by Henry, Jane
When she opens her eyes, the distance of this morning has fled. “Welcome home, Keenan,” she says pleasantly, in her clear, lilting voice. She falters, as if she doesn’t know what to say next, then, “You’ve lovely parents.”
My mother grins, and I blink in surprise. “Do I? Don’t believe anyone’s ever called me dad lovely. Mam, yeah, but dad, now that’s a new one.”
Caitlin flushes madly and bites her lip. “Did I say something wrong?” she asks. “I don’t know—”
I shake my head and take her hand. “No. You don’t censor your speech and most of the time that’s adorable.”
My mother breathes out a sigh of relief, as if she’s held her breath waiting for my response. “You talked to your father, then, son?”
I nod.
“I did. This weekend, Caitlin and I will travel to Saint Albert’s. When we return, I want to make arrangements, but let me discuss them with the lass, yeah?”
My mother blinks, then beams at me. “Certainly. Oh, yes, certainly, Keenan.”
Caitlin looks back and forth between the two of us, as if trying to decipher what we’re talking about.
“Níl leigheas ar an ngrá ach pósadh,” my mother says, her eyes bright. I roll my eyes.
“You and dad are eerily alike, you know that?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Caitlin says.
“I’ll explain in private,” I say to her.
But will I? What will I say to her? How will I propose? I don’t have a romantic bone in my body. The only way of communicating is with orders and commands, and I could try to order the girl to marry me, but would that work?
“Okay,” she says brightly. “In private, then.”
Chapter Sixteen
Caitlin
He holds me to his side with purpose, and I wonder if he’ll punish me when he has me alone. He clearly enjoys the job, and at times he’s given me reason to sort of enjoy it myself as well. Isn’t that unusual, though? For someone to enjoy being punished? It’s deviant behavior, I have no doubt, and I wonder if my naiveté is to blame. Does he take advantage of me?
Of course he does.
Then why does a part of me crave this? His stern correction and demeanor, the way he’s utterly focused on only me.
When his father and mother came to me and instructed me to come with them, I protested at first.
“Keenan said not to leave,” I told them, knowing full well I’m expected to obey him. They assured me it was fine, though. Maybe I shouldn’t have believed them. I don’t know what to expect when I return to the large house with him.
We go to the room, now fully lit with the midday sun, a tray of lunch foods waiting for us on the little desk. He strides into the room, sits at the chair, and tugs me onto his lap sideways, so my legs dangle from one side. He’s large and sturdy beneath me, and the intimacy makes me feel small and quiet.
“Now, lass,” he says, his voice gentler than I expected. I look at him expectantly, feeling only minor trepidation at what is to be my lecture, or… or something. He tucks me against one arm, and with his free hand, cups my jaw, coaxing my gaze to his. His warm, inviting scent, so masculine yet classy, makes me sigh into him.
“Caitlin, I know you were given instructions by my parents today, so this one day I’ll allow this to slide.” I swallow. Okay, then. Seems I avoided a minor catastrophe. “And I’ll speak to them of this privately as well.”
“Yes, sir.” I don’t know what else to say. “I do enjoy your mother.”
He smiles but he’s distracted. “Aye. And she enjoys you as well. In fact, I think she—”
But his phone rings. He groans, his brows snap together, and he whips his phone out of his pocket as if it’s betrayed him, glaring at the screen. He answers it, listens, then shakes his head. “I’ve got to answer this call,” he says. “Stay here and behave yourself. Eat your food.”
He leaves. He just leaves, that quickly. That suddenly. I busy myself with eating. I’m not lonely, but I miss him. And I felt as if he had something important to say to me.
Does a man like him ever settle down? Or is he destined to always answer the call, whenever he’s bidden.
I expect him back that evening, but he doesn’t return until the sun is rising on a new day. When he comes back, he’s weary but not drunk this time. I watch from my cocoon of covers as he undresses and prepares for bed, slides in next to me, and is fast asleep before he’s barely touched the pillow. He rises a few hours later and is gone again.
This goes on for two more days, me occupying myself in his room, food brought on trays. He’s had to postpone his trip to the school that he mentioned, but he doesn’t tell me why. His absence doesn’t bother me as it might bother others. I’m used to confinement and my own company. But I do miss him. I wish for something, anything at all that would give me some kind of morsel of his attention, but there’s nothing but his utter exhaustion and pervading absence. He replaces my phone that broke. I’m not very interested in using it, though.
When he finally comes back to me, I rise from where I’m reading to greet him, but when he steps into the room, his phone rings. He curses. Someone comes in behind him and slides a tray of food onto the table.
“What is it?” he snaps. He listens, and within seconds his brows draw closer together, and his gaze darkness. My heartbeat quickens watching the rapid, terrifying transformation. I must never forget that this man does wicked things I don’t know the half of. Not yet.
Here we go again.
“Motherfucker. I’ll kill the motherfucking bastards,” he growls. He clenches his phone so tightly his knuckles whiten, before he goes deadly calm. “Tell me everything.”
He stares at me, but doesn’t see me, his focus cast afar as he listens to the details. I watch his lips thin and his body tighten, and for that one brief moment, he looks like a man possessed. I don’t want to ever incite anger in him like this. I shiver in fear, wondering what horror that’s being relayed to draw out such rage in him.
“I’ll go now.” Then his gaze snaps to me. “Bloody hell,” he mutters. “Can’t leave the girl here, she isn’t safe. No. I don’t trust them. I don’t fucking trust anyone. I’ll take her tonight. Bring in our strongest guard and order them to arrive by nightfall.”
He hangs up his phone, curses again, and runs his hand through his dark brown hair. I want to soothe him, to somehow bring calm to the storm that rages within him. But I don’t speak. I don’t move. I wait for instruction.
I wonder if waiting on him helps or hinders. Does he need to know that I won’t leave? I couldn’t if I wanted to, but right now, that doesn’t matter.
He turns to me, as if just seeing me.
I’m not allowed to ask him what happened or what happens next, this much I know. He doesn’t speak at first, then runs his fingers on his phone, and I see words appearing. Texting, I think he calls it. He’s done this before, summoning someone who works for him. Pointing distractedly at the table, he waves an impatient hand at the tray.
“Eat. We’re leaving here within the hour and won’t have time to eat again until this evening.”
Trembling, I pull out a chair and eat without thinking, not tasting any of the food. It’s hard to swallow, my mouth is that dry, but I do what he says until my belly’s full. He opens the door to his room a moment later when someone knocks, and several servants come in with luggage bags. They rifle through the things that Maeve bought me, and I watch in fascination as they pack my clothing and the items I’ve stored in the bathroom efficiently. Next they pack his things.
I want to ask him questions, but I know he doesn’t want to speak right now, and he’s asked me not to question him before. Whatever he heard on the phone troubles him, and he’s doing what he thinks best. He walks up behind me and drapes his arms around me from behind, before he leans down and whispers in my ear. “You’re a good lass. You’ve not asked questions. I’ll remember this. It shows you trust me, or at the very least you’re le
arning your place. I’ll explain on the way.”
“Are you going to eat?” I ask him, pointing to the half tray of food that remains. He looks at the tray of food as if he’s surprised it’s there, before he leans in and kisses my forehead. Does my concern touch him?
“I’ll eat later.”
We leave and head to a car that waits, our bags in the back of the car. Keenan meets with Cormac and Nolan on the front steps, both men carrying bags as well. “More news?” Nolan asks. He’s as sober as I’ve ever seen him, which troubles me, the jovial, boyish look gone, his lips thinned, pinched together.
Keenan relays information to them in a hushed whisper, so I don’t hear. Cormac’s eyes darken, and Nolan’s hands clench into fists. Nolan curses, and Cormac looks ready to murder someone. I’m dying to know what happened that got them in such a rage. It’s hard not to ask questions. What would cause such anger in them?
He’s gone on errands, one after the other, and I’ve never seen him behave like this before.
All around us, men are getting into cars and on motorbikes, and Keenan’s shouting directions. They’re moving en masse, not even bothering to hide the fact that they’re holding weapons of every shape and size. I catch glimpses of guns and knives, tucked into harnesses and belts and boots, when Maeve trots down the flight of stairs and joins her sons on the stairs. I look up to see Keenan’s father at the very top.
“You’ll stay here, then,” Keenan shouts to his father, and I realize it’s an order, not a question. His father doesn’t answer at first, and Keenan continues. “You’ll need to be here in case it’s a decoy.”
His father nods. “Aye. You bringing the lass?”
Keenan’s eyes swing to me. “Absolutely.”
His father holds his gaze for a moment before he nods, and I know once more it’s a concession of sorts. Keenan said he doesn’t trust me to be safe here. He wants to keep me safe himself. Are we going into danger, then?
Maeve hugs her boys and bids them farewell, then turns quickly as if she doesn’t trust herself not to cry. I feel as if she’s sending them off to war, as if they’ve enlisted in the military and may not return home. I wonder what it’s like for her, knowing the dangerous lives they lead. Bidding them farewell.
And then he’s coming to me, sliding into the car, and we’re peeling off with the crew of his men surrounding us. One man on either side of the car rides a motorbike, and I realize we’re being led by a brigade of sorts, flanked on all sides.
Keenan sighs, and shakes his head. “Even now,” he says, “Even now, you don’t ask questions.” But his tone tells me he’s pleased.
“I assume you’ll tell me when it’s time,” I say softly. Do I trust him so soon?
“We’ve a finishing school,” he says. “A boarding school at the foot of the mountains we all attended. The school is run mostly by women who’re affiliated with our Clan.”
“I don’t know who your Clan is, Keenan,” I remind him. “You haven’t told me.”
For some reason, he doesn’t hesitate. “We’re one of the largest organized crime rings in all of Ireland,” he says. I don’t flinch or act in surprise, for I knew something like this had to be the case.
“Okay,” I say hesitantly. “I figured as much.”
He smiles. “Just when I think you can’t surprise me anymore,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Alright, so we’ve got a school to prepare our boys to become vowed brothers in our Clan.”
I nod. “Aye.”
That makes him grin, “You’ve learned our trick of speech,” he says on a chuckle.
My cheeks heat. “Well. It’s hard not to,” I say, feeling my brows knit together. Is it okay that I sometimes speak like he or Maeve does?
He only gives my cheek a quick pinch. “You’re sweet, lass.” My heart flutters. “Anyhow, I was planning on bringing you with me here sooner, but I had business to tend to that took precedence.” His eyes cloud over, and he doesn’t tell me what that business is. “But something’s made our visit to St. Albert’s much more pressing.”
I nod. “Can you tell me what that is, or no?”
He takes my hand. “There’ve been attacks on the teachers who run our school,” he says. “Several. We think it’s likely retaliation of some sort, but we don’t know yet why or how they’ve gotten there.”
“Oh.” My stomach twists with nausea. I don’t like the sound of this at all, not one bit.
“Has anyone been hurt?”
He nods gravely. “Very much so.”
“Oh,” I repeat sadly. “Any of the children?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “But several of our female teachers have been hurt, and it’s our job to find out who did this.”
I finish for him. “And retaliate.”
He holds my gaze for long minutes before he squeezes my hand. “Aye.”
It takes us only about half an hour to arrive at the school. Similar to the mansion where they reside, this school is encircled with a large, heavy gate, and security cameras, but this building isn’t as opulent as their residence.
“How did anyone unwelcome penetrate a place like this?” I ask curiously.
He wags a finger in my direction. “Good question. Very good question, indeed.”
“Had to have been someone inside, then?” I suggest.
He nods. “I think the same. Someone got into the knickers of a teacher, who let someone in. Someone untrustworthy,”
I frown. “That would be terrible,” I tell him. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”
“Why indeed,” he mutters, and his eyes shutter. “Now no more questions, lass.” He’s answered more than I expected.
I sit quietly, easily falling into silence that I’m comfortable with. When we arrive, it’s unlike it is at his home. There are no servants come to take our things, but rather guards at the gate. The men take their own bags and traipse up the hill to what looks like a big entryway door. As we arrive, young men watch from afar as we enter, sturdy, fearless teenaged boys with the look of both youth and responsibility lining their faces. One boy looks like the clear leader of the rest, tall, with a barrel-like chest and a booming voice.
“What’s the craic?” he says to Nolan, jerking his chin in greeting. “Come to investigate, have you?”
Nolan nods soberly, and I think the most disconcerting part of all of this is how serious Nolan is. I’ve never seen him look like that.
Keenan turns to the tallest boy and nods. The boy looks a bit abashed, as if he knows who Keenan is and doesn’t quite know how to respond.
“Grady,” Keenan greets. “Alert Malachy we’ve arrived, will you?”
The boy nods eagerly. “Yessir,” he says, taking off a trot. Keenan gestures for another boy. I watch, mesmerized, as they all obey his command. “Lachlan, I’d be remiss if we didn’t chat while I’m here. Be prepared to come when I summon you, aye?”
“Aye, sir,” the boy says, looking both proud and a bit nervous. He swallows.
Keenan commands this small army as well.
We enter the building and go to a vacant room on the first floor, a small room with a queen-sized bed, a toilet behind a small door, and a tiny sitting area. Keenan smirks. “And this is the largest of the lot.”
“It’s big enough,” I say with a shrug. To my surprise, he spins me around and pulls me to his chest, burying his face in my hair and breathing in deeply. He does this sometimes, as if breathing me in cleanses, or somehow gives him strength. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. But I easily meld to his embrace and lay my head on his chest.
He doesn’t speak at first, just holding me. I hold him back, wrapping my arms around his sturdy body and allowing him to breathe me in.
“I’ve missed you,” I whisper truthfully.
He nods. “Thank you for that. You’ve no idea what it’s like to come home to you. You breathe life back into me when the day’s drained it from my very limbs.”
I look up at him, at the bright intensity
of his eyes, and rest my hand against the stubble on his cheek.
“That might be the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
He smiles at that, his eyes crinkling at the edges and the corners of his beautiful mouth quirking up. “I can do better than that,” he says. “I’ve a question for you, Caitlin. Something that’s been pressing on me since that day I found you in the garden.”
I hold his eyes, preparing myself for whatever it may be. In this short span of time, I’ve grown to love the honesty between us, the unquenchable flame that flares to life when we draw near to one another. I feel it now, the pull in my gut that consumes me when he’s near.
“Alright, then,” I say simply. “Have at it. But I’ll have you answer a question for me as well.”
“That isn’t how we play this game,” he says, but his eyes are twinkling for a moment before he sobers. “My question, lass. If you knew that your safety and the safety of others was contingent on your being my wife, would you do it?”
I’m so astounded at the monumental question; I stare at him in stunned silence.
Marry this beautiful, brutal, vicious man?
“Would I… would I have a choice?” I ask. Though he’s tender with me, I’m still his prisoner, and I can’t forget that.
I watch his eyes grow cloudy for a moment, and a muscle ticks in his jaw before he responds.
“No.”
“Well, then, why ask? You have your answer,” I say, my heart sinking at his response. “But it wouldn’t be for love,” I say stoutly. I try to pull away, but he won’t allow it, his grip on me tightening. He pulls me closer to him, so that my body is flush against his, and I can see the little flecks of gold in the intensity of his eyes. I’m reminded immediately of how strong he is, how easily he could hurt me.
“It never is,” he says tightly. “Never.”
“Is that right? You’re the expert on this?” I throw back at him, unable to stop myself.
“A naïve, innocent virgin like you is?” he says. The barb stings more than it should, more than I like to admit. “You watch that smart mouth of yours.”
