The Duke's Saber (The Duke’s Guard Book 7) by C.H. Admirand

The Duke's Saber (The Duke’s Guard Book 7) by C.H. Admirand

Author:C.H. Admirand [Admirand, C.H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, romance, Historical
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2023-12-20T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter Sixteen

A few days later, O’Ghill was cursing O’Malley. He should have been dining at the vicarage—or even the kitchen at Summerfield Chase. He didn’t mind manual labor, but he hated being told to find work. Especially when one of the sainted O’Malleys gave the order. He quickly learned that he’d not be seeking a job as apprentice to a blacksmith again anytime soon. “Faith, how do ye stand the heat from the forge, Coleman?”

The blacksmith grinned. “You become accustomed to it. It’s the only job I’ve ever known. I took over for my father when he injured his back.”

Moving past the discomfort of the heat, O’Ghill set his mind on the current task, using the gigantic bellows to fan the burning coals.

“That’ll do it, O’Ghill.” Coleman glanced over his shoulder and said, “See that bucket on the wall?”

“Aye.”

“Take it over to the rain barrel, fill it, and dunk your head in it.”

The Irishman laughed. “Me ma often told me to do the same whenever I was feeling full of meself, antagonizing me brothers. I learned not long after, soaking yer head cools it. Though to be honest, I’d rather use me fists.”

Coleman nodded. “I’ve been known to go a few rounds with the duke’s guard. Have you met any of the men yet? They’re on assignment to protect Baron and Baroness Summerfield. I can put in a good word for you, if you think you’d like to try bare-knuckle fighting.”

O’Ghill nearly snorted with laughter, but if he did, he might give away the fact that he more than knew the men—he was related to the lot of them! “Ye don’t say? Work for a duke, do they? How many men are we talking about? I’m feeling stronger, having been working beside ye for a few days.”

Coleman chuckled as plunged the last of the horseshoes into a bucket of water beside his anvil. “Three Irishmen. Likeable, though I recently was led to believe otherwise about one of the men.”

“Oh?” O’Ghill wondered if he’d finally hear something he could report back to his cousins. He paused before pouring the bucket of water over his head, having gauged the size of the receptacle against his head and judging it too tight a fit.

Coleman wiped the sweat from his eyes with the back of his forearm. From the expression on the man’s face, O’Ghill sensed he’d be hearing about the rumors that had yet to die down by now. Garahan had already spoken to the parents of the two young women he was rumored to have accosted. The lasses maintained the events never happened, and they had never even met Garahan before. Their parents believed them, yet the bloody rumors persisted.

“Ye cannot always trust what ye hear. ’Tis a lesson I learned as a lad.” O’Ghill did not want to talk about his O’Malley uncles who’d been falsely accused and arrested. They had been cleared of any wrongdoing, but one uncle died in his brother’s arms the night before they were released from prison.



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