Chapter Twenty-Six

"Have ye seen our cousin this morning?" Sean asked.

"Ye mean the eedjit walking around with a smile plastered on his face?" Flaherty snorted with derision. "Aye, the bugger."

Sean chuckled. "Well now, if I were to be giving unsolicited advice about married life, I'd remind ye that I already pointed out who is right in front of yer nose, Flaherty… Mary Kate Donovan."

Flaherty's face flushed a deep red. "I didn't ask yer advice."

Sean frowned. "Do ye still not trust that the lass isn't pining after Garahan?"

Flaherty's fist clipped the edge of Sean's jaw.

Sean rubbed his face. "Bollocks, Flaherty! If I hadn't been up all night, with Iain cutting a tooth, ye would have missed by a mile!"

"Ye've been slow to react ever since ye got married," his cousin countered. "Ye'll not see me leg-shackled! One of us needs to remain alert and in full fighting form."

It was only by the grace of God that Sean was able to rein in his considerable temper. O'Malleys may not have tempers as volatile as their Garahan cousins, but no one ever made the mistake thinking they were mild mannered. His fist stopped a hairsbreadth from Flaherty's chin. Vibrating from pulling his punch at the last second, and angry with his cousin for questioning his ability to protect the earl and his family, Sean warned, "Don't question me abilities, cousin. I won't be pulling me punch next time."

He shoved Flaherty out of the way with his shoulder, and got shoved back. The two men stood facing one another like raging bulls.

"Next, ye'll both be pawing the ground with yer big feet," Dermott said, walking over to where his cousins stood, poised and ready to start throwing punches. "I've only been away from me duties for two days and ye're already thinking to start a round of bare-knuckle sparring without me?" When no one answered him, he sighed. His cousins were well into the staring part of their competition. Insults would be next, followed by Sean's right cross, countered by Flaherty's uppercut. "Does the earl know what ye're about?"

That comment got through to Sean, who scrubbed a hand over his face. "Leave off, Dermott. Flaherty, ye're a minute late for yer shift patrolling the perimeter. We can spar later."

"Count on it, Sean." Flaherty pushed past Sean and muttered to Dermott. "Quit fecking smiling!"

Dermott opened his mouth to speak but closed it again at the warning glance from Sean. Waiting until Flaherty was out of earshot, he asked, "What did I miss?"

Sean shook his head. "Flaherty's bollocks are in a knot over Mary Kate, and he refuses to acknowledge how he feels about her."

"I thought he was courting the lass," Dermott said.

"We all thought that, but whenever Garahan shows up, Flaherty suffers a change in personality—and his mind, ignoring the lass and acting like a jealous eedjit."

"But Mary Kate only has eyes for Flaherty."

"Aye," Sean agreed. "But Flaherty is so twisted up in love with the lass that he can't see past his jealousy of Garahan being the first man to rescue her when she was forcibly shoved out of the side door of Lady Kittrick's town house and landed on her knees."

"I've heard that tale more than once. Garahan was there to help her to her feet and bring her to the duke's town house," Dermott said. "But Flaherty was the one to rescue her and Lady Calliope when their carriage slid on ice, landed on its side, and threatened to roll onto its roof as it teetered toward the ditch on the side of the road. Flaherty had to climb on top of the carriage, reach inside, and pull Mary Kate and Lady Calliope out."

"Aye."

"Well then, what the feck is his problem?"

Sean sighed and stared at Dermott, who slowly realized what his cousin wasn't saying.

"I'm his problem? How did ye come to that conclusion?"

Sean snorted with laughter. "Did ye see yer reflection this morning when ye shaved yer ugly mug?"

"Of course I did," Dermott grumbled. "How else would I keep from slitting me throat with the straight blade?"

"Ye should have looked closer."

"Ye aren't making a bit of sense." Dermott took a moment to really look at Sean and noticed lines of exhaustion on his cousin's face. "Is little Iain cutting another tooth?"

"Aye."

"Kept ye and Mignonette up all night?"

"Right again."

Dermott shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't understand what yer lack of sleep and Flaherty's bollocks in a knot over Mary Kate have to do with me."

"Ye're fecking smiling!" Sean all but shouted.

Dermott chuckled. "Well now, ye'd be smiling too if ye were up all night with yer lovely wife in yer arms…instead of a wailing babe." Energized from another night spent in his wife's arms, making love to her, Dermott easily avoided his cousin's punch. "With Coventry's men and the rest of the Sussex guard here, our web of protection is well manned. Take a break and get an hour or two of sleep."

"Did ye forget who was in charge of the duke's guard here at Lippincott Manor?"

"Not in this lifetime, boy-o, as ye're always ready to remind us. Not shut yer gob and go lie down in our quarters."

"But—"

"Don't even try to argue. Those few seconds yer punch was off could be detrimental if the viscount dares to show his face. I'll send one of the footmen to let Garahan know he's to take yer shift on the rooftop. He's more accurate with the rifle than you."

Sean glared at him. "Feck yerself, Dermott."

"Faith, did ye forget I'm a married man now?"

Sean took another swing at Dermott and missed—again. Staring at his hands and then his cousin, Sean admitted, "Ye're right. Thank ye for making me see sense."

"Any time. Oh, and Sean?"

"Aye?"

"Be sure to lie down in our quarters in the outbuilding, not in yer cottage with yer lovely wife and son, or ye'll be useless to us for the rest of the day."

"Not if I'll be lying down beside Mignonette to sleep," Sean called out as he walked away.

Dermott laughed. "As if ye'll be thinking about sleeping the moment ye walk in through the door to yer cottage."

Sean did not turn around or answer him, but from the rigid set of his shoulders, Dermott knew he'd made his point. He continued to watch his cousin stalk toward the outbuilding where they stored their weapons and ammunition. They had slept there until exchanging vows with the loves of their lives. It was large enough to house all sixteen men in the duke's guard. Flaherty bunked there at the moment with the men Coventry had sent to protect the earl's family.

Dermott watched until his cousin entered the building, then sprinted back to the house to send a footman to alert Garahan of their slight change in plans for the next few hours. With a fighting force armed and ready, he had no worry that anyone would breach their lines of defense.

His mind raced over the one worry that ate a hole in his gut: Viscount Trenchert. Although he should no longer pose a problem, the thought of his gaining access to the lass was constantly on Dermott's mind. He would have to eliminate the problem…though without doing too much damage to the viscount. The duke had rules that must be followed.

Dermott could admit his thoughts to prevent the viscount from getting his hands on the lass included his favorite weapons…his fists included. Reason returned, and with it the knowledge that Trenchert had no legal claim to the lass now that Dermott and she had wed. He had not agreed with the earl at first when he insisted they inform the vicar of Georgiana's circumstances. In the end, he saw the wisdom in the advice.

Lippincott had made him see past his anger toward Trenchert to the fact that the vicar would never condone the wagering of any lass's hand in marriage over a hand of cards. Once he accepted that fact, Dermott agreed with the earl that the vicar needed to be apprised of the rest of the situation: the loss of her family home in London and estate in Sussex, her inheritance and dowry, the duel, her father's death, and her injuries fleeing from the viscount. The dire circumstances behind the duke's request for the special license, and Dermott's promise to protect the lass with his life and his name, convinced the clergyman. The vicar had been rightfully incensed on Georgiana's behalf and eager to marry them immediately. It always helped to have those in positions of authority on your side.

Convinced they had thought of every possibility to protect his wife, Dermott wondered what could possibly happen now that he'd wed and bedded the lass.

Two hours later, his question was answered when all hell broke loose.

*

Dermott and Flahertyran toward Tarleton before he fell off his horse. Noting the trickle of blood dripping onto the man's hand, Dermott asked, "What in the bloody hell happened?"

Tarleton swayed in the saddle. "Heard the crack of a rifle… Felt the lead ball slice through my arm." He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. Then he rallied, opened his eyes, and said, "Had to warn you. Three men on horseback, armed with rifles, are headed this way."

Dermott's whistle alerted the footman standing guard at the rear entrance to the house to warn those inside. Garahan, Michael, and Sean ran toward him from their positions.

Sean took over command, barking out orders: "Dermott, warn their lordships to gather the women and their babes in the nursery. Michael, head to the north entrance and warn Stratford. Garahan, head south, alert Varley. Flaherty, ye're on the roof. I'll take Tarleton to Mrs. Wyatt."

The men took off on foot and horseback to spread word to tighten their net of protection around their lordships and their families.

Dermott sprinted past Sean and Tarleton and yanked open the rear door. Having been warned by Dermott's whistle, the footman said, "The earl and the viscount are in the earl's study."

Next Dermott sprinted down the hallway, past the kitchen, and through the servants' door to the main part of the house. The urge to shout a warning filled him, but that would only frighten the women and the staff…and wake the babes.

The door to the study burst open. "Trenchert?" the earl asked as he intercepted Dermott.

"Where are the women?" Fear licked up his spine, but he ignored it. "We need to get them to the nursery. Three of Trenchert's men are headed this way. Sean executed our exterior plan. Our men are warning those on patrol to the north and south."

"Calliope is in the nursery with Mary Kate and Jenny. Aurelia and Georgiana were in the downstairs sitting room discussing taking a turn around the gardens—"

Dermott's blood froze at the realization that his wife and Lady Aurelia were outside. He locked gazes with the earl. "Do not go outside without me!" Turning to the viscount, he said, "Make certain Lady Calliope and—" The viscount didn't wait for him to finish. He raced to the staircase shouting his wife's name.

Running to catch up with the earl, Dermott called to the footmen stationed in the hallway, "Tarleton's been shot. Sean may need a hand getting him into the room by the pantry. See that Mrs. Wyatt has enough help to tend to his wound." He was grateful that the men immediately responded. They'd gone over their plans numerous times until everyone involved knew where to go and when. Dermott reached the sitting room as the earl was about to open the terrace doors. "Yer lordship! Let me go first."

The earl hesitated, then yanked the doors open, shouting for his wife.

Lady Aurelia's answering cry had the hair on the back of Dermott's neck standing up. From the sound of it, the women were near the back of the of the garden by the roses climbing the stone wall. "Bloody, fecking hell!" He leapt over the stone bench on the path and raced toward the wall.

"Let her go!" His wife's angry voice and command seared through him, surprising him.

He vaulted over a second bench and finally spotted the women by the door in the wall, being held by two men. He heard more than one horse, but didn't see them—they must be on the other side of the wall. In a heartbeat, he decided to use his fists first, pistol second. He couldn't take the chance that his shot could be deflected by the thug holding Lady Aurelia, or that the miscreant would pull her in front of him and take the lead ball meant for him. "Unhand her ladyship!"

The man turned and aimed his blunderbuss at Dermott's gut. With a superior sneer in his voice, he demanded, "Which one are you?"

Dermott slowly closed the distance between them, ignoring the fact that at this range, the man could fire a round that would blow his guts out through his back. A calm washed over him as he countered with a demand of his own: "Let her ladyship go, and I'll tell ye."

The sound of a pistol cocking behind him was expected, and added the element of surprise Trenchert's men had not counted on. The man's gaze shifted toward the sound, and Dermott saw his chance. Using the distraction to his advantage, he yanked the hand holding the blunderbuss over the thug's head and disarmed him.

The earl swooped in, clubbing the blackguard on the head with his pistol. When the man dropped like a stone, the earl pulled his wife into his embrace, swept her into his arms, and strode toward the terrace, out of range.

Dermott blocked out everything but the need to subdue the second intruder. He delivered a lethal left cross, which stunned the would-be abductor. He quickly bound the man's hands behind his back as the eerie sensation that something was not right registered. Where was his wife? Was there a third man? "Georgiana!" He shook the prisoner, intending to ask him, but the man was unconscious. He dropped the man and spun around. "Lady Aurelia, where is me—"

His wife's angry shout was music to his ears. "Let go of me!"

Sprinting toward the sound, he prayed he would reach his wife before her abductor spirited her away. His prayers must have fallen on deaf ears, as the sound of hoofbeats pounding on the path on the other side of the garden wall reached him.

He ran toward the stables as if his life depended on it…but it wasn't his life in jeopardy, it was his wife's! The realization that he may not catch up in time to follow them had a fear such as he had never known churning, building inside of him, until his vision grayed. He immediately set aside the fear, clearing his vision. He pushed for more speed as Bart called his name. The lad was riding toward him, leading a second horse. No words were necessary, as his cousin's stepson tossed the reins to Dermott, who leapt onto the horse.

"They passed me a few moments ago," Bart said. "They're headed toward the woods, and the path that leads to the village."

Dermott, leaning low, whispered in the gelding's ear, "We have to save the lass again!"

Both horses took off like a shot, hooves thundering, as they responded to the urgency in Dermott's plea. Reaching the narrow path, they were forced to ride single file. "There!" Bart called from behind him. The pair were just ahead of them, riding double, which slowed them down. Relief filled Dermott until he saw the lass quickly glance his way before turning back to jab her elbow into her abductor's face. The man cried out as blood poured from his broken nose. He released his hold on her, and she shifted sideways off the horse.

"Hang on, lass!" Grateful for the narrow path, and tight fit, Dermott brought his mount alongside the other horse, reached out, and wrapped his arm around his wife's waist. "I've got ye, mo ghrá!"

"Move ahead of him, O'Malley, and I'll take care of the bloody bugger," Bart called out.

"Aye, Bart!" Dermott shifted his wife onto his lap and urged his mount forward.

"Who are you calling a bugger?" the man shouted. "I'll show you—"

Dermott snorted with laughter. Bart's punch had stunned the man long enough for the boy to tie his hands behind his back. "Excellent form, lad. Ye've a fine jab. I can tell ye've been practicing."

Bart grabbed the other horse's reins and said, "My aim's improving with the rifle Michael's letting me use, too."

"I'm grateful to have ye guarding me back, lad. I'll be letting the duke know when we send our latest report to him. Thank ye, Bart."

Now that their prisoner was secured, Dermott glanced into eyes the color of the finest whiskey. He tamped down the need to shout at her, demanding to know what in the bloody hell she'd been thinking going outside without alerting anyone. Conquering that, he struggled not to act on the desire to shake some sense into her.

"I'm fine, Dermott." The breathless sound of her voice surprised him. He was about to ask if she'd hurt her ribs when she rasped, "You're squeezing the breath out of me."

He reacted instantly, loosening his hold on her. "Forgive me, lass, I was—"

"Trying to decide whether to shout at me or shake sense into me?" she finished for him.

His mouth gaped, and he quickly snapped it shut. "As yer husband, 'twould be me right."

"Don't you want to know why the two men grabbed hold of Lady Aurelia?"

Her question startled him. Dermott had been so focused on rescuing them that he'd forgotten the man had a hold of the countess first. The attacker had only grabbed Georgiana when he had been forced to let go of Lady Aurelia. "Aye, what did the man say?"

His wife's eyes welled with tears.

"Ye have nothing to fear now, lass. Thanks to Bart's quick thinking, ye're safe."

"It's not that. The viscount has given up on me."

"Are ye certain about that?"

She nodded. "The man who grabbed hold of Lady Aurelia told me I was useless to the viscount now that you've…" Her voice trailed off.

Dermott tightened his hold on his wife, tucking her head beneath his chin. "I've got ye, lass. Now tell me what the bloody bastard said."

She rasped against his cravat, "Now that you've taken my virtue, I have nothing of value."

The need to grab hold of the viscount and demand he cease maligning his wife had him by the bollocks. He cleared his throat and said, "Ye have infinite value to me, lass. Ye're me wife… Me life. Tell me what else he said."

"The countess would be worth her weight in coin."

Her stifled sob told him more about the lass's compassion than words. She feared for Lady Aurelia's safety. "Go ahead and cry, lass. Ye'll feel better for it."

She surprised him by sniffing and lifting her head. Tear-drenched amber eyes blazing with anger held his. "I'm glad I broke that man's nose. I was so afraid that they would keep her ladyship prisoner and little Edward would be beside himself." Her words indicated that her courage was equal to her compassion.

"The path widens just ahead," he told her. "We can turn around and head back to the manor, and ye can see for yerself that the earl has taken care of her ladyship."

"Thank you for rescuing me again, Dermott."

"I'm hoping this is the last time," he replied as he urged their mount to turn back the way they'd come. Bart followed his lead and did the same. "Ye can have a bit of a rest when we return, lass."

"I'd rather have a bath to scrub everywhere that other man touched me."

Dermott's temper shot straight to boiling. "Where did he touch ye?"

She did not answer him.

"Ye'll be telling me now, before we reach the stables."

"We cannot always have what we want, husband."

"Are ye defying me, lass?"

Bart's laughter irritated the hell out of him. "She sounds like my mum."

"Does she now?" Dermott asked. "And how does me cousin react when she defies him?"

"He raises his voice until Mum gets that look in her eye."

"Then what happens?"

"I'm consigned to mucking out the stalls and cleaning the barn."

"Why would they send you out to the barn?" Georgiana asked.

Dermott met Bart's gaze and smothered his need to laugh outright. "I'll explain it to ye later, lass, when—"

The crack of a rifle had him swearing and scooping his wife off his horse and onto Bart's. "Ride like hell and warn the others!"

The lad wrapped his arms around Georgiana and said, "But—"

"NOW!"

*

Bart curved hisbody around her and urged his horse into a gallop, never letting go of the other horse with their prisoner. As they rode toward the manor, more shots sounded, and her heart hammered with fear for Dermott.

She struggled against him, demanding, "Take me back!"

He tightened his hold on her, as fierce at following orders as her husband and his cousins had been.

"Bart, please?" she said. "You do not know how many men were lying in wait for us. Dermott could be killed."

"He vowed to protect the duke and his family."

Frantic to convince him to turn back and help her husband, she elbowed him in the stomach. "At the cost of his life?"

Bart grunted, absorbing the blow, loosening his hold on the reins. The prisoner gasped, slid sideways, and fell off his horse, but Bart kept going and answered, "Aye. My stepfather and the others promised, too."

Tears streamed from her eyes. Ignoring them, she shifted and almost succeeded in loosening his grip. Almost.

They rounded the bend in the road, and Bart let out a short, sharp whistle—like the one Dermott had used. She stopped struggling as Sean and Michael ran toward them. Before either man could ask what happened, Bart jumped off the horse and faced them. "The prisoner I was leading back here fell off his horse just up the road. His hands are tied behind his back, and his nose is broken, so he won't get far."

Sean nodded. "Where's Dermott?"

"We were ambushed… I heard more than one shot in succession. Had to be three men—no one can load that fast."

"Where?" Michael asked.

"Follow the road to the path in the woods. We were attacked just beyond where it narrows."

Michael lifted Georgiana off the horse and set her on her feet. "Go inside with Bart, Georgiana—Dermott's life depends upon it."

"I will. Hurry! Dermott's outnumbered!"

Michael mounted Bart's horse and shouted, "Now, Bart!"

Bart tugged on Georgiana's arm, urging her to run, as Sean rode past at a gallop.

She looked over her shoulder and stumbled, but Bart steadied her and kept going. Nearly out of breath, she struggled to ask, "Will they get to Dermott in time?"

He grunted in response, yanked open the door, and pulled her inside. The earl met them there. "Where's Dermott?"

Unable to speak past the pain in her heart, she sank to her knees as Bart replied, "The viscount's men ambushed us!"

Her knees were still wobbly when Bart and the earl helped her to her feet. "Sean and Michael are due to be changing shifts," the earl said. "Who went after Dermott?"

"Both of them, your lordship. I heard three distinct shots, too close together—"

"Three men," the earl said with a nod. "The type of odds my brother's men prefer."

Stiffening her knees to hold her up, Georgiana demanded, "How can anyone defend themselves when they are outnumbered?"

"The O'Malleys, Garahans, and Flahertys have faced and conquered those same odds more times than you would imagine," the earl replied.

"But—"

"We'll speak of this later," he interrupted. "I have to warn the others."

Georgiana let herself be led to the kitchen. Mrs. Wyatt was filling tart shells, and paused when she heard them approach. She brushed her hands on her apron and nodded to Bart. "I have her."

His duty complete, the young man turned on his heel and sprinted toward the back door.

"Sit down before you collapse on me. We're going to need all hands to be ready for however many wounded walk through that door. Compose yourself while I pour you a cup of tea."

The housekeeper walked into the kitchen, took stock of the situation, and said, "Brandy, Mrs. Wyatt."

Ashamed that she had nearly fallen apart in front of Bart and the earl, Georgiana drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Willing her hands to stop trembling, she accepted the glass and sipped. She could feel the warmth spreading from her lips to her belly.

Mrs. Jones shared a knowing look with Mrs. Wyatt and said, "Tell us what happened."