Destiny's Path (44 page)

‘It didn’t feel like a sin. I love her dearly and want to marry her.’

‘There is no way to avoid the child being born out of wedlock.’ He bent his head, rustling through the papers on the desk. ‘I’ll send a clerk with you to take the doctor’s deposition about your state of health. Afterwards you should go home. If you’re not diseased there is nothing else you can do but wait for things to take their course.’

Three hours later Conn was on his way home, feeling disgusted by the examination, but not at all surprised to have been told that he definitely didn’t have the disease.

But waiting was sometimes very hard and he was longing to regularise his position with Maia.

When he reached his home the following day, he stopped for a moment to breathe a prayer of thankfulness. Here, the world felt a warmer, kinder place to live. Sean grinned as he took the horse and dared to ask how things had gone, Nancy smiled cheerfully at him as he went into the kitchen and forestalled his question.

‘She’s lying down, sir. No, she’s fine. I just persuaded her to take a little rest, for the baby’s sake.’

He walked through a house that was sparkling with cleanliness to the bedroom where Maia was dozing on the bed. She woke as he went in.

‘You’re back.’ Her smile was a glory of love.

He took off his horsy outer garments and lay down on the bed beside her with a happy sigh, reaching out to take her hand. ‘Just to come home to you makes me feel good.’

After he’d told her what had happened, they stayed where they were for a while, with Maia nestled in the curve of his left arm and the quiet peace of the countryside outside broken only by bird calls and farm sounds.

‘Whatever happens, I love you,’ he said drowsily.

There was no answer. Her breathing was deep and even, and when he looked, her brow was smooth, her long eyelashes casting shadows on her cheeks.

His love for her was so deep he didn’t know how to put all he felt into words. Whatever had happened to him had been worth it because it had brought him to a woman he’d never have met otherwise and who was the perfect wife for him.

Some of the bitterness fell away as that thought sank in and he smiled as he too fell asleep.

25

A
fter he left the house to search for the intruders, Ronan crouched in the shadows, wishing it were summer and there was foliage to hide behind. He had to wait a moment or two for his eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness.

When shapes began to take on clearer form and meaning, he moved cautiously forward. Seeing the outline of a figure standing in the shrubbery about a hundred yards away from the house, he slowed down, moving cautiously from shadow to shadow, trying to ensure the stranger didn’t see him.

When he was as close as he dared go, he pressed himself against the trunk of a tree he’d climbed many a time as a lad to watch what the man did.

The other stood for a time then moved towards the house, passing Ronan’s tree without seeing him. He made more noise than he needed to, which puzzled Ronan. One of the younger villagers he’d asked to keep watch round the house moved out of the shadows opposite Ronan to follow the intruder.

Good! That part of his plan was working as he’d hoped
.

Just as Ronan was about to follow them, he heard something else and stayed where he was. Another stranger came out of the shadows, cudgel in hand, cap pulled down to his eyes, again taking little trouble to be quiet. How many of them were there? And why were they making so much noise?

To his puzzlement the first intruder stopped some thirty yards from the house, leaning against a tree, watching, not seeming in a hurry to move on. What was he watching for? Why was he just staying there?

Xanthe heard a noise upstairs. It sounded to be coming from the servants’ quarters. She didn’t recognise the sound and that worried her. The servants were in the cellar, at Ronan’s request, so who could be up there?

When she looked across at Mr Flewett she could see that he’d heard the noise too. She put one finger to her lips and he nodded.

She thought she heard a whisper of sound on the servants’ stairs, as if someone was coming down them very quietly. Looking across at Mr Flewett, she pointed and again he nodded. It would be better, she decided, to wait and let the person come to them.

The light in the oil lamp was turned low and she wished now that she’d turned it right out. If this person could move through the house so easily in the darkness, with little light from the crescent moon getting through the drawn curtains, then he’d find the kitchen relatively bright.

An idea came to her and she gestured to Mr Flewett to move behind the door and went to sit by the table, the knife in her lap, her hands clasped on the surface in front of her. She hoped the clerk would be able to take the intruder by surprise and that between them they could knock him senseless.

If not, she’d be in trouble.

The door moved slightly but no one came in.

She rubbed her forehead and feigned a yawn, listening intently but trying not to show it.

It took her by surprise when something whizzed across the room and hit her forehead, sending sharp pain through her so that she didn’t know what she was doing for a moment.

By the time she’d recovered from the shock, the intruder had her by the throat.

‘Not a word or I’ll throttle you!’ he growled.

She kept perfectly still, praying that Mr Flewett was unharmed and would come to her aid.

‘We’re going outside, you an’ me. You’ll keep very silent if you enjoy breathing. Nod if you understand that.’

She nodded and as he yanked her to her feet she saw the knife she’d been holding lying on the floor. He kicked it out of the way with a contemptuous laugh and let go of her throat for a moment as he pulled her towards the outside door.

There was a sudden clatter and Mr Flewett hurtled across the room, clumsily giving warning of his attack before he reached his target.

With an angry roar, the intruder flung her to one side and turned to smash one fist into Mr Flewett’s face, making him yell in pain and shock. But although he was much smaller, the clerk put up a good struggle, giving Xanthe enough time to act.

She picked up the teapot and darted forward to crash it down on the intruder’s head. Surprise and hot tea made him yell out.

Thrusting her hand into her pocket, she took out the other knife to defend herself with, praying it’d be enough.

When crashes and yells suddenly rang out from the kitchen, the intruders started to run forward. Ronan took the second one by surprise, wrenching his cudgel from his hand.

By that time Paddy from the village was there to finish the job and thump him into oblivion. ‘I’ve got him, sir.’

Ronan nodded and ran towards the kitchen, desperate to find out what was happening to his wife. But he had to pause to help subdue the other intruder, who had used a knife to injure one of his opponents. Ronan moved on only when another villager came to join in the fray.

The kitchen door was locked, as he’d ordered. Ronan kicked out at the door, so terrified that someone was hurting his wife that he found the strength to crash the door open. He was just in time to see the intruder lying in a pile of broken crockery and a puddle of something dark and wet. Then his wife stabbed a knife into the intruder’s shoulder and the man roared with pain.

As Ronan ran across the room, his wife picked up the heavy bread board and smashed it down on the man’s head with a loud thwack.

Hearing someone approach, she turned swiftly round, panting as she held the board up to protect herself. Then she let her arms drop as she saw her husband.

Mr Flewett had seized one of the kitchen cloths and picked up the knife that had fallen on the floor. He hacked at the cloth and used the long pieces of linen to tie the intruder’s hands behind his back, ignoring the blood pumping out of the stab wound on the man’s shoulder.

Sounds outside took Ronan away from his wife to stare out of the door, ready to defend them if necessary. But after a moment he turned with a grin and beckoned to her. Paddy and three other men had the two intruders trussed up and were marching them at knife point across the yard.

‘What shall we do with them, sir?’

‘Keep tight hold of them. I want to speak to this fellow.’ He went back inside and jerked the bound man to an upright position. ‘What were you doing in my house?’

The man pressed his lips together.

Grim-faced now, Ronan hit him on the wound, causing him to scream in pain. ‘I’ll kill you rather than let you go without finding out what exactly you’re doing here,’ he threatened, meaning every word. ‘When my wife’s in danger I’d do anything to protect her, and that includes killing you.’ He raised his fist again as if to deliver another blow and the man squealed for mercy.

This was a side of her husband Xanthe hadn’t expected to see. She watched in amazement as he questioned the man sharply, ignoring the way he sobbed with pain as he answered the questions.

‘Your wounds will be tended to after you’ve answered my questions. Now, tell me who sent you.’

He hesitated, then as Ronan bunched his fist again, said hastily, ‘Mr Johnson.’

‘Why did you come inside the house?’

‘He wanted her taken away and killed.’ The man gestured to Xanthe. ‘Said he’d make you pay in the way that would hurt you most, because you’d never know what had happened to her.’

Ronan closed his eyes for a moment, thanking all the fates that Xanthe hadn’t been captured. Then he opened his eyes and something about the way he looked must have frightened his captive, who flinched. ‘I’ll be taking you to the local magistrate and if you don’t answer his questions promptly, I’ll make the way I just hit you seem like a love tap.’

‘Shall I bind a cloth round him to stop the bleeding before we set off?’ Xanthe asked.

‘No. Let him bleed.’

‘I’ll get my cloak, then.’

‘You’re not going anywhere.’

‘I’m coming with you. It was me he tried to kidnap. You weren’t here, so I’ll need to answer questions too.’

‘I want you safe.’

‘I’ll be safe now.’

But as they were all going out of the back door a shot rang out and Xanthe dropped to the ground.

Ronan covered her body with his and the men outside went running into the woods again.

Maia woke in the night with a scream. Conn jerked upright in the bed. ‘What’s wrong? Is it the baby?’

She began sobbing.

‘What
is
it?’

‘It’s Xanthe. She’s been hurt. I can tell.’ Maia began rubbing her shoulder. ‘Here. Ah, it hurts, it hurts.’

He took her in his arms and tried to comfort her, but she wouldn’t be comforted. All her thoughts were for her twin and she was hardly aware of him.

Two hours later the local doctor stepped back from the bed at Ardgullan. ‘She ought to be all right, Mr Maguire. She was lucky. The bullet went straight through the fleshy part of her arm. I’ve bound the wound and you’re to leave it bound up for several days. I’ll come back to check on her every day.’

As Mary showed out the doctor, Xanthe groaned and Ronan went to her side. ‘You’re going to be all right, my darling.’

‘Not if you leave this bandage on so tightly.’

‘The doctor says we’re not to touch it.’

‘He’s old and so are his ways. I want Mary back here with a bowl of soapy water and a clean bandage. I don’t want the wound wrapping so tightly. It’s made it feel worse. I’ve read about new ways of treating gunshot wounds, developed in the Crimea, and I’m not having it done this way. It needs to be kept clean, not left to fester.’

‘Is there anything you’ve not read about?’

Even through her pain she managed a near smile. ‘What else did I have to do with myself in Australia?’

He couldn’t persuade her to leave the bandage alone, at least for tonight, and Mary, standing on the other side of the bed, took her mistress’s side.

‘He’s good at setting broken bones, that one, or for getting bullets out, but for nothing else. Did you see how dirty his hands were?’

Xanthe looked at him pleadingly. ‘Please don’t leave it dirty.’

‘You’re supposed to be resting quietly, not complaining about the doctor’s methods,’ Ronan told her.

‘When have I ever kept quiet?’

There was a commotion below and a voice boomed out. ‘Where’s Maguire?’

‘I sent Paddy for the magistrate,’ Ronan said. ‘That’s him now. He has a loud voice because he’s half deaf. I’ll have to go down and speak to him. Stay there. You are not to get out of that bed.’

She didn’t protest but turned to Mary. ‘I want it cleaning.’

The housekeeper nodded and slipped downstairs. The housemaid appeared a minute later looking frightened.

‘Please, ma’am, I have to sit with you.’

Xanthe nodded and closed her eyes till she heard footsteps and looked up to see Mary and the kitchen maid come in with a ewer of hot water and the materials to wash and cleanse the wound.