9

DEIRDRE ATTEMPTED TO BRUSH the dirt from her dress, but with her hands as dusty as her skirt, her efforts were useless. Somewhere in the midst of saving Sean, her hairpins had fallen out, and her unruly tresses now spilled over her shoulders. She swiped a curl from one eye and attempted to gather her wits about her.

With the danger past, delayed nerves danced in her stomach. She couldn’t quite believe Matthew had jumped into the enclosure and thrown himself on top of her and Sean, risking his life for theirs.

She owed him a big debt of gratitude.

With a sigh, she turned to see where he’d gone. Betsy and Rose were nowhere in sight, likely scampering home to tell their mother about their brother’s bad behavior. She found Matthew crouched by the fence, his arms around a tearful Phoebe.

Deirdre’s heart sank. That must have been scary to witness. Her idea of getting Phoebe to ride Twizzle faded with the scowl Matthew gave her as she approached.

“Are you all right?” she asked, taking note of the dirt on his trousers and the tear in his sleeve.

He rose, leaving one hand on Phoebe’s head, the other pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. He handed it to her. “I’m fine. And you?”

She dabbed at her cheeks with the piece of linen that smelled like sandalwood soap. “A little dirty but otherwise fine. Thank you for what you did back there.”

His glance slid away. “No need for thanks. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll take Phoebe back in to Miss Shearing.”

Where she’s safe. He didn’t need to say the words for his meaning to be clear.

As he led Phoebe toward the house, Deirdre hurried after him.

“Matthew, wait. That was a highly unusual occurrence. Sean knows better than to go into the pen with a stallion.”

Matthew turned livid blue eyes on her. “Unusual or not, Miss O’Leary, I do not want Phoebe near any of the livestock—your pony included. Understood?”

So we are back to formalities again.

Deirdre glanced at Phoebe and bit her lip to keep from arguing. It would serve no purpose to confront Matthew in the aftermath of the incident. She would wait a few days until things had calmed down, then she would broach the topic again.

“I understand.” She pressed the handkerchief into his hand.

He stuffed the cloth into his pocket, then leaned closer, lowering his voice. “And I do not want my daughter associating with the Whelan children. She’s far too delicate for such . . . shenanigans.”

His warm breath fanned her cheek, doing nothing to cool her rising temper. Once again she held herself in check, biting back a scorching defense of her nieces and nephew. “You are entitled to your opinion, Doctor.”

Then, with as much dignity as she could muster with her hair askew and dirt everywhere, she marched back to the house.

There was more than one way to get around Matthew Clayborne. And for Phoebe’s sake, Deirdre was determined to find it.

“Is something troubling you, Matthew?”

Kathleen’s voice snapped Matthew’s attention away from the window where he’d been staring out at the manicured grounds.

He schooled his features. “Not at all. Are you ready for your next round of exercises?”

She wheeled her chair toward him, using her good hand and foot. “Forgive me, but you were scowling out that window as though witnessing a murder.” Her light laugh took the sting from her words.

“It’s nothing.” Matthew crossed to a table where he’d set out an assortment of rubber balls and weights, all designed to aid with finger dexterity in the hopes that she’d be able to play the piano again. He picked up a small weight and handed it to her.

“Does it have anything to do with Sean and that horse yesterday?”

He struggled to keep the surprise from his face. “You heard about that?”

“Of course. I know everything that happens around here.” She laid the weight on her lap. “I’m sure it must have been frightening, especially for someone not used to high-spirited horses.”

“Yes. Phoebe was quite upset by the whole thing.” Matthew wished for the hundredth time she hadn’t had to witness him almost being trampled to death.

“I wasn’t referring to Phoebe.”

He clenched his jaw together and moved back to the table.

Kathleen rolled closer. “What you did for my daughter and grandson was very brave.”

“It was nothing. Now if you don’t mind, let’s continue our work.”

“Matthew.” She reached out her good hand and laid it on his sleeve. “Please don’t let one unfortunate incident color the way you view my family. Sean is a good boy, though he can be rambunctious. Betsy and Rose are darling girls who would be wonderful companions for Phoebe—”

“Thank you for your opinion,” he bit out. “However, I think I know what is best for my daughter.” He pointed to the weight. “Shall we continue?”

“Of course.” She put the iron into her gnarled left hand.

Matthew helped her close her fingers around it. Kathleen grimaced but kept on. As Matthew worked with her, guilt over his sharp words consumed him. He realized she only wanted to help, yet no one seemed able to fully understand the depths of his fear. The fact that one small illness could bring Phoebe to the brink of death.

“I hope I didn’t offend you, Kathleen,” he said when they paused for a brief rest.

“Not at all. I know how hard it is to be a parent.” Her gaze held no judgment, only sympathy.

Matthew didn’t know which was worse.

“Did you know I had another son?” she said.

The sadness around her eyes made his breath hitch. “Another son?”

“Besides Adam and Connor, and of course Gil, who we raised as our own.” She took out a handkerchief and dabbed at the perspiration on her forehead. “My darling Daniel drowned in the back pond when he was eight years old.”

Matthew swallowed the bitter taste of fear, as though hearing the story could make it happen to him. “I’m very sorry.”

“Of all my children, Daniel was the happiest. He seemed lit with joy from the inside out.” Her smile trembled. “He had such an exuberance for life. Much like our Sean.”

Unable to think of an appropriate response, Matthew remained silent.

“Do I wish we’d paid more attention to Danny that day? Certainly. But would I change the way I raised him? Keep him cocooned in the house so no harm would ever befall him?” She shook her head. “No, because then he wouldn’t have really lived, would he?” Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes.

Matthew set his jaw, then released it with a long exhale. “I’ve already lost my wife. I can’t—I won’t—lose Phoebe, too.”

Kathleen touched his arm. “There’s a difference between being cautious and smothering a child.”

Outrage slammed through him in a hot wave. “I am not smothering Phoebe. I’m protecting her.”

Her features softened. “Oh, Matthew, don’t you see? We can’t protect our children from everything. The best we can do is entrust them to God.”

Matthew jerked away from her. His limbs shook with the force of repressed rage that broke loose inside him. “God?” he all but shouted. “Where was God when I begged Him for my wife’s life? Where was God when thousands of men died in that infernal war?”

“What is going on in here?” Deirdre stood inside the door, staring at him in horror.

His chest constricted with such force that his lungs seemed to collapse. He couldn’t get any air in or out, and for a second he imagined he must look like a fish with its mouth flapping open. Finally he managed one huge gulp of air. “Excuse me,” he sputtered and pushed past her out the door.

Stunned, Deirdre crossed the room to her mother and knelt in front of her chair. “Mama, why was Matthew so upset?”

She peered at her mother’s reddened eyes, evidence of the recent tears she’d shed. If Matthew had bullied her, Deirdre wouldn’t hesitate to give the man a piece of her mind.

Mama sighed. “I’m afraid I may have pushed him too far.”

Deirdre could not begin to fathom how her fragile mother could have pushed Dr. Clayborne, although when a look of steely determination replaced her sadness, Deirdre began to understand. Mama could be relentless when trying to get her point across.

“What happened?”

“I told him he was being too overprotective of his daughter. And I told him about Danny.”

“Oh, Mama.” She clasped her mother’s hand. No wonder she’d been crying—reliving the loss of her child. Deirdre had been too young to remember much about her brother, but she recalled going to the cemetery every year to visit Danny’s grave. “It appears Matthew didn’t appreciate your advice.”

Mama smiled. “Not at all.” She straightened her back against the chair. “Not to worry. I’ll apologize when he returns, and in the meantime, the seeds have been sown. It’s up to the Lord to see them to fruition.”

Deirdre’s lips twitched. “I may have an idea how to nudge God’s timing along. I asked Bree to bring the children over to do their lessons here for a few days. If Matthew sees how well-behaved the children are and how civilized the schooling is, then maybe he’ll relent. And this way Phoebe will be nearby, so he won’t worry.”

Mama patted Deirdre’s cheek. “Such a clever girl.”

“I want to help her, Mama. I know Phoebe must want to live a normal life—with friends, and fresh air, and playtime.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Mama’s eyes brightened. “Why don’t you bring her to visit with me for a while?”

Deirdre’s spirits lifted. If anyone knew how to reach children, it was her mother. “That’s a wonderful idea. Then she’ll be here when Brianna and the kids arrive.”

Matthew stood at the white fence, staring blindly over the far meadows. His hands clenched the top rung of the railing so hard that tiny slivers of wood pricked his skin.

As his breathing evened out, he attempted to sift through the layers of anger to find what was really disturbing him. Fear for Phoebe sat at the heart of it, yet it was more than that.

Everything about this place unsettled him. The open air and large spaces. The animals, the unstructured way of life with people coming and going, and the exuberance of the O’Leary family.

But most of all, Deirdre O’Leary unsettled him with her passionate, fearless approach to life. She hadn’t hesitated for a second before racing to save her nephew.

Matthew shivered, recalling the feel of her beneath him as he’d shielded her body with his own. And afterward, the way her hair had come free in waves to her waist. Even with her face streaked with dirt, she’d never looked more beautiful.

He’d have rushed to protect any woman, any child. But the instant he’d perceived Deirdre was in jeopardy, he realized he felt something . . . more.

And that realization now sent a rush of terror through him.

He thought longingly of his safe office in the basement of the hospital, where he saw the same patients week in and week out. Where no one challenged him on his methods and certainly not on his parenting.

“There’s a difference between being cautious and smothering a child.” Kathleen’s reprimand echoed in his head.

Matthew banged a fist on the fence until it rattled. He never should have come here. Never should have exposed Phoebe to the type of carefree life she couldn’t lead.

And now he was committed to seeing it through. Maybe he should send Phoebe back to Toronto with Miss Shearing. Yet the thought of his daughter so far away—without him nearby to make sure she was all right—choked the air from his lungs.

No, he could never allow that. He’d have to stick it out for the next few weeks, then return home and try to forget this whole unfortunate episode.

A pair of spring-green eyes, auburn hair, and enchanting dimples rose in his mind to mock the very idea. It would be impossible to forget Deirdre O’Leary.

The sound of children’s laughter drifted toward him, penetrating his haze of self-reflection.

Brianna Whelan and two of her children strolled down the path toward the house. Matthew stiffened. What were they doing here at this time of day? He searched for somewhere to step out of sight, but Brianna had already spied him.

She waved in his direction. “Hello, Dr. Clayborne. How are you this lovely day?”

With an inward sigh, Matthew joined them on the path. “Fine, thank you.”

She smiled brightly. “The children wanted to see their grandmother, so I thought I’d combine their lessons with a visit. Perhaps Phoebe might like to join us?”

Matthew’s muscles tensed. “I’d have to check with her nanny to see what she has scheduled for today.”

Brianna’s smile dimmed. “Oh, I see. Well, they’re both welcome to do lessons with us. We’ll be in the dining room, after saying a brief hello to Mama.”

They entered the house together, and the girls scampered down the hall. Matthew and Brianna followed.

“Grandma is likely in the sitting room, girls,” Brianna called. “Check there first . . . quietly.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Brianna’s brow wrinkled. “You don’t think they’ll be too much for my mother, do you?”

“On the contrary, I believe they’ll do her a world of good.”

When Matthew looked into the room, his jaw went slack. Phoebe was seated on Kathleen’s lap, while the Whelan girls clamored about the wheelchair.

Matthew checked the urge to pluck his daughter out of the melee, yet she seemed to be enjoying the excitement. A definite glint of interest lit her pale eyes.

“I hope you don’t mind.” Deirdre’s voice came from behind him. “Mama wanted to see Phoebe, and I thought a small break from . . . upstairs would do her good. Though I don’t think Miss Shearing was too pleased.”

Matthew squared his shoulders. One more example of how things concerning his daughter were spiraling out of his control. “In the future, I wish you would consult me—”

“Mama, can Phoebe do her lessons with us?” Betsy hopped from one foot to the other, tugging on her mother’s arm. “Please?”

Brianna glanced at Matthew. “That would be up to Dr. Clayborne.”

The unspoken question hovered in the room. Matthew felt all eyes on him, but it was the pleading in his daughter’s that almost broke him. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for a little while.”

A blinding smile broke out over Phoebe’s face. She pushed off Kathleen’s lap and went to stand by Betsy, who clapped her hands in glee.

“Say good-bye to Grandma, girls,” Brianna said. “Then wait for me in the dining room. I have to make sure Sean has finished his chores so he can join us.” Brianna winked at Deirdre.

Matthew frowned. Why did it feel like he’d just been duped?

The children trooped out of the room behind Brianna. Phoebe didn’t look back once.

Deirdre laid a hand on his arm. “Relax, Matthew. It’s only a spelling lesson. Nothing to worry about.”

The teasing glint in her eyes lessened the sting of her comment, yet words of defense raced to his tongue. “Phoebe’s not used to being around other children . . .” He trailed off, realizing how inane he must sound.

“Which is exactly why this is so good for her,” Deirdre said gently. “You can’t keep her in a cocoon forever.”

A fresh surge of anger spiked through him. “If it keeps her healthy, I will.”

Kathleen wheeled over. “I tried that with Deirdre after she survived typhoid fever as a child.”

Matthew blinked. “I thought you had typhoid.”

“Deirdre and Connor contracted it as well. For some time after, Deirdre was quite frail, and I’m afraid I was guilty of being overprotective myself. Losing one child made me more fearful about the others.” She gave a sad smile. “But because Deirdre was already used to her freedom, she didn’t let me get away with coddling her.”

“And believe me, Mama tried. Good thing I inherited the O’Leary stubborn streak.”

“I’ll say.” Matthew’s eyes widened when he realized he’d spoken aloud.

Kathleen and Deirdre both laughed.

“The point is,” Kathleen continued, “once I relented and let Deirdre play outdoors and ride her horse again, she became even stronger.”

Deirdre turned to address him. “I know Phoebe’s condition is not the same. But a little fun can go a long way toward healing.”

Matthew released a weary breath. “I guess I can try to be less . . . rigid.”

The women beamed at each other, and Matthew fought back a scowl. These O’Leary women were more tenacious than some of the most difficult doctors he worked with. However, he supposed he could let the women win this one.

Because when it came to more important issues concerning his daughter, he would not be swayed.