me, you’d be too ashamed of me to ever want anything to do with me—ever again.”

  “Maggie,” Dunmore rasped in protest.

  She shook her head, silently pleading with him to remain quiet. At his nod of acquiescence, she took another deep breath and continued. “I decided it would be better for him to beat me and to abuse me that way than … the other. So I taunted him and provoked him every chance I got. The first night was the worst. I didn’t have many bruises yet, and it took a long time for me to faint from the pain.”

  At his deep inhalation, she focused on him and the agony in his gaze. She cupped his jaw and attempted a smile, although it emerged more like a grimace. “Riding the next day was torture. I never knew I could hurt so much. But I knew I’d readily accept his abuse again, if it kept him from touching me. For the next three nights, he seemed content to beat me. Said I had earned such treatment because I had dared to break my word the last time we were together. That I owed him.” She shuddered. “I think he believed he was beating me into submission.”

  She paused for a long moment, still shivering. “I was sore and weak and tired by the time we reached a river. He barely gave me any food, and I had to sneak water from creeks and streams, when I was able to. I believe the river was the Marias.”

  Maggie paused, her gaze distant, as she relived scenes she’d rather forget. “I never had a chance to goad him there. He grabbed me by the hair, told me that he knew what I’d been doing the previous nights, but that now, now he would do what he wanted with me.”

  She stared at Dunmore, fear in her gaze. “I’d seen that look before. Lascivious. Leering. And I knew I was in trouble. He tore off my dress and took great pleasure in cutting the ties to my corset. Said he wanted everyone who saw me to know that I was his and that I was a great prize.”

  She shivered again and gladly fell forward into Dunmore’s arms. “Before I knew it, he had tossed me to the ground, and he was on top of me. How are men so strong?” she asked in a dumbfounded voice. “No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop him.” She paused, taking a deep breath, her torrent of words pausing, as she felt Dunmore shaking as he held her. “Shh, Philip, I’m all right.”

  “Go on, love,” he whispered, as he kissed her head. “Finish it.”

  She held him close, her eyes squeezed shut, as she buried her face against his chest. “He pawed at me. At my clothes. I knew what would happen when he rucked up my skirt, and I flailed around, my hands looking for anything to aid me. I found a rock and bashed him over the head. Again and again, until he was a dead weight.”

  Dunmore pushed her away, his eyes tear bright and lit with an unholy fury. “Did he … Did he hurt you?”

  “Not like that,” she whispered. “But I’m so ashamed. He touched me. Everywhere. He kissed me …” She shuddered with revulsion. “I feel so dirty.”

  He frowned and leaned even closer, so that their foreheads were touching. “Oh, my darling. You saved yourself, and I’m so proud of you.” He took a deep breath and swallowed. “I want you to know that if he had … violated you, I would have loved you no less than I do. It’s not possible for me to love you any less than I do.”

  She nodded, her eyes overflowing with tears. “I knew I only had a few moments reprieve, so I jumped into the raging river, not caring if I drowned. The last thing I heard was him screaming
my name.”

  “Jesus,” Dunmore gasped, as he pulled her close again. “You are the bravest woman I’ve ever met. How can you doubt yourself?”

  She burrowed into his embrace. “I fear I’ll never be at peace, until I know he’s dead. What kind of a person does that make me?”

  He attempted a chuckle, although it emerged more like a growl, as he held her closer. “A very sensible one.” He kissed her head. “Don’t hurt me like that again, Maggie. Don’t try to manipulate me into doing something out of fear or hurt. Please.” He looked at her, his gaze shining with sincerity. “Talk with me. Trust me enough to share your fears. Please.”

  She nodded. “I promise. I hate, … I hate feeling unworthy of you.”

  Dunmore stood stock-still for a moment and then shook his head incredulously. “Unworthy of me?” He gripped her head, so she couldn’t shy away from meeting his ardent gaze. “You are the worthiest of women, Maggie. You are precious beyond words, and I cherish you.” His gaze glowed with regret. “I wish I’d been able to protect you. I wish I’d not been injured and that you hadn’t been running an errand for me.” He swallowed. “If anyone should feel unworthy, it’s me.”

  She shook her head, and then a small smile burst forth. “Listen to us. Arguing over something so trivial.”

  He made a small sound, indicating his disagreement. “It’s never trivial if it hurts you or if it causes you to doubt.”

  Leaning forward, she pressed her cheek against Dunmore’s chest. After a deep breath, she whispered a deeply held fear. “I worry I’ll not satisfy you. That you’ll wish for another, as I lay there, terrified of what you want from me.”

  His soft caresses faltered for a moment at her breathy admission, before they continued to rove over her back, soothing her as readily as they soothed him. He breathed in deeply of her subtle lavender scent, and he knew she had been taking baths again to ease her aching muscles and the bruises, after the abuse she’d suffered. “I could never want for anyone other than you, beloved.” He tugged her closer. “Nothing will happen between us that you don’t want.”

  Kissing his neck, she murmured, “Don’t make promises you won’t want to keep.” She pushed him back and raced for home, with Dunmore on her heels, ensuring she arrived safely. Her words rang in his mind, and he worried he would never be able to soothe her fears.

  Chapter 11

  Maggie sat in her bedroom in an overstuffed chair that her father had hauled in for her, staring out the window. The air was crisp with the scents of fall in early October, and she stared at the burnished colors from the safety of her window. She had a blanket thrown over her legs, her mind wandering. Although she’d been home for nearly two months now, she had yet to overcome the insidious fear that she was not safe. That she’d never truly be safe again.

  She hated that she jumped at the slightest noise. That the appearance of a stranger on her parents’ doorstep provoked terror rather than curiosity. That she never wanted to be far from a family member. She was terrified of her own shadow, and she didn’t know how to overcome it.

  At the gentle knock, she looked to her door. “Yes?” she called out. She forced a weak smile, as her father poked his head in. “Da.”

  “Come, lass. Why are you hidin’ yourself away in here?” he asked, as he entered and shut the door behind him. He perched on her bed, watching her with unveiled concern, as he rested his elbows on his legs, his weight canted toward her.

  “I … I wanted to think,” she murmured, her glance flitting to him for a moment, before she looked out her window again.

  “Think?” Seamus mused. “Do you ever wonder if you’re not thinkin’ a little too much?” He waited for her to respond, sighing when she remained quiet. “Talk with your mum. With me. With any of your siblings. Scream. Rage. Cry. Get it out, love.”

  After taking a deep breath, she turned to look at her father, a deep sorrow in her gaze. “You wouldn’t know what it means to have to purge what I feel.” She shook her head before he could say more. “And I’d never share this with Mum or Niamh. They have their own burdens to overcome.”

  Seamus took a deep breath and nodded, reaching forward to squeeze her shoulder. “Aye.” He slipped from the room, leaving her alone for many long minutes. A late-season robin chirped, and Maggie looked for the woodpecker making a rat-tat-tat noise on a nearby post.

  At the knock on her door nearly a half hour later, she sighed. “Yes?”

  “Maggie,” Madam Nora murmured, “Seamus thought you might enjoy a visit.”

  Maggie spun to face Nora, sitting up straight and attempting to smooth down her rumpled navy-blue day skirt. “Nora,” she gasped. “I never thought to have you visit.”

  Smiling, Nora sat on the bed, looking as regal as a queen, bestowing a visit on a wayward subject. Today she wore a rich purple wool dress, with a shawl over her shoulders. “How disappointing. I like to believe we are friends.”

  Flushing, Maggie nodded. “Of course we are.”

  Nora rose, pulling the desk chair forward and sitting on it, so she was more comfortable. “As a friend, I have to say you look dreadful.” Her hand reached forward to grasp one of Maggie’s, giving it a soft squeeze. “You’ve lost everything that gave you your sparkle.”

  Huffing out a mirthless chuckle, Maggie shook her head. “I doubt I’ll ever sparkle again.”

  “Don’t,” Nora said in a harsh voice, nodding when she saw Maggie stiffen at her tone. “Don’t let him win.” When Maggie hunched over, Nora leaned forward, her brown eyes intent, as they gazed at Maggie. “Don’t become meek and biddable now. You must have struggled to escape such a man. Continue to fight to free yourself from whatever control he still exerts over you.”

  “I’m ashamed, Nora,” Maggie whispered. “I’m so afraid of Dunmore. Of any man now.” Her eyes filled. “And that’s so unfair to him. He deserves someone better.”

  “Hogwash,” Nora snapped. “He deserves you. He fought to return to you, just as you did to return to him. To me, that makes you perfect for each other.” She nodded again, as Maggie stared at her in wide-eyed wonder. “Do you not see how he looks at you still? You are precious to him, Maggie.”

  “I’ll disappoint him,” Maggie whispered.

  “Only if you believe you will. He doesn’t want an experienced Siren. He wants you.” Nora gazed at Maggie with deep concern. “How badly did that man hurt you?”

  Taking a deep breath, Maggie whispered, “He didn’t …” And shrugged. “I beat him off with a rock to his head.”

  Nora grinned. “Take pride in what you did. Few of us are so fortunate.” She took a deep breath. “And few of us have a family willing to take us in, no matter what has happened to us.” At Maggie’s horrified stare, Nora smiled with chagrin, as she stroked a hand down her finely hewn dress. “This was never the life I dreamed about. However, this is the only life available to me.”

  “Oh, Nora,” Maggie whispered, her eyes filling. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t pity me,” Nora said, her gaze filled with determination and strength. “I refused to be a victim. Just as you should. Be strong. Take pride that you survived and that your man is waiting for you. Take a chance and trust, Maggie.”

  * * *

  Dunmore worked in the livery, eager for any excuse for hard work to take his mind off of Maggie and the growing distance between them. Although he had dinner with the family most evenings and sat either beside her or across from her, he had never felt farther away from her. The teasing comments and the seductive looks were a precious memory. Now she barely spared him a glance and spoke nothing more than a few sentences.

  Swearing, he tossed fresh hay into a stall and then kicked at a board, as he yearned for something to do to prove his love, to help bring her back to him—and to herself—and to banish the agony of the previous months.

  “Actin’ like a frustrated child won’t help my daughter,” a quiet voice said behind him.

  He spun to face Mary O’Rourke, dressed in a
beautiful evergreen-colored cloak that enhanced her subtle beauty. “Missus,” he said deferentially. “Forgive me.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Oh, I understand well enough the desire to force the world to do my bidding. As a woman, I’ve learned it doesn’t happen by brute force. Somethin’ that sometimes comes as a shock to my beloved Seamus.”

  Against his will, Dunmore chuckled and smiled at her. “I didn’t expect to laugh today, Missus. Thank you.” He swiped an arm over his forehead and sighed. “What has brought you to the livery?”

  “You,” she said simply. “I need time alone with you.” She approached the stall he stood in and rested her hands atop the stall door. “You’re dithering, my boy, and that’s not what my Maggie needs.”

  “Dithering?” he asked, as he scratched at his head. “I’ve been constant and present.”

  “Perhaps, but you’ve allowed her to wallow.” She held up a hand against any protest. “I understand, as I’ve done the same. Seamus and I spoke on it, and we’ve come to realize the damage we’ve done by not pressing her to face her fears.”

  Dunmore sighed and paced in the small space. “You have no idea what her fears are.”

  Mary stared at him mournfully. “I have a much better idea than you ever will.” When his head jerked up to meet her gaze, she nodded. “I know what it is to love a man and to be terrified of him at the same time. To fear the intimacy I crave. To worry I’ll never be enough.” She sighed. “’Tis a fear we all have, but ’tis worse after you’ve been abused.”

  Dunmore opened and closed his mouth a few times, finally rasping, “He didn’t rape her, Mary.” When she faltered, he took a quick step toward her, her hold on the stall tightening. “I thought you knew.”

  “No,” Mary rasped, as a tear leaked down her cheek. “I prayed, and I had hoped, but I thought myself foolish. And I never loved her any less.”