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

by Ramona Flightner

  “With every pleasure,” he rasped.

  Afterward, they lay in a tangle in the sheets on his bed. Our bed, his mutinous mind insisted. He had no desire to ever return to his brother’s home to see her eyes become shadowed as she was lost to another memory. He wanted to start anew here. With Maura. He closed his eyes as he considered the small cabin. There was barely room for the two of them, never mind what he hoped would be a growing family.

  As he attempted to push away his concerns, his hands continued to stroke Niamh’s soft skin as she rested on his chest. Her soft breaths stirred a tenderness inside him which he feared was boundless. Now that he truly felt like a husband, Niamh’s husband, he feared there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep her safe. Or happy.

  At her soft sigh, he kissed her forehead. “Are you awake?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she murmured, as she snuggled closer. “I never want to leave this bed.”

  “Good,” he said, as he fought puffing out his chest with masculine pride. “It means you were satisfied.”

  She lifted her head to rest her chin on his chest, so she could gaze into his beautiful eyes. Never before had they been so unguarded and so filled with happiness. Her hand rose for her fingers to play over his eyebrow and then to brush at his hair. “Satisfied? Is that what you call it?” She made a soothing sound when she felt him stiffen beneath her. She smiled mischievously at him, her gaze filled with playfulness. “I’d call it rapture.”

  “Rapture?” he asked. His breath caught at the look in her eyes. A look he’d never seen before. The look of a well-loved woman, unashamed of the passion she felt. A woman confident of the man who held her in his arms.

  “Perhaps bliss is a better word,” she teased, as she kissed his chest and then leaned up to kiss the underside of his jaw, her soft lips scraping against his trimmed beard.

  “Bliss,” he breathed.

  “Or ecstasy,” she said, stifling a screech as he rolled them over, so he loomed over her.

  He stared into her eyes, as though searching for any sign of fear or hesitancy. When all he saw was the unfettered delight she had described, he groaned and pulled her closer. When her arms wrapped around him without hesitation, he breathed a sigh of relief. “God, how I love you, Niamh,” he whispered. “I’ll always love you.”

  “Never stop,” she breathed, as she melted into his loving embrace. “Never stop.”

  Cormac wandered in the direction of the livery, with the absent idea of checking on his oxen. He knew they were well tended, and he had no real need to visit the livery. However, he had spent enough time at home, mooning over his new wife, and he felt a need for some sort of activity. With snow threatening, he had no desire to go on a walk and become stranded as a squall blew in.

  As he strolled past the hotel, he came to an abrupt halt as Uriah Chaffee stepped from inside, blocking his path. “Mr. Chaffee,” he said in a deferential manner, although his gaze gleamed with warning.

  “Mr. Ahern,” Uriah said, as he tucked his hands into his fur-lined black wool coat. “It seems you were as foolish as your brother believed you to be.” He chuckled.

  Cormac closed his eyes for a moment, battling his desire to ignore the meddlesome lawyer and his curiosity to know more. “I don’t understand,” he said, cringing, as his curiosity won.

  Uriah rocked back onto his heels, as though delighting in having won a battle of wills with Cormac. “Your brother told me, over a few glasses of subpar whiskey, that he believed there was little you wouldn’t do to marry his wife.” Uriah’s gaze gleamed with contempt. “I’m surprised the sheriff didn’t consider arresting you for murder, as your actions were as much to blame for his death as anyone’s.”

  Taking a warning step toward the lawyer, Cormac paused, fisting his hands and then breathing deeply. “Connor was to blame. For every misfortune that befell him and for every missed opportunity to know joy. I am nothing like him.”

  Shrugging, Uriah watched him with a sly look in his gaze. “Perhaps. Although it would have been better for everyone involved if you had remained in Virginia City for the winter.” He sighed as he looked around the deserted streets of Fort Benton. “Of if I hadn’t been forced to leave that vibrant little town.”

  “I imagine escaping with your life should have been reward enough,” Cormac snapped, although he studied the lawyer closely. “Tell me, Chaffee. I heard a rumor recently that you had hoped Seamus would have to leave too, to find a lawyer to help Niamh. Is that true?”

  With a roll of his eyes, Uriah stared at Cormac. “The entire proceedings have been unorthodox. There should always have been another lawyer, although I understand one of such high a caliber as I am is hard to find.” He preened as he puffed out his growing paunch.

  Cormac frowned as he stared at Chaffee. “What would you have to gain to have both of us away at the same time? And Dunmore?”

  Uriah shook his head, tapping Cormac on his shoulder. “The problem, dear boy, is that there are always O’Rourke men around. And there always will be. There are simply too many of them.” He sauntered away, leaving Cormac deep in thought, as he resumed his walk to the livery.

  When he arrived, he moved to the tack room to find Dunmore inside, reading a five-and-dime novel. “Dunmore,” he said.

  Dunmore flicked a glance in his direction but failed to greet him in any other way than to grunt “Hello,” as he continued to read. He sat with his legs propped against the wall, two chair legs off the ground as he flipped pages. After a few minutes, he sighed, plopping the chair’s front legs on the ground and glaring in Cormac’s direction. “What’s the matter? Your thinking is enough to drive me mad.”

  Cormac chuckled. “And your reading would drive anyone insane. I’d learn to quiet your hmms and ohs before courting wee Maggie.” He laughed as Dunmore belted him with his book. He leaned against the wall, one leg crossed over the other. “I ran into Chaffee.”

  Dunmore shrugged, his blue-green eyes alert, even though he sat with a forced calm. “That would be enough to rile anyone.”

  “Answer me this, Dun. Why would that man want you, me, and Seamus out of town at the same time?” He nodded as Dunmore sat upright, any sense of disinterest gone. “What would he have to gain?”

  “Damn,” Dunmore whispered. “I’d hoped we would only be cursed with his presence this winter. I fear he will be with us for a longer duration.” When Cormac stared at him in confusion, Dunmore said, “Chaffee. I doubt he’ll leave. He’s going to stay to continue to stir up trouble. And he has his eye on one of the O’Rourkes.”

  Cormac’s jaw clenched. “He can leave Niamh well enough alone. She’s suffered enough.”

  “No, not Niamh,” Dunmore said, with a shake of his head. “Maggie.” When Cormac gaped at him, he nodded. “I’d heard rumblings but thought them too fantastic to believe. But I think he’s in cahoots with Jacques. For some reason, he is willing to aid that man. But I don’t know why.”

  “We must warn Seamus,” Cormac said.

  Dunmore motioned for Cormac to calm and then nodded. “We will. But after the holidays. You know how much the man loves the holidays, and this year will be even more special because he has Maggie and Mary back. After the New Year, we’ll inform him of the potential for the new threat.”

  When Cormac began to protest, Dunmore shook his head. “There’s no way Jacques can travel here in the middle of winter, trapper or no trapper. Besides, the man’s growing fat and lazy. He’ll want to remain in Virginia City, with good food and biddable women. We won’t see him again until next summer, at the earliest. And, when we do, we’ll be ready.”

  Chapter 14

  Nearly a week after her visit to Cormac’s cabin and a few short days before Christmas, Niamh returned to the home she had shared with Connor. The home she finally understood could never be her home with Cormac. They needed a fresh start, although she feared she would never be allowed to overcome her poor judgment in marrying Connor.

  Stumbling into the bedroom, Ni
amh curled onto the bed, sobbing, her arms wrapped around her belly. A keening wail emerged, and her sobs intensified until her body shook. “Why?” she whispered to no one. “Why can’t I be allowed to be happy?” When that only made her sadder, she buried her face in a pillow and prayed for a strength she feared she didn’t have.

  Soft hands stroked down her back, and she instinctively relaxed. She knew it was Cormac, soothing her, as she feared he never would again. Turning, she pulled him down to the bed. “I need you to hold me, Cormac. Please. I know I’ll be alone soon, but now, … now I need you to hold me.” She clutched him to her, shaking with her sobs that refused to abate.

  After many minutes, her tears finally quieted, and she remained in his arms, hiccupping and stuttering out gasping breaths.

  “You’re all right, my love,” he whispered. “You’ll never be alone. I’ll never leave you alone.”

  Although she wouldn’t have thought it possible, more tears leaked out. She pressed her cheek to his chest, breathing deeply of his masculine scent mixed with a hint of sweat. “You will,” she whispered. “When you hear my news, I know you will. And I will never blame you.”

  Cormac eased her away as he stared at her, unable to hide the terror in his gaze. “Niamh, what are you talking about?” He ran a hand over her head, tangling his fingers in her silky hair. “Why would I ever leave you?”

  She pushed away and then held a hand, palm out, to keep him from reaching for her again. “No, Cormac. I can’t say what I have to say if you’re touching me.” Her gaze was filled with pleading, as she saw the hurt in his gaze. “Please, let me try.” She cleared her throat and then rose to sit in a chair beside the bed. She wrapped her arms around her waist again and stared at a distant spot on the floor.

  “Niamh,” Cormac said, in a gentle but firm tone. “Whatever you have to tell me, look me in the eyes.”

  She took a deep breath, firming her shoulders slightly, although she remained in a mostly hunched position. She finally met his gaze, and a few more tears leaked out.

  He blanched at the devastation he saw in her gaze. “What could have happened this morning, my love? We were so happy when you left the cabin.” He swallowed and whispered, “Weren’t we?”

  She reached a hand out, as though to soothe him. “We were, Cormac. I swear, we were.” She closed her eyes a moment, as though reliving the wondrous night they had spent together. Maura had slept in the spare bed in Maggie’s room at her parents’ house, and she and Cormac had had another night. A belated extended honeymoon night, her mother had called it. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered again.

  “Tell me,” he demanded. When she didn’t flinch at his harsh command, he felt a small measure of pleasure that she continued to grow in self-confidence, in his love for her.

  After another fortifying breath, she spoke in a halting voice. “You know what my life with Connor was like. Always waiting for the next blow. For the next time he said something cruel.” She sniffled. “He had always ignored Maura, except during the first few months, when she had colic. But when she began to crawl and try to walk, he found her a nuisance.” She took a deep breath. “He kicked her in August,” she breathed.

  “What?” Cormac asked, his blue eyes blazing with anger.

  She nodded, her gaze locked to his. “I jumped in front of her, screaming like a madwoman.” She closed her eyes a moment. “I said he could do what he liked with me but never to our daughter.” She swallowed. “He took me at my word.”

  “That’s when he beat you so terribly,” Cormac breathed. After a long moment of silence, he asked, “What does that have to do with today? Why would this ever make me leave you?”

  “You know there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect Maura,” she said in a barely audible voice, watching as he nodded. “After that night, I threatened to leave him. To live at Da’s. But he said he’d kill her first. And then me.” She shivered. “I couldn’t take the chance. I couldn’t risk my baby.”

  “Oh, Niamh,” Cormac murmured.

  She rubbed at her sodden face, scrubbing at her chin, where tears dripped to her chest. “He knew Maura was my weakness. And he exploited that. He knew I couldn’t refuse him when he threatened her.”

  “I don’t understand,” Cormac said, as his fingers stroked over one palm in a soothing touch.

  “I’m pregnant with his child, Cormac.”

  Cormac sat frozen in front of Niamh for long minutes. His gaze unfocused, his expression dumbfounded. He yearned for rage. For indignation. For anything to free him from this frozen paralysis. He jolted when Niamh stroked a hand over his face and stared at her with confusion and torment.

  “Say something, please,” she whispered.

  “When did you know?” he asked. “Was it before … before our first night at my cabin?” he asked in a hoarse voice, exposing his sense of betrayal. “Before we married?”

  “No,” she protested, her hand dropping to her lap. “No, Cormac. I just realized this morning, after you left to see Da.” She flushed and looked away. “I realized I hadn’t had my monthly in too long. I thought it was because of the stress, but I was worried.”

  “When was your last monthly?” he asked.

  “Mid-September,” she whispered.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, before meeting her devastated gaze again. “Did you see the doctor?” His blue eyes blazed with an unfathomable emotion.

  “No, there is no doctor in town during the winter,” she said in a barely audible voice. “I visited Nora.”

  He gripped her arms with a fierce intensity. “What did you do, Niamh?”

  Fresh tears leaked from her eyes. “Nothing. Nothing but spoke with her. Allowed her to comfort me.” She swallowed a sob. “I thought she could give me a potion, something, but she said she would never do that. That I might die.”

  At the word die, Cormac groaned and hauled her into his embrace, his arms banded around her so tightly that she gasped for breath. “Never, Niamh. Never,” he gasped. “You will not die.” He rocked her to and fro, as though he were comforting himself as much as her. “And I will not leave you. Ever. You are my wife. And I will honor and cherish you.”

  “How can you still want me? What will the townsfolk say?” she cried.

  He cupped her face and stared deeply into her eyes. “I don’t care. All I care is that I love you.” He frowned as his words wrought devastation. “Why does my avowal of devotion cause you more distress?” When she shook her head, he whispered, “Do you wish me to leave you?”

  “No, Cormac, never. Never. Please, never.” Her hands stroked his fingers still caressing her face. “I worry I will prove too great a burden, and you will wish you loved another.”

  “My love is not fickle, nor is it feeble,” he whispered. He stared at her a long moment, frowning as he discerned another unspoken fear. “What is it, beloved?”

  Her hands dropped to grip his shoulders, as she fought to speak through her sobs. “I wanted my next baby to have been made in love, not fear and hate. I wanted our baby.”

  He cupped her cheeks, his thumbs swiping her soft skin, while his hands held her in place, so she continued to meet his unwavering gaze. “He or she will be cherished.” He kissed her nose. “And we will have our children, Niamh. I promise you.”

  She curled into his embrace. “How are you such a good man?” she whispered, as she battled falling asleep in his arms.

  He refrained from answering, murmuring soft sounds of reassurance, as she slipped into slumber in his embrace. After easing her to the bed, he curled around her, his hands over her belly. Listening to her deep breaths signaling sleep, he pressed his face into the pillow, burying his sobs of distress to again be denied his heart’s desire by his brother.

  Cormac entered the Bordello, his gaze adjusting to the slightly darkened interior with nooks and crannies in deep shadows. He imagined it aided the Sirens to have a place to tease and to tantalize men before enticing them to their cribs. However, in the morning ligh
t, it all looked tawdry, with a hint of desperation. No Siren was about, and he suspected they were sound asleep, after their night’s work. A strong hand clapped him on his shoulder, and he turned to meet Ezra’s foreboding gaze.

  “I hope you didn’t come here to cause trouble,” Ezra growled. His free hand gripped a billy club, and his glower would send a lesser man running from the Bordello.

  Cormac raised an eyebrow, his gaze glinting with amusement. “I’m not Connor. I need to speak with the Madam.”

  Ezra pointed to a spot near the door. “Wait here.”

  He half watched Ezra walk down a hallway as Cormac sat in a chair. He closed his eyes, groaning with delight at the comfortable chair. He hoped Ezra had trouble convincing the Madam to see Cormac, as he had no desire to move.

  “Townsfolk thought I was a fool to send away for such extravagant furnishings.”

  “You should charge admittance for permission to sit in them,” Cormac murmured, smiling as he met the Madam’s amused gaze.

  “I do,” she said with a wry smile. “It’s simply a different sort of charge.” She winked at him as he laughed. “Come. I believe we had better speak in private. One never knows who’s lurking in a corner.”

  With great reluctance, Cormac rose from the comfortable chair and followed Madam Nora to her office. She waved him to another chair, watching him intently. After he sat and groaned in delight again, she smiled like a cat that had just eaten the canary.

  “Now I know why Seamus visited you with such frequency.” He flushed. “Besides your company.”

  “And my ability to obtain fine whiskey,” she said sardonically. “I consider Seamus a great friend. Thus I am loyal to all O’Rourkes and, by extension, to you.”

  Cormac sobered as he studied the short, but formidable woman. Although barely over five feet tall, she commanded respect. Today, she wore a burgundy satin dress that shimmered in the light, enhancing her subtle beauty. “I know you were loyal to Niamh.”