Chapter Sixteen

O 'Malley kept his horse at a trot through the heavily wooded section as he neared the village. He was anxious to see how the lass fared this morning. Hopefully, she had been able to sleep.

He hadn't. The worry that they had not heard from Coventry or King, after the missive advising that their quarry was headed north, plagued him. It had been two days without a word. The baron expected to receive an update soon. Until then, they would continue with their shifts in the village, guarding the vicar's wife, daughter, and niece, and the blacksmith's daughter. At Summerfield Chase, they would continue their increased protection guarding Lady Phoebe, Prudence and her twin cousins, and the female staff members.

Vigilant, he scanned the area on either side of the road, slowing his gelding's pace as they rode past the heaviest section of forest. Satisfied that all was as it should be, O'Malley rode to the spot where he'd found Melanie and the lass, and followed the well-worn path that led to the stream where Miss Gillingham had been injured. He planned to find and return her spectacles.

Up until his cousin Darby Garahan had suffered an injury to one eye, O'Malley had not given much thought to his vision. After Ryan Garahan shared the news about his brother's loss of sight, it had never been far from O'Malley's mind. Knowing that it was possible the lass's dizziness and queasiness were due to her lack of spectacles, he had to do what he could to help her. He had promised to look for them. So look he would.

Slowing his mount's pace to a walk, O'Malley noticed clumps of wildflowers on either side of the path. He'd pick them after he found what he was looking for. He tilted his head to one side, listening for the musical sound of water flowing over rocks. Knowing the lass could have lost her spectacles anywhere between here and the stream itself, he dismounted. It would do no good to find them only to step on them.

He scanned the ground as he led his horse deeper into the woods. Around a bend in the path, the stream meandered along its way, happily flowing over rocks and around branches that had fallen long ago. He closed his eyes and listened to the soothing sound, until his horse nudged his arm, calling his attention back to the task at hand.

"Right ye are, laddie. There's a lass who will be delighted when we find and return her lenses. Why don't ye nibble on the patch of grass on the other side of that boulder while I search in and around the stream?"

The sun's rays glinted off the water where the trees thinned out. O'Malley searched there first, knowing that as long as the lenses were intact, they would reflect the sunlight, making them easier to spot. Though he was tempted to remove his boots, he didn't want to risk slicing the bottom of his foot on a sharp rock. The duke's guard could not afford to be a man down at this crucial point.

He hopped from rock to stump to fallen tree and back, making his way down the stream until he noticed something white under the water. Bending down, O'Malley carefully scooped out what appeared to be a length of torn fabric. Quite thin and soft. Though the fabric had been underwater for more than a day, the faint rusty-red stain remained. Blood!

Moving a rock in the streambed, he freed the fabric, wrung it out, and tucked it in the pocket of his frockcoat. He straightened and was about to step on the next large rock poking out of the water when he noticed the outline of what had to be the lass's spectacles!

He reached down and carefully pulled them out of the water, hoping the lenses were still intact. If not, he would see if he could locate them too. The frames were bent, and he carefully manipulated them back into shape. Other than that, her spectacles were in one piece. Elated that Caroline would be able to see clearly again, he tucked them in the pocket of his waistcoat, turned, and made his way back along the edge of the stream.

"Time to pick a few flowers," O'Malley told his horse. He used to bring clutches of wildflowers from their fields home to his ma. She'd always set them in her best pitcher and put them on the windowsill facing east, so the sunlight would shine on the flowers every morning. He slipped the knife from its sheath on his belt to cut the flowers.

Holding the long-ago memory close to his heart, he wondered what Ma would think of Miss Gillingham.

Soon he had enough flowers to divide between Mrs. Chessy, Melanie, and Caroline. He added a few more, on the outside chance that Olivia would be at the vicarage when he arrived.

More than pleased that he'd been successful, he whistled to his gelding, who was a few feet away from where he'd left him grazing, drinking from the stream. "The lass will be happy that we found her spectacles—and picked flowers for all of the lasses."

Before he mounted, he wiped the blade clean on the hem of his coat and tucked it into the sheath. O'Malley had carried the two blades since leaving home—one on his belt, and one in his boot. He only carried his rapier when they had been under threat of attack. 'Twas his favorite blade other than his knives.

"Off we go, laddie." In the saddle, he leaned down to remind the animal, "There'll be oats waiting for ye at the vicarage." His horse's ears twitched as he headed back along the path. Reaching the road, O'Malley urged the horse into a trot and then faster, eager to return the spectacles to the lass.

"O'Malley!"

He looked up and waved to the vicar as he reined in his horse and dismounted.

"I see you come bearing gifts. Mrs. Chessy is fond of flowers."

O'Malley grinned and patted his waistcoat pocket. "That's not all. I found yer niece's spectacles.

The vicar sighed. "Poor Caro. This will cheer her up."

"Did something happen?"

"She did not sleep well. Mrs. Chessy and I took turns checking on her last night. Tonight we are hoping she will sleep upstairs in Melanie's room. When I went out to the barn a little while ago, she was in sore need of a nap."

"'Tisn't quite ten o'clock in the morning," O'Malley told him.

"Time is not the issue here—her needing rest is."

O'Malley nodded. "I see yer point. Mayhap a wee spot of tea and something sweet, and a small clutch of wildflowers, will improve her disposition. She cannot help but feel things more deeply, as she is grieving. I know I did when we lost me Uncle Patrick."

Vicar Chessy studied O'Malley for a few moments before agreeing, "Wise words, and ones that should be in the front of my mind, given the number of years I have been tending more than one flock." He patted O'Malley on the back and said, "Why don't you head into the house, while I settle your horse in the barn?"

"I promised him a cup of oats, if ye have them."

"An excellent treat to have for your horse. Would he like a carrot as well?"

"Ye'll be spoiling him, vicar. Thank ye."

O'Malley was about to knock on the front door when the vicar called out, "I believe Josephine baked cream tarts early this morning in anticipation of having guests for midmorning tea."

O'Malley grinned. "I shall tell her ye'll be right in."

"Aye, just as soon as I take care of your mount for you. Hurry, Caro could use some cheering up."

He raised his hand to knock on the door, but it swung open before he could. "There you are, O'Malley." Mrs. Chessy appeared relieved to see him. "We have been trying to think of ways to distract Caro all morning. She's a bit unsettled and too quiet. She did not sleep well last night."

"Aye, that's what the vicar said. He told me to come in and deliver me flowers…and something the lass needs that just might lighten her mood."

"Oh?" the vicar's wife said. "And what might that be?"

"Ye'll see. I want to surprise her."

He stood in the doorway to the parlor and felt the sadness coming off the lass in waves. Her head was leaning against a pillow, and her eyes were closed. Wondering if she was awake, he approached the settee, watching for a sign that she heard his footsteps. When a tear fell from the corner of her eye, he called to her, "Lass?"

Her eyes shot open, and she turned to face him. "O'Malley! I thought something came up and you weren't going able to stop by this morning."

"As a matter of fact, something did come up." He reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew her spectacles.

She squinted, and then her face relaxed. "You found them? Were you able to find both lenses?"

"Aye, they were still in the frames, intact. Hold still, and I'll put them on ye." Carefully, as if she were fragile as glass, he slipped them onto her face. Fortunately, the gash was just below her cheekbone, parallel to her jaw line. "This may not work, lass —the bandage is a bit bulky." As he said those words, a puff of air brushed against his lips and he realized how close their faces were. His gaze riveted to her soft gray eyes, which widened, then she blinked twice.

He swallowed the desire tearing up his throat. "Forgive me, lass. I was trying to see if they'd fit. Mayhap we can ask Mrs. Chessy if we can use a thinner bandage, as there doesn't seem to be any seepage from yer wound."

"I…" She paused and licked her lips, drawing his gaze to the plump bottom one. The urge to nibble on it had him by the bollocks. He cleared his throat and eased back as Mrs. Chessy entered the parlor with a tea tray.

"You found her spectacles!" The vicar's wife set the tray on a side table and walked over to where Caroline was seated. "You must feel better, dear, being able to see clearly again."

"Thank you for finding them, O'Malley."

"Ye're welcome, lass." He turned and found Mrs. Chessy studying him. Trying to ignore the intensity in her gaze, he asked, "Do ye think we can change out her bandage for a thinner one?"

She nodded. "Her spectacles would fit better. O'Malley, would you kindly fetch a bandage from the stack on the table by the window? I decided to keep them handy."

"I haven't washed me hands yet, and they were in the stream."

"There's hot water in the pitcher on the sideboard and a round of soap next to the wash bowl."

"I'll be right back." O'Malley washed his hands thoroughly, then dried them and walked into the parlor. Locating the stack of folded linens, he selected two from the top and brought them to the vicar's wife. "Is this what ye had in mind?"

"Yes, that will do nicely." Turning back to her niece, she untied the thin strip of linen the physician had wrapped around Caroline's head to secure the bandage to her face. "The ointment Dr. Higgins applied to your wound seems to have helped, Caro. The redness and swelling are all but gone."

The expression on the lass's lovely face blossomed from hesitant to happy. "I'm relieved to hear that. Thank you, Aunt Josephine. I confess, I was worried about the possibility of infection."

"We'll hold off tending to your wound until after you and O'Malley share a nice cup of tea." Mrs. Chessy smiled, adding, "And we'll stuff him with a few of my cream tarts before we send him on his way. What do you say to that, Caro?"

O'Malley was transfixed watching the expressions flit across the lass's face. Her smile was not hampered by the swelling, which had all but disappeared. Relief swept up from the soles of his boots. He hated to see her suffering.

"I'm not sure how many tarts O'Malley could consume," she said.

He chuckled at the idea that he could have as many tarts as he could eat. If he had been a lad of ten years, he would have taken them up on the suggestion just to see how many his gut could hold. But he was nearly thirty, a man who had taught himself to control his appetite for food…and more. "It would be me pleasure to eat one or two of yer tarts, Mrs. Chessy, but me ma taught me not to be too greedy where sweets are concerned." He let his gaze settle on the lass for a heartbeat, staring at his lips. He turned and smiled at the vicar's wife. "She also taught me not to overstay me welcome."

While he watched, Mrs. Chessy replaced the thick bandage with a thin one and retied the strip around her niece's head to keep it in place. He handed Caroline's aunt the spectacles and let her place them on the lass's face. He was not certain he could do so without trailing his fingertips along the curve of her uninjured cheek, or touching a few of her enchanting freckles, or testing the firmness of her plump bottom lip.

"There," Mrs. Chessy said. "How is that, Caro?"

Caroline smiled, then grimaced. "I keep forgetting that I have to be cautious smiling."

"Well now, lass, I'm thinking it's wonderful news that ye feel like smiling. Ye'll learn yer limits while ye're healing. Take it from me. I know."

"I'd better serve our tea before it's tepid," Mrs. Chessy remarked.

She started to rise from her seat next to the settee, but O'Malley stopped her. "I've just washed me hands—let me bring the tea tray over to ye."

"Thank you, O'Malley."

He placed the tray on the table next to the settee and watched the lass's graceful movements as she accepted the teacup and saucer from her aunt, setting it within reach on the table, so she could take the small plate with two cream tarts on it. Without pausing, she handed it to O'Malley. "Thank you, Aunt Josephine."

"Oh, that plate is for you, Caro—you need to keep your strength up while you heal." She then squeezed four tarts on another plate and handed it to O'Malley.

Eyes wide, he grinned. "Thank ye kindly. I'm certain Ma wouldn't mind if I accepted yer generosity…just this once."

The vicar's wife beamed as she passed him a cup of tea and kept up a steady conversation while they sipped from their cups and nibbled on her delicious tarts.

O'Malley could not help but sneak glances at the lovely redheaded lass. She was prettier every time he saw her. Her bravery almost made up for her stubbornness. He chuckled when he realized why he admired her stubborn quality—it reminded him of his ma.

The room had gone quiet. He blinked and tore his gaze away from Caroline. "Forgive me—I was lost in thought."

Mrs. Chessy's smile widened. "I was saying how grateful we are that you were able to visit this morning. You have managed a small miracle and perked our Caro up. She was so despondent before you arrived."

"'Twas the spectacles," he replied.

"And the flowers," Mrs. Chessy said. "They are lovely."

O'Malley glanced around the room, but did not see the flowers.

"There were so many, I had to put them in a large pitcher of water in the kitchen."

"Once I started gathering them, I decided I'd better pick enough for ye to share between the four of ye."

Mrs. Chessy tilted her head to one side. "Four?" She laughed delightedly. "O'Malley, you are so thoughtful. Thank you. I will be sure that Olivia receives her flowers and knows that you thought of her, too. Melanie is visiting with her this morning."

"Me pleasure, Mrs. Chessy."

O'Malley could not help stealing another long look at the lass. Her freckles were distracting him…again. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. When he opened them, the lass was staring at him. The longing in her eyes pulled at him. Thank God that he wasn't alone in his attraction.

"I need to resume me patrol. O'Ghill and I will be sharing duties here in the village," he told the women. "I will return this evening for the overnight shift."

"Will you be staying at the smithy?" Mrs. Chessy asked.

"Aye." He rose to his feet and extended his hand to the lass, who stared at it for a moment before putting her hand in his. "Thank ye for the delightful company, Miss Gillingham." His eyes never left hers as he tilted her hand to press his lips to the back of it. The dreamy expression on her face had his heart making plans before his head realized it. He released her hand and advised, "Sleep if ye can. Ye'll heal faster." He smiled at the vicar's wife. "Thank ye for the tea and tarts—they were delicious."

"You are welcome. Thank you for lifting Caro's spirits and finding her spectacles."

"Me pleasure. I'll see ye this evening."

He ordered his feet to walk to the door, though he wanted to stay.

Outside, he walked over to the barn. The vicar was no longer there, but O'Malley's horse had been pampered while he was inside. It was time to stop by the smithy and speak to Coleman. He thought about returning for Miss Coleman's flowers, then decided against it. 'Twas better if he let Mrs. Chessy give her the flowers. He did not want the blacksmith to get the wrong idea. His only intention was the lift the spirits of the women he was protecting.

A short while later, he was riding out of the village. He hoped a missive from either King or Coventry arrived while he was there. Even without advance notice, Anderson would not have the opportunity to sneak into the village or onto the baron's property. They had more than enough men spread out and around Summerfield-on-Eden and Summerfield Chase.

He could not wait to get his hands on the bloody bastard and give him a taste of what it felt like to be abducted and held against his will. And for the bloody hell of it, he'd enjoy roughing him up. Oh, he wouldn't break any large bones, mayhap snap a few fingers and Anderson's nose. He'd have to think about which would be the proper message that would get through to the bugger.

O'Malley thought he would ask what Garahan thought, then abruptly changed his mind. His cousin had a score to settle with Anderson for stabbing him in the back. Whatever Garahan wanted to do to the lord would no doubt be breaking his vow to the duke. O'Malley wouldn't blame Garahan if he beat the man to within an inch of his life. Hell, he'd hold his coat. But if the man wasn't strong enough to handle the beating, he may die, and every man in the guard had agreed to injure, not kill, their prisoners. O'Malley would never want to be the cause of Garahan being banned from the guard.

Approaching the edge of the baron's property, he followed the road leading to the stables. O'Malley decided that he would ask Flaherty, who would be a bit more levelheaded. As luck would have it, Flaherty was waiting for him when he rode up. The fierce frown on his face had O'Malley on alert. "What's happened?"

"His lordship is waiting for ye. A missive arrived while ye were on patrol."

"Did he disclose what the contents were?" O'Malley asked.

"Nay, he wanted to wait until ye arrived."

One of the stable lads rushed over. "I'll take care of him for you, O'Malley."

"Thank ye. Oh, I promised him—"

"A cup of oats," the young man said with a grin. "We all know your gelding is partial to them."

Smiling, O'Malley fell into step beside his cousin. "Where's Garahan?"

"Guarding the interior while ye were on patrol," Flaherty said. "From the expression on his lordship's face, the news was not expected."

The two men strode to the back entrance and entered the house, not surprised to find Garahan pacing in the long hallway between the back door and the kitchen.

"About time ye got back," he grumbled. "We've been waiting."

"His lordship gave me leave to have tea with the lass to see how she was feeling this morning," O'Malley said.

Garahan raked a hand through his dark hair, making it stand on end. "And how is she?"

"I found her spectacles in the stream."

"Broken, no doubt," Garahan remarked.

"Nay, nary a scratch. She was elated, though I could see smiling pulled at the stitches in her cheek."

Flaherty grimaced. "Poor lass." He shoved O'Malley with his shoulder and asked, "Did ye tell her?"

"Nay, there wasn't time."

"Ye had to have been there for nearly an hour," Flaherty said.

"That's time enough," Garahan interrupted. "His lordship's waiting."

The three men greeted Mrs. Green, who glanced over her shoulder and smiled, all the while stirring the large pot on the stove. "I'll save a bit of this berry jam for the afternoon scones."

Garahan sighed, Flaherty smiled, and O'Malley replied, "Ye're a treasure to be sure, Mrs. Green. The lot of us are grateful to ye for feeding us…especially when ye're baking scones."

Her delighted laughter bounced against the walls of the kitchen and surrounded them like a hug from home. If the baron's news was what O'Malley anticipated—Anderson being spotted closer to the Borderlands—they would need this small bit of comfort to remind them what was important in life and why they'd chosen to step into the role of protector. The news would mean a change in plans, and he wouldn't be able to do more than wave to the lass as he passed the vicarage when—make that if —he had the village patrol.

As they strode through the door to the main part of the house, he decided that he'd suggest to the baron that they try once more to convince the vicar that it was imperative Mrs. Chessy and the others seek the safety of Summerfield Chase. He could not imagine the lass being out of his sight when danger was headed toward the village.

Experience taught him collateral damage happened on the battlefield, in skirmishes, and during everyday life. The lass would be a target, and in the line of fire, as long as she was near Melanie and Olivia. Which she no doubt would be while she remained at the vicarage. He needed to think of a way to convince her and the others to accept the baron's offer.

Mayhap it was time to enlist Garahan's wife. Prudence had been the main target when Anderson abducted the women. Surely, she would be able to think of a reason to urge them to take the offer of protection.

Lord willing …