Chapter 48

Moira awoke to the sound of the door scraping open and the soothing scent of tea arriving just ahead of Peg, who set a tray of tea and brown bread on a small table and took the seat next to the bed.

“How’re ya feeling, love?” Peg poured a steaming cup. Moira watched the steam float and swirl until it disappeared long before reaching the thatched ceiling.

“I’m alright.” Moira sighed. “My body will heal, but I’m not so sure about my pride. How could I have been so foolish, Peg?”

“Tsk! Ya need to give yerself the same grace ye’ve shown to yer patient doon the road.” She handed the cup to Moira. “Ye were only tryin’ to do right by yerself and Mr. O’Malley. Ye couldn’t have known what he was plannin’ to do.”

“I should’ve known better.” She sipped the hot tea, letting its comforting warmth soothe her body and spirit. “I just . . . it’s that halla. I’ve dreamed of seeing it ever since Mother first told me the stories about the dances when I was a little girl.”

“I know.” Peg nodded. “Nostalgia can be a powerful draw. But there’s no sense in beatin’ yerself up over something tha’ canna be changed now. Ye need to focus on getting better and getting back to what the Laird has for ya to do here.”

Moira laughed the doubtful scoff of one no longer sure of the truth.

“You listen to me, Moira Doherty. God didna bring ye here only to abandon ye now. I don’t know why He allowed what happened to ye, but I know He doesna waste a thing. Don’t let this harden yer heart. Let Him use this to heal you more deeply than ye ever thought possible.”

Use this to heal? She nodded at Peg but questioned in her heart what possible good could come out of losing everything she held dear.

“Now, ya just rest, eat yer broth, and drink yer tea. We’ll have ye right as rain afore too long. We don’t want Áedach floundering out there on his own, do we?”

“Áedach!” Moira threw the covers from the bed. “I told him I’d be back.”

Peg eased Moira back onto the bed. “It’s alright, pet, it’s alright. Bríd looked after ye while Colm and I saw to Áedach these last few days.”

“Days?” The room began to spin.

“Ye were asleep for two days after the attack. Just rest now.”

Two days? Nothing in her world made sense any longer. Thank God for good folk like Bríd, Peg, and Colm. Moira ached at the idea of Áedach waiting for her, wondering if she’d abandoned him like everyone else.

She relaxed at the thought that Colm and Peg were sure to continue to care for the lad with compassion and kindness, just as she would. And they could definitely be counted upon to continue reading Scripture to him.

Open his heart to You, Lord. Her eyelids grew heavy, and the room began to fade. Let Áedach know You. Save him. And save me.

Sean paced in front of the Sweenys’ fireplace, his cup of tea long forgotten on the table. Duffy had gone into Moira’s room an hour ago. How much more could there be to tell? It had been nearly a week since the attack, and Sean had only seen Moira in fleeting glimpses. When he tried to speak with her, she kept her answers short and void of detail, and would then require a nap, which cut their conversations even shorter.

He wanted nothing more than to sweep her up in his arms and promise to protect her for the rest of his life, but she seemed bent on keeping him at arm’s length. Of course, he knew she would need time to heal—emotionally as much as physically—and he was willing to wait as long as it took. But having her push him away was killing him more and more each day.

“Sit doon and drink yer tea, lad.” Colm was buttering his third piece of bread. “Ye’re makin’ even the mice nairvous.”

Sean gestured toward the room. “How long is Duffy going to take in there? Surely he has enough evidence to convict O’Malley?”

Colm shrugged and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “These things are quite delicate, ya know. There’s nothin’ more ye can do but wait.”

Resigned to his fate, Sean sat at the table and took a sip of his now-tepid tea before pushing the cup and saucer away from him. He jumped to his feet at the sound of the bedroom door opening and Duffy’s feet scuffing the hallway.

“’Tis done.” Duffy eyed the teapot and slices of brown bread on the table.

“Ye’ll have a cuppa before ye go, aye?” Colm was already pouring the tea.

“Ye’re a good man yerself, Colm.” Duffy licked his lips and accepted the cup.

“So?” Sean wanted to shake answers out of the officer.

Duffy looked at Sean from the corner of his eye, then he finished his tea in one go. He raised his eyebrows, questioning.

“Do ye have enough to convict O’Malley?” Sean asked.

Duffy set his mouth in a firm line and nodded. “Aye, we do. From the looks o’ the bruising on Miss Doherty, ’tis clear she was on the defensive.”

Sean combed his fingers through his hair. At least the cur would pay for his crime. “Thank you, Officer.”

Duffy helped himself to a slice of brown bread and saluted Sean and Colm with it before taking his leave.

Sean pressed his palms into the table and hung his head. As glad as he was Declan was going to suffer the consequences of his actions, there was still nothing Sean could do to stave off the pain and humiliation Moira endured.

Another scuff in the hallway caught his attention. He looked up to see Moira standing in the doorway. Her skin was pale, and dark circles shadowed her eyes. A large bruise covered most of what showed of her left arm, and her thick black hair was plaited over her shoulder, keeping it away from the wound on the back side of her head, no doubt.

Peg came sweeping around the corner behind her. “Look who wanted to venture into the land o’ the livin’!”

With careful steps, Moira made her way to one of the chairs in front of the fire, wincing as she lowered herself to sit. “I couldn’t have my gracious hosts thinking me rude, now, could I?” Despite the pain evidenced by the deepened lines around her face, her eyes maintained a hint of humor, or perhaps mere civility.

“Welcome back.” Sean clasped his hands behind his back to keep from reaching out to stroke the top of her head, or wrapping her into an embrace.

Moira nodded and offered a polite smile, her gaze lingering on his face for only a moment before turning to the fire.

Peg patted Sean on the shoulder as she passed by and whispered, “Give her some time. She’ll come ’round.”

He sighed. “I’m so very glad to see you on the mend, Miss Doherty. I must be off to see to our customers. I leave ye in the good care of our friends here.”

“Thank you, Mr. McFadden.” She barely glanced his way. “Good day to you.”

Sean quit the room, welcoming the cold sting of the March morning air and vowing to do whatever it took to keep from losing Moira’s heart for good.