The Shamrock & the Rose by Regan Walker Read Free Book Online Page B

his life? He could not
explain it, but he knew that Rose Collingwood, the woman who’d
traveled all this distance to “become” Portia, was she. There were
many things about the blonde beauty that drew him, not the least of
which was her independent attitude, quick mind and desire to make
more of herself than most women. She had courage. It mattered less
and less that she was English. Lord, how he wanted her. But he had
to convince this English daughter of a baron to marry an Irish
barrister, probably over her family’s objections.
    She was definitely compromised. It was only
a matter of time before the story circulated; Roger had told him
that Alvanley began blubbering about an English rose on an Irish
horse while foxed at White’s the evening of their ride in the park,
singing a little ditty he thought quite funny, which if one knew
the incident was quite damning.
    He’d enjoyed Rose’s performance this night,
once again captivated by her talent, but he’d left early to stand
at his current post to be sure he caught her as she left. Glancing
at the clouds overhead, he hoped she came out before the
threatening rain finally fell.
    The stage door opened, and several cast
members departed laughing about some scene or another. Rose was not
among them, so Morgan continued to wait. The alley was soon quiet
and deserted again, all except for the waiting footman. The door
opened and Rose stepped out, a swath of light from the entrance
falling on the alley for a brief moment before the door shut behind
her. Lifting the hood of her cloak, she approached the waiting
servant.
    Morgan had nearly reached them when a dark
figure crept from the shadows and lifted what appeared to be a
cudgel. Rose screamed, the cudgel fell and the footman crumpled to
the ground. The dark figure grabbed Rose’s hand and uttered words
that made Morgan think him deranged.
    “Aye, a fine replacement for me lost Sarah.
The same—”
    Morgan tore her assailant’s hand from Rose,
causing him to turn. He threw his fist into the man’s face and was
surprised when the blackguard fought back. Fists like a
dockworker’s, huge and callused, slammed into Morgan’s ribs. He
grimaced at the pain but was ready for more. The two grappled, each
trying to gain mastery.
    “No!” Rose shouted as the blackguard landed
another punch, and she hit him in the head with her small fists. It
was enough to knock the man sideways, and Morgan seized the
advantage to regain his balance. A moment later the villain reached
into the pocket of his cloak.
    “Rose, stand aside!” Morgan yelled. He had
seen the glint in the dark figure’s hand, and now he circled
carefully, avoiding his foe’s quick slashes with a knife. Given
those dark, menacing eyes and that fixed jaw, Morgan could tell the
man knew how to wield the weapon.
    But Morgan had grown up in the neighborhoods
of Killarney, and notwithstanding his educated family he had
acquired skills by sparring with his brothers and cousins as well
as boxing for sport. Holding his hands wide, he feinted right then
left, appearing to reach for the knife and confusing his attacker.
Then a sharp kick from his boot knocked the blade from the man’s
hand and Morgan flew at his disarmed foe with his fists, knocking
him to the ground and not stopping until his enemy lay still.
    Panting from the exertion, Morgan leaned
back on his heels. From behind him Rose exclaimed, “You
were…magnificent!”
    Rising, Morgan took her in his arms. “Are
you all right?”
    “Yes, I think so.” Her words belied her
shaking.
    “You’re safe now, Rose,” he said, drawing
her close and kissing her temple. “You’re safe.”
    “Oh, Morgan, if you hadn’t been here… It was
so terrifying! And you…you saved me!”
    The possibility the man could have abducted
her was a kick to the gut. Morgan didn’t want to think about losing
her to anyone, let alone a madman. He would marry this woman and
keep her safe; their families’ prejudices be