Alaina's Promise Page 2

  “What’s all the commotion?” he asked, squinting against the glare of the morning sun.

  “I-I don’t know. But we’d best stay far from it.”

  Others stopped to watch the burly, red-faced seaman near the cargo ship. He waved his arms about, shouting at another man who had caused several crates to topple and break. Alaina didn’t recognize the words being thundered across the dock.

  “Is he cursing?” she asked.

  Her father chuckled softly and coughed. “Just as well your mother never let me teach you much Irish. Aye, he’s turning the air quite blue.”

  “You must excuse him.”

  Alaina spun around. Her heart sank. The rude seaman from the Northern Star, the one who had kept staring at her throughout their voyage, stood only a foot away. His size intimidated her even more on such close inspection.

  “I said, you must excuse MacDonald’s foul tongue, Miss.” The man smiled, but his eyes remained cold like blue chips of ice. “I couldn’t help but notice that you and the old man be alone here in Ballyvaughn. I should like to offer my services.”

  She stared at him, fighting against the terror that tried to snake around her. A sudden surge of strength welled up, beating the serpent into submission and she clung to feeling with all her might.

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your offer,” she replied. “We have not been properly introduced.”

  A look of surprise flitted over the man’s features. The disdain in her tone had not gone unnoticed. He bowed his dark head.

  “Pardon,” he murmured. But when he met her gaze again, Alaina balked at the anger she saw there. He took a step closer. “The name is Doogan, Nicholas Doogan.”

  The yelling at the end of the pier escalated into a brawl. Alaina glanced around. The fight had everyone’s attention but her father, and he could do little if this man forced himself upon them.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I was just about to hire a carriage,” she said.

  “There’s no need, lass.” He stepped closer still. Alaina backed up against her trunks, letting go her hold of the chair. “I can take care of you.”

  “Young man, I think you’d best move on.” Patrick tried to stand, but fell back into the chair.

  Alaina’s anger overpowered her sense of propriety. She had taken care of herself and her family for over five years. How dare any man try and take advantage of her now?

  “You will do nothing of the sort, sir,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I have arrangements to make.”

  He didn’t move, but stood smiling down at her.

  Alaina frowned. “You will move immediately or I shall scream as if the demons of hell were upon me.”

  His smile vanished as his mouth gaped wide. Alaina congratulated herself on the calm of her tone.

  “Is there a problem, Miss Ryan?”

  She turned to the source of the deep Irish voice, and gasped. The tall man in the black coat from the pier stood beside them, his gaze fixed on the seaman. Anger sparked around him like a living thing. Had he called her by name?

  “No … this … gentleman was offering his assistance and I-I told him that it wasn’t necessary.” The air drained from her lungs as the Irishman shifted his gaze to hers. His eyes echoed the grayish green depths of the bay. She swallowed. “He was just leaving.”

  His gaze moved back to Doogan and Alaina thought she saw a flicker of fear pass over the seaman’s ruddy face.

  “I heard you were coming home again,” the Irishman drawled. “‘Tis a shame to start your visit by accosting the first young woman with the misfortune of crossing your path.”

  Alaina stared from one to the other. The men seemed well acquainted.

  “Come now, Irish, you’re getting your dander up over nothing.” Doogan smiled. His gaze slid to Alaina and she forced herself not to flinch. “The lass and the old man here be alone and ‘twas only my Christian duty to offer protection.”

  “Mr. Ryan and his daughter are not alone, and ‘tis sure I am that Christian duty was the last thing on your mind.” Anger rumbled beneath the deep timbre of his voice. The air around them seemed to crackle.

  “Aye, and you’d be knowing that all too well, Irish, wouldn’t you now?” Doogan snarled.

  Alaina suddenly wondered which of the two men posed a bigger threat—the obvious knave or the gallant knight charging to the rescue. Instinctively she trusted the Irishman. Yet hard-learned lessons had taught that trust was a luxury she could ill afford.

  “See here, lads,” her father interjected as he tried to intervene. “There’s no need to be fightin’, is there now?”

  Doogan grinned suddenly and held both hands up in defeat.

  “Sorry, old man. You’re right. ‘Tis sure, Irish, you be the victor again.” He lowered his hands and squinted up at the other man. “But we Doogans are full of fight, don’t you know? ‘Tis the Scot in us. We’ll meet another day. You might not be so lucky then. Someday ‘twill be something I’ll fight you for.” He turned to Alaina and nodded. “No offense, lass.” Doogan turned and sauntered toward the cargo ship.

  She noticed the dockside brawl there had ended. The burly MacDonald sat nursing a bloody nose while others carried the second man’s limp body away toward the village. Alaina shook her head, staring at the scene in disbelief. Her rescuer cleared his throat so that she turned to him.

  “Not a good first impression I’m afraid,” he said with small smile. “I promise, Miss Ryan, Ireland is not such a heathen place as the men on this dock make it seem.”

  She tilted her head slightly, curiosity and fear warring with one another. How did the Irishman know who they were? Could he have been sent as an escort?

  “Just what sort of place is Ireland, Mr…?”

  “O’Brien. Torin O’Brien.”

  Alaina felt her stomach lurch. Oh, God in Heaven, it was him. For some reason she had never considered that he would meet them himself. The man her father hoped, no, expected her to marry. The man to whom she had been betrothed years before her birth.

  “You…you’re…” The words wouldn’t come.

  “Aye, I’m Maggie’s son.” He stared at her a moment, then focused on Patrick and held out a hand. “‘Tis a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ryan. I’ve heard much of you over the years.”

  Her father smiled as he grasped the man’s large hand in his own. “Torin—I should have known. You’re the spittin’ image of your da. But you’ve grown a bit since last I saw you.”

  Alaina fought to calm her racing heart as the men shook hands. Torin’s rich chuckle vibrated around her. It was him. She couldn’t do this. Her hands shook as if she had the palsy and the air seemed suddenly thin.

  “Aye, sir that I have. ‘Tis been nigh on thirty years,” Torin said as he glanced in her direction. “I’m glad to finally meet you again, and your lovely daughter.”

  Patrick’s face beamed with approval. She hadn’t seen him so delighted in months. What a pity she couldn’t enjoy the banter as well. Alaina’s face burned with humiliation as the men stared at her. If she had only known, perhaps she could have prepared better.

  “Where are my manners?” Patrick straightened in his chair and reached a hand out to her. She grasped his fingers, hoping he wouldn’t notice how she trembled. “Torin O’Brien, this is my daughter, Alaina Marie Ryan.” His watery blue gaze moved between them. “This meetin’ has been a long time comin’, but I’m glad ‘tis finally here.”

  She glanced up and away again as panic raced through her blood. Torin must be the most handsome man she’d ever met, but it meant nothing. Despite her father’s grand plans, it would never work. She trusted no man outside her own family.

  The silenced stretched between them as her father watched with a deepening frown. Finally, Alaina held out her hand and offered a small, civil smile. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. O’Brien.”

  His firm touch lasted only a moment before he pulled away, but not before the sensation of his warmth seeped th
rough her soft gloves. Alaina’s breath caught in her throat and her gaze flew to his and held. He had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen.

  “The pleasure is mine,” Torin murmured. When he turned from them she felt an inexplicable sense of regret. He gestured at the road parallel to the dock. “I’ll just bring the carriage around and we can be on our way. ‘Tis a long ride back to Doolin.”

  “Aye, I remember it well, lad,” Patrick replied. “Very well, indeed.”

  Chapter Two

  Torin tied their trunks to the back of the wagon and situated the older man in the bed, wrapped up in blankets per the lady’s insistence with the wheeled chair secure at the opposite end. She watched while he worked, her hands twisted together as she kept herself at arm’s length.

  When he turned to Alaina with a forced smile, Torin offered to help her onto the front bench seat. She hesitated before placing her black-gloved hand in his and he felt it tremble within his grasp. Why did she fear him so? He glanced at his hand to make sure it was clean and frowned as she seemed to avoid his gaze.

  “Is everything all right, Miss Ryan?”

  She nodded and looked down at him with a small smile. “Yes, thank you. I-I’m just a little tired. You said it’s a long trip to your mother’s home?”

  He nodded. “Aye, ‘twill be almost dark before we’re there. Mum asked me to stop in Ballyvaughn first. I hope you don’t mind. ‘Tis market day and I’m to do her shopping.”

  “Market day?” Alaina’s sudden smile held genuine excitement. Its warmth stole his breath away. “Oh, that does sound most intriguing. But I’m not sure my father is well enough for such an excursion.”

  “Don’t be daft, inion,” Patrick insisted from his nest behind her. “I’m fine. Feelin’ better already, thanks to bein’ on solid ground again. Take your time, lad, and be about your business. We’re in no hurry.”

  Torin moved away from the young woman and rounded the carriage where he took his position in the driver’s seat. But he felt her warmth beside him. The scent of sweet roses filled the air, and seemed to caress his senses like silk-smooth hands on a warm summer night.

  With a jerk, he pulled himself upright, back ramrod straight as he flicked the reins against the mare’s rump. No, he would not give in to such wandering thoughts. They could only lead to places to which he had sworn never to return. That vow would not be broken for a soft, spoiled piece of fluff no doubt used to luxury and being catered to on every whim. The sweet lilt in her voice did not matter, nor did the perplexing mixture of fear and strength he glimpsed in her large, dark eyes. They came from such different worlds, despite the fact that their fathers were once as close as any two brothers.

  The horse drew the carriage into the small fishing village. He glanced at his passenger and couldn’t help but smile at the look of joy on her face. Her beauty had not been exaggerated in Ryan’s letters.

  Alaina’s gaze roamed over the street, taking in the throng of people and horses. Various wares were displayed in buggies, wagons and in the back of handcarts. Voices filled the air with a persistent hum. The pungent smell of fish and the musky sweet odor of unwashed bodies lingered in the air.

  She turned to him. It felt as if someone punched him hard in the gut. It had been a long time since anyone other than family had smiled at him so warmly. Torin forced one in return.

  “There’s so much to see!” she exclaimed. Then it seemed as if the sun went behind the clouds. She dropped her gaze and clenched her fingers together in her lap. “It’s very busy.”

  Torin wondered at the sudden change. One moment she shone, the next she retreated into some dark place within. No doubt reminding herself of the differences between us—the disparity of our circumstance. He had no use for spoiled, self-centered women. As he grappled with the inner turmoil, a group of young boys darted in front of the carriage.

  “Careful lads!” he shouted, pulling sharply on the reins. The boys turned in unison, their young faces filled with fright. Torin narrowed his eyes and focused on the youngest boy. “William O’Malley! Does your mother know what you’re about?”

  “No, sir.” The boy gazed up at him with large green eyes. Then slowly he looked over at Alaina. Torin repressed a smile as the lad’s eyes grew even wider.

  “You be an angel?” the child asked.

  Alaina stared for a moment, frowning as if deciphering a foreign tongue. “Why no, I’m not,” she finally answered with an apologetic smile. Young William seemed completely undeterred.

  “You be as pretty as one!” He smiled and scampered off after his friends. She stared after him.

  Torin watched Alaina tilt her head to one side. He couldn’t tear his gaze away when she glanced at him. God, but she truly was a beauty. Something feral and warm stirred deep within.

  “The lad has good judgment,” he murmured. Wariness returned to her dark eyes. He felt her shrink away from him. Torin swung around and urged the mare along the busy thoroughfare until he maneuvered the carriage alongside a hitching post.

  “The shopping shouldn’t take long,” he said as he climbed from the rig and secured the reins. He held a hand up to her. “Will you be joining me, Miss Ryan?”

  Alaina gazed down at him with a frown as she bit her lip. Torin suddenly wondered if his past reputation had somehow preceded him to the Ryan plantation. No, old Patrick would have kept his girl safe and sound and far out reach of the likes of him. He would never have brought her to Ireland had he known. Guilt tore at him like a double-edged knife.

  “I’m not sure I should leave my father—” she began.

  “Nonsense!” Ryan exclaimed from behind her. “Go on and take in the sights. Never met a lass yet that didn’t enjoy shopping. I am sure the lad could use your help. I’ll be fine on my own. There’s plenty to keep this old man occupied.”

  The worry in her eyes told Torin she wasn’t convinced. He reached out again. “I’d very much appreciate your company, Miss Ryan, if you’d be granting it?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment. He watched as her dark lashes swept down over the curve of her cheeks. Then she looked him in the eye. “Of course, Mr. O’Brien. I’d be honored if you’d escort me. We won’t be long, Daddy.” She leaned over and brushed a kiss on the old man’s forehead. Then Torin felt her fingers trembling within his grasp as she once more took his offered help.

  It annoyed him that she seemed so afraid. He sighed as she landed lightly beside him. Perhaps she had good cause. It wasn’t often a young woman met her betrothed.

  * * *

  Alaina let him tuck her hand into the crook of his arm. She felt the outline of strong, defined muscle beneath the layers of fabric between them. An odd sensation washed over her and she kept her gaze focused on the ground as her face flooded with heat.

  They walked along the street, stepping around puddles of mud and piles of manure. Holding his arm with one hand, Alaina lifted the edges of her skirts above the filth. She wrinkled her nose at the stench and tried not to breathe too deeply.

  People filled the market place, brushing against her. She moved closer to Torin’s side and instinctively clutched at his arm. The strength of the muscle beneath her fingertips made her feel safe at the moment, though part of her still quaked at his nearness. The warmth of his presence bolstered her sagging courage even while her heart leapt at thought of how little she knew the man. But she knew it was necessary to grant Torin O’Brien at least some of her trust—if only to honor her father. After all, they were in a street filled with people. Even if her father’s judgment proved faulty, what could possibly happen?

  “There’s a cart up this way, a man I do business with often. We’ll go there first,” Torin said, his voice reaching down to her above the tumult of cackling chickens and the calls from vendors.

  Alaina nodded and took a step forward. She shrieked when he suddenly jerked her sideways as a man reeking of stale whiskey ran into her and almost knocked her off her feet. Without Torin’s quick action, she knew she would
have ended up sprawled in the mud.

  “Madainn mhath,” the man said, offering her a smiling view of rotten teeth. He tipped his grimy cap, then seemed to realize she hadn’t understood.

  “Good mornin’,” he repeated in English, leaning closer. His thick accent slurred the words. Alaina jerked back from the force of his rancid breath. Torin’s other hand covered hers.

  Alaina nodded once at the drunk and was relieved when the man smiled again before he staggered away.

  “Are you all right?”

  She looked up into Torin’s green eyes and swallowed as she fought the nervous tremors that washed over her. Something in his look made her entire body flood with heat. She swallowed hard and pulled away from the warmth of his strong torso.

  “Yes, thanks to you,” she said as his gaze searched her upturned face. He nodded, his mouth set in a grim line.

  They moved along and Alaina admonished herself to let go of the fear. There could be little amiss at this point. He had, after all, saved her from a painful collision. At least he had good manners, and that was an asset sorely lacking in the world. She tried to concentrate on the sights and sounds instead of the man at her side, and felt the tension ebb as the pleasant sound of Gaelic surrounded her.

  They reached the fishmonger’s cart. Alaina wrinkled her nose at the pungent smell of the haddock and salmon lying bare under the early morning sun. Flies hovered and darted around the silver fish.

  Torin spoke to the fisherman, his deep resonant voice washing over her, comforting. It reminded her of her father. Patrick Ryan had spoken Gaelic in moments of tenderness as well as anger, but his voice sounded much different from Torin O’Brien’s rich baritone.

  The fisherman glanced at her, curiosity evident on his unshaven face and in his dark eyes. She took an instinctive step backwards at the man’s attention. The smell of tobacco lingered on his clothing. The familiar odor brought unwanted memories with it. Alaina felt as if something slithered across her skin. She wrapped her arms around herself.