The Duke’s Champion (The Duke’s Guard, Bk 13)
©C.H. Admirand February 2025
Excerpt from Chapter One
“I haven’t been meself for the last few weeks. I’m not used to being idle. I hate being left out. I need to be in the thick of things.”
Sean clapped a hand to Flaherty’s shoulder. “Out of all of us who’ve been injured, ye think I don’t understand? I nearly lost me arm to infection, after having it flayed open to the bone.”
“But ye didn’t, thanks to yer lovely wife, and our cousin Emmett the healer.”
“Aye, and Lieutenant Sampson and Dr. McIntyre.” Sean gave a brief nod, then left.
Flaherty watched him leave and guilt assailed him. He should admit to taking advantage of Georgiana’s attention. Being shot in the back, while protecting her, shouldn’t be held over her head. If he hadn’t lost so much time recovering from wound fever, he might have confessed his small mindedness sooner. His thoughts drifted to a fiery-haired lass and wondered why Mary Kate had not come to see him after he’d been shot. He’d been courting the woman, and by all counts she was besotted with him.
Flaherty closed his eyes and swore, the lass had a perverse way of showing it. “I need to get back to work.” He needed to forget the faithless lass with the bewitching eyes. Concentrate on his duties. “’Tis what I signed on for.” He thought of his cousins’ wives and marveled that every one of them had been unafraid to go toe-to-toe with the men they married whenever they thought they were right. What a sight that had been!
“The lot of them are beautiful and stubborn to the bone.” His thoughts immediately went to the woman he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of while recovering. The fever held him in its grip longer than he anticipated. Bloody hell! He’d even dreamed Mary Kate had been beside him, but it must have been the fever overheating his brainbox. Flaherty had been weak as a babe those first few days after his fever broke. Well he was hale and hearty now, and had made up his mind to confront her. He decided it was past time to ask Sean for the time away from his duties to pay her a visit. She’d taunted him in his delirium—and in his sleep. It gutted him that the his woman always claimed James Garahan was the man who’d saved her life. When would Mary Kate remember the far more dramatic rescue the day Flaherty had pulled Mary Kate and Lady Calliope, Viscountess Chattsworth, from the duke’s carriage? It had slid on ice, and tipped over onto its side, just a half a mile from Chattsworth Manor.
Mary Kate was a winsome lass, with blue-violet eyes, a sunshine smile, and lips as red as a rose. Soft and supple, just ripe for kissing. But women were fickle creatures at best. “Bloody hell.” Why had she deserted him in his time of need if she loved him? A devastating thought occurred… The lass was still in love with Garahan! Had she ever loved me?
The last time Mary Kate showed up at Lippincott Manor, he’d just had two lead balls dug out of his hide. Thank the Lord, it had been his upper back, and not lower where it could have lodged in something important like his heart or a lung. Or lower still…in a kidney! Otherwise, he might not be standing here contemplating what he wanted to say to the beautiful lass.
He could not decide if Mary Kate was a temptress, wrapped up in curves that had his hands clenching, and his fingers itching to get a hold of her again, or an angel. The last time he’d kissed the lass had been at Grosvenor Square. His gut clenched remembering the feel and taste of her mouth. It had been a sumptuous feast fit for a starving man. ’Twas shortly after James Garahan had rescued the lovely Melinda Waring—whom he married. Flaherty had been jealous of Garahan, at the time, wondering if Mary Kate still carried feelings for his cousin. He’d wanted her to remember that she’d been casting her lures Flaherty’s way before they traveled to the duke’s London town house. When he’d finally caught her alone in the hallway by the kitchen, Flaherty demanded her attention with a kiss that had her melting against him. Her response ignited his passion. God help him, when she kissed him back, his eyes had crossed! Even now, he broke out into a sweat recalling the heat of the fire that burned within him.
Flaherty frowned, the rumors began not long after he’d been assigned to Lippincott Manor, and Mary Kate had remained at the neighboring estate, Chattsworth Manor. Sly talk soon followed, revolving around Mary Kate haunting the stables whenever the new farrier arrived to tend to the horses. Flaherty scoffed, in his opinion, the man was too puny to shoe horses for a living. Flaherty raked a hand through his hair, and winced as the movement stretched the healing wounds in his back. He had best remember to duck the next time some blackguard shot at him.
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