Stephen rushed over to where they stood. “The puppy’s alive?”

  “Aye, let Flaherty know. We’ll ask your mother to stitch him back up. I’m not making any promises.”

  “I understand, Uncle Samuel. We probably won’t know if he’s damaged on the inside for a day or so.” Stephen glanced over his shoulder at his cousin. “The poor pup didn’t look like he was breathing, and we weren’t sure what to do if he was still alive and possibly dying. Whatever attacked him hurt the poor thing. I know he had to have suffered. Just look at him.”

  “He seems to be strong enough to make it home if someone carries him tucked inside their frockcoat.”

  “I’ll do it,” Edwin called out as he walked toward his father. “I saw him first, so I should be the one to carry him home.”

  “Sounds fair to me,” his cousin replied. “Keep him warm!”

  Edwin nodded. “I will.”

  Three-quarters of an hour later, the group rode out of the woods and onto the duke’s estate. Flaherty knew it was necessary to signal to the others that he and his search party had returned. But he didn’t want his loud whistle to wake the wee lass.

  O’Malley saw him and hailed him. “Garahan had no luck finding the little lass. Neither did Eamon. We’ll need to…” He fell silent as Flaherty’s coat moved. “Is that who I think it is?”

  Flaherty nodded. “The poor wee thing was curled up by the meadow pond. She was cold to the touch, but warmed up quick enough inside of me coat.”

  O’Malley nodded to Garahan. “Find Temperance!”

  Garahan ignored the order to ask, “Ye found her, Rory?”

  “With the help of the fae and the Joneses,” Flaherty replied.

  “What’s this?” Patrick asked.

  “Ye can think I’m daft, I don’t mind. ’Tis the truth.”

  Garahan ribbed him, “Feck, Flaherty, we already think ye’re daft.”

  “Go and tell—” The words dried up on Flaherty’s tongue as Temperance ran toward him, her black-as-night hair slipping from its pins, an expression of hope-tinged fear on her lovely face. He dismounted and slowly walked toward her, meeting her halfway.

  “Maddy?” The quiet rasp of her voice had the swell of emotion Flaherty had felt earlier by the meadow pond returning.

  He swallowed against the lump in his throat to speak. “She scraped her knee, and it was bleeding. I wrapped it with me cravat. Poor cailín was chilled to the bone. We’d best get her in the house and into a hot bath.”

  “Please wait, just a moment,” Temperance said. “I need to see her face.”

  Flaherty knew better than to argue with a worried ma. “I don’t want the night air to give her a chill.”

  Temperance met his gaze, but did not argue with him. She scooted up close to him. He could see the pulse beating wildly at the base of her throat. Intrigued, he wondered if she was reacting to her daughter being found, or to being so close to him.

  “Can you shift the edge of your frockcoat, just a tiny bit?”

  Flaherty did as she asked. “See? Safe and sound, although a bit dirtier than when she left, I’m thinking.”

  Temperance tucked the edge of his coat around her daughter, then placed her hand on Flaherty’s arm, lifted onto her toes, and brushed a kiss to his whiskered cheek. “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I was devastated when I woke to find her gone. I need to find out why she left, and what she was thinking. Would you help me speak to her? She listens to you.”

  “I’d be happy to, but I think it may have had to do with the faerie.”

  “Faerie?”

  “We’ll talk later. The poor lamb needs a long soak in a hot, soapy tub.”

  “With rose petals,” Temperance said. “Her Grace let Maddy have some in her bath. It’s a luxury we have never had before. She loves the scent.”

  “Rose petals it is,” Flaherty rumbled. They walked to the back of the building, and he held the door for her. “After ye.”

  As soon as they entered, they were mobbed. “Oh, thank Heavens!” Constance pressed her cheek to Flaherty’s as she hugged him, careful not to squish the child in his arms. “I’ll serve the meat pies and stew I’ve been cooking shortly.” She stared at his hands and frowned. “You have blood and dirt on you. Where is Maddy hurt?”

  “It’s not serious,” Flaherty assured her. “She scraped her knee. I wrapped it up.”

  Constance pressed her lips together. “I’ll direct the footmen to fetch the copper tub and set it up down here. It’s closer to the kitchen, and we can get the little darling in the tub faster.” As if she realized she had taken over, Constance ducked her head and faced Temperance. “If that is all right with you.”

  Temperance smiled. “Of course it is. Thank you.”

  Flaherty noticed some of the heaviness that had settled on Temperance’s face had lifted. “Don’t forget the rose petals.”

  Constance laughed. “We won’t. Everyone knows how much the little moppet loves them.”

  A short time later, all of the men who had gathered to search for the little girl returned to their homes with the fervent thanks of Temperance, Flaherty, and Their Graces. Each man carried a basket filled with meat pies, scones, and teacakes as a thank you.

  After Flaherty had given his report, the duke pointed out that he had dirt and blood on his shirt. He knew the duke did not want to upset his wife. It was one thing to hear that the wee lass had scraped her knee and another altogether if Her Grace noticed the evidence on Flaherty’s shirt. He returned to the outbuilding where he bunked and washed his face where the little one had patted it with her dirty hands. Flaherty never minded a bit of dirt—he’d grown up on a farm. He smiled, thinking how angelic she looked fast asleep bundled in his arms. At one point she started moving until she freed one arm, touched his face, and sighed. Not quite awake, but enough that she was assured she had not been dreaming. She was safe in his arms.

  A few seconds later, fear of what could have happened had he not heard the whisper on the wind grabbed him by the bollocks. “Lord, ’tis Flaherty—Rory, in case Ye’re thinking it might be Seamus. Although he was the brother most recently in trouble.” He paused, for a moment losing his concentration. “Thank ye, Lord, for asking the fae to whisper on the wind telling me where to look, and for sending yer angels to watch over Maddy until I could get to her. I promise to protect and watch over her and her ma for their rest of me life.”

  His mind wandered to Sussex. He had to ask Garahan if his wife had received a letter from her sister-in-law Melinda lately. Married to James, the eldest of the Garahans, Melinda usually had the most recent family news and liked to share it.

  One day, Flaherty thought, they’d all have the chance to be together again, if only for a little while. But the duke’s family would have to be gathered together in one spot—most likely Wyndmere Hall, the largest of His Grace’s properties. Needing to scrub the fear and what-ifs from his brain, Flaherty started thinking about a reason to gather together. He’d have to ask Patrick what he thought and if he had any notion as to what would be a good reason.

  Entering through the side door, he walked toward Humphries. “Thank you for helping to organize the men while Garahan and I were in the village. Ye’re the best of us, Humphries.”

  The older man’s lips twitched. “Always happy to be of service. I believe there are two lovely ladies waiting for you in the kitchen.”

  Flaherty grinned. “Are they now?”

  “They’re quite the pair. Makes a man contemplate his future.”

  Flaherty shook his head. “Wasn’t I just thinking that?”

  The butler chuckled. “I wouldn’t know, but if I were you, I wouldn’t waste time talking to me.”

  Flaherty nodded and reached for the door to the servants’ side of the house. A cacophony of happy voices reached him as soon as he entered. The dulcet tones of two voices rose above the others, drawing him like an invisible thread. He had come to depend on the two to brighten his days with their smiles, along with Maddy’s hugs and the gifts she’d taken to leaving in his quarters. He’d found a drawing on his pillow. It took a bit to figure out what Maddy had drawn before he realized he was looking at it upside down. Sure and wasn’t it himself on horseback? Then there was the drawing of himself carrying the lass in his arms to the rose garden with a tiny speck he recognized as a faerie. He loved the little girl’s exuberance and imagination… ’Twas time he gave voice to what was in his heart. Time to tell Maddy and Temperance that he loved them!

  Rounding the corner, he saw Temperance and noticed she had tucked in the silky strands of her ebony hair that had escaped their pins earlier when she’d run to him. The hope and fear evident in the depths of her expressive green eyes hit him like a blow. He wanted to press his lips to hers then and there, but did not want to listen to his cousins’ comments. He planned to kiss her later, if he could convince the lass to take a walk with him after she tucked Maddy in for the night. He had a feeling he was on borrowed time, if the furtive looks Temperance kept sending him meant what he thought they might. His gut told him the lass was still thinking of leaving.

  Maddy rushed toward him, flinging her arms around his knees. “Careful of yer cheek, Maddy-lass,” he warned. “Ye don’t want to bruise it on me kneecaps.”

  She mumbled something, but her voice was muffled against his knees and he couldn’t quite hear it—though Temperance’s quiet gasp had him asking the little girl, “What did ye say? My knees heard ye, but me ears are too far away.”

  Maddy’s smile could warm the coldest day of winter. Hanging on to his pant legs, she bent back to look him in the eye. Afraid she would fall over, he bent down and picked her up. Delighted with the joyous sound of her giggle, he was rewarded when she put her tiny hands on either side of his face. “I love you, Just Flaherty.”

  He melted. Right then. Right there. The little lass with sunshine in her heart loved him. Flaherty wasn’t waiting a moment longer, or they’d slip out of his life just as quickly as they’d slipped in. He kissed the little girl’s forehead. “Faith, but I love ye too, wee cailín.”

  She giggled. “It’s Maddy!”

  Everyone was smiling except for Temperance—her eyes were round with surprise and a bit of trepidation—but that would not stop him. Flaherty had made up his mind, and he was not waiting another moment.

  With Maddy snug against his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck, he walked over to stand in front of Temperance. He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips, and brushed a featherlight kiss to the back of it. Capturing her gaze, he went down on one knee and offered his heart.

  “Temperance, I cannot lose ye or yer daughter. Ye’ve wormed yer way into me head and me heart. I promise to protect ye always. Ye’ll never go hungry, and ye’ll always have a roof over yer head. Marry me, lass.”

  Instead of the immediate yes he’d expected, she wrinkled her brow and opened her mouth, but not a sound emerged. Had she been so overwhelmed by his offer that she’d lost her voice?

  “Say yes, Mum,” Maddy urged.

  When Temperance stared at him with a blank look on her face, a bad feeling slipped up from the soles of his feet. Had he rushed her? Had she not noticed the way he’d made it a point to spend whatever free time he had with them every day? Had he misread what he thought were signs that she felt the same about him? Had he taken a chance and now the woman he loved was going to refuse?

  Maddy pressed her tiny lips to his cheek and patted his face, getting his attention. “I’ll say yes. Marry me, Just Flaherty!”

  His heart bled, but no one noticed. He would give his right arm to be a father to the little girl who had wrapped him around her little finger, but her ma had to want him too. Devastated by the lack of response from the woman he’d thought returned his affections, Flaherty slowly rose to his feet. He handed Maddy to her mother, bowed, turned around, and strode from the room.

  His heart ached to the point where he wondered if it would simply stop beating. His aching head was crowded with questions he did not have the answers to. Was he not worth loving? Had he done something to warrant her dismissal? Bloody fecking hell, he deserved the courtesy of a no…if that was what she couldn’t bring herself to say.

  He did not make eye contact with Humphries as he let himself out of the side door. He walked around the building and climbed the ladder to resume the rooftop shift he’d pawned off on Garahan.

  His cousin frowned at him. “I thought ye had plans to spend part of yer shift with the lass and her ma?”

  “Changed me mind.”

  Garahan held his gaze for a few moments before he muttered, “Bloody buggering hell!”

  Flaherty could not agree more. “’Tis where Temperance just consigned me for the rest of me days.”

  “Ye asked her to marry ye, didn’t ye?”

  “Aye.”

  “Just now?” Garahan seemed to want details.

  “Aye.”

  “And she said refused?”

  “Aye.”

  Garahan grabbed him by the cravat and shook him. “Did she say the word no to ye?”

  Flaherty frowned. “She didn’t say anything. But I watched the light in her eyes dim as she stared at me.”

  Garahan let go of Flaherty’s cravat and shoved him. “Ye’re a bloody eedjit. She didn’t say anything.” When he repeated it matter-of-fact like that, it added another layer of hurt.

  “The wee cailín kissed me cheek and told me she’d marry me, because she loves me.”

  Garahan slowly smiled. “Well now, that’s another thing altogether. And proof that all hope is not lost.”

  “Temperance doesn’t want to marry me.”

  “But she might.”

  “Then why didn’t she say yes? Ye aren’t making sense.”

  “Yer brain’s muddled, and yer heart’s breaking. I can all but hear it.”

  “Ye can have the little bit of time O’Malley granted me. Go say hello to yer pretty wife for me.”

  “I didn’t think I was worthy of Emily,” Garahan told him.

  Flaherty raked a hand through his hair. “Why is it that after we bleed for the women who have us tied in knots, and receive untold number of knocks on the head for them, we still wonder if we’re worthy?”

  “I have no idea, but I do know this—if ye give up, ye’ll regret it for the rest of yer days. Do ye want another man to marry the lass and be father to that curly-haired pixie?”

  Flaherty’s hands curled into tight fists. “I do not!”

  “Well then. There ye are.” Garahan nodded, walked to the ladder, and started to descend.

  Flaherty rushed over to the ladder, grabbed hold of it, and leaned over the edge. “What in the bloody hell does that mean?”

  Garahan looked up at him and smiled. “Ye have yer work cut out for ye showing Temperance how much ye love her daughter. Maddy’s love for ye is obvious to everyone. Did it not occur to ye that the lass has only been a widow for a few years?”

  “It hadn’t, no.”

  “Has she spoken of her husband? Do ye know how he died? Was it an accident, and did she see it happen? Was Maddy born already, or did he die before she was born?”

  “No and no. I don’t know the answer to the rest of yer bloody questions.”

  “Well, when ye know the answers to those questions, ye might have a better understanding of what the lass has been through. ’Tis plain to all of us that she has had a hard road, but she’s been fighting tooth and nail to provide for Maddy—even at the cost of blows to her pride by those who would shred her reputation.” Without another word, Garahan descended and walked away.

  “Garahan?”

  He didn’t bother to turn around when he answered, “Aye?”

  “I love ye like a brother.”

  Garahan snorted. “Feck yerself, Flaherty.” He made it to the corner of the building before he paused and called out, “Faith, I’m fond of ye, too.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Temperance felt lightheaded. Had Flaherty asked her to marry him, or had she dreamed it? By the time she regained her composure and glanced around her, she and Constance were the only two people in the kitchen. “Where’s Maddy?”

  “She went with Francis to the nursery to read stories.”

  “I should go too. Maddy shouldn’t be alone.”

  The older woman put her arm around Temperance and led her over to one of the spindle-backed chairs. “Your daughter is loved by everyone here at Wyndmere Hall, including the duke and duchess.” Temperance hesitated until Constance added in a firm voice, “Sit down before you fall down. What you need is a bracing cup of tea.”

  The kindly cook set a cup and saucer in front of Temperance, urging her to drink up. After a sip or two, Temperance could not contain her curiosity. “Did I imagine it? Did Flaherty truly ask…” She could not get the words out. If he had asked her, and she stood there like a statue in a museum, not answering him, what must he think of her?

  “To marry you? Yes. Did you hear what your darling daughter said to him after he asked you?”

  Temperance shook her head.

  Constance frowned. “Then you did not hear what she said when you stood frozen in place?”

  “No. I’m sorry, I did not. What did she say?”

  “Your dear little girl asked you to say yes. Then she told Flaherty she’d marry him, because she loves him.”

  Tears filled Temperance’s eyes, but she did not care. She was gutted and could not believe what had just happened. The man treated Maddy as if she mattered, and enjoyed her company. Flaherty constantly showered Maddy with praise for the little things she did in the kitchen and the nursery.

  The auburn-haired, blue-eyed giant of a man had singled her out and proposed to her! Why couldn’t she have said something—anything? Her mind was riddled with gossip and innuendo that had been nipping at her heels. Every unkind word and slanderous comment had stuck to her, shaking her conviction that she still had worth as a widow.

  Sitting in the Duke of Wyndmere’s kitchen with his cook, she remembered the last time she had felt as if she mattered. It was hours after the tragedy and the attempts to rescue Paul and his brother. The men her husband and brother-in-law rescued had stood in a semicircle on either side of her with their heads bowed, shoulders slumped, as the vicar said a prayer for the souls of the two brave men who were surely needed in Heaven as warrior guardian angels.