Chapter One
“You’re leaving?” Mollie Malloy’s heart literally stopped, then slowly began to beat again. “Has His Grace reassigned you?”
Finn O’Malley, one of the sixteen men who guarded the Duke of Wyndmere and his family with their lives, shifted his gaze away from her. “Ye could say that, lass.”
She frowned as a flash of déjà vu warned her what was to come. She’d been in this very spot before, having this same conversation. “I thought you would be staying at Wyndmere Hall this time.”
“Nay. ’Twas only for a week or so, like the last time I returned, when me brother was healing from the lead ball he took protecting the twins. I’ve been away from Penwith Tower too long as it is. I’m sure ye heard I was in the Borderlands, visiting the baron and the duke’s sister at the duke’s request. ’Tis more than time for me to return to me duties there.”
“Cornwall seems so far away.” She would eat dirt before she told the stubborn Irishman he was breaking her heart—again! She’d been a scullery maid the first time he left her. Since then, she’d risen to the shared position of lady’s maid to the duchess and—once Their Graces’ twins were born—relieving the nanny in the nursery. The one constant in her life was her love for Finn O’Malley…and bracing herself each time he walked away.
The first time was after she’d nursed him back to health when he was injured in the attack against Wyndmere Hall. The duke’s enemies had plotted against him, but thanks to the combined efforts of the duke and his private guard, the attempt failed. She shuddered remembering the violent battle between Hollingford’s men and the duke’s. He’d walked away after delivering urgent news to His Grace. Was this to be their lot, sharing searing moments of pleasure locked in one another’s arms and dealing with long separations while their hearts, and bodies, ached to be together?
Mollie curled her hands into fists at her sides to keep from giving in to the powerful urge to place a hand to her heart to keep it from shattering. She refused to break down and weep like a newborn babe. Malloys came from strong stock, according to her da. She would trade her life, if it would spare Finn’s—not that she was ready to tell him that. Wasn’t it enough that she tossed her pride away and was his for the asking every time he returned to Wyndmere Hall? After last night, he had to know.
A black thought plagued her… Did he think she gave herself freely to any man?
Dear Lord, she wished she’d been strong enough to resist his crooked smile, dancing green eyes—and those lips! Her heart raced as she remembered how they’d kissed a path from the base of her throat to her…
She still couldn’t fathom the power of his desire for her—or hers for him! She swallowed against the lump of emotion lodged in her throat. The passion burning between them could not be denied. His callused hands, the weight of him—
“Are ye all right, lass?”
Mollie blinked, surprised to find herself in his embrace. The worry etched across his brow warmed her heart. Though she knew he would not change his mind and stay, he did care for her. But he’d made a vow to the Duke of Wyndmere and his older brother. To dismiss that vow in favor of another would tarnish the honor of the men in the duke’s guard—his brothers, cousins…and his own. He’d die first!
“I’m fine,” she assured him. The men in the duke’s guard served in a continuous rotation between the duke’s estates and the homes of his brother and cousins. It could be months before she saw him again. “Just tired.”
The lie weighed heavy on her conscience. What good would it do to tell him the truth? The first time he left had been the hardest to bear. The second time he left, she’d been consumed with worry that her nausea was the result of the night they’d spent together.
Had they been taunting fate one too many times, spending the night rekindling the desire that burned so brightly between them? Why hadn’t he asked if she’d been faithful to him? Why hadn’t she told him she was devastated—heartbroken—every time he left her?
She drew in a cleansing breath and slowing exhaled. She’d made the choice not to add to the responsibilities already resting on the man’s broad, but capable, shoulders when she suspected she carried his babe months ago. It turned out she’d fretted herself into an upset stomach and dizzy spells. Would fate be kind to the lovers again if he left without sharing what was in his heart?
She sighed deeply. Either way, Finn was leaving…again.
“If ye’re certain, lass. I could fetch Merry or Constance for ye.”
The very last thing she needed was the housekeeper or the cook as witnesses when she fell apart at his feet, begging him not to go. By all that was holy, she was a Malloy, and Malloy women held strong till their last breath!
She gathered her resolve and her courage to say goodbye, burying the worry that it might be for the last time. “May God watch over you on your journey, Finn O’Malley.” And the rest of your days, she silently added.
***
Finn tucked a lock of auburn hair behind her ear, memorizing the curve of her cheek, the love shining in her soft blue eyes. “Will ye miss me?”
A deep ache settled in his gut as he realized he wanted to stay—to hell with duty! The petite firebrand staring up at him with tear-filled, bright blue eyes was the other half of his soul. He knew it in the very depths of his being…just as he knew he had no choice. His word was his bond.
He had to leave.
“Aye, Finn. Every day until you return.”
His throat tightened with emotion as satisfaction filled him. Drawing in the scent of her—rain-soaked roses—he dug deep for the wherewithal to release her from his embrace. He tucked the memory of last night, spent locked in each other’s arms, beside a similar memory of her waiting to welcome him back with open arms. He’d be back, and she would be waiting. It gave him the strength to leave now.
She was already his, and had been since their first night together. Her unconditional love moved him, branding him as hers. By the saints, he would return! When he did, they would be wed good and proper—not just pledges made in the heat of passion before he’d claimed her heart, body, and soul.
He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Write to me.”
She snorted with laughter. “You won’t write back.”
“Ah, but I’ll want to.”
“You will be too busy with your duties at Penwith Tower. Constantly on edge, reinforcing patrols, keeping the workmen rebuilding the tower safe. The constant threat from smugglers and wreckers—while the local excise men line their pockets while they look the other way—allows tax-free goods to be sold to the locals.”
His eyes widened. “Ye have been listening.”
“Aye, Finn. It’s wrong for the locals to be in league with those who break the law.”
“’Tis more than that. Both sides are against the duke because he dared to rebuild his family’s ancestral tower. Like it or not, his coin—and his men—are breathing new life into the village of St. Ives.”
“The possibility of both sides attacking those in the middle—you and the duke’s men—frightens me.”
He met her gaze and held it. He looked past the proud woman struggling to hide what was in her heart, to the woman he’d wrapped in his arms with nothing between them but the night. It took every ounce of his steely control to ignore the clawing need to kiss her until she was weak with passion. Instead, he bent and placed a kiss to tip of her nose. With a brief hug, he stepped back.
The need to profess his undying love tore through him, but he’d done more than he’d ever intended that night he accepted the gift of her virtue. He would not have her pining for him while he was gone, too. She needed to be able to live her life without him—at least for the next few months.
So many things he wanted to tell her, but for the sake of his sanity, and her heart, he rasped, “Be safe, lass.”
She lifted on her toes, wound her arms around his neck, and kissed the breath out of him. His body tensed as desire for her threatened to cut him off at the knees. One more moment and he would toss her over his shoulder—again.
“Promise me, Mollie.”
“I promise.”
He could not resist brushing the tip of his finger along the curve of her cheek one last time. Something in her eyes had him hesitating. Mayhap he could ask the duke if he could remain at Wyndmere Hall permanently—his brother Patrick had after he’d married.
But that would never work. He and Patrick would butt heads constantly, as they had done the whole of their lives. Mayhap after Penwith Tower was rebuilt, and the local excise men put a stop to the smugglers and wreckers plying their trade along the coast of Cornwall, he could claim her heart. At the moment, the situation was too tenuous, too dangerous.
“Mollie?” She lifted her gaze to meet his, and a lone tear streaked across her cheek. He wiped it away and tenderly pressed his lips where it had been. “If ye need me—”
Bloody hell, why couldn’t he just say what was on the tip of his tongue? Send word immediately if you think you’re carrying my babe.
Frustration twined with anger, tearing him apart. His brother had told him how the lass suffered the last time they’d parted, and the added worry that she might be carrying his babe. She hadn’t been, but that did not mean she wasn’t with child now. A strong believer in fate, he knew you could only tempt it so many times…
He couldn’t utter the words to ask. He would never leave if she was. Clearing his throat, he reminded her, “If ye need me, have Patrick send word.” The lass remained stubbornly silent, until he wanted to shake some sense into her. “I’ll have yer word, Mollie Catherine Malloy!”
She huffed and mumbled.
Good—he’d rather she was angry than sad. “What was that?”
“If I need you—and I won’t—I will seek out your brother.”
“Not me cousins.”
Her soft laughter was music to his ears. “Aye, Finn, your brother, Patrick.”
He yanked her to him and gave in to the need tearing at his soul. Molding his mouth to hers, he drew every ounce of sweetness from her lips. “That’ll have to last ye till I return, lass.”
She pushed back from his embrace, blue eyes narrowed, wisps of auburn silk trailing from where she’d gathered her hair into a knot on top of her head. Mollie studied his face as if she’d never see him again. “What makes you think I haven’t found another to warm my bed while you are away?”
He chuckled. “Ah, lass, I know ye like I know me own heart. You’d never have tried to seduce me and have yer wicked way with me if ye didn’t love me.”
“Why haven’t you asked if I’ve been faithful to you?”
He pulled her back into his embrace and tucked her head beneath his chin. “Ye’ve a heart as big as Ireland, lass, and eyes that speak louder than yer words. When ye gave yer virtue to me, ’twas a gift to be treasured for the one ye’ll love till ye die—me!”
“Then why are you leaving me—again?”
“I’ve given me word to His Grace. Between us—me brothers and cousins—we swore an unbreakable vow. I’ll return to ye. Trust me and wait for me, Mollie-lass.”
Gently, he set her away from him. The mixture of hope and despair in her gaze tugged at his heartstrings, but he had a duty to fulfill. She had to understand!
“I will.”
He saw the moment doubt crept into her gaze. But let her doubt him. He’d show her he could keep his vow to the duke—and the one he’d made in his heart to her. He’d prove her wrong when he returned to sweep her off her feet and plop her down in front of the vicar.
A swift nod punctuated his decision. He turned to go, but not before he heard her softly whispered words.
“I love you.”
Those three words carved a hole in his gut. Bloody hell, if he turned back one more time, he’d never leave! It was his duty to go. His honor and his vow would be in question if he stayed.
The first step was the hardest. He put one foot in front of the other, ignoring his bleeding heart as he walked away from the woman he loved.
Duty called.
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