Chapter Five

C aroline tried to control her reaction to O'Malley's touch, but the heat from his hand seared through her gown, and chemise, to her flesh. She shivered.

"Are ye cold, lass?"

The rumble of his deep voice filled her with an ache she had never felt before. Speech was beyond her. She shook her head.

He lowered his hand and frowned at her. "Do ye not have a heavy cloak or coat ye can wear?"

Bereft at the loss of his touch, she struggled to find her voice. "I… That is, you see… No."

Embarrassed by her circumstances, heartbroken that she'd had to leave her mother's locket and her father's watch behind with the crooked pawnbroker, she turned her attention to the gelding she was to ride. Stroking the tips of her fingers between the horse's eyes down to his velvety-soft muzzle, she whispered, "You are a beautiful horse. Thank you for letting me ride you to the vicarage."

The horse blew out a warm breath in her face as if he understood and agreed, prompting her to confess, "It's been an awfully long time since I have had the opportunity to ride." Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered how hard it had been to part with their horse. He had been the first to go when they had to economize.

She wished things had been different, that the tonics had given her mother a much-needed boost of energy. The hardest day of Caroline's life had been the day her mother was buried beside her father and brother, a few gravestones away from the young man she had promised to wait for. She had made plans for their future that included getting to know more than why David's quiet presence and gentle kiss soothed her. They would become accustomed to one another's likes and dislikes as they laid the foundation of their future together, when he returned and the banns were read.

Wishes were the stuff of fairy tales, and she could no more wave a magic wand or concoct a spell that would bring her family back than she could attract a man like O'Malley with her freckles and spectacles.

"Caroline, we need to leave." O'Ghill's voice and steady gaze drew her out of her reverie.

"I'm ready."

Without asking, O'Malley put his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the sidesaddle. "Are ye certain ye'll be able to handle yer horse, and the sidesaddle, once he's moving at a fast trot?"

It took Caroline a moment for the heat, and the imprint his hands left behind on her waist, to fade. Her reaction to his touch was unsettling. David had kissed her, but that was only after he asked her to wait for him. She never suspected he had feelings for her until the day he and Neil left to join their regiment. It was odd to realize that David had never even touched her hand…just that brief, featherlight brushing of his lips to hers.

"Lass?" The concern-laced frustration in O'Malley's tone urged her to answer.

"It has been a while since I have ridden, but I am quite experienced. You do not have to worry about me."

O'Ghill mumbled beneath his breath, but she ignored him, still angry with him and unable to believe he had locked her in her room.

"What was that?" O'Malley asked.

"The moon is on the rise," O'Ghill said. "We'll have enough light, provided we stick to the road."

The men mounted, and O'Malley told his cousin, "Take the lead—I'll bring up the rear."

Caroline protested, "I thought we would ride side by side."

"'Tisn't a social ride in Hyde Park, lass," O'Malley reminded her. "We'll ride single file with ye in the middle so Killian and I can protect ye."

Though she wanted to argue the point, she inclined her head and waited for O'Ghill to lead the way.

It wasn't full dark until they had been riding for an hour. The chill in the air descended and had her shivering again. It took all of her concentration as she struggled to control her body's reaction to the damp night air. She did not want to be a bother, and dearly hoped O'Malley had not noticed from his position riding behind her.

As soon as the thought entered her mind, O'Malley called out to his cousin, "Slow it up, O'Ghill." He maneuvered his horse alongside hers, slipped off his frockcoat, and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Slip yer arms in the sleeves, lass."

When she did as he bade her, she started to push the sleeves up. He cautioned, "Let the sleeves be—they'll keep yer hands warm." His voice deepened as he said, "Tuck it around ye, now. Otherwise ye'll catch a chill and the good vicar will be taking a strip off me hide."

"My uncle would never do that," she murmured. "He's mild-mannered."

O'Malley snorted. "Ye weren't there to witness his reaction when he learned his daughter had been abducted with the blacksmith's daughter and Lady Phoebe."

His coat settled around her, wrapping her in his warmth and unique scent—a mix of sun-warmed cedar, soap, and a hint of horse. Bliss.

He shifted the shoulders of his coat, settling the garment more securely around her. For a heartbeat, she felt the intensity of his gaze. Turning to meet it, she watched an emotion no man had ever had in his eyes when looking at her. Desire .

She shivered as he brushed his knuckles along the line of her jaw. Illuminated by the light of the moon, his features appeared more rugged…fierce. It must be his sense of duty, and concern for what may lie ahead before they reached the vicarage, and not anything to do with her.

"Thank you, Mr. O'Malley."

"Just O'Malley, lass." He resumed his position bringing up the rear.

The rode together in relative silence until the miles started to blur. Exhaustion caught up with her and began to weigh her down. Her eyes grew heavy, and she struggled to keep them open. Every once in a while, O'Malley's deep voice would call her name. Not willing to admit she was struggling to stay awake, she answered she was fine.

"Lass?"

She blinked and straightened in the saddle, surprised that she was leaning precariously to one side. Try as she might, exhaustion muddled her brain and she could not remember if she had roused when he called to her. He said her name again, in a low, rumbling tone that felt like a hug. She desperately needed one. Smiling to herself, she closed her eyes as she murmured, "Mmm… Fine."

*

O'Ghill flanked the lass on the left, while O'Malley rode on the right. "She hasn't even noticed that we've been riding beside her for the last half-hour."

Now was not the time to stop, even if he wanted to. The inn they'd left behind was now further away than their destination. There was no other choice, they had to keep riding until they reached the village of Summerfield-on-Eden.

"From all that ye've mentioned from yer meeting," O'Malley said, "and the look on the crooked pawnbroker's face when I retrieved her belongings, we have to push on."

"Did I mention me contact warned me to watch me back?" O'Ghill asked.

"Nay. I thought ye paid the man."

"Ye know I did," O'Ghill grumbled.

O'Malley chuckled. "I've heard tales of ye not paying the full amount for information a time or two—'twas no wonder he was warning ye."

"I was tempted, but the information he relayed was too important," O'Ghill said. "I paid the full amount, and my contact wasn't warning me about his men, but Anderson's."

"That bloody fecking bugger!" O'Malley bit out. "We'll need to get word to Coventry and King, now that we know Anderson won't have to pay for what he's done."

O'Ghill frowned. "Ye're thinking the bastard will come after Garahan or Prudence." It wasn't a question.

"I wish I could tell ye otherwise, but I've a noxious feeling inside. 'Tis exactly what I was just thinking. Then there's her ladyship's safety, too. We have to be on guard and cannot let her out of our sight. Though the squire and his wife are not as well liked as either perceives themselves to be, there are those loyal to them because of their former position of influence in the village, before his lordship and Lady Phoebe moved into Summerfield Chase."

"No doubt they will use them to exact revenge in some form or another," O'Ghill said.

O'Malley's gut roiled. "If not for their loss of standing in the village, definitely because the very person they struck out at has temporary custody of their sons."

The lass tilted to the side again, and O'Ghill swore. "The next time, she'll land on her head! Caroline can ride with ye. I'll lead her horse."

O'Malley had not wanted to suggest that she ride with him because his cousin could be perverse at times, especially if O'Ghill sensed O'Malley was attracted to the lass. He didn't wait, scooping her off her horse and onto his lap. He settled her within the circle of his arms and tucked her head beneath his chin. A sense of peace he'd never felt before radiated from where her cheek rested against his heart. "Nearly there, lass."

She sighed and snuggled closer. Emotions bombarded him until he felt as if he were strung out on the rack, and the dungeon master was cranking the wheel, stretching his limbs to the breaking point. It was torture, but he managed to rein in the feelings rioting inside of him.

Confident that he'd won the war to control his desire, he allowed himself to accept the knowledge that she fit perfectly… And, God help him, he wanted more. He allowed himself one boon, and bent his head until it brushed the top of hers. Drawing in a deep breath, he was assailed by the intoxicating scent of the lass…lavender and lemon. A strand of hair brushed against his chin. 'Twas soft as silk. He reveled in the fact that even her hair carried her scent. O'Malley had never been so enthralled by a woman's scent before. It called to him, pulled at him, drawing him toward the intoxicating woman in his arms.

O'Malley did not want to admit—even to himself—that the attraction he felt the first time their eyes met had not waned, just the opposite. It had steadily grown the longer he was in her company. The woman's quick wit, temper, and acceptance of her situation added to her appeal. The lass had not complained once since he'd arrived. Faith, but his parents would love the lass.

Love? Couldn't be…'twas too fast. He loved his family—even his irritating cousin O'Ghill. But never had he felt the inexorable pull toward a woman before. It was strong. Inevitable.

O'Malley's gut clenched, and he caught himself before admitting, even silently, that he was falling fast for the redheaded lass. Instinctively, he knew that once he let his heart hold sway over his head, there would be no turning back. At the moment, he could still control his feelings, though what he felt for her had reached the point where it could not be ignored. Thomas would have to be vigilant to ensure she did not distract him from his duties. Nothing would compromise his vow to the duke.

The moon slid behind a cloud, and the men were forced to slow their pace until it reappeared, shining its light on the road ahead of them.

An hour later, they entered the village. Though it was late, a light shone from a window on the second floor of the vicarage, and another downstairs in the parlor. "The vicar's waiting," O'Ghill said.

The front door burst open, and the vicar rushed toward them, his eyes wide with worry at the sight of his niece in O'Malley's arms. "What happened to the carriage? Was there an accident? Was anyone else injured?"

"Plans changed, necessitating the need to hire a horse for yer niece," O'Malley answered.

"Is she ill?"

"Nay," O'Malley replied. "Exhausted. She's been asleep for the last hour."

"We'll fill ye in after we get her inside," O'Ghill said.

"Forgive me." The vicar finally noticed O'Ghill was leading a horse with a sidesaddle. "I'm grateful for whatever reason brought you to the same inn as my niece, O'Ghill. This is the second time you have aided my family. I can never thank you enough."

O'Ghill shrugged off the compliment. "I'm glad I was there to intervene."

"Thank you, O'Malley." The vicar wrung his hands before dropping them to his sides. "My wife has had the water warming for the last hour in case Caro wanted a cup of tea."

"Caro? I suppose ‘Caroline' is a bit of a mouthful." O'Malley smoothly dismounted without jostling the lass in his arms.

The vicar's eyes widened at the ease with which O'Malley moved, but did not comment on it. If he had, O'Malley would have told the man the number of times he'd carried more than one of his cousins on horseback, dismounting with them tossed over his shoulder, when there was no other option. In comparison, the lass was light as a feather. From the worried look in the vicar's eyes, he decided 'twas best saved for a later conversation.

Vicar Chessy finally answered his question. "It is. We've called her Caro since she was a little thing." He cleared his throat and shook his head. "You are obviously used to dismounting with your arms full."

"Aye." O'Malley kept his answer short. Simple.

The vicar held the door open. "Please carry her inside. My wife and daughter have been keeping me company, trying to help me remain calm waiting to either hear from you or see the whites of your eyes."

O'Malley stood glued to the spot. The vicar's worry was palpable. "Yer niece was not injured, nor did we have to rescue her from being abducted. Ye can rest easy."

The tension in the vicar did seem to ease.

Mrs. Chessy appeared in the doorway and, at the sight before her, placed a hand to her breast. "O'Malley! Thank goodness you are here! Bring Caro in before she catches a chill. Bertram, don't just stand there—invite O'Ghill in, too."

"We're coming," the vicar answered.

The sound of his cousin mumbling to himself had O'Malley wondering if something was wrong. A glance over his shoulder showed O'Ghill staring at the building, shifting from foot to foot. "Problem?"

"Nay. I was thinking of rousing the blacksmith to see if he can stable the gelding until morning. One of us will have to return the animal to the inn tomorrow."

"We'll bring the horse with us to Summerfield Chase," O'Malley suggested. "Ye aren't leaving when ye've only just arrived, are ye?"

O'Ghill shook his head. "I could use a few hours' sleep and a full belly before I leave."

"Let me get the lass settled first."

O'Ghill agreed. "I'll see to the horses."

The vicar paused on the threshold and said, "Please make use of our barn. You can leave the gelding here for the night. We have an empty stall, and our old horse would enjoy the company."

O'Malley met his cousin's direct look and sensed that whatever the problem was, it was no small thing. He'd ask when they were alone. "I'll be out to help ye with the horses in a minute."

"After you and O'Ghill tell us what happened," the vicar said.

"We'll tell ye," O'Malley answered. "But I'll be helping me cousin first. He was the one who found yer niece, rescued her from an untenable situation, and guarded her until I arrived."

"I can handle taking care of the horses," O'Ghill grumbled. "Ye can fill the vicar in on what happened when ye arrived."

O'Malley sighed. When O'Ghill got something stuck in his head, he was a pain in the arse . There was no point arguing with the stubborn eedjit .

He ducked his head to enter the parlor. The lass stirred in his arms as he gently laid her on the settee. Her thick, dark lashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes. She frowned. "Did I fall asleep?"

O'Malley smiled at the perturbed look on her face. "Ye could say that, lass."

"Caro!" Mrs. Chessy leaned down and hugged her niece before resuming her protective stance next to the settee. "We were so worried about you. What happened?"

The vicar's relief was clear as he stared at his niece. "I am so happy to see you, Caro. We were worried sick when you were not on the mail coach yesterday."

"About that, Uncle Bertram—there was a slight problem."

O'Malley cleared his throat, and the lass turned to face him, her expression pleading with him to let her tell what happened.

"My mouth is so dry," Caroline said. "May I have some water?"

Mrs. Chessy hurried to the kitchen. "The tea should be ready in a few moments. I'll check on that and bring you a cup of water, dear."

The vicar frowned at his wife's back. "It will take a bit of time for Josephine to regain her calm."

"Here you go, Caro." Mrs. Chessy handed Caroline a cup. "Drink up."

A few minutes later, Melanie Chessy entered the parlor carrying a small tray. "Tea's ready." She paused when she noticed O'Malley standing beside her cousin. "Hello, O'Malley. Thank you for bringing my favorite cousin safely home."

The front door opened and Melanie glanced up, bobbling the tray when the door closed. O'Malley reached for the tray, steadying it in time to avert disaster. "Have a care, lass. Ye don't want to burn yerself or yer cousin." He hid his grin. Melanie was staring at the black sheep of the Garahan clan—Killian O'Ghill.

O'Malley noted her unease as Melanie bit her lip and quietly thanked him, setting the tray on the small table by the settee. Brushing her hands against her gown, she finally looked at O'Ghill. "I didn't think we would see you for some time. I'm so happy you're back."

O'Malley noted the lass sounded a bit breathless. From the stunned look on O'Ghill's face, he knew his cousin was uncomfortable. His head kept turning between Melanie and her father. O'Malley saw that his cousin was trying not to let his gaze stay on Melanie for more than a moment or two. "I was just about to join ye in the barn and help with the horses," he said.

"Already gave the three of them a good rubdown," O'Ghill told him. "I came in to ask ye, vicar, if I could give the horses a handful or two of oats. They would welcome the treat, as we've still to reach Summerfield Chase."

"Of course," the vicar replied. "Whatever they need."

O'Ghill murmured his thanks and hurried out the door. O'Malley knew then his cousin was trying to avoid the vicar's pretty daughter. Given the lass's age, 'twas a good idea. "I'm right behind ye, Killian. The vicar needs to hear what happened before we leave."

"No need. I've got everything in hand."

"We don't want to keep the baron waiting," O'Malley said. "I'll help ye."

He didn't wait for his cousin to argue. He closed the door behind him and nudged O'Ghill with his shoulder to get him moving. Noting the stiffness in his shoulders, O'Malley recalled Garahan telling himself and Flaherty that, during the rescue, O'Ghill had had to catch the lass when she swooned, and had been distracted afterward. Testing his theory that O'Ghill was not immune to the vicar's daughter, he said, "Miss Chessy has the loveliest green eyes."

"They're blue," O'Ghill corrected him, then swore beneath his breath. "Not another word, or I'll shut yer gob for ye."

O'Malley wisely let his cousin think that would be the end of it. There was more than an appreciation for a lovely lass here. If he gauged his cousin's actions and feelings correctly when O'Ghill had left the first time a month ago, the man's head had been turned by the lovely lass…but she was too young for him. O'Malley would have to think carefully before broaching the subject with his hardheaded cousin.

Between the two of them, they made short work of taking care of their mounts and returned to the vicarage. The front door opened as they approached the house.

"There you are," the vicar said. "Would either of you like a sip of brandy while you tell me what happened?"

O'Ghill shared a look with O'Malley and said, "If ye wouldn't mind stepping outside for a moment, I think we should speak of it privately."

At the vicar's look of concern, O'Malley added, "'Tisn't what ye think. Yer niece is not without her pride. I'm after saving what is left of it…after she tried to bargain with that pawnbroker—"

The vicar's shock was palpable. "What in the world was my niece doing at a pawnbroker's?"

"Apparently Miss Gillingham left a bit out of her letters to ye, especially regarding her circumstances," O'Malley replied.

The vicar scrubbed a hand over his face and followed the men to the barn. "She should have had more than enough coin from the sale of their home. What of the contents of their home? Did she arrange for shipping yet?"

O'Malley told his cousin, "Ye take it from here, as ye were the one who was there when she ran out of the pawnshop."

O'Ghill briefly explained how she'd run into him when fleeing from the pawnshop, and had been accused of theft as the Watch strode toward them. "She mentioned her uncle the vicar and yer village, and I knew then I needed to send word to me cousin. I had no idea of her circumstances, that she was overdue, or that ye were expecting her and would be worried."

The vicar's eyes widened, but he held his tongue. The hair on the back of O'Malley's neck stood on end just from thinking of the pawnbroker's claims… His lies! He wished he had gone with his gut instinct and squeezed the man's throat till he turned purple and confessed. The bloody liar!

"And you are certain she was unharmed by that blackguard?"

The vicar's words echoed O'Malley's thoughts, surprising him. He had not realized that he, too, needed to hear O'Ghill's confirmation that the lass had not been manhandled by the shopkeeper. At least the pawnbroker had not lied about that.

O'Malley listened to his cousin assure the vicar that she had been rattled, but not harmed. He also noted O'Ghill failed to mention he'd locked the lass in her room at the inn. In all fairness, it was to protect her while he went off to meet with his contact. Neither of them mentioned what O'Ghill had learned. They had to report the information to the baron first.

"Yer turn, O'Malley. Tell the vicar what happened when ye went back to the shop to retrieve Caroline's things."

The vicar stiffened. "What things?"

O'Malley reached into his pocket and pulled out a golden chain and locket. "'Twas her ma's."

The older man was visibly moved as he reached for his sister's locket. O'Malley then handed the vicar the pocket watch.

"My brother-in-law's," Vicar Chessy rasped. His gaze met O'Malley's and then O'Ghill's. "Why do I have this feeling this is all she has left of them?"

"'Tis why I didn't want her to overhear our conversation," O'Malley said. "We need to leave the lass the smidge of pride that had her refusing to ask ye for the coin she needed for the last leg of her journey."

The vicar cleared his throat. "She would rather give up what she treasured than ask for coin from me?"

"Aye. I'm thinking ye'll understand when ye speak to the lass," O'Malley said. "She'll be needing these. When ye give her the locket and watch, there's no need to say anything when ye do."

The vicar's hands closed over the objects. "I had expected Mr. Humbolt to declare himself if anything happened to my sister. Caro mentioned him more than once, and I thought there was an understanding between them…though she had never said as much."

O'Malley ground his back teeth at the thought of a man having a claim on the redheaded lass. His hands curled into fists, ready to pummel whoever this Humbolt was for backing away from someone as vibrant as the lass. His actions may have forced Caroline into a situation beyond her control, one fraught with danger, given her lack of coin or protector.

Keeping his expression neutral, he asked the question that seared through him. "Were they betrothed?"

"Not to my knowledge."

At the vicar's words, the anger bubbling inside of O'Malley quieted, settling until all he felt was mild irritation. He relaxed his hands. "Please send word if ye have need of either of us, vicar." With a nod to his cousin, he added, "O'Ghill should be around for a few more days."

The vicar offered his hand to O'Ghill, then O'Malley. "Thank you, men. I don't know what I would have done if anything had happened to Caro. She's been through so much in such a short period of time." He straightened and vowed, "We are her family now, and we will happily make room for her in our lives."

"She's lucky to have ye," O'Malley said.

"That she is," O'Ghill agreed.

The men said their goodbyes and retreated to the barn to collect their horses. As agreed, the gelding O'Ghill hired from the inn would spend the night keeping the vicar's horse company, and they would speak to the baron about who would return the animal.

They set off for Summerfield Chase and rode in companionable silence until they approached the stables. "Garahan'll be surprised to see ye."

"No doubt he'll put me to work without a full night's sleep," O'Ghill muttered.

Garahan and Flaherty were waiting for them. "Tell us what happened, O'Ghill," Garahan demanded. "And do not leave anything out!"

"Has the baron retired yet?" O'Ghill asked.

"Nay," Garahan answered. "He is waiting for O'Malley's report."

"Let's tell this once," O'Malley suggested.

The men trooped toward the back entrance to the house, only to discover they would not have to go in search of the baron—he was walking toward them.

"O'Ghill, if you're here, there must be a tale to tell. Join me in my study, men."