Chapter Twenty-Eight

Asennight later, Dermott was well on the road to full recovery. Though he did not agree with the earl's decision to stay in the guest chamber until the physician proclaimed that he was ready to resume his duties, Dermott gave in because of his sweet wife's worry.

He shook his head, remembering the way she had looked at him. He'd noticed the fear in her gaze when she stared at him before she could hide it. Was the lass committing his face to memory because she had so little faith in his ability to uphold his vow and duties to the duke as part of his guard?

"Want to tell me what's on yer mind?"

Dermott shrugged. How should he answer Sean? He thought being married would be like any other day performing his duties to the duke and the earl. He would accept the assignment and fulfill his duties. Relaying orders was part of his job. "Same as yerself—if I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed."

Sean followed Dermott back to the wagon in front of the cottage to unload more furniture. "Well now," Sean drawled, "I'm here to tell ye that although our wives may appear to be gentle, agreeable women, they've got spines of steel and a will of iron to match our own. What did ye tell the lass that has set her back up?"

Dermott rolled his shoulder to ease the ache in it. He was pushing himself harder than he should for the amount of blood he'd lost. Bloody hell, he was an O'Malley, and O'Malleys never sat and watched others working—they pitched in and did their part! "I told her she was not to leave the manor house, or our cottage when we moved in, unless one of us accompanied her."

Sean snorted. "I can see why the lass would be upset with ye, Dermott. She's so wrapped up worrying about ye being shot that she hasn't considered that the threat against her isn't over."

"And I cannot help that me temper heats up every time she treats me like I'm half a man. Did Mignonette do that to ye?"

Sean snorted with laughter. "Oh, aye. That and more."

"How did ye find a way to get her to treat ye like the strong, capable man that ye are?"

He clapped Dermott on the back. "Just remember her worry is because she loves ye, has only just found ye, and hasn't learned the most important part about being an O'Malley."

"Oh, and what's that?" Dermott asked.

Sean's green eyes narrowed as if he were sizing up his enemy. "We O'Malleys may get knocked down, but faith, we bounce right back up again…battered and bleeding, but ready to fight!"

Dermott looked up as the cottage door opened, and the lass stood on the threshold, a look of love in her eyes until she took in the table they were carrying. Her expression changed, and the lass stomped toward them.

"What do you think you are doing?"

With Sean's words echoing through his mind, Dermott appreciated the fire in her eyes and the worry-tangled love behind it. "Moving the table into our home," he said.

"You are supposed to be resting for an hour in the middle of every day," she reminded him. "Doctor's orders."

He slowly smiled as he set his end of the table down. "Well now, wife of mine, I'll be happy to rest—if ye want to call it that—after me cousin and I finish unloading the furniture." When she opened and quickly closed her mouth, he could not help teasing her. "Can ye not wait that long to get yer hands on me, lass?"

Her face flamed and she spun around so fast, he thought she'd fall. But she did not—she marched back to their cottage, walked inside, and slammed the door.

Sean picked up his end of the table and nodded to Dermott. "Ye need to work on wooing yer wife over to yer way of thinking, boy-o, else ye'll be sleeping on a pallet in front of the fireplace—or with Flaherty and Coventry's men in the outbuilding."

Dermott picked up his end of the table, surprised when Bart rushed over. "The door's closed," the lad said, "I'll open it for you."

Dermott motioned Bart closer and confided in a low voice, "Ye'll need to knock first, Bart. If me wife thinks it's me, she may end up clobbering ye on the head by mistake with whatever's handy."

Bart's mouth dropped open. He stared at Dermott and shook his head. "Miss Georgiana would never do such a thing. She's a kind, loving, and giving woman."

Dermott knew the lass was probably inside with her ear to the door, straining to hear what they were saying. He called out loud enough for her to hear, "Would ye open the door for us, Bart? I don't want me wife to think I'm letting down me guard, allowing a stranger to walk into our home."

Sean struggled not to laugh while Bart shook his head and walked over to the door and knocked. "Mrs. O'Malley? It's Bart. Sean and Dermott are ready to bring the table inside."

The door opened with a flourish, and the lass stood beaming in the doorway. "Hello, Bart. Thank you for helping the men with their chore."

Dermott knew he'd never understand the lightning-fast shift in his wife's moods if he studied her for the next fifty years.

In a honeyed voice, she said, "Please set it over there near the stove."

When they did, the lass smiled and walked over to him. Laying a hand to his arm, she lifted to her toes and pressed her lips to his cheek. "Thank you, Dermott. I'll have your lunch ready and waiting after you help Sean return the wagon."

He looked into the amber eyes that by turns bewitched him and bedeviled him, and decided not to question the carefully worded order. The lass expected him to help his cousin with the wagon and the horse and to return immediately after. Deciding what was good for the goose was good for him as well, he nodded.

Sean was already out the door when Dermott pulled her close and kissed the breath out of her. "I believe I'll be taking that rest after lunch, lass."

They never hadthe opportunity to rest because of the commotion that invariably occurred whenever Lady Aurelia and Lady Calliope had to bid one another goodbye—no matter that their estates were only half an hour apart. The earl and the viscount patiently waited for them to finish before Chattsworth settled his family into their carriage to return.

Dermott nodded to Michael and Garahan as they flanked the carriage, while the three additional men Captain Coventry had assigned to add an extra layer of protection for the viscount's family sent one man ahead of the carriage and two behind.

Watching them leave, he leaned toward Sean. "How long can we keep Tarleton, Varley, and Stratford?"

"Until the matter has been handled," his cousin replied.

Dermott nodded. As long as Trenchert still resided at his nearby country estate—a reminder that the man had yet to collect the last of his debts—the matter would remain unsettled.