Pioneer Yearning: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Three

by Ramona Flightner

  Nora chuckled and rose, impulsively hugging Mary. “Of course. It’s no imposition, and Ezra always knows where to find me.”

  Mary returned the hug and then slipped from the room to find her husband.

  Later that night Niamh sat at the large kitchen table, warmed by the stove and by her memories of Cormac’s return. His words. His promises. Unlike Connor, she believed Cormac would keep his promises to her. In the years she had known him, he had never broken his word to her. She sighed, rubbing her forehead, as she fought daydreaming about what it would have been like to have married Cormac from the beginning. To have had Connor visit sporadically.

  Against her will, images of a home filled with laughter, joy, and harmony filled her mind. Unable to cease her imaginings, she closed her eyes, while a small smile burst forth. Cormac hugging her from behind, while she was large with a baby. Cormac laughing at something she said. Cormac helping with whatever she needed. Always was there happiness and a sense of security.

  Niamh took a stuttering breath, saying a silent prayer that her imaginings turned into reality. For her girlish dreams of the past had turned into a hell on earth she never wanted to relive. With a start, she turned to the icebox to find her father attempting to close it softly. “Da?” she asked in a low voice.

  “Forgive me, love,” he said, as he poured a glass of milk. “Your mum wanted her glass of milk but had no desire to leave the warmth of her bed.” He smiled with chagrin and love. “Thus, I became her servant.”

  Niamh smiled, a warmth filling her at the love and devotion in his gaze. “You’d never really complain about helping Mum.”

  Seamus smiled and shook his head. “Although I am sorry to have disturbed you, wee Niamh. You seemed to be havin’ a lovely wakin’ dream.”

  She flushed and ducked her head.

  After Seamus returned the milk jar to the icebox and set the glass on the counter, he moved to sit beside her. “Niamh?” he asked in a soft voice. “Are you well?” When she remained quiet, he whispered, “Are you certain you want to marry Cormac?”

  Niamh froze, her gaze filled with terror. “Are you tellin’ me that I shouldn’t?” When her father remained quiet, she gripped his arm. “Do you know somethin’ about him you aren’t tellin’ me? Suspect somethin’ like you did with Connor?” Her head moved back and forth as though disavowing the idea her family would willingly allow her to reenter another hellish marriage again without battling for her. “Please, fight for me, Da. Believe I’m worth it.”

  “Oh, Niamh,” Seamus gasped, as he cupped her cheeks. “You always were. But you’d run off with that scoundrel and spent days and nights with him.” His gaze was filled with impotent fury. “I’ve always felt I had no choice but to let you marry him. Even though I never wanted you to.” He paused and closed his eyes. “I always wished you’d chosen Cormac.”

  Niamh hunched forward. “Why didn’t you speak to me before my marriage to Connor? Why didn’t you try to change my mind? Act like a father?”

  Seamus cringed backward, as though she had stabbed him with a knife. “I’ve always known I’ve failed you, Niamh. After the death of Mary. Or the separation.” He sighed and rubbed his temple. “On the steamboat, your brothers and I tried to protect you, but you outsmarted us, finding ways to have trysts with Connor. I was naive and trusting in my belief that Connor was an honorable man. That he would never act in such a way as to force you into doing anything. I was wrong.”

  Seamus’s cobalt-blue eyes gleamed with anger, fear, and hatred as he stared at a spot on the tabletop. “When I discovered you missin’ an’ learned you’d run off with the two Ahern lads …” He stopped, closing his eyes, as he took a deep breath. “I wanted to murder.”

  “Da,” Niamh whispered, as a tear tracked down her cheek. “I wasn’t worth such concern.”

  “No, Niamh, you were an’ you are. The tragedy is that you’ve never believed it. An’ you sold yourself short to the worst sort of man the first time.” He took another deep breath. “I have no fears for you with Cormac. He’s nothin’ like his brother. He’s honorable an’ good.” Seamus stared for a long moment into Niamh’s hazel eyes. “But he’ll not want you to hide. Not behind your daughter. Not behind your fears. He’ll want the real woman. The whole woman. An’ I fear you’ll find that terrifyin’, my Niamh.”

  Niamh’s eyes rounded as her breaths emerged as pants, as though battling a panic attack. “Da,” she gasped.

  “Aye, love,” he murmured, pulling her close, so she rested against his shoulder. He wrapped his strong arms around her, rocking her in place. “You must let him see the real woman. Not the woman you show the town. Or your brothers. But the real woman, with her hurts and her dreams and her fears. The woman who cries, laughs, and sings out of tune. The real you, Niamh. For, if you don’t, your marriage to Cormac will be another form of hell. And, this time, ’twill be of your own making.”

  She clung to her father for many long minutes. “’Tis almost as terrifyin’ as anything Connor did.”

  “Aye,” Seamus whispered, as he kissed her head. “Because, this time, you must trust and love Cormac. And that makes you all the more vulnerable.”

  Niamh shivered at his last words, taking comfort in his presence, as she considered all her father had said.

  Chapter 10

  Two evenings after returning to Fort Benton, Cormac opened his door, silently berating himself for being a fool. He had hoped for Niamh to be here, so he imagined he heard a gentle tapping. With a sigh, he looked outside, expecting to see nothing more than darkness and stars in the distant sky. Instead a figure shrouded in a black cloak huddled on his stoop. “Niamh?” he breathed.

  “Please, let me in,” she whispered.

  He gripped her arm, pulling her inside, before he kicked the door shut. Without thinking, he latched the door and then waited for her to ease off her cloak. However, she remained obscured from view by the heavy garment. “Come, love. Let’s take this off you. I have a fine fire built tonight.” He reached forward, stilling his movement as she flinched at his soft touch. “Niamh?”

  The hood of the cloak slipped free, exposing her lustrous auburn hair, shot red tonight in the soft candlelight glow. “I … I thought I could do this. I must do this.”

  “Shh, love, there is no must between us.” He ran his hands over her arms. “What are you thinking?” When she shook in front of him, he whispered, “Feeling?”

  “I’m so embarrassed,” she blurted out. Her gaze flew to his in mortification, as he unwittingly laughed. “I should go.”

  “No!” Cormac cried out, gripping her arm. They stumbled, and he landed near her against the door. Their breaths emerged as pants, and he rested his arms on the sturdy pine, easing his weight off her. “Forgive me for crushing you, my love,” he whispered. His head dipped forward, kissing her forehead and cheek, before backing away. “I would never mean to scare you.”

  She stared at him, wide-eyed, her chest heaving.

  “Niamh, forgive me,” he repeated, his eyes filled with agonizing regret. “I know … I know how you suffered, and I would never harm you. On everything I am, I swear to you.”

  She took a step toward him, her gaze filled with wonder. “I know you, Cormac,” she whispered. “How is it that I feel as though I’m seeing you for the first time?”

  He flinched. “I tripped. I …”

  Shaking her head, Niamh held her fingers to his lips to prevent him from babbling any more excuses. “No, love.” She flushed as she said the endearment. “No, a shíorghrá, no more apologies.” She blinked as she fought tears. “You should expect me to apologize to you.”

  “Never,” he rasped, his lips kissing her fingers.

  “I’m so afraid, Cormac, but I realize ’tisn’t you I’m afraid of. ’Tis my memories. ’Tis everything but you.” She reached for the tie at her neck and released her cloak, shrugging her shoulders, so it slipped off to land at her feet. “I … I need to know I’ll be a proper wife to you before we ma
rry. I fear …” She ducked her head as a tear leaked out.

  “If all I ever did was hold you in my arms as you slept beside me, I would know I had heaven within my grasp,” he rasped. “I will never want more than you can offer me, Niamh. I will never hurt you.”

  Her smile was luminous and filled with trust as she took a step toward him. Reaching forward, she traced her fingers through his beard. “You’ve told me that before, but I learned long ago that words had little meaning. Actions have significance.” She saw understanding in his gaze. She leaned forward, kissing his cheek. “Tonight, rather than pin me to the door, kissing me, and making me feel weak and insignificant, you made me feel cherished.” She kissed his jaw. “Adored.” A kiss to his neck. “Revered.”

  He tipped his head back, a groan escaping as she wreaked havoc on him. “Ah, Niamh, you are all those things to me. And so much more.”

  “Hold me, Cormac. I won’t break, and I need to feel your arms around me.” She nodded, meeting his searching gaze. With a sigh, she eased into his arms, nestling her head under his chin. “’Tis where I should have always been,” she murmured.

  When he remained quiet, she tipped her head back to stare at him, as she fought doubts. “Cormac?”

  His eyes glinted, as though he fought tears, and he traced callused fingers over her silky cheeks. “Yes, my darling,” he whispered, a moment before kissing her softly. Breaking the kiss so only a hairbreadth was between them, he said, “Where I’ve always wanted you.”

  He maintained a light hold as he felt her battle freezing up. He ran his hands over her back, again and again in soft caresses. “You are enough as you are, my darling. I would never want you to be other than you are.”

  Unbidden, a sob burst forth, and she struggled to free herself from his hold. “No,” she gasped. “I don’t want …”

  “Shh, love,” he soothed. Although he had released her, he remained in front of her and continued to run his hands over her. “Don’t hide from me. Please.”

  She pushed forward, into his arms, burying her face against his chest, as deep sobs burst forth. “How can you care for me when I hated your brother so much at the end?” she gasped. “How?”

  He kissed her head, rocking her gently side to side, as she would have done for Maura had she held Maura in her arms. “You’re not unloving, Niamh. He pushed you away. He pushed you to loathe him.” He kissed her head again. “If he hadn’t hurt you in August”—Cormac paused as he swallowed, his hold on her tightening—“I doubt you would ever have considered kissing me.”

  She backed away and gave him a rueful smile. “I fear that isn’t true.” She flushed. “I’d dreamed of you for a long time, Cormac.”

  His eyes flared with yearning.

  Niamh closed her eyes, as though with shame and regret. “I was a foolish young woman, desperate to feel loved. Connor knew how to exploit my emotions, whereas you were patient and kind. I fell for flamboyance rather than substance. I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “You’re not to blame, Niamh. I should have fought for you. I should have spoken up.” He ducked his head. “I should never have let you marry him.”

  She flushed as she whispered, “I thought, once I spent the night with him, you’d never want me again.”

  His gaze blazed with passion and longing. “Nothing could make me not want you, Niamh. Never forget that.”

  After a long moment of silence, only broken by the crackling of wood in the stove, she whispered, “Will you hold me? All night long?”

  “Gladly.” He kissed her chastely before gripping her hand and leading her in the direction of his comfortable bed. “As long as you reassure me that no O’Rourke will beat down that door, intent on murder.”

  She laughed. “No. Mum understands why I came here tonight, and her word rules. She’ll keep everyone calm.”

  He ran a soothing hand over her head and shoulders, before pausing with his fingers on the buttons of her dress. “I will sleep with my trousers on, love, but I want you to be comfortable. Will you sleep in your shift, or do you want to remain in your dress and corset?”

  Niamh took a deep breath. “Just my shift,” she breathed, her cheeks a fiery red. Her fingers worked on the buttons on the front of her dress but shook so badly that she was unable to free any of them.

  “Shh, darling, you’ll tear them off,” he teased, as he leaned down to kiss her on her nose. “Let me help you.” He freed each button, his breath catching as he inched her dress over her shoulders and hips. He let out a deep breath when it pooled at her feet. “I feel a fool for not noticing, but you aren’t wearing a corset.”

  She flushed crimson and shook her head. “I know that makes me a harlot but no.”

  Cormac made a growl of displeasure and cupped her face. “Never speak of yourself to me in that way again, Niamh. Any word against you is against me, don’t you understand?”

  She gazed at him in astonishment at his words and dumbly shook her head.

  “Any harm against you, harms me. Any pain you suffer, pains me. Any slight against you is against me too.” He took a deep breath. “When I asked you to marry me, I didn’t do it to appease the gossips of this town or to ensure you would always have Maura.” He gazed deeply into her awestruck hazel eyes. “I asked you because I can’t imagine life without you. I love you, Niamh.”

  She opened and closed her mouth a few times like a fish out of water, before a tear trickled down her cheek. “I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with your kind of love.”

  Staring at her with infinite patience, Cormac smiled. “No, you aren’t. Your parents shared with you this kind of devotion. You know what this is like.”

  Rather than agree or disagree, Niamh pushed forward into his embrace, holding him close. “Hold me, Cormac. Never let me go.”

  “Never, my love. Never.”

  Niamh woke in fits and starts. A warm arm wrapped around her middle, and she felt safe for the first time upon waking in a man’s arms since … Her mind grappled with the notion, and she couldn’t recall the last time she had felt like this. She fought waking, as she clung to the sensation of security, but soon her eyes flickered open. Rather than the room she shared with Maura at her parents’ home, she stared at a stove and table with two chairs around it. A cup with a plate with a half-eaten dinner sat on the table, and she lurched up, shaking.

  “Niamh, shh, all is well,” Cormac murmured, as he ran a hand over her back.

  Looking over her shoulder, she gazed at Cormac, his eyes barely opened as he watched her. “I’m sorry I didn’t do the dishes last night. I should have cleaned up. I should never have thought to interrupt you or to sleep. I’m sorry for my self-importance—”

  Her words broke off as Cormac covered her lips with his hand. “Stop.” He sighed as she flinched at his firm tone. “Don’t apologize, Niamh. Those are my dishes, and I’ll wash them. I’ve been washing them for years.”

  When he dropped his hand, she flinched, and he frowned, focused on the fear in her gaze.

  “Oh, Niamh, please tell me that he didn’t stoop so low,” he whispered, breaking off what more he would have said, as though he fought rage and sorrow, his voice thickened with deep emotion. He ran a hand over her shoulder, before urging her to rest beside him again. His arm wrapped around her, holding her close in a cherishing rather than a threatening way.

  “I’m sorry, Cormac,” she whispered, then winced at apologizing after he had asked her not to. “I’ve ruined our time together.” She shivered as he kissed the back of her neck.

  “No, my Niamh, you haven’t. He’s intruded again, and I’d prefer for him to remain a distant memory. But we will overcome this, Niamh. I know we will.”

  She wriggled around until she could face him and stared deeply into his eyes. Her fingers tangled in his long brown hair. “How can you believe I’m worth the trouble?”

  His brows furrowed as he stared deeply into her hazel eyes. “Trouble? Is that what you believe you are?” He leaned forward, kissing
her softly and sighing with relief as he felt her relax. “Beloved.” He kissed her nose. “Precious.” A kiss to her soft skin below her right ear. “Treasured.” A kiss below her left ear. He ran his nose and lips over her cheek, eliciting a shiver of excitement, rather than fear.

  She grabbed his face, holding it as he hovered over her, on the verge of kissing her lips. She gazed deeply into his eyes, seeing all he said. Arching up, she kissed him and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him down to her.

  Cormac groaned, kissing her deeply. His hands tangled in her hair, and he held his weight off her on his elbows. “Niamh,” he rasped, when he broke the kiss, his mouth kissing her cheeks, jaw, and neck. “How I want you.”

  “Then have me,” she gasped, as she arched up into his touch.

  With one last kiss, he groaned, this time in regret, and flopped onto his back. “No.” One arm rested over his eyes, and he panted as though he had just run a mile.

  Feeling like she had just fallen through ice into the frozen Missouri, Niamh shivered. Rather than lean into Cormac, she wrapped her arms around herself, as she searched for the fortitude to rise and to walk home. She closed her eyes, dreading the questioning stares. The hopeful glances from her parents and Maggie, as they dreamed of a joyous union between Cormac and her. Clinging to the sense of icy numbness, Niamh pushed herself from the bed and found her dress.

  “Where are you going?” Cormac asked in a husky voice.

  “There’s no reason for me to stay,” she said, her back to him, as she deftly buttoned her dress, sighing with relief when she had another barrier between her and the man she would marry. “I must return to check on Maura.” She turned to gaze at him, paling at the disappointment and hurt she saw in his expression.