The Irish Bride Read Free Page A

our own people won’t cut us dead every time they
see us.”
    Sean shifted his bony behind on his
pallet. “We can’t very well send them off without Father Joseph’s
blessing, can we?”
    They’d all lost their minds, Farrell
thought, staring at them. Every single one of them. They needed
Father Joseph to bless their leave-taking?
    Sean sent his youngest son a sharp
look. “Ye’ll have to marry her, you know, Aidan—it wouldn’t be
right elsewise.” Everyone nodded and murmured in
agreement.
    Aidan’s answer was a short
nod.
    “ Marry!” The word sprang
from Farrell’s mouth with the force of a curse. To be wed to Aidan,
bound to him in every sense, and powerless against his wild ways
and hot temper? And in a strange, faraway land without family to
support or defend her? She stole another glance at him—he was a
tall man, strong and with well-muscled shoulders and a broad chest.
He’d managed to overcome four men who tried to hold him back from
Michael. America was said to be the land of plenty—what would he
grow into with good food and a better life? She would be
defenseless against any demand he made of her.
    She caught his gaze and in his eyes
she saw a raw, burning possessiveness, as though she were his
already—and, stranger yet, always had been. She looked away
swiftly.
    With her heart beating like a bird’s,
she turned to Liam. Her betrothed was strong of spirit, he was
immutable, like a rock—qualities she so admired and counted upon.
She trusted him to do the right thing; he couldn’t let this happen.
“Liam, in the name of heaven, ye must stop this.”
    But Liam offered no further
protest.
    “ Will you say nothing against this?”
she implored, a panicky tenseness tightening her throat.
    “ Come along, Farrell,” he
replied, taking her arm and opening the door. He directed her away
from the doorway to give them a little privacy. The feeble winter
sunlight was about gone, but she could make out his face. Regret
etched lines in his gaunt features, making him look years older
than his age. His hands closed over her upper arms, the grip of his
fingers cold even through her shawl.
    “ Nothing has turned out the
way we’d hoped. You’ve no future here—not a one of us does.” He
paused for a long moment, as if searching for words, then continued
with a sigh. “Go with Aidan, lass. For all his wild ways, he’s a
good man—he didn’t mean to kill your Michael. Ye’ll be safer with
him than you would be here. I’m putting you in God’s keeping and my
brother’s. They’ll both treat ye well.”
    Tears burned Farrell’s eyes
again, and a clattering tremor shimmied through her that had little
to do with the cold. She pulled her shawl closer. “But—but Aidan
doesn’t love me,” she murmured, heartbreak making her throat ache
again. She pressed her hand to his thin chest. “You must come with
us. You can marry
me, just like we planned. Maybe we can find land in America and
work it together, just like we planned.
Liam . . . if you love me, please!”
    He shook his head, a faint smile
barely visible in the low light. “You trust me, don’t
you?”
    She sniffled and nodded.
“Aye.”
    “ Then don’t you see it’s for
the best? Ah, Farrell . . . I can’t leave
Skibbereen. This is where I belong. I’d be no good to ye anywhere
else. I don’t do well with change—I can’t bend to it. Besides,
someone has to see to our da. We can’t be leaving him to fend for
himself.”
    “ Clare and Tommy
can—”
    “ No. Tommy has more than
enough to tend to with his own family. It falls to me to take care
of our father, especially now that we have no home of our
own.”
    “ But, Liam, I might never
see you again. Would you send me away like this?” She searched his
face, looking for some sign that he would save her from the fate
that awaited her, or that he would come with her. She didn’t find
it.
    In his eyes she saw that he cared for
her, obviously enough to sacrifice her to