Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“Drink, lass,” I order, after she’s eaten half a slice of bread. She looks at me in surprise. “Drink,” I repeat, jerking my head at the large pitcher of water. But I’m a wanker, not realizing the damn thing’s too heavy for her to lift in her weakened state. She goes to lift the heavy pitcher, wrist trembling.
“Give me that,” I say gruffly, taking it from her grip. “You’ll spill that everywhere.” Either she knows obedience is wise, or she knows her limits, but she quickly concedes.
I don’t really care about her spilling anything. The housekeepers come several times a day, and a little water spill never hurt anyone. I do, however, value her obedience and submission. I’m watching her with a careful eye. I pour her a tall glass of water before I hand it to her.
“Good girl,” I approve, when she takes large gulps. Not meeting my eyes, she puts it back on the tray, then returns to the bread.
“Finish that,” I tell her, waving my finger to the bread. “Do your best.”
She obeys, then follows the bread with a slice of cheese.
“This tastes so good,” she says in a little voice. “Thank you.”
I nod. She can thank me if she chooses, but I didn’t feed her out of the kindness of my heart. I need the girl strengthened for what lies ahead.
Next, she eats from a small bowl of fruit, taking small bites and chewing carefully, before washing her food down with more water. A little color comes back in her cheeks as she eats.
She’s a stunner, this one, simple and outlandish though she might be. Her high cheekbones are pale pink, highlighting her eyes. They’re a pretty blue, framed with thick lashes. There’s something special about this girl. I want to pull her to me and hold her close, shield her from any harm that may come her way. I blink in surprise and turn away. Has she bewitched me that I think strange thoughts around her? I don’t feel this way around women, and certainly none who are potential spies, or threats to The Clan.
And even if the circumstances were normal, I can’t have her. She’s an American, and Clan rules specifically state we’re to marry Irish.
Marry? What the ever-loving Christ’s come over me that I even think of such a thing?
My father’s words come back to me with the force of a hurricane.
First, I’ll show her who’s in control here. She opens her mouth to take another bite when I hold up my hand. “That’s enough. Put that down, now. No more until later.”
Her lips are poised to take a bite. She looks up at me in surprise,
“Excuse me?” Her voice registers something beyond surprise. Irritation? Anger?
“I said, you’ve had enough to eat. No more until I permit it.”
Frowning, she places the food back on the plate. Still frowning, she stares at me in unabashed curiosity.
It occurs to me she doesn’t know the rules of etiquette. She doesn’t know how she’s to behave or how to respond. She doesn’t know how to socialize, or the unwritten rules of behavior. She’s never known the companionship of anyone save her father.
If she were mine… if I were to truly keep this woman as my very own… I’d introduce her to everything. I swallow hard.
Everything.
And with that knowledge, I make up my mind.
Caitlin belongs to me, only me and no other, no matter the circumstance. I found her. I saw her first.
She’s mine.
Chapter Six
Caitlin
My belly isn’t empty for the first time in a month. I’m pleasantly satisfied with the simple fare, and after the day’s events, I feel as if I need a nap to sleep the food off. I drink the water easily, and could eat more food without question, but Keenan takes it away from me.
He’s watching me with a look I can’t quite decipher. The green of his eyes, the same as his father has, and a few of the other men present today, makes him look a little less the fierce warrior I assume he is, or he appears to me. He has the eyes of an angel, a beatific vision. But this man is not an angel. Maybe he’s a demon, then. One of the fallen.
Given what I’ve seen of him thus far, it seems like a distinct possibility.
I want more of the food before me, but he takes the tray away, and I know without him telling me this is a sort of test. He wants to test my obedience. Though I’m ignorant to the ways of the world, I’m not ignorant to the ways of men. I’m far too well read for that.
His father thought I should be punished, and for whatever reason he’s chosen, Keenan hasn’t punished me. Instead, he’s asked me a few questions and fed me. What, then, is the man’s plan with me?