To Love A Wild Irishman

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Cassandra felt as if she had been run over by a runaway stagecoach. Her hip was killing her and her ribs ached with every breath from smacking against the woodpile. Her arm ached from being jerked around and her face felt raw. Add to that her sheer exhaustion caused by nightmares keeping her up all night and Cassandra had never felt worse in all her life.

She was beginning to think she had made a mistake in leaving home. Should she simply return back to her mother and father and beg their forgiveness? The sunlight streaming through the window and hitting her face told her that it was already later than she had wanted to sleep but she couldn't seem to force herself from the bed.

She hoped Seamus had finally realized she wasn't going to talk to him and left town. She didn't want to see him. He had broken her heart years ago and instead of coming back to her or even sending her letters he had spent all his time trying to kill her best friend, his little brother, Finnegan.

Cassandra groaned and pulled the stiff covers over her head as she thought of Finnegan. His boyish good looks, dimples, stubble, deep brown eyes and thick curly hair..... The man was undeniably charming and had a way about him that simply drew people in—but he wasn't the man she had thought he would be.

Whether he would admit it now or not he had hated his father as a child. So many evenings he had confided in Cassandra about the way the man made his mother suffer and the way he caused them to go hungry so often and he would carry on about how he didn't understand why the man was the way he was.

'It's because I'm Irish!' his father would assure them all as if that made up for everything.. and now Finnegan was exactly the same and no doubt using the exact same excuse for all his bad decisions.

A knock came to her door and Cassandra rolled her eyes. Seamus was relentless. Why did the man act as if he cared now after so long without a word?

"Go away," she called out, keeping her covers pulled over her head.

"Little Cass, please let me in. Ya can't say no to your ol' pal, Finn."

Cassandra smiled and then cursed herself. She should hate him. He had abandoned her for a painted whore and she'd nearly been raped because of it.... He was immature, impulsive and never knew when to walk away from things that were bad for him. So why then did that smile continue to try to pull at her lips just knowing he was outside her room... knowing he was standing there with that infectious smile made her heart swell and she hated herself for it.

Apparently she was just as addicted to Finnegan as he was to whiskey and whores. She was in for one hell of a long road of heartache because whether he deserved it or not, Cassandra had faith in Finnegan.

"Go away, Finn. I'll be out shortly and we'll leave."

"Little Cass, Little Cass, let me in," he plead in a sing song voice.

Cassandra smiled and pulled her blankets tighter around her, "Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin."

"Are ya sportin' a beard now, Cass?" Finnegan teased.

Cassandra heard something scraping against the lock of her door, "Finn, what are you doing?" she demanded and then she heard her door open.

"I picked your lock, o'course," Finnegan's voice was in the room now and Cassandra heard the door close once again. "Will ya look at me please, Little Cass? Ya paint a fine picture of the morn and I'd love to see it."

"Stop trying to charm me, Finn. I'm not one of your women."

"Aye," Finn sounded thoughtful and his voice was close now. If Cassandra had to guess she would say he was bent low beside her bed. "You are so much more than that, Cassandra."