by Henry, Jane
“Good girl,” Carson says gently. “Get some rest. We shouldn’t have to be here much longer.” He sits and takes out his phone. Lachlan paces by the door and Tully stands guard nearby.
I close my eyes, praying that Keenan’s okay, that Nolan’s alright as well. That Maeve and Seamus aren’t injured in whatever happens and trying not to think about the lighthouse on fire. It was my home, but it was also a prison. I don’t know how I feel about it. I must fall asleep, for I wake with a start when I hear Carson talking on the phone.
“Yes, sir. She’s here, sir.”
I sit up, brushing sleep from my eyes, when Carson hands me his phone.
“Someone wants to speak to you.”
“Hello?”
“Caitlin.”
The sound of his voice floods me. “Keenan.” I breathe out a sigh of relief that feels as if it comes from my very toes. “Where are you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he says. “I’m with Sebastian.”
“Are you injured? Did they hurt you? Did you have to kill them?”
His chuckle is like balm to my soul, deep and reassuring. “Easy, lass,” he says. “I’m really and truly fine. Yes, I’ve sustained injuries, but none that won’t heal. Soon as he finishes bandaging me up, I’ll be there.”
He doesn’t answer my question about killing anyone. I don’t know what came over me. He’s told me not to ask too many questions, and it’s best this time if I heed that.
“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks. “Were you hurt at all?”
“No,” I tell him. “I’m fine. Just… worried about… everyone.” Why is it so hard to tell him it’s him I’m worried about?
“Where are you?”
I smile to myself. He was so eager to talk to me he didn’t even ask them where I was.
“In the bunker.”
“Bloody hell,” he mutters. “Dad sent you to the bunker? Good call.” His voice pitches off, and I can tell he’s not talking to me. “Let it go. I want to go to her, and I’m fucking fine. You can shove concussions up yer arse, Sebastian, I’m telling you what—”
They have a heated discussion, but Keenan wins. He always does.
“I’m on my way,” he says. “Be a good lass, now, and do what they tell you, aye?”
I sigh. He’s on his way. My heart swells with anticipation, eager to see him. I give him what I know he wants. “Yes, sir.”
I hand the phone back to Carson, who puts it in his pocket. I get out of bed. I want to look presentable for Keenan, but when I go to the bathroom, I frown. That isn’t going to happen. There’s a scratch along one cheek, and my long, thick hair’s in crazy waves about me. My dress is torn, and I look pale as a mermaid.
“I look like Medusa,” I mutter.
“Well, you don’t act like her, so you’re good,” Lachlan says, making the men laugh.
A few minutes later, the door swings open. I see Cormac, Boner, and then I get to my feet.
“Keenan,” I breathe. He crosses the room to me in three quick strides, pulls me to him, and holds me so tightly I wheeze, gasping for air.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he mutters. “Bloody hell, lass. Y’alright?”
I nod. “I’m fine,” I tell him. “How about you?”
But he ignores my question. He’s running his thumb gingerly along the scrape at my cheek, frowning. He’s a mess. One eye’s swollen shut, his lip’s twice it’s normal size, and there’s a bandage along the side of his head. His arm’s in a sling, and he’s got something wrapped around his torso. He’s got broken bones, no doubt.
“They were looking for the notes from Jack Anderson,” he says, first to me, then he turns to the room. “And they didn’t know about Caitlin, not at first. Seems one of the men who attacked saw and recognized her, though.” He turns to me. “We have to get married. Tomorrow. There’s no time to waste, lass.”
I nod. I can’t leave this brotherhood of fierce warriors, the found family that’s accepted me and welcomed me as their own. I will do what’s right, marry Keenan, become his wife, and ensure the safety of all those around us.
“Aye,” I whisper. “I agree. Just put your mom on the job, and she’ll help me get ready. Too bad you’ll be all banged up for the wedding, but it’s of no consequence. You’ll heal up soon.”
His beautiful green eyes twinkle. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Keenan
We ensure that no one’s tracked us, and that the Martins have been suitably punished. There will be no retaliation this time. Clan laws are clear on an attack like theirs: they apprehended the Captain. The loss of a few of their soldiers in self-defense evens the score. Though I’ve no doubt Mack Martin himself is fuming, he has only himself to blame. It was a grave mistake apprehending me.
But I still worry for Caitlin. Word’s out now that she’s mine, that she’s the spitting image of her mother. She isn’t safe until she’s wed to me, until she bears my name and my ring upon her finger. I even contemplate bringing Finn into the bunker and marrying her here, but my mother loses her mind and won’t allow it.
So I secret her back to the mansion under the watchful eye of my guard.
I’ve got Caitlin in my room, sitting on my lap. Her head rests on my shoulder, and her arms encircle my neck. We don’t speak for long minutes, both of us lost in our thoughts after what’s happened. The last time I was with her, she’d walled herself away from me.
“Caitlin,” I begin, my eyes roaming out the window to where my guard stands watch outside. We’re safe here. Still, I won’t settle until she’s got my ring on her finger.
“Yes?”
I place my knuckle under her chin to bring her eyes to me. “The last time we were together, you were still angry.” I pause. “I punished you.”
She nods. “I’ve forgiven you,” she says simply. “I wasn’t very happy with you.”
“You had reason,” I tell her with a nod. “And I’ll tell you once more, that I’m sorry. I should’ve told you that you weren’t my prisoner and given you the choice.”
She worries her lip, but still looks in my eyes. “If you… if you had it to do over, Keenan,” she says. “Would you do anything differently?”
I think about it for a moment before answering. “I told you I wouldn’t lie, lass. So I’ll have to be honest.”
“Please.”
“No.”
Her musical, ringing laughter takes me by surprise. She takes my fingers from her chin and brings them to her lip, kissing them.
“I’m going to make a bold declaration, Keenan McCarthy,” she says. It’s the first time she’s ever said my full name and God, but I like it.
“Aye?”
“I love you. I love your fierce loyalty and honesty. I love your determination and spirit. And I… I love how you love me. I don’t understand so much, and I know that. I vow that I’m going to do my very best to ensure I learn everything I can. My very best. And I know that love can still grow, and that what I feel now is only… what did we say before… the very seed of love.”
I nod, pulling her to my chest. “Sometimes, sweet Caitlin, circumstances change. People do, too. A month ago, I didn’t know you existed, and now…” his voice trails off, and he weaves his fingers through my hair, playing with a stray strand. “Now I can’t imagine not having you with me. For I love you, too, my sweet fae.”
I know in my heart that this gentler side of him… this fierce, protective side of him that calls me his sweet fae, that holds me to his chest, that promises to slay my dragons and take the very best care of me that a man could… is only for my eyes. No one else sees the fullness of Keenan McCarthy. No one else knows his heart.
“So tell me, Caitlin,” he asks, reaching for my hand. “Up with you a moment, will you?”
I stand in confusion, not sure why he’s gently pushing me off his lap. But when he drops to one knee, I stare in disbelief. He’s ordered me to marry him. He told me I had no choice.
Is he… is he doing what I think he is?
Taking my hand, he looks straight into my eyes. He works his jaw and I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows hard. My fierce warrior is overcome with emotion. I swallow hard, my own emotions mirroring his.
“Sweet Cait, will you have me? I’ve no ring, but I promise you I’ll remedy that.”
“You’re giving me a choice?”
His eyes darken, but there’s a twinkle in them. “Aye,” he says. “A choice, but if you don’t say yes…”
I laugh out loud. He doesn’t need to complete the threat. “Yes,” I say. “I’ll marry you. In fact, why don’t we go ahead and make that happen tomorrow?”
He kisses the back of my hand and gets to his feet.
“An excellent plan,” he says, as if he only just thought it. “One I can absolutely get behind.”
And then he’s stripping my clothes and his and leading me to the bathroom. His mouth is on mine, and his firm hand at the small of my back.
“Please, be careful,” I whisper. “I don’t want you injured anymore.”
“I’ll be careful,” he says. “So careful.”
He turns the stream of water on, and billows of steam quickly fill the room.
“No washing my hair!” I tell him, with a laugh.
“Why not?”
“It’s too thick,” I tell him. “It won’t dry until after the wedding. I’ll braid it.”
“They have things to speed that up, you know,” he says. “Though dammit if I can’t remember what they’re called.”
I laugh, and he spins me around, gathering my hair up. I close my eyes at the feel of him plaiting my hair for me.
“Where’d you learn that trick?” I ask him.
“I’ve many tricks,” he says, with mock offense. “You’ve only seen a few.”
“I’m eager to see the rest,” I say with a coy smile.
“You shall.” He kisses the back of my head and leads me into the shower. We lather each other up, and he takes his time massaging the fullness of my breasts, the swell of my backside, between my thighs. I lather him up as well, careful not to touch his ribs, all wrapped in waterproof bandages.
“I’ll have you again, lass,” he says.
His mouth comes to mine, and I go up on my toes when he kisses me, sighing into his mouth as one of his hands travels between my legs.
“Let’s wait,” I whisper. “Let’s wait until we’re married.”
“Wait?”
“We’re both exhausted after the day, and I want our wedding day to be special,” I tell him. I hate telling him this, for my body’s already in flames, the pulse of desire between my legs relentless.
“I can grant you that,” he says. “But know that once you’re mine, I won’t be holding back.”
I grin. “I’m counting on it.”
“I’ll want you often.”
I nod. “Well, then, that goes both ways, doesn’t it?”
He smiles.
We head back to the room, and I’m surprised to see a silver tray with two fluted glasses and a bottle of wine.
“It’s got a cork,” I say. “How do you open it?”
He spins me around and faces the bottle of wine, his naked chest against my back. “Like this,” he whispers in my ear. The way he holds me to him, his body flush against mine, makes my heart beat faster. I’m hyper aware of his raw, masculine strength, and his hardness pressed up against me. I feel small and quiet, and I’m eager to learn from him.
I watch as he uses a metal contraption to open the bottle of wine and places the cork on the little tray before pouring me a glass.
“Here you go, sweet girl,” he says. “It’ll help you sleep.”
I’m pleasantly sleepy and warmed through with the wine when he leads me to bed, tucks me in, and kisses my cheek before taking another call.
“Sleep, lass,” he whispers. “And tomorrow, we wed.”
I wake the next day to no Keenan. I look about the room, and the only remnants of his being here are the dirty clothes hanging off the side of the clothes hamper, and his empty wine glass next to mine on the tray. I yawn widely, when I notice a note on the bedside table. I can almost hear him reading it in his thick brogue.
Good morning, sweet fae. I won’t see you until we take our vows. I want to ensure your safety today, but my mother will be up shortly to help you prepare.
Tá mo chroí istigh ionat.
Though I feel a sense of loss at his absence, I know today is a special day. I trust that if he has something to do, it’s worth it, and I know beyond question that he’s left me with a sturdy guard in his absence.
A knock comes at the door.
“Hello?”
“It’s Maeve.”
I quickly don my robe and let her in. She’s carrying a silver tray laden with a teapot and scones. Leaning in, she kisses my cheek. She’s dressed in a beautiful navy blue gown that hugs her curves and graces the floor, and when she walks, she swishes.
“You look lovely,” I tell her. “And I’m still in my robe!”
“Tsk,” she says, waving aside my concerns. “I’ve come to get you ready. Now have your breakfast and we’ll get started.” Behind her come several of their servants, and a tall, much younger woman I’ve never met before who’s dressed as impeccably as Maeve. They carry a variety of things, including a dress, that make me quickly lose my taste for my breakfast.
“Caitlin, meet Megan,” she says. “My niece.”
“You’re Keenan’s cousin, then?”
“Aye,” the girl says, grinning at me. She’s got the same eyes as he does, and she’s lovely with her dark, wavy curls and bright pink lips.
“You’re so pretty,” I tell her, not knowing if it’s an appropriate thing to say or not. “Pretty as a picture.”
She grins and turns to Maeve. “You’re right. She’s a charming little thing, isn’t she, though?”
“I—I’m sorry, I don’t know the right thing to say sometimes,” I begin, but Megan shakes her head.
“Aw, no. Don’t you go apologizing for being who you are. It’s why my cousin loves you, you know. And please don’t ever apologize for paying me a compliment!”
“Oh, Maeve,” I say, looking with concern at the dress, my appetite for the scones I normally love evaporating.
“What is it, lass?” she asks.
“I can’t… how am I… what am I supposed to do? How can I do this?”
She smiles at me and reaches for my hand. “It’s very simple, sweetheart. You just say I do.”
“You make it sound easy,” I mutter, pulling my hand away and beginning to pace. “And I—there’s so much… I mean I—”
She suddenly goes wide-eyed and brings her hand to her mouth. “Oh, sweet Jesus,” she says, and I look at her in surprise. “Are you afraid of giving him virginity, lass? I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. Locked away in the lighthouse like that, you’ve never even—”
I shake my head, my cheeks on fire.
“I… um… oh, goodness,” I squeak. “No, I’m not worried about that. We’ve, um, well I—” how am I supposed to tell his mother I’m not a virgin anymore?
She takes one look at my flustered face, throws her head back, and laughs so hard I can’t help but join her.
“Seems you’ve got nothing to worry about, then.”
“Please, God, no,” I tell her. “He’s your son, so if there’s anything else I need to know—”
“You ask me,” Megan says, giving me a wink and cracking her gum. “Alright?”
“Alright,” I agree. I take in a deep breath.
“Now,” Megan says. “On with your dress.”
I keep my back to the wall and quickly undress, slipping into my undergarments. If they notice the marks he left, they don’t bat an eyelash. I’m grateful for the women of The Clan who know what these men are like. Something tells me I’ll be glad of their company soon enough.
I stand like a mannequin, lettin
g them dress me, fix my hair, and slide on the prettiest glossy shoes I’ve ever seen.
“Mother of God, if she isn’t the prettiest bride that ever lived,” Megan says enthusiastically, clapping her hands with glee. “She’s gorgeous.”
I look at myself in the mirror, not recognizing the woman who stares back at me. My hair’s plaited and woven onto my head, pinned up with little flowers and gems. A gauzy veil hangs down to my elbows. They’ve done my makeup, and my eyes look brighter, my cheeks flushed, my lips full and pink. But the dress. The satin white dress is simple but elegant, the top of the bodice held up with thin straps. The bodice itself glitters with rhinestones, sequins, and iridescent beads to a high waist, and full skirt.
“I love this dress,” Megan says. “’Tis a Georgette maxi skirt and hand-beaded bodice. It makes you look like a princess.”
“How did you get this so quickly?”
Megan giggles. “We’ve connections, you know.”
Don’t I know it.
I spin around in front of the mirror, when Megan hands me a bouquet of white roses.
“We’ve no time to waste, Caitlin,” she says.
Maeve is on her phone, waving us along. “We do have to go,” she says. “He’s going to lose his mind, that son of mine.”
“My goodness,” is all I can reply. But I know that time is of the essence, that I’m to marry him quickly if we’re to secure the safety of all. They open the door to the bedroom and usher me out, and half a dozen armed men stand outside my door. Gone are the friendly expressions, every one of these men wearing the stern, hardened faces of soldiers.
Our procession is a somber one with our guard marching beside us, but Megan tries to make small talk. Maeve laughs at her jokes, but I can tell she’s concerned as well.
“Where are we taking our vows?”
“By the garden,” Maeve says. “It’s a beautiful spring morning, and we want your vows to be publicly witnessed. They must be, to spread the word far and wide, and quickly. Father Finn’s there, as well as Keenan, and the rest of The Clan.”
