“I’m sorry he hurt you,” Cormac whispered. “I should have known. I should have paid attention.” He stared at her with a mixture of shame and sadness.
“There was nothing you could do,” Niamh whispered, as she forced herself to continue to meet his gaze.
“Oh, you are wrong, lo—” He closed his eyes as he broke off speaking the endearment. After a long moment, he opened his eyes, fearful of meeting her gaze, which he knew would be filled with embarrassed compassion as she beheld the man she’d only ever considered brother. When he looked deeply into her gaze and instead saw wonder and disbelief, his heart leapt. “Niamh?”
“I never …” She shrugged.
He took a slow step toward her, cupping her face. “I would have held you, for as long as you needed to cry. And then I would have found ice, to soothe your aches. And then I would have kissed every one of the places he had dared to hurt you.” His blue eyes shone with sincerity and devotion. “I would prove to you that you are cherished.”
“Cormac,” she breathed. “I … I don’t deserve such—”
He broke off what more she would have said with a soft kiss. When she groaned and gripped his shoulders, arching into him to return his kiss, he hauled her against him, wrapping his strong arms around her. Deepening the kiss, he became deaf and dumb to everything but the wonder of holding the woman of his dreams in his arms. Of kissing her. And having her desire his attentions.
Belatedly, the sound of the door slamming shut registered, and he broke the kiss. Looking over his shoulder, he saw his brother, standing with fists clenched and hatred in his gaze.
“How dare you?” Connor rasped, as he took a threatening step in their direction.
Cormac moved to stand in front of Niamh, protecting her. “I dare because you are a horrible husband, and she deserves to know what it is to be revered.” He raised his arm, warding off his brother’s blow. Although strong, Connor was no match for Cormac.
“You defiler. You betrayer of a sacred trust!” Connor bellowed. “I thought you were my brother, and all this time you’ve been lusting after what was never yours. You’re despicable, and I’m ashamed to have ever called you brother.”
“You’re ashamed to call me brother?” Cormac demanded in a low, menacing voice. “Imagine how I feel? A lazy, worthless, layabout schemer whose only claim to fame is his ability to nearly drink himself to death each night.”
“Bastard!” Connor bellowed. “I protected you! I kept you from starving when everyone died. You owe me.”
Cormac shook his head. “I owe you nothing. You stole my heart’s desire and then failed to cherish her. How could you, Connor?”
The brothers stood, glaring at each other, as though attempting to find a way to land a lethal blow.
“Connor,” Niamh whispered.
“And you!” Connor screamed at Niamh, as he peered over Cormac’s shoulder. “You’re a heartless hussy who never brought me a moment’s worth of joy. You were born an inadequate daughter, unwanted and unloved by her mother, who was relieved to fake her death rather than to suffer raising you. And you will die an unwanted, repulsive wife.”
“You know we’re miserable,” Niamh whispered.
“Because you are a faithless shrew! How could you do this to me? To our daughter?” He pushed at Cormac, but Cormac met him, and they scrappled until finally Cormac shoved him, and Connor tumbled backward into the door.
“Mark my words,” Connor gasped, as he raised his hand and pointed at the two of them, “you will die as disappointments, with no mourners and no one crying over your graves.”
“Connor,” Niamh whispered again.
“I never loved you, you faithless harpy.” Connor stormed from the room, the door slamming shut so hard it rattled the china in the cabinets.
Niamh gasped, falling to her knees, as Cormac stood in stunned silence, unable to offer the comfort they both so desperately needed.
He shivered with cold, returning to the present. “What a fool I am,” he muttered to himself, as he studied Connor’s grave. “You’d think I’d be filled with a sense of accomplishment. A sense that I’d finally outmatched you.” He ran a hand through his hair, sprinkled with a dusting of light snow.
“But you always win, don’t you?” He glared at his brother’s marker. “You always have the last word.” He bowed his head before dropping to his knees. “Damn you, brother,” he rasped, as he fought a sob. His shoulders shook as he lost his battle with his deep emotions. “Damn you for always denying me what I most want in this world.”
He swiped at his cheeks and reached forward, cleaning off the little bit of snow that clung to Connor’s marker. “This is my first Christmas without you. The first Christmas I haven’t had my big brother by my side. I know now what you were to Niamh, and, even though you never worked with me here in Fort Benton, you were a good brother to me after we lost our family.” He bent forward as he continued to sob. “How could the boy who protected me from the Chichesters, the boy who taught me to never hit my sister, the boy who worked so diligently on our parents’ farm”—he paused, gasping a few times between his tears—“how could you have turned into the man who would beat his wife, who threatened his daughter, and who refused to work to help his family?”
He dug his hands into the snow at his side and shook his head. “I mourn the boy you were, Connor. I will always mourn him, for he was a kind, good older brother.” With a deep breath, he looked at the marker. “But I will only ever exult that you died. For the boy I knew had already died, replaced by a selfish monster.”
Pushing himself to his feet, Cormac brushed away the tears at his cheeks and spoke in a self-assured, determined voice. “I will love Niamh forever. I will cherish Maura. And I will adore and love Niamh’s babe. For that babe will only ever know she is treasured.” He took one last deep breath, whispered, “Merry Christmas,” and turned on his heel to return to the cabin to be there when Niamh awoke.
Niamh set Maura down in the O’Rourke kitchen, smiling, as her daughter raced from person to person for a kiss and a hug. She tugged on her uncles until one of them walked with her into the living room, where a small mound of presents sat in one corner.
“No openin’ presents until we’re all together,” Mary called out.
“An’ no cheatin’!” Seamus hollered, with a wink to his children who lingered in the kitchen.
Niamh took a deep breath, closing her eyes at the scents wafting through the air. Mulled cider vied with fresh-baked bread and the scent of roasting venison. She breathed deeply again before murmuring, “Reminds me of Christmases when I was a lass.”
Mary wrapped an arm around her waist and squeezed her. “Aye, ’twas what I was hoping for, although we have more food now than we ever did then.”
“But we never had venison,” Kevin said with a chuckle, as he held Aileen in his arms.
“No,” Niamh said, as she looked at her cheerful family, gathered here. She fought tears as she saw them dressed in their Sunday best but with touches of red and green to mark the holiday spirit. “’Tis hard to believe we are together, with three of us happily married this year.”
“Ah, but too many of the lads are missin’,” Seamus said. “I pray they are enjoyin’ their time in Saint Louis and are not into any mischief.”
Ardan laughed, as he watched Deirdre bustle around the kitchen, helping his mother. “You know the twins will be raisin’ havoc, while Declan attempts to keep them in line.” He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t envy him.”
“I wonder if one, or more, of them will return home with a bride,” Deirdre said. She stilled in her movements around the kitchen, as conversations ground to a halt at her comment. “What?” she asked.
Mary shook her head. “’Tis I who’s bein’ foolish. I’ve always hoped to be present at every marriage. I asked each lad, before he left, that, if he did find a fine woman, to bring her home to marry here. We’ll have to see if they will comply.”
Seamus kissed Mary�
��s head. “They will. For none of us ever wants to disappoint you, a ghrá.”
Mary flushed at the murmurs of agreement.
Niamh moved to stand in Cormac’s sheltering embrace, watching her family interact. The younger boys still had the youthful anticipation of Christmas mornings, although Bryan and Henri were trying to emulate their older siblings. However, they were unable to hide their eagerness to open presents and then to eat the bountiful feast.
“Thank you,” Cormac whispered in her ear.
She turned her head, her gaze showing her bewilderment.
“Thank you for making me a full-fledged member of this madness. I’d hate to always be on the outside, wishing I were here. With you.”
“Oh, Cormac,” she breathed, kissing him softly. She rested her head on his chest, joy filling her to be in her husband’s arms, as she fought panic at all that would be revealed today to her family.
After presents were opened, the fire stoked, and cups of mulled cider had been drunk, the family milled in the living room before eating supper. Dunmore and Nora were to arrive soon for the elaborate meal. Cormac gripped Niamh’s hand as they stood to one side, watching everyone laugh, tell stories, or play games. He whispered in her ear, “Is now the time?”
She stiffened and then nodded. “I hate to ruin the good mood,” she whispered. “Everyone is so happy.” She had turned into his arms, so it looked as though the newlyweds were canoodling.
“This is good news, Niamh.” He kissed her neck and smiled encouragingly at her. He cleared his throat, as Niamh pressed more firmly against him and began to softly shake. “If I could make an announcement?”
“No,” Niamh protested. She shook her head at Cormac, as he sighed with disappointment behind her. “I have an announcement to make.” She flushed and cleared her throat, as her boisterous family eventually calmed. “I … I’m expecting a baby.”
“Oh, Niamh!” Mary exclaimed rushing toward her and pulling her into her arms. “What wondrous news.” She clasped her close, rocking her in her arms. “Another babe to love and to cherish.”
Seamus approached, his joy less exuberant than his wife’s. “Congratulations, Niamh.” He shared a long look with Cormac and then nodded. “I hope you are feeling well.”
“More tired than I like to admit,” she said. She bravely accepted all her siblings’ words of felicitation, until she was once again with her parents, Ardan, Deirdre, Kevin, Aileen, and Maggie. Cormac had never left her side.
“What aren’t you telling us, Niamh?” Kevin asked, as he saw the subtle tension his sister attempted to conceal and Cormac’s forced joviality.
Niamh relaxed as Cormac wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her back into him. “The babe is Connor’s,” she whispered.
At the gasps from her mother, sister, and sisters-in-law, Niamh ducked her head.
“When did you discover you were with child?” Mary asked, her soft touch stroking her daughter’s head.
“A few days ago. I realized …” She flushed, unwilling to discuss such a personal matter with her brothers or father. “And then I visited Nora.”
Seamus stiffened. “Nora,” he said in a low, threatening voice. “What did she recommend?”
“That I tell my husband and learn to love this babe,” Niamh said, with a defiant tilt of her head.
“Seamus,” Mary admonished her husband, turning to stroke a hand down his arms. “You’re not helping anything.” When Seamus relaxed under her touch, Mary focused on her daughter and Cormac. “Wise words, and I would have expected nothing less from her, after spending so much time with her, when she lived with us.” Mary’s gaze searched Cormac’s guarded gaze and frowned. “How are you, Cormac?”
“Fine,” he murmured, his hold on his wife tightening incrementally.
Seamus muttered a curse at the word but quieted as Mary nudged him in his side with her elbow.
Cormac stared at his father-in-law, his expression severe and foreboding. “Niamh and I will be parents again come summer. For Maura is mine now, and I couldn’t love her more than I already do. As I will love this baby.”
“Cormac,” Niamh whispered, as she turned into his arms, wrapping her hands around his waist.
“Our child will know love,” he avowed. He stared at those he considered family, as though daring them to contradict him.
“Of course she will,” Deirdre whispered, her eyes filled with tears as she watched him soothe and cuddle Niamh. “You are a good man, Cormac.”
He kissed Niamh’s forehead and then her head. “No, I love my wife. I’ll love her through everything. Anything.”
Seamus beamed at him and gripped his arm. He raised his voice, garnering the attention of the younger lads, who had moved away to play in a corner of the room. “Such joyous news calls for a celebration. My wee Niamh will bless us with a babe come summer, an’ we’ll have more reasons to give thanks.”
Niamh kissed Cormac’s jaw, before easing from his hold and facing her father. “Da,” she whispered. “I feared you’d be angry with me.”
Seamus pulled her into his embrace. “Never, my Niamh,” he whispered in her ear. “You survived. And now your eyes will be filled with happiness as you await your babe with your husband beside you.”
She kissed his cheek and then moved to hug her mother again, while Seamus found a small barrel of whiskey in the root cellar. Cormac stood beside her, clasping her hand. Soon they all had a glass, and they raised it high.
“To family. To perseverance. To love.” Seamus raised his glass higher. “Sláinte.”
“Sláinte!”
After the toast by Seamus, Niamh stood alone to the side of the gathering, watching as Cormac spoke with her brothers and father. She shook her head with bemusement at the amount of backslapping and chest puffing. “Male pride,” she murmured, as she stared at her husband with covetous eyes. She never failed to marvel that such an incredible man had fallen in love with her.
“Niamh,” Deirdre murmured, pulling her close. “I’m so happy for you, although I don’t know what I will do next summer season without your help in the café kitchen.” Her self-deprecating smile faded as she saw Niamh battling tears. “Are you well?”
“Oh, I am. I’m crying more due to the babe.” She leaned forward to hug Deirdre and then stepped back. “I don’t know what I would have done last summer without your friendship. Thank you.” She swiped at her cheeks, smudging her tears. With a murmur of appreciation, she accepted a handkerchief from Deirdre.
Deirdre chuckled. “I fear you have it all backward. I would have been lost without you and your friendship, Niamh.” She squeezed Niamh’s hand. After a moment’s pause, Deirdre subtly turned so her back was to the room and so her face wasn’t visible to other O’Rourkes. “Cormac treats you well, Niamh?”
At Niamh’s shocked expression, Deirdre paled. “What are you asking, Deirdre?”
“Please tell me that he’s nothing like his brother,” she whispered.
Niamh shook her head, her hands over her belly, as though protecting her babe. “No, he’s the opposite. Kind. Loving. Wonderful.” She frowned with bewilderment as she stared at Deirdre. “Why would you doubt?”
Deirdre let out a breath and flushed. “Last summer, I knew you’d been … mistreated.” She took another deep breath. “Beaten. But you wanted me to say nothing to your family. I was estranged from Ardan, and I’d clung to enough of my own secrets that I didn’t feel I could force you to give up yours.” She bit her lip and then whispered, “When I pushed you a little one day, you said both their names. Connor and Cormac. I feared they’d both harmed you.”
Niamh paled and swayed, as though she were to fall. Deirdre gripped her arm, steadying her. “No, Dee, never Cormac. It’s when he discovered the truth. When he saw me battered.” Her hazel eyes shone with shame. “I forgot to lock the door one day, and he waltzed in to see me …” Her hand flitted around, as though that were explanation enough.
“Oh, Niamh,” Deirdre breathe
d, as she pulled her close. “I’ve been so worried. Terrified. And uncertain what I should say. Everyone in the family has been delighted at your relationship, and I’ve lived with such fear all this time.”
“There’s no need. He’s nothing like his brother. He’d never hurt me.”
Deirdre released her and swiped at her cheeks. “Good.” She beamed at her friend. “Be happy, Niamh. That is my wish for you.”
Niamh returned her sister-in-law and good friend’s smile. “I am. And I know I will continue to be. Thank you, Deirdre, for being loyal to me.” Her eyes shone with incredulity. “I never thought I deserved that in the past.”
“You do. That and so much more.”
Cormac watched as Niamh readied for bed. They had left a sleeping Maura in the care of her parents and Maggie, so Cormac and his bride could enjoy their first Christmas night together at his cabin. She had slipped into a thick flannel nightgown that should not have stirred his ardor, but he realized that, anytime Niamh was in the room with him, he would desire her. No matter what she wore. She sat on their bed, her fingers working to braid her long auburn hair, and she held the ribbon between her teeth. He approached her, his gaze solemn as he slipped the ribbon free. “Let me,” he murmured as he tied the ribbon to the base of her braid. After kissing her hair, he set the long plait against her chest.
Rather than kiss her, he knelt in front of her. “Niamh,” he breathed, as he bowed his head. “I must ask your forgiveness.”
Pioneer Yearning: The O’Rourke Family Montana Saga, Book Three Page 18