by Connie Mason
“I’m fine, Kevin. Do you think this dress will do? ’Tis the best of the lot I brought with me from England.” Moira pirouetted slowly before Kevin. Fashioned of violet brocade and lace, the gown fit her still-slim figure to perfection.
“You look lovely, lass. I’ve never seen you in anything so grand. Try not to fret. Everything will turn out fine. I promise.”
“Nothing will ever be fine again, Kevin. I know Paddy is a good man, but he isn’t Jack.”
Kevin’s attention sharpened. “Jack? Is that the name of the bastard who seduced you and left you with child?”
Realizing she said more than she intended, Moira sought to diffuse Kevin’s curiosity. “The man’s name is of little importance since you’re unlikely to meet him. I’ll not disappoint you again, Kevin. I’ll be a good wife to Paddy.”
“I’m not disappointed in you, lass. You’re a special woman. Your Englishman doesn’t know what he lost, and I’m not about to tell him. He doesn’t deserve you and the babe. Now,” he said, lifting her chin, “give me a smile.”
Moira’s lips wobbled into a parody of a smile, which seemed to satisfy Kevin. He left her then, to her dismal thoughts, until the rain let up enough to permit them to reach the church without getting soaked to the skin. An hour later, the rain had diminished to a fine mist. Kevin loaded the family into the farm wagon and set out for Kilkenny.
Jack debarked at Rossiare Harbor before dawn, the first person to step off the mail packet. He rented a horse at the livery and asked directions to Kilkenny. Suffering through a long, tedious ride, Jack hoped Moira appreciated all the trouble he was going through to reach her. Steady rain made a quagmire of the one-lane road and chilled Jack to the bone. He reached Kilkenny wet, hungry and feeling very much put upon.
The muddy, rutted lane through Kilkenny was nearly deserted, due to the inclement weather. Since Jack had no idea where the O’Toole farm was located, he decided to find a room at an inn and ask for directions to the farm. When the grocer stepped out of his shop to peer at him, Jack reined in his horse. “Can you direct me to an inn, sir?”
“Only one inn in town, mister. The Gull and Tern is two blocks down on the right side of the street. You can’t miss it.”
Jack found the inn with little trouble and paid in advance for the best room it had to offer. “Can you direct me to the O’Toole farm?” he asked the innkeeper before going up to inspect his room.
Strangers in Kilkenny were looked upon with suspicion, and Jack was no exception. “Are ye a friend of the O’Tooles, mister? Don’t recollect Kevin or the missus knowing any Englishmen.”
“I’m a friend of Miss Moira O’Toole.”
A relieved look passed over the innkeeper’s florid features. “Why didn’t ye say so? Are ye here for the wedding?”
Jack went still. “The wedding?”
“Aye, Miss Moira and Paddy McGuire are tying the knot.”
Jack’s heart beat like a trip-hammer. How dare Moira marry another man?
“Aye, I’m here for the wedding. I’m not too late, am I?”
“The rain held up the ceremony. If ye hurry, ye might be in time to hear Father Sian pronounce them husband and wife.”
Jack cursed beneath his breath. “For God’s sake, man, direct me to the church!”
“Turn right at the corner; ye can’t miss it. ’Tis the only building with a steeple.”
Jack was out the door before the innkeeper finished speaking. The curious innkeeper walked to the doorway to watch Jack gallop off. He shook his head and muttered something about impatient Englishmen with no manners.
Jack located the church within minutes. He spied the farm wagon parked outside and feared he was too late. How could Moira wed another man when all she had to do was say the word and he’d have married her? He prayed he wasn’t too late to stop this farce. If she carried his child, not even a religious ceremony would stop him from taking what was his.
Worked into a frenzy of fear and anger, Jack burst into the church. The murmur of voices drew him through the vestibule to the main part of the church. Shock rendered him mute for all of thirty seconds when he saw Moira standing before the altar beside a giant of a man, listening to the priest intone words that would join them irrevocably.
He found his tongue in a rush of words. “Stop! Stop the wedding!”
The priest looked up, bewildered. Moira turned slowly, recognizing Jack’s voice instantly. In a single moment, Jack saw her paleness, her trembling lips, her pinched features, the thinness of her small frame, and knew intuitively that she carried his child.
“Jack.” His name was a sigh on her lips.
“Who in the hell are you?” Kevin thundered.
For the first time, Jack noticed the other people in the church. The man who had spoken had to be Moira’s brother. They had the same look about them. “I’m Jack Graystoke, Duke of Ailesbury.”
“I don’t care who you are! You have no right to barge in here and disrupt my sister’s wedding.”
Jack strode down the aisle, his volatile presence disrupting the ceremony. “I have every right in the world. Your sister is carrying my child.”
Moira moaned in despair. “How did you know? I didn’t even know myself until a short time ago.”
Jack’s silver gaze pinned her. “I don’t suppose you were going to tell me I was going to be a father, were you?”
The priest looked distraught. “I don’t know what this is all about, but I suggest we get on with the wedding.”
“Aye,” Moira whispered. “Please continue, Father Sian.”
“Over my dead body,” Jack roared.
Kevin stepped forward, facing Jack nose-to-nose. “That can be arranged, Your Lordship. My sister doesn’t need you. You seduced her and left her with child.”
“If that’s what Moira claimed, I won’t argue the point. However, no one but me is going to raise my child.”
Father Sian raised his hand for quiet. “Is what this man claims true, lass?” he asked Moira. “Are you carrying his child?”
When Moira remained mute, Paddy sent her a compassionate smile and stepped forward. “ ’Tis true, Father. I don’t wish to deprive a father of his child. I’m still willing to marry Moira, but not until this matter is settled between them.”
“I agree,” Father Sian said, sending Moira a censuring look. “If Lord Graystoke is the father of your child, he should be consulted before you do anything rash. Perhaps His Grace wishes to right a wrong by marrying you.”
Moira glared at Jack. Did no one understand why she couldn’t marry a lord of the realm? “I’m going to marry Paddy McGuire.”
Jack returned her stare impassively. His opinion of the man Moira had chosen to wed rose the moment Paddy McGuire agreed to step out of the picture. “I don’t know you, Mr. McGuire, but you appear to be a reasonable man. I don’t know what Moira told you, but as you can see, I’m not willing to give up my child to another man. I wish to speak to Moira alone.”
“Now see here, milord,” Kevin blustered as he shielded his sister protectively. “You seduced my sister. She was an innocent before she met you. I don’t know what happened between you, but Moira wouldn’t be willing to marry another man if she cared for you.”
Jack sent Kevin a chilling glare. “Did Moira tell you she didn’t care for me? Did she tell you I proposed marriage?”
Kevin looked at Moira uncertainly. “Do you want to be alone with this man, lass? I’ll abide by whatever you say.”
The lump in Moira’s throat had reached monumental proportions. She swallowed convulsively before the ability to think returned. The shock of seeing Jack in Ireland had rendered her speechless. But learning that he was aware of her pregnancy when she had just come to that conclusion herself was frightening in the extreme. Not to mention profoundly confusing.
“I’ll speak with Lord Jack alone,” Moira said.
“Very wise,” Jack said with quiet menace. He was certain she knew that if she refused he’d have carried her out bodily despit
e her brother’s rather threatening attitude. “The rest of you can go along home. I’ll bring Moira to you after our talk, if she still wants to go.”
When Kevin seemed reluctant to leave, Katie nudged him in the ribs. “Moira knows what she’s doing, Kevin. I’m sure His Grace won’t hurt her.”
“He’d better not,” Kevin warned.
“If he does, he’ll answer to me,” Paddy said, adding his own threat to that of Kevin’s.
“Fear not,” Jack said, sending both men a look that would have melted iron. “I’m not a violent man. Do you think I’d harm the mother of my child?”
Somewhat mollified, Kevin left, followed in close order by Katie, the children, Paddy and Father Sian, who closed the door behind him. Alone at last with Moira, Jack pointed to a pew and said, “Sit down. You look ready to collapse.”
Only too glad to take the weight off her quivering legs, Moira sank into the hard bench, never taking her eyes off Jack. “How did you know?” she whispered shakily. “Kevin, Katie and Paddy are the only ones I told.”
Jack’s brow lifted in surprise. “You told the man you were planning to marry that you carried another man’s child?”
“It didn’t matter to Paddy. He’s a good man. His wife died recently, and he needs a wife to care for his two motherless children. We’ve known one another all our lives.”
“He looks old enough to be your father.”
Her chin rose fractionally. “He was willing to marry me and raise my child.”
“I was willing to marry you,” Jack reminded her. “Needless to say, you’re not going to marry Paddy McGuire. If you marry anyone, it’s going to be me.”
Jack’s arrogance tried Moira’s Irish temper. He could demand all he liked, but she wasn’t going to marry him. She was aware that stubbornness was largely responsible for her decision, but no man was going to dictate to her.
“I won’t marry you.”
“I see,” Jack said with a calmness that belied his fury. “Raising a bastard won’t be easy. Of course, I’ll take care of you and the child, but think of the shame you’ll bring to your family.” Since Moira didn’t react to reason, he decided to try another ploy. “The house I rented is still waiting for you should you decide to become my mistress.”
Moira’s eyes glowed angrily. “I’m going to marry Paddy.”
“Over my dead body. Bloody hell, Moira, do you realize the anguish your leaving so abruptly caused me? My staff began to fear for my sanity. Pettibone treated me like a pariah, and Matilda set meals before me that weren’t fit to eat. Jilly acted as if I’d committed murder. They all blamed me for chasing you away.”
“You were going to set me up as your mistress,” Moira charged.
“You pushed me into it. What I offered was an honorable proposal of marriage. A man can be driven only so far, and I’d reached my limit. I went as far as my pride would allow.”
Jack’s words rattled Moira’s composure. Everything Jack said was true. He had saved her life, not once, but twice. He took her in and cared for her when she was injured. The prank he tried to pull on society backfired, but she could forgive him that. It had been a harebrained scheme from the very beginning. Falling in love with Jack hadn’t been part of the plan, and making love with him had come as naturally as breathing. She had given him up because she loved him too much to marry him and cause a scandal.
Jack watched the play of emotion across Moira’s lovely features. He saw determination, stubbornness, compassion, confusion and, yes, love. He smiled inwardly. No amount of denial could change the way she felt. Now he must convince her that he didn’t give a bloody damn what society thought of their marriage. In Moira’s absence, he had tried reverting back to the Black Jack of old and had failed miserably. What he wanted now was to be the best father and husband he knew how. No matter how big a scandal their marriage caused, some new scandal would replace it, and in time society would forgive his lapse. Not that he cared. Enough of the old Black Jack remained to make him oblivious to gossip. He’d flouted society before and probably would do so again.
Suddenly it occurred to Moira that Jack never did explain how he knew she was pregnant. She sought to remedy his omission. “How did you know I was going to have your child? Do you have the ‘sight’?”
Jack grinned, recalling Lady Amelia’s words and how puzzled they had left him. “Lady Amelia told me.”
Moira frowned. “The ghost?”
“Aye. But I fear I offended her. She lost patience with me when I fell back into dissolute ways. I doubt she’ll reappear any time soon.”
“You talked to a ghost?” Moira repeated.
Jack paused thoughtfully, recalling his conversations with Lady Amelia. Though she’d spoken no words aloud, he knew exactly what she said. Call it telepathy, call it what you will, her words had penetrated his brain without sound.
“You might say that. Lady Amelia sent me to you that night I found you lying in the gutter. She told me you’d save me from perdition. Of course I didn’t believe her. I didn’t even want saving. I was content with my rakehell life. She must be quite pleased with herself by now. I almost married Victoria, and that frightens the hell out of me.”
Moira found all this hard to believe. “How could I save you when I didn’t even know you?”
“Damned if I know, but ’tis true I no longer find perdition attractive. I’ve never thought about becoming a father, and I find the anticipation quite pleasant. I knew Victoria didn’t want children, and all I wanted from her was her fortune.”
How could Moira argue with a ghost? Still, a doubt remained. When Lady Amelia directed Jack to her that fateful night, did the ghost know he’d become a duke? Moira didn’t think so. And therein lay the problem.
“Lady Amelia’s appearance doesn’t change a thing,” Moira declared, less certain now than she had been.
“I’ve engaged a room at the inn,” Jack said abruptly. “Church is no place for a lengthy discussion, and I can tell it’s going to take time to convince you that we belong together. Besides, I have something else to ask, something to do with the locket you always wore.”
“I lost it.”
“I know.” Reaching into his pocket, Jack retrieved Moira’s locket and placed it into her hand. Moira closed her fingers around it, overjoyed to have it back. “I found it in my bed. Now will you come with me?”
Moira flushed, recalling the night she spent in Jack’s bed before she left. “It isn’t proper for me to go with you to your room.”
“We’ve already stretched the boundary of what is proper and what is not. You’re carrying my child, Moira. You’re mine; you’ve always been mine.”
“Your possessiveness is appalling. How do I know you don’t want me for the child I carry?”
“You are the most exasperating female I’ve ever had the misfortune to know! I had no idea you were pregnant when I proposed. Are you coming with me, or do I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here?”
Jack’s logic defeated Moira. Besides, she knew he was capable of carrying out his threat. “Very well, though you know it will destroy my reputation.”
“Not if I sneak you up the backstairs.” Grasping her hand, he virtually dragged her through the church and out the door. A chilling rain greeted them. With an economy of motion, Jack lifted Moira onto his horse and mounted behind her. Though the ride was of short duration, they were nevertheless dripping wet by the time Jack left his mount at the stable behind the inn and instructed the stableboy as to its care.
Fortunately the back stairs of the inn lay only a few steps from the stable. They negotiated them without difficulty, and Jack located his room by the number painted on the door. He found it roomy, comfortable and reasonably clean. A bed covered with a colorful quilt took up a large portion of the room. A dresser, commode and desk completed the furnishings. Jack was gratified to see a fireplace and supply of wood and started a fire while Moira sat at the edge of the bed, shivering in her wet clothing.
“It will be cozy in here in a few minutes,” he told her. “Take off your wet clothing and wrap yourself in a blanket. Your clothes can dry by the fire while we talk.”
Moira didn’t think taking off her clothes was a good idea. Just because she wouldn’t marry Jack didn’t mean she didn’t want him. She’d always want him. She knew from experience how combustible they were together, and taking off her clothes would only complicate matters. When she made no move to comply, Jack lifted her to her feet, took the cloak from her shoulders and began unbuttoning her dress.
“I don’t want you catching your death. Think of the babe if not yourself.”
“I…I can do it myself.” She grasped his hands to pull them away and felt a shock of awareness pass through her. She lifted her eyes to him, and he met her gaze, his lopsided grin telling her that he felt the same tingling sensation she did. He dropped his hands and stepped away.
Moira tore the quilt from the bed, drew it around her shoulders and undressed beneath it. Sending her an amused glance, Jack picked up her discarded garments and spread them out before the fire. When he started to remove his own clothing, Moira gasped and looked away.
“Isn’t it rather late for shyness? You want me as badly as I want you. Deny it all you want, but your eyes tell me otherwise.”
“You’re conceited, arrogant and impossibly crude, Jack Graystoke. And nowhere near redemption. Not all women are enamored of you.”
“Other women don’t interest me. ’Tis you I care about. I’ll admit to being arrogant. Even concede being conceited.” He made a show of pondering. “I’m rarely crude. At one time my vices were legend, but since meeting you I’ve foresworn perdition.”
Moira couldn’t help but smile. His statements were so typically Black Jack that she wondered if he didn’t still have one foot on the road to perdition.
“If you’ll move from the bed for a moment, I’ll remove a blanket and spare your dignity.”
Moira jumped up with alacrity, turning her back as Jack dropped his breeches and pulled a blanket from the bed. “You can turn around now; I’m decent.”