by Alta Hensley
Livestock of cows, sheep, and horses were scattered along the land for as far as I could see. I noticed the remnants of a huge garden in the backyard, though the fence around it was barely intact. I could do a lot with that garden. The sight of a large well to the right of the garden had me wondering how many coins had been tossed into its depths.
Wishes made.
Wishes granted.
If I made a wish of freedom, would it ever come true?
Even if the wishes purchased by those coins were left ungranted, at least the source of our water was close by. I pulled back and shut the window. While I had to agree I’d never seen a more pristine piece of land, and would admit I could easily visualize all that could be grown on it, I doubted life with the O’Shea brothers was going to be a piece of cake, no matter what they promised me.
Part of the family… fuck that.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I should have been terrified and desperately planning my escape, but I’d never been one to waste time lamenting things that could not be changed. For right now at least, I needed to accept. My life depended on it.
Hell, my sanity depended on it.
If I’d come here of my own volition, the idea of starting a new life, of working with others to bring this farm, this land back to its full potential would have intrigued me. The thought of spending time with Alana was captivating as well. The young woman had an innocence, a joy in life that was refreshing. And the thought of each of the brothers… well, the thought of those assholes confused me. Most of the time, I wanted to strangle the men. I knew I should want to see them rot in jail for what they’d done to me. I should want nothing more than to see them pay. Yet, when I remembered the kiss, the touches, just a hand on my thigh or a lust-filled glare, I couldn’t help but crave more. The more animalistic they behaved, the more I seemed drawn to them. To each one of them.
Each one of them I craved.
Not one.
Four.
If I was honest, I enjoyed sparring with the arrogant assholes. While they hadn’t harmed me, I knew what they were capable of. No, it wouldn’t do to push them too far. I rode a fine line.
They were men of their words. I knew this. And if I did anything at all to have Alana see them in the fucked-up light they deserved to be seen in… they would kill me. Their love for Alana would force them to do that. I wasn’t foolish enough to think otherwise.
I should hate them. Fear them. Want to kill them.
But never had my body responded to a man’s touch like it did with these men. Their fingers seared my skin, and a simple touch had my very core throbbing. My pulse pounded at the very thought of them.
Something had to be fundamentally wrong with me. I couldn’t understand how the memory of men pressing me against the wall in such an aggressive manner took my breath away every single time I thought about it. I definitely couldn’t understand how the thought of their looks, their tone of voice, their commands and orders, and even their fucked-up threats on my life only made me desire more of their dominance. Now that we were here, maybe I’d be able to figure out what part of my psyche allowed these men to have this power over me. Maybe, now that the dust had settled a bit, I could figure out what I truly wanted from the very men who drove me crazy.
My four captors.
I stepped away from the window and glanced around the room. As I made my bed, I couldn’t help but think I’d never take clean sheets, soft pillows, and warm blankets for granted again. Funny how a few days being restrained in a dark basement made you appreciate all those little items you normally give no thought to. I smoothed the quilt. It was beautiful, made of colorful patchwork, and I wondered whose hands had stitched each piece. Had those same hands embroidered the tiny white flowers that decorated the bodice of the quaint nightgown I was wearing? The cotton was thin, soft, and decidedly old-fashioned, a far cry from the oversized T-shirt I’d normally wear to bed. Pulling the gown over my head, I hurried to what served as a closet, opening the door to try to find something to change into. The men had assured me all my needs would be met. Since I didn’t exactly pack, I had to assume they’d provide me with something to wear. Inside the beautiful cherrywood armoire were several skirts, blouses, and dresses of all colors and designs. They were delicate and feminine, reminding me of the type of clothing Alana wore. Making my choice, I pulled on a peach-colored dress. The hem reached just below my knees. Slipping my feet into sandals, I looked at myself in the mirror on the outside of the armoire. The ensemble was lighter in color than I normally wore, but it wasn’t a huge change.
After running an ivory comb through my curly locks, I pulled my hair up into a loose bun, tucking stray strands into place with the bobby pins I found in a little dish on the dresser. Realizing there was no makeup that I could see, I shrugged. I had some items in my purse, but what were the chances my kidnappers had grabbed it on the way out the door? Since my store had become a crime scene, I would guess slim to none. Remembering my last sight of the shop had been of some poor dead woman, I pushed all thoughts of making up my face out of my head. Derrick had said they hadn’t killed her, but… well, I might not have foundation or blush, but at least I still had my life.
With one last look in the mirror, seeing the pretty white iron bed with its quilt, the lace curtains, the rag rug on the floor reflected behind me, I couldn’t help but think it looked like I belonged in an ancient Southern Living magazine ad—Countryside Ireland edition. However, this wasn’t some photo shoot, and I wasn’t a model advertising the beauty of the simple, rustic life. While, I didn’t know exactly what I was facing, I was honest enough to admit I wasn’t entirely miserable. It was time to start the first day in my new life, and hopefully I could pull this off. I didn’t want to be returned to the basement to be fucked by each one and to await my death. And it wasn’t just the threat of death for me to not want Alana to see her brothers as the monsters they truly were, because I knew it would hurt her far more than it would hurt them. She didn’t deserve to lose her happiness and light. She was far too good for darkness. So, if I was going to do this, it was going to be for her.
Not them.
Definitely not them.
Leaving my room, I thought about what this new adventure had in store for me. I wasn’t a stranger to cooking, but that had been when I had modern appliances, such as a food processor and a microwave on my counter. I had seen enough of the house to know it would most likely lack all I was used to. Plus, did I really have it in me to sit down and watch my kidnappers enjoy a meal that would take me most of the day to prepare?
I walked down the stairs and made my way through a room I guessed would have been called the parlor back in the day. Running my hands over the back of a settee, I realized everything in this room was antique and elegant. Not a piece of furniture nor trinket was modern in appearance. The wooden floor, the fireplace, the rocking chair in the corner of the room, all screamed a rich Irish history. Delicate lace doilies covered the arms of the overstuffed armchairs to protect the upholstery beneath. It was obvious every detail to make this house feel like a home was executed flawlessly. As I couldn’t picture any of the four O’Shea men caring much about all these homey touches, I thought it likely they were a reflection of the brothers’ great-grandmother. I wondered what she’d think of her precious little lads’ life choices?
I continued my impromptu tour, crossing the hall, moving toward the back of the house to find the kitchen. Standing in the doorway, I glanced around. As I expected, the kitchen was far from modern; not even a toaster or coffeemaker cluttered the counter. At least there were some useful items. I noticed a refrigerator that appeared at least a decade older than the one in Granny G’s apartment. The stove was far older, a definite throwback to times gone by. Sturdy wooden shelves nearby held several cast-iron frying pans, roasters, cooking pots, and a large blue-enameled coffee pot. Cooking in this kitchen was definitely going to be a challenge. Speaking of coffee, I could sure use a cup.
“Goo
d morning.”
The greeting had me give a little jump as I saw Rogan sitting at a large wooden farm table. His long legs were stretched out, and one arm was slung over the back of the wooden chair, a pile of papers in front of him. When he lifted his cup to take a sip, I took a moment to study his face. It had only been hours since I’d last seen his threatening self, and yet his very appearance seemed changed. Gone were the lines across his brow and the slightly pinched look to his mouth. He was not only relaxed, his very presence screamed male superiority and seduction all at the same time. I felt my stomach flutter and forced my mind out of the gutter. This man may be mouthwatering, but when it came right down to it, he was also my jailer. No matter how fresh the air, how pretty my room, how nice my clothing, this man was just one of four jailors who held the keys to my prison.
“Um, good morning,” I said, wondering how such a banal exchange could make me so nervous. I glanced at the floor, at the ceiling, around the room… anywhere but the man seated at the table. “Where is everyone else? Alana?” When he didn’t respond, I lifted my gaze to him. As if that was what he’d been waiting for, he nodded.
“She’s out collecting eggs with her brothers so you can make breakfast.” He slowly scanned me from head to toe. “You look really pretty today.”
I bit my tongue before I could tell him to make his own damn breakfast. Starting the first day of my new life with an argument was probably not a good idea. I must remember that the deal had been made, and I needed to keep my end of the bargain. And it wasn’t the cooking comment that had truly thrown me… it was the compliment. “Um, thanks. I didn’t realize anyone was up yet.”
Rogan shrugged. “We let you sleep in, though that is not to become a habit.”
“Give me my cell phone, and I’ll be glad to set my alarm.”
His lack of response told me how that request would go. I felt a bit foolish but blamed it on lack of caffeine. “I’m sure I’ll acclimate. How about I get you some more coffee?” I offered, looking toward the stove again.
He lifted his cup. “Not coffee, this was milk.”
Of course it was. He’d probably gotten it straight from a cow, too. He grinned at what I’m sure was the look of utter despair on my face.
“Don’t worry. There are beans in the pantry.”
“Thank God,” I said, about to move toward what I assumed was the pantry when he spoke again, tucking his papers back into their folder.
“I know it’s going to take some time to become accustomed to our new life, but you will. Everything has happened pretty fast. I want to take this time to get to know you.”
I shifted my weight and wiped my dampened palms on my skirt. “I’m not really sure what you want—”
“Favorite food?” Rogan interrupted. The firmness in the question startled me.
“Cheese.” I caught the corner of his mouth curve to what looked like a smile.
He continued, “Favorite color?”
“White.” I swallowed the lump forming in the back of my throat. I had no idea why this conversation was making me so nervous. “I know white isn’t really a color, but I like it.”
Rogan just stared at me. Was he thinking? Was he waiting for me to continue? This man was impossible to read. What did I need to say? What did he want?
“My favorite music is anything with an acoustic guitar,” I blurted out. “I love to dance, and I like to run from time to time, especially when I need to think. I love plants and unusual flowers. Roses aren’t my favorite, but the ones outside my window on the lattice are lovely. Let’s see, I adore children but am uncomfortable around teens. I love coffee at all times of the day, since the caffeine doesn’t seem to work on me, or at least not as much as I would like it to.” I paused, really wishing I had a cup right now. “Is that what you meant?”
“It’s a start.” He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. “I think we need to get the rules straight from the beginning.”
That had my head spinning. “Rules? You give rules to all your…” Not about to refer to myself as his prisoner, I said, “All your guests to obey?”
“You’re hardly a guest in this house. You are part of the household now, and you’re responsible for all the womanly duties expected in the past. With Alana’s help, of course. My brothers and I are the men of the house, and we expect to be treated as such. As Nolan and Derrick explained in the basement—”
So much for getting to know one another. I already knew everything I needed. This man was an asshole like the rest of them. “Yes, yes. I know. You all want a combination of cook, maid, and let’s not forget companion.” When his eyebrow quirked, I could feel my face start to heat and was quick to clarify, adding, “For your sister… companion to her.” I walked toward the door I figured had to be the pantry. “Look, I get it. Just so you know, while I love botany and science, and that will be of use to your land and the neglected garden I saw out the window, all that home-and-life-skills stuff was not my best subject in school.” Spying the bag of coffee, I grabbed it and closed the door.
“Yeah, well, there will be a lot of things going on that were never on our daily schedules. This property has been neglected for years. Though the family has employed a local couple as caretakers for the place ever since our great-grandparents passed, they just took care of the basics. Nolan’s been corresponding with them for the past few weeks so that the house would be clean and stocked. He arranged for a few of the smaller outbuildings like the chicken coop to be repaired and new stock brought in so we won’t starve. But, we still have a great number of repairs to do, and there will be a lot of change. We don’t have all the answers yet, but we need you to let us be in charge of figuring that out. The last thing any of us want is a nagging chick around who wants to argue with everything we say or do. We left that shit behind in America. Are we clear?”
I nodded. It wasn’t like I had a choice, and there was nothing to be gained by rocking the boat. “I’ll try my best.” This whole concept intrigued but overwhelmed me, and I really was determined to give it a shot to make things work. Life would be pretty damn miserable for me if I resisted. I wasn’t a fool. Stubborn at times, sure, but I knew it wouldn’t take much for my life to go from Little House on the Prairie to American Horror Story. Grabbing the coffee pot, I put it into the sink. Setting the beans down, I had my hand on the pump handle when his next statement had me pausing.
“So first rule is, that other than the grounds a short distance from the house, you are not to leave until we feel it’s safe.”
“Safe?” I turned around so I was facing Rogan once again. “Scared I’ll try to escape?”
He smirked. “Not scared at all. You could try. But you’d fail. The town is far, and even if you reached it before we found you, the townspeople would hand you back over to us. The O’Shea name is powerful in this area. No one would dare cross us, or believe the ravings of the lunatic we would paint you to be. It would get you killed and destroy Alana by making her face a reality both you and I don’t want her to have to know if she doesn’t have to. I can read people pretty well, and I can see you wouldn’t hurt her, especially over something you know would be a stupid attempt you’d never succeed at.”
“I’m not going to try to escape,” I mumbled. “And since you say you already know this, why can’t I leave?”
“Because we’re so isolated out here, there are a lot of wild animals, poisonous plants, and so forth. We don’t want you or Alana out in it until we have secured the premises. It’s a rule we expect you to follow. End of discussion.”
I walked toward the table, glancing around the room, annoyed with his alpha dictate. “So we’re to sit inside this house, day after day, until our masters declare our freedom?” Okay, so much for making the best of things.
“That’s right.” Rogan stood up, towering over me. Crossing his arms, he smirked. “I like the Master part. Nice touch.”
“You’re going to keep me in this house all cooped up?” I looked at Rogan,
ready to take him down a peg or two. “What if I get bored?”
With a movement quicker than lightning, he grabbed me by the arm, pulling me close. “You will be far from bored,” he nearly growled. “My brothers and I can take care of any boredom you may have.”
The erotic scent of man permeated my nose, shooting tingles between my legs. His head lowered to mine, his lips so close I could see the texture and all I wanted to do was run my tongue across them. When I licked along my bottom lip, wondering how he would taste, feel, I watched his eyes darken, turn smoky, and I became aware of a hardness pressing against my stomach. Suddenly I wanted to taste a different part of his anatomy and couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped me at the thought of my lips wrapped around his cock.
At the sound, he reached to tuck a strand of hair that had escaped my bun behind my ear, but his hand didn’t stop there. It continued to slide to the back of my head, fingers twisting into my curls, closing into a fist, his eyes smoldering. He held me in place as his head lowered farther, and before I could even think of pulling away, his mouth descended on mine. It wasn’t a kiss exactly… well, not like any kiss I’d ever had.
This wasn’t a kiss. This was a claiming, a man marking what was his.
His tongue wasn’t softly brushing against my lips as if asking permission to come inside. No, he pushed through like he had every right. Like I belonged to him. The pressure of his mouth on mine was that of a warrior celebrating his victory. The moment his tongue demanded entrance, insisting upon collecting his spoils of war, my lips parted in surrender.
Every cell in my body was screaming for oxygen, my heart pounding as he continued to ravage me with nothing more than his mouth, his lips, his tongue. As I shoved against his chest, desperate to push him away, his only response was to hold me even closer. When his teeth bit down on my lower lip, I felt my pussy clench, and I discovered I didn’t need to breathe. I just needed more. Suddenly, his mouth left mine. My legs were shaking, and I was wondering what had happened when I heard a screech. From the corner of my eye, I saw the screen door being pushed opened to allow Alana and her brothers inside. A dislodged bobby pin fell to the table as Rogan’s fingers slipped from my hair when he released his grip and stepped back so fast, I had to reach out to grab the back of a chair to keep from falling.
