Chapter Twenty-Two

"Y e'll want to step aside, O'Ghill."

O'Malley's cousin shook his head. "God help me, ye're an annoying bugger when ye aren't unconscious."

O'Malley did not need the reminder that he'd not only lost consciousness once, but twice. The first time was right after a lead ball grazed the side of his head when he used his body to protect the baron. The second time was the physician's doing, and the catalyst. He shuddered remembering the pain as Dr. Higgins dug the lead ball out of his shoulder.

His head ached, not from the gouge the lead ball had left behind, but from the scouring of the wound and the bandage wrapped tight around it. The dull throb in his shoulder was all the reminder he needed that between the threads and thick bandage, he would be climbing the ladder one-handed when next he had the rooftop post.

"Ah, O'Malley, you're up and about. Excellent," Summerfield said as he walked in the room.

"'Twill take more than two lead balls to keep me down, yer lordship. Have ye had a report from Stanbridge?"

"Aye. The constable delivered it just now when he loaded the prisoners into his wagon."

"And?" O'Ghill asked before O'Malley could.

"The women are cooperating and have not left the vicarage."

"Are they giving him any trouble?"

"None," the baron replied.

"And ye don't find that curious?" O'Malley asked.

"Not at all. ‘Sensible' is what comes to mind," Summerfield said.

"God help me," O'Malley mumbled. "Are ye thinking what I am, O'Ghill?"

The fierce expression on his cousin's face settled the churning in O'Malley's gut. "Aye, Thomas. The quiet before the storm."

"What storm?" the baron asked.

"Melanie," O'Ghill said.

"Caroline," O'Malley answered at the same time.

The baron shook his head. "Thompson and Greeves have been guarding the perimeter of the vicarage since they arrived a few hours ago."

"What about Tremayne and Masterson?" O'Malley asked. "Have ye heard from them yet?"

"They have split up, watching the two roads into the village for a sign of Anderson's carriage."

"And ye're certain the man will not be riding a horse?" O'Ghill asked.

"Aye," the baron replied. "On your advice, men, and as a precaution, aside from the roads leading to and from here, we have men stationed at the head of the graveyard path and the one from the marsh—both of which lead here but are too narrow for a carriage."

"'Tis a relief," O'Malley said, "because ye can travel on foot as well as horseback."

Summerfield's frown was fierce. "I confess, that thought never occurred to me."

O'Ghill and O'Malley shared a look, and O'Ghill drawled, "Well now, that's because ye were born here ."

The baron ignored the comment.

"With yer permission, yer lordship," O'Malley said, "I need to speak to the vicar."

The baron stared at O'Malley's shoulder, then lifted his eyes to the linen wrapped around his head. "I distinctly heard Dr. Higgins advise you to rest and let your body humors balance out."

"Ye lost a lot of blood, Thomas," O'Ghill said. "I'll deliver a message to him for ye."

O'Malley frowned. "Ye just want an excuse to see the vicar's daughter."

O'Ghill scrubbed a hand over his face. " Bollocks! Ye're the one who's after seeing the vicar's niece, while I'm doing me best to stay away from Melanie."

Garahan stuck his head in the open doorway. "Are ye having a family argument without me?"

"'Tisn't an argument," O'Malley grumbled. "Just O'Ghill marking his territory."

Garahan stared at O'Ghill, then O'Malley. "Aren't ye supposed to be lying on the cot resting?"

"Aye," O'Ghill and Summerfield answered at the same time.

"Well then, get yer arse on that cot!" Garahan said.

O'Malley's head ached, and his shoulder throbbed, adding to his foul mood. "Did ye forget who's the head of the duke's guard here?"

Garahan opened his mouth to speak but, at the direct look from the baron, fell silent. "I believe that would be me , O'Malley," Summerfield replied. "As head of the guard, I am ordering you to do as the physician recommended, and rest for a full twenty-four hours. You will not be on duty. You will eat whatever Mrs. Green sends to you on a tray. And you will not leave this room."

"Yer lordship, I—"

" —will of course do as you ask. " He glared at O'Malley. "That's what you were going to say, wasn't it?"

O'Malley knew when he'd been beaten. "Aye, yer lordship."

The baron nodded to his men and walked out.

"Never saw his lordship this upset before," Garahan muttered.

"Must be his worry for Lady Phoebe," O'Ghill said.

"I'm thinking it could be whatever she wanted to speak to him about before ye got shot," Garahan replied.

"Aye," O'Malley agreed. "Mayhap it has to do with the Honeycutts and their trials. Her ladyship is a firm believer in justice, but she may be worrying about how the twins will deal with a guilty verdict."

"'Tis one thing to know yer ma or da has a mean streak a mile wide," Garahan murmured, "but 'tis another entirely when they intentionally strike someone on the back of the head."

"The lads are young enough that they wouldn't understand the nuances of the law, though they know right from wrong," O'Ghill said. "They may understand that justice must prevail, but 'tisn't just about a criminal—'tis their da and ma."

"I wonder if her ladyship is thinking to ask her brother to intervene." All at once, O'Malley felt as if he'd been outside in the sun too long. Heat swept up from the soles of his feet. His face felt as if it were on fire, and his throat was parched. "'Tis gone hot as blazes in here. I…uh, think I'll…"

"Bloody hell!" Garahan pushed away from the doorway, but was too far away to catch O'Malley.

"I've got—Bloody fecking hell!" The back of O'Malley's head hit O'Ghill in the face. As blood gushed out of his broken nose, Garahan snorted with laughter.

"I never would have thought to catch him with me face, but at least his head didn't hit the floor."

"Give me a hand, ye bugger. He's burning up."

Mrs. Green screamed from where she stood in the doorway, staring at the blood all over O'Ghill. Garahan swore, while O'Ghill reassured her, "'Tis only a broken nose, Mrs. Green. Would ye mind tossing me one of the linens over there by the pitcher and bowl? I need to lay O'Malley on the cot."

The cook calmed at O'Ghill's quiet tone. She walked into the room and set her tray on the table along the wall. Grabbing the linen, she rushed across the room to hand it to O'Ghill. "Tip your head back."

"Never mind me, 'tis Thomas. A fever's set in." O'Ghill's pronouncement hung in the air for a moment in the silence that followed.

"How long does it take for an infection to set in after a man's been shot?" Garahan asked.

With the bleeding slowing down, O'Ghill walked over to the pile of freshly folded linens. He replaced the saturated one with one from the top, pressing it against his nose. "I'm guessing more than the hour it took from the time the sharpshooter fired that shot to when O'Malley rode up to the stables like the devil was hard at his heels."

"Sometimes five minutes is enough time," Mrs. Green said as she bathed O'Malley's face with cool water from the pitcher. "Garahan, would you please ask the footman to notify Timmons? He'll alert his lordship. O'Ghill, let me take a look at your nose."

"Forget me nose. I've broken it before. Should we be sending for Dr. Higgins?"

The cook agreed. "He needs to know wound fever has set in."

O'Malley thrashed his head from side to side, mumbling.

"What is he saying?" the cook asked.

Garahan had returned and was standing on the threshold in time to hear her question. He walked toward his cousin. "Sounds like he's repeating the same word over and over."

"Caro," O'Ghill said. "'Tis what the vicar and his family call the lass who has a hold of O'Malley's heart. If I were her, I'd want to know he's calling for her." Without asking permission, O'Ghill walked past Garahan, into the hallway, and out the back door straight to the stables.

Flaherty whistled, and O'Ghill turned at the sound. "How's O'Malley?"

"Spiked a fever," O'Ghill told him. "He's calling for the lass."

Flaherty's jaw clenched. "Ye'd best hurry, then. Fetch the lass and bring her here!"

O'Ghill mounted his horse, leaned down, and rasped, "Run, laddie!"

*

Caroline paced the confines of the bedchamber until she thought she'd go mad. She had retreated here when she could not handle the inane conversation between Olivia and Melanie another moment. The more time passed, the stronger the worry. She would never be able to wait for the cover of darkness to sneak out of the house.

The uneasy feeling inside of her had grown stronger in the last two hours. Something was wrong with O'Malley…desperately wrong. She could not explain how she knew, but her gut and her heart were in agreement. Mayhap it was a message from her mum in Heaven.

She yanked open the door and started down the stairs when someone pounded on the front door. Everyone was in the kitchen, so she dashed down to answer the door. "Stanbridge? What's happened?"

He stepped aside, and O'Ghill reached for her hand. "O'Malley's in a bad way. He's been calling for ye."

"O'Ghill!" Melanie screeched, rushing toward the front of the house. "Your poor face! Who hit you?"

He ignored her. "Will ye come with me, Caroline?"

"Yes. Of course. Aunt Josephine! Something's wrong. O'Malley needs me."

Caroline's aunt glanced at the sight of O'Ghill's two black eyes and swollen nose, but only for a heartbeat. "Yes. Of course, dear. Please send word as soon as you can. We'll be praying for Thomas!"

Caroline paused on the front steps, staring as O'Ghill mounted his horse. "How am I going to get there?"

He held out his hand, and she let him pull her up onto the animal behind him. "Hold on tight!" The horse reared up on its hind legs, and Caroline clung to O'Ghill. They took off at a gallop. The wind whipped the pins out of her hair, but she didn't bother with that now. She tucked her head against Killian's broad back and prayed she would be able to help O'Malley.

They kept up the fast pace all the way to the baron's stables. Before she could think to swing her leg over the horse to dismount, O'Ghill plucked her off the animal's back into his arms and sprinted for the back door. "'Tis the wound fever, lass, but I've never seen its like before."

" Caro! "

She shivered at the anguished tone of O'Malley's voice. "I'm here, Thomas!" O'Ghill set her on her feet next to the cot where O'Malley thrashed from side to side. She reached for his hand. "Thomas, it's Caro. I'm here. Lie still now. I need to wash my hands, then I will bathe your face. We must bring the fever down."

He ceased moving at the sound of her voice. Relieved, Caroline walked over to the pitcher and bowl and quickly washed. Mrs. Green stood up from where she sat next to the cot and motioned for Caroline to sit there. A moment later, she handed Caroline a cloth. Caroline understood time was of the essence.

She dipped the cloth in the cool water, squeezing most of it out before gently sweeping across O'Malley's forehead to the edge of the bandage, down the sides of his face, and onto his neck, before repeating the movement. When the cloth heated but he had not cooled at all, she asked, "This may sound immodest, but should we remove his shirt? During the worst of Papa's illness, the physician had Mum and me bathing his chest, back, and legs."

"His fever spiked so quickly, I didn't think of it," Mrs. Green admitted. "I knew we had to cool his head, but had to be careful not to wet the bandage covering the wound where the lead ball creased his skull. Then there is the wound in his shoulder. Dr. Higgins had a time of it locating and digging out that lead ball. It is no wonder fever set in."

Caroline's stomach wobbled at the description. She could not fathom the immeasurable pain he must have suffered. Pushing that thought aside, she ignored the queasy feeling in her belly. "O'Ghill, can you sit him up? If we cannot pull his shirt off, you may have to cut it off."

O'Ghill bent down, whipped a blade out of his boot, and sliced the front of O'Malley's cambric shirt.

Caroline ignored the blood seeping through the bandage at his shoulder, and the one wrapped around his head. "Lift him up, and I'll pull the shirt out from underneath him."

They worked as a team for the next hour, O'Ghill lifting O'Malley up so she could bathe his broad back, then laying him down so she could bathe his heavily muscled chest. O'Ghill muttered, "I'm thinking we need to bathe his legs like ye said, Caro."

Exhaustion pulled at her, but she ignored it. She would not stop her ministrations until O'Malley's fever cooled enough to break. "I'll turn my back while you cut his trousers off."

She heard the fabric tearing and sent up another silent prayer. Dear Lord, please help me bring his fever down. I cannot lose him!

The hours passed with O'Malley caught in the grip of wound fever. Caroline had seen firsthand how devastating the fever was when the first of her brother's friends returned wounded from battle. He had not survived the fever, but by Heaven, O'Malley would!

Time passed in a blur, and she remembered refusing the offer of food, but somehow found herself in the kitchen eating a hearty bowl of stew. She faintly remembered drinking tea and eating something sweet, but could not say what it was. Her heart and mind were concentrating solely on breaking O'Malley's fever. Nothing else mattered! Life would not be so cruel as to take him from her when she'd only just realized how deeply she cared for him.

O'Ghill and Garahan traded places during the night, but she refused to leave O'Malley's side and let Mrs. Green take over for her. Caroline could not say why, other than the gut feeling that if she left him, he would decline further. As it was, every time she got up to change out the water in the bowl, he began moving restlessly. When she brushed the tips of her fingers along the length of his jaw and whispered to him, telling him she was there, he quieted.

Through the long night, she continually prayed that his fever would break, as she willed every ounce of her strength into the man she loved. Losing O'Malley would kill her. She asked for strength when she felt it ebb. Alone for a brief moment, she gave in to despair. Laying her head on O'Malley's chest, she sobbed. "You have to keep fighting the fever! I want that walk in the garden you promised me, and all that the desire in your eyes promised. Please don't leave me, Thomas!"

He roused, grunted, and threw an arm around her. "Faith, but ye're a bossy bit of goods, lass." She gasped and tried to push off his chest to look into his eyes, but he held her in his firm grip. "I've got ye now, lass. I'm not letting ye go."

Caroline cried harder.

"That's it, lass, get it all out of ye." A few minutes later, she heard him groan. She tried to sit up, and this time he let her.

She brushed at her tears with the backs of her hands. "I thought I was too heavy, making you moan like that."

"Nay. 'Twas the idea that I may have I opened the floodgates. Do ye think ye'll be finished crying anytime soon?" She snorted, then covered her mouth with her hands. He reached up, pulled them away from her lips, and pressed a kiss to the back of one and then the other. "Never hide yer feelings from me, lass. Nor yer snorts… 'Tis an adorable sound."

Crying and smiling, she said, "I need to get a fresh cloth." He released her hand, and she slowly stood, stiff from sitting bent over for so long. Biting her lip to keep from groaning herself, she took the small bowl she had been using over to the table along the wall. She exchanged it for an empty one and filled it with cool water. Taking a fresh linen from the pile, she returned to her seat and began her ministrations, the worst of her worry fading as she bathed his face while his red-rimmed green eyes watched her every move. "You're cooler."

O'Ghill returned with a small tray and set it down on the table. "I've brought ye more tea, Caro. Are ye sure I cannot convince ye to try another scone or two?"

"I'll take one," O'Malley rasped.

"Thomas!" O'Ghill rushed to his side and glared at him. "Ye've had Caro weeping for the last few hours. 'Tis about time ye opened yer eyes. We even sent for the vicar!"

O'Malley frowned. "Did I ask ye to marry me already, lass? Me brain's a bit foggy."

Caroline couldn't find her voice, so she shook her head, and O'Ghill grumbled, "We sent for the vicar because there's no priest."

"What in the bloody hell do ye need a priest for?" O'Malley's expression changed. He understood what O'Ghill had not said. "Ah, well now. I'm not dead yet, am I? Can ye give the lass and me a bit of privacy?"

"Ye're only wearing a sheet across yer manly parts, lad. 'Tis one thing when ye're out of yer mind with fever, but another thing altogether when ye're awake," O'Ghill said. "I'll not be leaving the two of ye alone now."

"How long ago did ye send for the vicar?"

"He should be here any moment," O'Ghill replied.

"Best find me a shirt to wear," O'Malley said. "And cover me legs." He reached for Caroline's hand and held tight. "I dreamed a redheaded, bespectacled angel came down from Heaven to bathe my face."

"Angels don't wear spectacles."

He pulled her to him, and she gasped, surprised at his strength when he had been unconscious and burning with fever not fifteen minutes ago.

"Me guardian angel does." When their lips were a breath apart, he rasped, "Spectacles and freckles. Marry me, lass." She hesitated, and he slid a hand around the back of her neck to hold her close as he softly pressed his lips to hers. "I want to be the man to kiss ye awake each morning, and love ye to sleep at night."

How could she say no to him? "Yes, please."

He released his grip on her, and she fell on top of him.

O'Ghill's snort of disapproval echoed behind them. "I thought ye were still weak enough to trust ye alone with Caroline for five minutes while I fetched a shirt for ye."

Ignoring the jibe, O'Malley grinned. "She said yes." O'Ghill shook his head and groaned. O'Malley's brow furrowed as he stared at his cousin's face. "What happened, Killian? Did ye run into a brick wall?"

O'Ghill shouted with laughter. "Aye, that I did, ye bugger—'twas the back of yer hard head! Here, I'll help ye sit up." He slipped the shirt over O'Malley's head, while Caroline tucked the sheet around his legs.

She reached up, thinking to tuck her hair into its pins, and froze.

"Something wrong, lass?" O'Malley asked.

"I seem to have lost my hairpins."

"Must have been on the ride over, Caroline," O'Ghill said. "I'm sure if we ask Prudence or Lady Phoebe, one of them would be more than happy to give ye some."

She brushed her hands over her unruly curls and started to braid them, only to stop when O'Malley's hand covered hers. "I love yer hair. The curlier and wilder the better."

"Well, it is not as if we are going to be married tonight, otherwise—"

"We are, and it's too late to change yer mind, lass. Ye said yes."

She stared at him. "I did not mean that I'd marry you right now."

"Then why did ye say yes?"

"Because I do want to marry you. But you're injured—your fever just broke."

O'Malley ignored the last half of what she just said. "Well now, 'tis a relief. Why do ye want to wait?"

She glanced down at her gown and held her hands next to her sides. "I'm soaked to the skin."

O'Malley's eyes turned a deeper green. "So I see, lass. I can remedy that."

Caroline frowned at him. "I do not see how."

"Ye can take yer—"

"—time, having a cup of tea," O'Ghill interrupted, staring at the doorway behind them. "Thank ye for coming so quickly, vicar."

O'Malley stared at Caroline, and she felt her face heat. Pleased that he was awake and lucid, she turned to the vicar. "Thank you for coming, Uncle. O'Ghill and I were afraid…" Tears welled in her eyes, and her throat tightened. For the life of her, she couldn't utter her fear aloud.

Her shoulders slumped and her uncle hugged her to him. "You have always been a brave woman, Caro. I expected to be praying over O'Malley. I'm happy that is not the case." He urged her to sit down, then turned to O'Malley. "My wife told me you were coming to speak to me earlier today, before you were waylaid."

"Aye."

"She seems to think she knows what you wanted to discuss with me."

"Aye, that she does. Yer wife gave me her blessing and said she was certain you'd be giving yers. Have ye changed yer mind?"

"You haven't asked for it yet," the vicar reminded him.

"Me head's a wee bit foggy still. Not sure if it's from the fever or the lead ball."

"Get to the point, O'Malley," O'Ghill interrupted.

"Aye. I was going to ask if I could court yer niece, Vicar Chessy. But being as circumstances brought her here to tend to me, I'm not going to ask to court her."

The vicar's lips twitched. "I see."

"Will ye marry us tonight?"

"But you need to rest and recover," Caroline said. "We should wait at least a fortnight before Uncle reads the banns."

"I'll recover faster if ye're the one tending to me, lass."

How could Caroline refuse the man when his voice deepened and his eyes held the promise of kisses, hugs…and more!

"'Tis the truth, vicar," O'Ghill cut in. "When I came to fetch Caroline earlier, we did not think Thomas would pull through. I'm not exaggerating. He was thrashing about, making it difficult for Mrs. Green to bathe his face and neck before Caroline sat down. Once she took over the task, O'Malley quieted considerably."

Caroline's eyes welled with tears, and she let them fall. "He was unconscious when I arrived, but I could not tell if it was from his wounds or the fever. O'Ghill and I worked to bring his fever down. Even though I prayed for God not to, I was not sure if He would hear my prayers and take away another person I love."

"Your aunt and I aren't blind, Caro," her uncle said. "We could see how you two felt about one another. If you believe that O'Malley will not heal if you are not the one taking care of him, say the word, and I'll marry you now."

"Thank you, Uncle. I do not want to take a chance that he will suffer a relapse. Please, marry us now."

He smiled and handed Caroline his handkerchief to blot her tears. "This is not the first marriage I will have performed while the groom is lying on a cot."

"It isn't?"

"I married a handful of soldiers returning from war over the years. Some of them eventually healed to the point where they were on crutches…others did not."

Caroline's throat constricted, but she willed it to relax. O'Malley was awake and seemed stronger by the moment. "O'Ghill, will you be one of our witnesses?"

"Aye, Caroline, but we'd best be telling his lordship, Garahan, and Flaherty. They're family and will want to act as witnesses, too."

As it turned out, it was an hour later that Caroline stood beside O'Malley to say her vows. The baron steadied him on one side, while O'Ghill stood on the other. Garahan and Flaherty stood off to the side, slightly behind him, prepared to catch O'Malley if he passed out.

Garbed in the pale blue gown Lady Phoebe insisted that she wear, Caroline felt as if she were in a dream. But when she smiled at Garahan's wife, Prudence, and Lady Phoebe, they immediately smiled back. This was real. She was marrying Thomas O'Malley, head of the duke's guard at Summerfield Chase, with their small group gathered to witness their vow taking.

When her mind drifted, weaving hopes with her dreams, her uncle's words blurred until she heard her name. Caroline repeated her promise to love and cherish O'Malley through sickness and health, in good times and hard. When he repeated those same vows and pulled her close, she sighed and poured everything she felt for him into their first kiss as man and wife.

She didn't remember falling asleep, but woke up in the chair next to O'Malley's cot, surprised to discover she still wore the blue gown.

"Did ye sleep well, lass?"

Caroline blinked and stared at the handsome man smiling at her. She closed her eyes and counted to ten before opening them again. "It wasn't a dream?"

O'Malley chuckled. The warm, rumbling sound felt like warm sun after weeks of rain. "Nay, wife. Now that ye're awake, if ye help me to sit up, I've been suffering, craving another taste of yer sweet lips while I watched ye sleep."

Her gaze dropped to his lips and up again. The merriment in his eyes had her whispering a prayer of thanks while her face heated with embarrassment.

"Never have I seen a blush so becoming on a redheaded lass."

"Oh?" Caroline tried to keep the nip of jealousy out of her tone. "And have you known many redheads, husband ?" From the way his lips curved, she'd failed in that regard.

"Several. Ye met Flaherty last night; surely ye noticed—"

"Is it morning already?"

"Aye, lass. As I was saying, the Flahertys are all red-haired."

She sighed and lifted a strand of hair that curled around her hand. "This is red. Flaherty's hair is a lovely shade of auburn."

"Since ye're after bedeviling yer poor, injured husband…" He tugged on her hand, and she tumbled onto his chest. "Ah, much better, and right where I'm wanting ye, lass…in me bed."

"Tis a cot," O'Ghill grumbled from the open doorway. "Ye've not been cleared for relations of any kind! It's me own bad luck to have been assigned the task of keeping ye from injuring yerself further until Dr. Higgins arrives this morning to have another look at ye. And all because ye broke me fecking nose—beg yer pardon, Caroline—and I'm to rest for a few more hours."

Caroline tried to hide her shocked reaction, admitting, "I have heard that expression quite a bit since meeting the two of you."

O'Malley shook his head. "We don't mean to be rude in front of ye, lass."

"I know, you'd much rather wait until my back is turned, or I'm out of hearing."

"Ye've married an intelligent lass, Thomas," O'Ghill said. "Far too good for the likes of ye."

O'Malley tightened his hold on her and sat up. "No one objected last night when we said our vows. 'Tis too late now. I'm keeping her."

O'Ghill grinned. "I'm happy for the pair of ye. Now then, his lordship sent me in to ensure ye kept yer hands to yerself, O'Malley."

"Well now, how else could I be holding me wife in me arms?"

"Ye wouldn't be."

"Have a heart, Killian. We're wed right and proper, and me wife isn't objecting—" O'Malley's gaze met hers. "Are ye, lass?"

Unable to resist the earnest expression on his face, or the sparkle in his green eyes, she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him. His mouth was warm. His lips were firm at first, then magically softened as she poured what she felt for him into the kiss.

"O'Ghill! I thought I told you to keep an eye on O'Malley," Baron Summerfield said, entering.

Caroline sighed and leaned back. "It was my fault, your lordship," she confessed. "I have developed this weakness—I just can't keep my lips to myself."

O'Malley frowned. "Ye'd best make certain I'm the only man ye kiss, wife."

"And that is as it should be, O'Malley," Summerfield said. "All joking aside, I'm happy to see that you are much improved this morning. Dr. Higgins will be pleased."

"In that case, kindly excuse us, I have a duty to perform. O'Ghill, please escort his lordship out, and close the door behind ye."

The baron's laugh surprised Caroline. She had been certain he would be insulted. "You remind me of myself, O'Malley."

Her husband smiled. "If I recall, ye were suffering from a head wound at the time, too."

"I had one thought only: protecting Phoebe. When her carriage was surrounded by the kidnappers that night—" The baron drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "And here we are living in the Borderlands, expecting our first babe." His gaze swept from O'Malley to O'Ghill and back again. "This time the tables have been turned, and you're the one with the injured head…and shoulder. Your family has gone above and beyond what my brother-in-law envisioned when he hired you to guard our family. I know I speak for Jared, Edward, and our wives when I say we are in your debt."

"'Tis only a flesh wound, yer lordship. I'll heal."

"Did someone mention healing?" Dr. Higgins asked from where he stood on the threshold. "Mrs. Green said I should just come in." He inclined his head to Caroline. "Good morning, Mrs. O'Malley. I trust our patient had a quiet night."

Caroline tried to sit up, but O'Malley wouldn't allow it. "Dr. Higgins is a married man, lass. I'm sure he'll understand me reluctance to let ye go."

The physician shook his head. "I'm pleased to see you feeling better. I need to change your bandages and assess your wounds. Would everyone but Mrs. O'Malley mind giving us a bit of privacy?"

"Not at all." Summerfield nodded to O'Ghill, who followed behind him and closed the door.

"Now then. I trust you did not do any further damage to your head or shoulder last night," the doctor said.

"I was in pain all night because of it," O'Malley grumbled.

"Shot twice, one would imagine you would be. If not for the head wound, I would have recommended laudanum. Please set your wife free and we'll start with that injury first."

Caroline wrung her hands. "I am so sorry, Thomas! I fell asleep when I should have been taking care of you. Are you in pain now?"

"Aye, lass. Terrible pain."

This was all her fault. She had to fix it. "Is it your head or your shoulder?"

O'Malley snorted with laughter, leaving Caroline totally confused. Her gaze met that of the doctor, who was smiling. "I do not see what is so humorous."

"'Tis yer innocence, wife. Now then, why don't ye have a seat while the good doctor has a look at me head? It doesn't pain me quite as much as it did yesterday."

"A good sign," Dr. Higgins said, unwinding the linen to get a look at the gouge in the side of O'Malley's head. "No inflammation. Excellent."

The doctor tended to the head wound, allowing Caroline to help apply the ointment and bandage. "Now then, let's have a look at your shoulder. I suspect it was the length of time and process of finding the lead ball that had your fever spiking. Your wound was open and susceptible to infection." Dr. Higgins studied the wound. "As I suspected, it's infected. Nothing too serious, or else your fever would not have broken." He turned to Caroline. "I will need your assistance cleaning this out. Can you handle that?"

Ignoring the twinge in her belly, she answered, "Yes, of course. Whatever you need."

"Mrs. Green normally assists me, but as you are O'Malley's wife, and it appears he does not want you to leave the room…" The physician let his words trail off while he locked gazes with O'Malley.

"I'm happy to help," Caroline rushed to assure him. "And would rather not be asked to leave the room, Dr. Higgins." He studied her closely—too closely. "Is something wrong?"

"Not at all—your own wound has healed to the point where I could remove the sutures today, if you like."

She looked at O'Malley, and he nodded. But Caroline wasn't ready. "It can wait until we take care of my husband."

She was surprised that she did not feel lightheaded while she followed the physician's instructions. Her stomach may have wobbled a bit at how deeply the physician was applying the healing ointment, but she managed to stay strong for O'Malley's sake. When the soiled linens and water had been taken care of, the doctor surprised her by saying, "I could use a second pair of hands at times, Mrs. O'Malley, and would be honored if you would think about it."

"I would be happy to help anytime, but am not sure how I would know you needed me."

"You could spend a few hours a day in the small office and examining room I have at my home."

O'Malley cleared his throat. One glance in his direction, and she remembered she was a married woman now. She would have to ask her husband if he minded. "I will be quite busy for the next week or so caring for Thomas, but will speak to him and see what he thinks. Would that be all right?"

"Wonderful. Thank you, Mrs. O'Malley. Now then, your turn. Please have a seat."

Her heart began to pound. O'Malley reached for her hand. "Why don't I hold on to yer face while Dr. Higgins snips the threads? It won't take but a moment."

"How do you know?"

Her husband smiled. "I've had more than me own fair share of stitches. Quite a few since I hired on with His Grace."

A few snips and uncomfortable tugs later, all of the threads had been removed. "I must say you healed beautifully, Mrs. O'Malley. Care to take a look?"

"No. No, thank you, Dr. Higgins."

The physician didn't ask a second time, but went over the detailed instructions for her husband's continued care. O'Malley thanked the doctor, and Caroline echoed him. "Yes, thank you, Dr. Higgins…for everything. Let me show you to the door."

"Not necessary. I told Mrs. Green I would stop in the kitchen when I was through. She has been waiting to serve you breakfast." Dr. Higgins paused in the doorway. "Send for me if the fever returns, or if the infection worsens."

"I will. Thank you!" she said as the doctor left.

"Come here, wife." O'Malley was about to stand when he remembered: "No pants."

She giggled.

"Do ye find that amusing, lass?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do." She tucked the covers around his legs and cupped his face in her hand. Lowering her lips to his, she kissed him gently and sighed. "Thank you for marrying me."

When he tugged her onto his lap, she willingly went. "'Tis I who should be thanking ye, lass. Ye've made me life feel whole."

She leaned against his broad chest and sighed. "I feel the same way. You're the other half of my heart, Thomas."

" Mo ghrá, " he whispered, brushing his lips to her healed cheek.

Caroline sighed. "It sounds lovely, but what does it mean?"

"Me love," he told her.

"Am I your love?"

"Let me show ye, lass." His lips claimed hers in a kiss that had the blood rushing through her veins, her skin tingling from head to toe, and a thousand butterflies fluttering in her belly.

The knock on the door had him groaning. "They won't be leaving us alone for another day, will they?"

She giggled. "That was Dr. Higgins's recommendation."

He laid her forehead against hers and said, "Come in."

"You are looking better by the moment, O'Malley," the cook said, entering. "I've brought your breakfast."