Irish Linen (29 page)

Ned seemed to accept Lucas’s reply as truth and stood back once Meghan was freed.

Meghan shot up from the chair and ran into Lucas’s arms. “Oh, God, Lucas. I thought I’d never see ye again!”

“I love you, Meghan McBride,” he said huskily.

“Hey,” Ned said, puzzlement in his expression. “How can ya love her when ya don’t even know her?”

“But I do know her, Ned.”

“Ya do?” The man blinked. “Ya know the slave man,” he said to Meghan. “Well, that’s a strange thing to hear…”

“Ned, I want you to sit in Meghan’s chair,” Lucas said.

“Why?”

“So you’ll be comfortable.”

The man bobbed his head jerkily. “All right.”

Lucas held Meghan tightly against his side, his arm about her waist. He kissed the top of her head before he let her go. “Get out of here, love,” he ordered. “Run across the road and wait for me behind that large brick building.”

“But Lucas—”

“Go,
Meghan.”

She started to hurry and then stopped short at the top of the stairs.

“Going somewhere, lass?” Rafferty came up the stairs with his knife drawn.

“Lucas!” she cried, warning him.

Rafferty struck her with his fist, throwing her against the wall.

“Ned,” Lucas growled in a last-ditch effort to gain Ned’s cooperation. “Micky was going to cheat you!”

The man blinked, confused. “Cheat me?”

“Ned, take him,” Rafferty commanded as he came into the room. “Phelps, bring Meghan over here.”

“Ye’ll never get away with this!” Meghan vowed, struggling against the man who held her arms. She kicked back with her heel, and Mathew cursed as she made contact with his shin. Then, the man twisted her arms until she screamed.

“Meghan!” Lucas exclaimed, but he couldn’t go to her. Ned had listened to Rafferty and was circling to get Lucas’s knife. As far as Lucas could tell, Rafferty’s only weapon seemed to be the one in his hand.

“Ned, here,” Rafferty said, and he threw the weapon near the idiot man’s feet.

Lucas heard it clatter as it fell; he scrambled for the knife first and grinned as he caught hold of the handle. Triumphant, he turned to confront the foolish Irishman who’d given up his weapon and drew a sharp breath to see that Rafferty had a second blade, which he now held to Meghan’s throat.

“Give Ned the weapons, Ridgely.”

Lucas blinked. “You know who I am?”

Rafferty’s smile was evil. “Aye, everyone in Somerville was only too happy to tell me that it was ye who brought Meghan from the ship. Meg is a beautiful woman. Stands to reason that ye’d be attracted to her.”

His green gaze fastened on Meghan with regret. “But ye, lass—I wouldn’t have thought ye’d betray me so.” He pulled back the blade as he retreated to some memory in his mind. “Dermot was me best friend.”

Meghan caught Lucas’s eye. “I know,” she said softly, not wanting to bring him back to the present.

“I loved the man just like I loved ye, Meggie.” He
closed his eyes. “Ye were so good. I had to have the others, don’t ya see? I was waiting for ya to marry me, Meggie…” His face darkened. “And then ye seemed to change yer mind.”

Ned stared at the Irishman, his mouth open, his expression blank. Apparently, he’d forgotten Micky’s orders to take Lucas’s knives.

Lucas gauged the danger of the third man. His eyes then met blue ones and Meghan nodded in silent understanding. They had one chance and now was as good a time as any.

“The man is from the slave ship, Micky,” Ned said suddenly.

“He is not, you fool!”

Ned’s eyes narrowed as Rafferty started to call him names. Clearly, the slow-minded man didn’t like being told he was stupid.

“Now, love!” Lucas cried.

Meghan kicked back and high at Phelps, while Lucas lunged toward Rafferty, knocking the man down and struggling for his knife.

Ned watched without moving, because no one had given him the order to fight.

The whole episode happened in a matter of minutes. When Rafferty started to rise then, Ned suddenly decided to take action.

“I’m not stupid!” he said angrily. Ned grabbed the Irishman and hit him in the jaw. Phelps, whom Meghan had kicked in the groin area, lay on the floor, groaning and clutching his private parts.

Lucas handed Meghan a knife and told her to hold it on Phelps. “If he moves, cut him,” he said.

With a grin, Meghan crouched next to the injured man and held the knife blade between the man’s thighs.

Then, Lucas ordered Ned to tie up Rafferty and his
friend, while Lucas held the other two knives, preparing to use them on either of the two felled men, if needed.

“I did it,” Ned said, rising to his feet with a smile.

“Good man,” Lucas said, and Ned beamed. Lucas then took out his money pouch and handed three coins to Ned. “Run and get a copper, Ned. Micky and his friend are bad men. If you hurry back with the law, I’ll give you this bag of coins.”

Ned’s eyes gleamed. “For me? I’ll hurry,” he promised, and they could hear his hurrying footsteps on the stairs. He tripped once, yelled up that he was all right and hurrying, before he continued.

When the three men were taken care of, Lucas turned to Meghan. “You left me.” His expression was dark, angry.

Meghan’s eyes filled with tears. “I know. I’m sorry.”

A smile replaced the scowl on his face. “I love you, Meghan. Don’t ever leave me again.” He opened his arms, and she ran into his embrace.

“I promise, Lucas. I promise I’ll always love ye and be there whenever ye turn around.”

And they kissed, ignoring Rafferty’s loud curses.

Meghan responded with all the love she felt. The magic had returned. She was back in Lucas’s arms.

June 1848

Lucas sat on the front porch of his Windfield estate house, waiting for his lovely wife to join him. He and Meghan had been married four months this day, and still, every time he saw her he felt himself respond to her like a lovesick boy.

Their life was good, and he would see that no one would bother or harm Meghan again. Rafferty O’Connor had been arrested for not only kidnapping Meghan, but for stealing the Somerton emerald ring. Mathew Phelps was in jail as well on numerous charges, including assaulting a young child. Believing the man harmless, Lucas had given the slow-witted man Ned a job on Windfield. Ned worked well helping Jack in the stables; he listened carefully and followed all of the groom’s instructions, and everyone was pleased with his work.

“Mr. Ridgely?”

He turned toward the sound of a prim-sounding voice and spied Meghan framed in the open doorway. She was outfitted in a low-cut fancy gown of deep crimson, her hair pinned up with flowers woven into the confined curls. She wore white gloves and jewelry at her throat and wrists. As she approached, she walked with her back straight and a cool demeanor. She
looked the perfect lady, his aunt’s lessons having done their job. But her polished act didn’t belong to his Meghan. It belonged to women like his mother or Valerie Bain. He didn’t want a woman like his mother or any of her peers. He frowned with disapproval. He wanted the Irish girl who’d chased him across the lawn last night and rained kisses across his face after toppling him to the ground.

“Your mother and father are coming to tea this afternoon,” she announced.

“Why are you dressed like that? You don’t have to change to please my mother,” Lucas growled. His mother had accepted his marriage to Meghan with amazing good grace. His father loved her, just as Lucas had predicted he would, while Beth… it made Lucas nervous how well Meghan and Beth got along together. He was sure that someday the two would be up to mischief against him, and he wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Dressed like what?” Meghan’s lips curved when his scowl deepened. “It’s a special occasion,” she said, and the sun shone in her smile and in the bright sparkle of her beautiful blue eyes. “I’ve news to tell—”

“So you felt you had to dress up for my parents?” Lucas asked with a frown. His parents had moved to the house where Lucas himself had been living for several years. It had been his father’s idea, since Lucas had taken over full reins in the running of the plantation. His mother hadn’t objected—another miracle, Lucas had thought at the time.

Lucas regarded his wife, noting her strange, almost dreamy look. “What news?” he asked.

“I’m with child,” she said softly. “Our child.”

“You’re—” He stared at her blankly, unsure if he’d heard her right.

Meghan studied her husband’s dumbfounded expression
and suddenly worried that he might not be pleased. She’d been so excited herself when she’d realized that she was three weeks late, that she’d assumed that Lucas would be happy, too.

Her lips quivered. “Lucas?” Perhaps he didn’t want her child of low birth. Her old doubts resurfaced, making it difficult for her to breathe.

He had closed his eyes, and now he opened them again, revealing all the love and awe he felt for her. “We’ve made a baby together?”

Relieved, she nodded and smiled.

He reached out and tugged her onto his lap. “Have I told you I loved you lately?” he said huskily.

She grinned down at him. “No. It’s been… oh, a half hour or more. Too long for me to go without hearing the words.”

“I love you, Mrs. Ridgely,” he said solemnly.

Meghan trembled as she encircled his neck with her arms. “I love you,” she gasped.

She thought of her new life here in America. She had nothing to worry about now that Rafferty and Phelps were locked away.

“Mr. Ridgely!” she cried as he began to nibble at her neck and then lower. “My gown! What will your parents and Beth think if it wrinkles?”

“Sorry,” he said. “Teatime with the family has been cancelled. We have business to attend this afternoon.”

“But the baby—”

“Ah, the baby,” he said with satisfaction. “Our baby will not leave you, just because you haven’t told my family.” He paused to smile. “Mother will be a nuisance once she finds out, you know. She’ll believe you’ve presented her with a grandchild just to please her.” His voice became a soft whisper. “She’ll love you all the more for this.”

“Lucas, I—”

He kissed her. And he rose with her in his arms and carried her up the stairs to their bedchamber, calling out to one of the maids to tell his parents that teatime was cancelled for today, and that they were invited to come tomorrow at precisely four.

Then, in a room lit by the sun shining softly through the window, Lucas gave his wife an afternoon of wild kisses and tender caresses… and he gave her time and time again the three greatest gifts a man could give to his wife.

“I love you.” He told her he loved her with words… with his body as they joined… and eternally with all of his heart.

Most of the Irish immigrants who came to America during the Great Famine entered the United States in New York or Boston. Only a fortunate few managed to arrive directly in Philadelphia. The Irish in Philadelphia were the lucky ones, for their opportunities for employment were greater. While many households advertised that they wanted to hire Protestants only, it was still a fact that the Catholic Irishwomen were in demand as domestics. But life for the Irish immigrant was different in New York and other cities, where he faced prejudice. Shop windows and other places of employment held signs that read NINA—”No Irish Need Apply.”

The Irish were more often than not treated like slaves, but their good humor and their willingness to work hard helped them to rise above the prejudice until finally they were accepted in American society.

Meghan McBride was fortunate to arrive in Philadelphia on the
Mary Freedom
and to find kind people who employed her. Rafferty O’Connor’s experiences were much different, however. His struggle against prejudice hardened the once idealistic man until his drive for success was fueled only by his anger, bitterness, lust, and greed.

Candace McCarthy lives in Delaware with her husband of over 21 years and has a son in college. She enjoys writing and feels that a part of her is missing during the times she’s not creating stories. “I love romances especially,” she says. “Reading or writing a romance novel is reexperiencing those first moments when you first realized you’ve found love.” Candace is the author of eight other published romances, among which are
Heaven’s Fire, Sea Mistress,
and
Warrior’s Caress
for Zebra Books. She considers herself fortunate to have a loving family, good friends, and her writing; and she thanks all the wonderful fans who’ve read her books. Candace loves hearing from her readers. You may write her at: P.O. Box 58, Magnolia, Delaware 19962. She also has a website on the Internet. The address is:
http://www.comet.net/writers/candace