The Irish Bride (27 page)

And Aidan O’Rourke was
not
. Maybe it was Farrell’s imagination,
but it seemed that Tom might have finished his sentence that way if
he’d been talking to someone else. Something was going
on.

“
Good to his men, was he?”
she prodded.

“
Oh, yes, ma’am. And we
always gave him our best work because of it. Some bosses, um, some
people think that if you drive workers like cattle, they’ll move
faster. But that can lead to trouble—mistakes, accidents, hard
feelings among the crew.”

“
Yes, I’m sure that’s
so.”

Tom helped her move the sofa so that
it faced the fireplace, and put the matching marble-topped round
tables on either end.

“
There, that’s better,” she
said, happy with the result. “Thank you for your help, Tom. I’m
glad I had the chance to meet you.”

She walked him to the back door. “Same
here, ma’am. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“
I will.” She spied the soda
bread from breakfast still sitting on the table. She’d finally
figured out how to bake in the oven. “Oh, here, I have something
for you.” She cut a slice and gave it to him. “To remind you of
your mam.

Genuine pleasure lighted his face.
“Thanks, Mrs. O’Rourke. I haven’t had soda bread in a long
time.”

She watched him bound down the steps
and walk back toward the mill, savoring his bread as he went. He
seemed like a very nice young man.

But she was worried by what he’d
revealed about Aidan. Her husband had bought her a satin dress and
fancy table linens, and he often brought her silly little gifts.
And God above, he’d even bought two suits for himself and had taken
to wearing one every day. He looked very handsome dressed nicely,
but what good was any of it if he lost the man inside whom she’d
come to love?

Yes, she had to finally admit it to
herself. Farrell was in love with Aidan. He was tender,
considerate, loyal, funny—in fact, he was everything that his
brother had not been. Looking back, she wondered why she’d been so
blind and insistent about Liam. She saw him now as Aidan had
described him, and as Liam had described himself. Methodical and
dispassionate, as steady as a rock, but just as dull.

Aidan, was a good man, probably the
best she’d ever met.

She let her gaze drift to the roof of
the mill in the distance and remembered Tom Fitzgerald’s barely
subtle comments.

Aidan, she thought, Aidan what are ye
doing?

* * *

After she closed the back door,
Farrell felt her own soda bread coming up and she knew something
wasn’t right. After retching into the slop bucket, she rinsed out
her mouth and caught her breath. This had to be more than just
worry and nerves. Then she stopped to think, and counted backward.
Her jaw dropped as she stared at the three fingers she’d ticked
off. She’d missed three monthly cycles—well, Jesus, Mary and
Joseph, she was pregnant. In fact, she had probably conceived the
first time she made love with Aidan.

She smiled to herself, and thought of
how she would tell him. Over supper tonight, maybe. Yes, that would
be good. She’d cook something special, a roast chicken and some
potatoes—thank the Holy Mother that they finally had enough to
eat.

A child. Aidan’s and hers. This might
be just what he needed to make him remember what was really
important.

* * *

Aidan hurried up to the house at four
o’clock to wash and change clothes. He’d received a message from
Dr. McLoughlin, asking him to a attend business dinner at his home.
The man was not well these days, but occasionally he brought a
gathering together.

“
Farrell?” he called,
walking through the front door. “Farrell, ye need to dress for
supper.”

“
What?” She came out of the
kitchen and met him in the back hallway. She wore an apron with
chicken feathers stuck to it.

He laughed and gave her a
casual kiss. “I’ve seen ye like this before,
a muirnín
. You’ve been wringing necks
again.”

She arched a brow at him. “Yes, and
I’m very good at it, so you’d best watch your step.”

“
Well, you need to get
dressed. We’ve been invited to supper.”

“
But—tonight?”

“
Yes, I got a message from
Dr. McLoughlin. He apologized for the short notice, but he wants me
to come for supper to introduce me to some new customers. We need
to be there by six o’clock.”

“
But what about the chicken
and potatoes I’m roasting? And the pound cake I’m making for
dessert? I was planning something special.”

He was already heading upstairs to
their bedroom. “They’ll hold, won’t they? Maybe you can take them
out of the oven and finish them when we get back. Besides, this is
more important.” There was a crash downstairs in the kitchen. “Did
ye drop something?” he called.

She came into the bedroom while he
stripped off his shirt. “Would you like me to demonstrate how I
wrung that chicken’s neck?” She sounded angry, and he knew to tread
carefully.

He rummaged through the bureau,
looking for his cravat. “Did Tom Fitzgerald come up to help with
the furniture?”

“
He did.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her.
“What, was he not properly respectful to you?”

She reached into the wardrobe for a
dress. “He’s very nice. He told me about his family and their sheep
farm in Heppner, and talked about Mr. Brother. He said that he was
a good man to work for.”

“
Sure and everyone and their
donkey is moaning about Mr. Brother this, and Mr. Brother that. I
think all Mr. Brother did was spoil that crew so I can’t get a
decent day’s work out of them. I’m trying to remedy that, but I’m
worried the damage may already be done. Most of them have got ten
thumbs and they’re slower than the Second Coming.”

“
Aidan!” She worked at the
buttons of her bodice.

“‘
Tis true. I’ve got orders
coming in right and left. I don’t want to just deliver them on
time. I want to beat that time. I’m not asking anything of them I
wouldn’t demand from myself. When I think of how hard we had it,
and how we slaved in those fields—”

“
Like whipped curs, ye mean?
Or maybe like those people we saw chained together in New
Orleans.”

He ducked, trying to see his image in
the mirror to comb his hair. “God, what bee slipped under your
bonnet, Farrell?” He looked up at her and she was taking off her
dress again. “Don’t dawdle, lass. We don’t have much
time.”

“
I have a headache and I’m
not going. You go and have your business meeting. I’ll be here when
you get back.” She left the room then and went downstairs. For such
a small-boned woman, she had a heavy step sometimes. He could hear
her heels thumping through the hallway.

Aidan winced. She was angrier than
he’d realized. Ah, well, a ruined supper plan wasn’t the end of the
world. He’d buy her a little gift tomorrow, and she’d forget all
about it.

He rode the horse that had come with
the mill to Dr. McLoughlin’s house. Inside, he was ushered into the
parlor where he was given a drink by a serving woman and presented
to several businessmen and their wives. As he worked his way
through the introductions, he spotted a man who looked vaguely
familiar. There was nothing remarkable about his balding head and
squat roundness, but still—

“
I feel we’ve met before,
but not around here,” he said to the man. “Are ye newly
come?”

“
We
have
met before, O’Rourke. I’m Seth
Fitch, and you won a sizeable amount of money from me in a card
game in New Orleans.”

“
Of course, now I remember!”
If nothing else, his southern accent gave him away as an outsider,
just as Aidan’s Irish accent marked him. He pumped the man’s hand.
“Whatever brings you to these parts? Surely not another sugar cane
contract.”

“
Oh, no, I left that
position. I’m in business for myself now, with a few select
clients.”

“
Are you? Well, that’s good
news. So you’ll be staying in the area?”

“
No, no, I’m just here on a
special assignment. I don’t imagine I’ll be here long. But I was
hoping I’d have a chance to meet your wife.”

Aidan gave him a sharper look. “Oh?
Why is that?”

He smiled. “You’d told us all what a
beauty she is that night at the Lass of Killarney. I was hoping to
see for myself.”

Despite the tension that night, he
knew he’d done no such thing. He never would have discussed
Farrell’s appearance in a place like that. It would have been
insulting to her. “What special assignment are ye working on?” he
asked, changing the subject.

“
I’m just investigating some
business opportunities.”

Aidan couldn’t put a name to what he
felt, but a cold hand of apprehension gripped his heart and then
faded.

Supper and the meeting went smoothly
enough, but he found himself talking less and listening more. With
Fitch in the room, he was on guard and he didn’t know why. There
was just something about him that Aidan didn’t like.

Something very bad.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

When Aidan came around the bend in the
road that led to his house, he was grateful for the light pouring
from the windows. All the way home, he’d kept glancing over his
shoulder, trying to peer through the cold and damp November
darkness to see if he was being followed. Now and then, when the
clouds parted to let the moon light his way, he’d speed his mount,
ducking under the canopy of tree branches that lined the road. Then
he would slow it again and listen. It was quiet here and it would
be hard for someone to follow him on horseback without him hearing
it.

He had nothing on which to base his
cautiousness and unease except Fitch’s presence at that meeting. It
had gone well otherwise. Aidan had met several men who were
interested in doing business with O’Rourke Lumber Mill. The
territory was growing, his prospects were good, and the future more
promising than he’d ever dared hope when he undertook this
operation. He’d expected to have to work for years to attain even
half the success he saw looming ahead.

Yet, as he led the horse into the
stable and lighted a lamp hanging from the doorframe, Aidan
realized there was another side to this good fortune. He’d begun to
worry about losing it, about something going wrong. The success of
his business was not only vital to his sense of accomplishment, but
he also saw it as critical to winning and keeping Farrell’s heart.
He’d promised her so much and he had to make good on those
promises.

Aidan unharnessed and dried his mount
with a piece of sacking, fed him, and then, with a last look
around, went to the back door. Farrell wouldn’t appreciate him
tracking mud into the entryway, and she was already put out with
him over supper. Just inside the kitchen, he kicked off his
boots.

A faint aroma of roast chicken still
lingered and he felt a twinge of regret that he’d had to miss it.
She had a talent for cooking that he hadn’t suspected. In Ireland,
the food had been so basic and the options so few, there hadn’t
been much opportunity to learn to do anything beyond baking soda
bread—when they had the flour—and preparing potatoes in one of
three ways, boiling, frying, or baking them.

Carrying the candle she’d left burning
for him on the table, he went upstairs to their bedroom. Farrell,
was still awake and sitting up in bed reading. Her lovely red hair
hung in a braid over the front of her shoulder and she’d propped
the book on her bent knees like a young lass.

“
Hello,
céadsearc
,” he said from the doorway.
“Am I allowed to come in?”

She looked up at him and he could see
she still harbored a bit of annoyance with him. “If you’ve a mind
to visit for a while before you’re gone again.”

He walked in and put the candle on his
bedside table. “What are you reading?”

She flipped to the title
page. “It’s called
The Life and Strange
Surprizing Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, of York,
Mariner
.”

“
You’re reading about an
Englishman? And a seaman? I’d have thought you’d had your fill of
both.”

“
This one is
shipwrecked.”

Her brief answers confirmed his
suspicions. “You’re still displeased, aye?” he asked, sitting next
to her.

She sighed and put a scrap of ribbon
in the book to hold her place. “I wanted to spend the evening with
you. I had something to tell you.”

He loosened his collar. “Well, I’m
glad you didn’t go with me tonight.” Realizing this didn’t sound
very good, he was about to tell her about Seth Fitch, then changed
his mind. It might frighten her, and he didn’t want to do that. He
would have to keep a sharp lookout himself for the man. Instead he
finished, “You’d have been bored.”

She looked at him. “Do you think me
not smart enough to follow a conversation that doesn’t have to do
with housekeeping or babies or the quilting bees at St. John’s
Church?”