Free To Tempt an Irish Rogue by Kaitlin O'Riley Page A

condensation. Over and over she blew her warm breath on the glass, and drew patterns until they faded quickly and she had to begin again.
    She mostly drew faces. Two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. Sometimes the face smiled. Sometimes it didn’t. She didn’t know why, except that’s what she always drew.
    A big golden moon was rising in the sky. It was the biggest moon Mara had ever seen in her whole life. Captivated by the beauty of it, she stopped drawing faces on the glass and leaned her forehead against the cool pane. She stared at the giant orb glowing in the night. So far away. So far from anything she had ever known. She guessed the moon was as close to heaven as one could possibly get.
    Everyone told her Mama was in heaven. Could Mama jump on the moon from heaven? Was Mama up there now, searching for her? She could barely remember what Mama looked like anymore. She just had images, a rose scent and silver blond hair. She had gone away such a long time ago. But Mara still missed her, still wanted her.
    But thinking of Mama brought back ugly images of the last time she saw her. And Mara hated to think of the evening that gave her nightmares. It was too terrifying. The all-consuming fear and dread. Voices shouting in anger. Papa’s voice calling for her. Sickening black smoke. The blistering heat. The brilliant flames and crackling wood. The agonizing screams.
    Mama’s screams.
    Tears welled in her eyes and she pulled away from the window and the big glowing moon. Where was Papa?
    Then she heard his voice and her heart leapt. Papa was home! He’d come back to her.
    “Good evening, Mrs. Martin. How was she today?”
    “The same, Lord Cashelmore. She’s the most obedient child I’ve ever laid eyes on. She didn’t eat much tonight, but she hasn’t eaten more than a few mouthfuls of anything since I’ve been with you. But as I always say, children will eat when they’re hungry.”
    The blue flower pattern forgotten, Mara fairly flew across the carpet and flung herself into her father’s arms.
    He laughed in surprise, but he lifted her in his strong arms and held her tight. “My goodness, Mara, darlin’!”
    “I’ll leave you two alone for a bit.” Mrs. Martin excused herself from the nursery.
    Mara clung to Papa, breathing in the familiar scent of him, and buried her head in his neck. He patted her back as he rocked her in the way that she liked. He carried her over to the window seat and sat down, resting Mara on his lap.
    “What is it, darlin’?”
    She stared into his eyes and touched his cheek with her fingers. His cheek was scratchy against her hand, but she liked that feeling.
    “Did you think I wasn’t coming back?”
    She nodded.
    “Mara, I will always be here for you.” He gave her a squeeze and kissed the top of her head.
    Now that Papa was home, her fear abated somewhat.
    “Were you crying? Don’t cry, Mara. Look,” he said, pointing out the window. “Have you seen the moon? Look how grand it is.”
    Mara had already seen the moon. She only wanted to be with Papa now. She pressed her forehead against his.
    “Ah, darlin’ . . . Why won’t you talk to me?”
    She always felt bad when he asked her this. It was not as though she didn’t want to talk to Papa. She simply could not. No matter how hard she tried. Every time she attempted to speak, it felt like a giant hand gripped her. Cold and icy, its fingers closed tightly around her chest, pulling and drawing her down. She could not speak. The words simply wouldn’t come out anymore.
    They were gone and she couldn’t find them. The words were lost and scrambled in her head and she couldn’t make sense of them. She was too afraid of what would happen if she ever did make sense of them. Too afraid of what she might say.
    Papa held her tight and that helped her feel safe. She rested her head on his chest, her eyes growing sleepy as Papa rocked her.
    “One day you’ll talk again, Mara. I know you will,” he whispered. “I know you