Chapter 24

A sense of urgency hung in the air as the bedraggled crew began the journey home. The clouds had settled in, driving out the mist, bringing dense fog in its stead. The sun would not delay setting, removing what modicum of light cut through the fog. Everyone was anxious to make it over the pass before darkness fell fully upon the land. It was a precarious journey over Dunlewey Pass, with steep drops to the valley below mere inches away from the wagon’s wheels. Every bit of light was needed to navigate the rutted path safely.

As the rig rumbled and bounced over the furrowed road, heading for the precipice near the peak of Errigal, exhausted silence settled on the group. A soft snore drifted from the back of the wagon. Moira turned. Sinead lay, sound asleep, spooning up against a bolt of lace her mother had traded the potatoes for. The heaviness of Moira’s eyelids grew by the minute.

Paddy’s voice broke the silence. “Say now, why is that wee cloud movin’?” He squinted and bobbed his head to and fro, obviously attempting to get a better read on a shape up ahead.

“Ya daft fool,” his wife retorted, “that’s no cloud. ’Tis a sheep!”

Sure enough, smack in the middle of the road stood an obstinate Donegal sheep. The ewe stared at the wagon, chewing stubbornly. She offered a cursory baa before lowering her head to take another bite of the sweet grass growing between the ruts. She clearly had no intention of moving. Paddy pulled sharp on the reins and the horses nickered in protest. The wagon lurched to a reluctant halt.

Sean hopped down and ran at the sheep yelling and clapping. The sheep blinked at him and continued to eat.

Amusement and mild annoyance played on Sean’s face. He shrugged and strode resolutely to the ewe. He scooped her up in one fell swoop and plopped her safe and sound on the hillside. She baaed once more while Sean resumed his place on the bench.

The gang chuckled and Moira breathed a sigh of relief as Paddy called “Hya! ” to get the horses trudging along again, thankful he hadn’t tried to steer around the animal.The steady plodding of hooves and the gentle rocking of the wagon were like a lullaby. Moira struggled to keep her eyes open. She needed to stay awake. For one, she didn’t want to risk falling off of the wagon. Secondly, she had hoped to use the journey home to try to piece together what few tidbits of information she had learned about her mother’s supposed secret. She needed to figure out this mystery to which the whole of Donegal seemed privy.

She straightened in her seat, facing the road, calling to mind what she knew so far. Her eyes, however, had different plans. They altogether ignored her attempts to keep them open.

What in the world could Old Man Buach know that could hold such power over a girl like Moira? Sean laced his fingers together then apart over and over as he thought. He was determined to suss out what Buach and Áedach were scheming. Sudden warmth radiated up his shoulder and arm, breaking his thoughts. The heavenly scent of lavender washed over him. He looked to the source of the heat. Moira leaned against his shoulder, eyes closed with lashes splayed over her alabaster cheeks. She was fast asleep.

He watched her for a moment, taking in the scent of her hair. His gaze traced the gentle slope of her nose. The soft breaths rising and falling. He averted his eyes and clenched his fists. God, help me protect her honor.

For a brief moment, he considered nudging her upright. For propriety’s sake. But he hadn’t the heart to wake her.

And you can’t bear the thought of not having her so near you.

Sean knew what brewed within him was more than mere attraction for the lass. She was a beauty to behold, aye. But her gentle spirit and the grace with which she had handled the disturbing situations of late filled his heart with compassion. He was falling for the girl, and the harder he resisted, the faster he plunged.

From the way she had looked at him in the dress shop, it seemed perhaps she might also hold some interest in him. He hoped she might one day fully return his affection and this secret—whatever it was—wouldn’t sever their chance at a life together.

A life together. Could he be so blessed?

Moira awoke with a jolt. The wagon had stopped and footfalls on the road sped the waking of her mind. She rubbed her eyes.

Sean still sat beside her, eyes sparkling, a sweet smile on his face. “Mornin’, sunshine. Well, evenin’, I guess.” He winked and her heart melted. Then realization dawned. She had fallen asleep against his shoulder. She clapped a hand to her forehead, mouth agape.

“I . . . uh . . . I . . .” Utterly mortified, words of explanation failed her.

“Easy now, pet.” Mrs. McGonigle comforted her from the front seat. “There was no impropriety. Many a folk succumb to the lullaby of the Seven Sisters. Paddy and me were wide awake and yer man here was a perfect gentleman.” She patted a compassionate hand on Moira’s knee and turned to her husband, who helped her out of the carriage.

The tension in Moira’s shoulders eased. If only the heat in her cheeks would dissipate with as much haste.

Sean lifted his hand and offered to help her down from the bench. She nodded and bent to place her hands atop his shoulders.

He held her securely at the waist and lifted her as effortlessly as if she were a feather pillow. He set her down and held her just long enough to ensure she was steady on her feet before releasing his grip. He then tugged on the brim of his hat, bidding her good night.

Moira, helpless to look away, watched as he disappeared into the mist.