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)
She shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“The truth, please.”
She hasn’t learned the art of deception, or how to hide her feelings. She wears her heart on her shirtsleeve, her eyes mirrors to her soul as wide as the Irish Sea.
She takes in a deep breath, and to my horror, her lower lip trembles when she speaks. “Well…” she begins, exhaling on a sigh. “I don’t like feeling like I’m someone special one minute, then nothing at all special the next. It’s really as simple as that.”
I blink. Though I expected truth, this still takes me by surprise.
“I see. And when you—” but I’m cut short when a knock comes at the door. I hold a finger up for her to wait a minute. She shrugs. Where else is she going to go? She picks up her book.
I answer the door to my mother standing there holding a bottle of Nurofen, a bottle of a sports drink, and an expression of utter disdain.
“Caught Sebastian on the way up,” she says, her lips pursed. “And don’t let yer father know you’ve been on the lash and got yourself hungover like a damn schoolboy.”
My mother rarely lectures, but she’s spot on this time. I grunt, take the meds down and swig the drink.
“Hello, Mrs. McCarthy,” Caitlin says pleasantly.
My mom’s eyes widen, and she smiles, walking into the room. “Hello, sweet Caitlin,” she greets. “What’s the story?”
Caitlin’s brow furrows. “The story?”
My mother laughs out loud. “Means how are ya, lass.”
“You Irish have many… peculiar expressions,” Caitlin says.
“She don’t know the half of it,” I mutter, and mam smacks my arm.
“Keenan, you said you wanted to talk.”
“In private,” I tell her, ignoring the look of hurt on Caitlin’s face. “Later this evening, aye?”
“Aye,” my mother says.
She takes her leave and I depart with reluctance, kissing Caitlin’s pretty cheek and giving her a few things to do in my absence. “Stay here until I return.” She remains aloof and reserved. She doesn’t look up from her book when I leave. It unsettles me.
The lass is innocent. But who is she? Why am I allowing this pure, unblemished woman, someone who could bring destruction to us all, to infiltrate my mind, and dare I say, my heart?
When I’m done with work, I see my mother by the garden, her favorite haunt. Perhaps we can talk earlier than this evening. But when I draw near, I hear a familiar laugh. I pause mid-step, the door to my car still open, when I hear it again.
Is that Caitlin? In the garden?
I slam the door to my car and march off to the garden. And there she is, picking flowers and gathering them to her breasts, her hair pinned back in plaits, adorned with flowers.
Christ.
For one brief moment I imagine her just like this, but she wears a dress of white, her pretty feet bedecked in delicate ballet slippers. She holds my arm as I march her down the aisle and take my vows before my brothers. Before everyone. I shake my head. I’m dreaming like a goddamn schoolboy.
“Keenan!” Mam greets as I draw near. “Fancy you coming home early.”
“Didn’t expect it then, did you?” I ask severely, my anger at having been disobeyed directed at both of them. The lass will be punished for this, and not the type of punishment that ends with her climaxing.
“Who gave you permission to set foot out of that room, Caitlin?”
“I did.” I turn in surprise to see my father coming up behind me, his stern, immovable expression giving me pause. What the hell is this? I look into the eyes that mirror my own, trying to seek understanding.
“She had strict orders from me not to leave the room,” I begin. “She was not to—”
“Keenan, listen to me.” My father interrupts, his voice lowering as he approaches. He waves a hand at mam and Caitlin. “You girls carry on while I have a word with Keenan.”
Caitlin’s eyes briefly skirt to mine, then away again, as my mother gets her attention. She’s troubled about her disobedience and worried about my reaction. Good.
“I’ve good reason, son, and I’m sorry if it seems I undermined you in any way.”
Well, then. This is new. My father rarely apologizes, and certainly’s never had any concern about undermining me. The time for me to take the throne is near. He’s abdicating authority to me already, even on the day he’s allowed her to defy me.
I stand and cross my arms, casting a glance from him back to Caitlin and mam.
“Alright,” I tell him. “Let’s hear it.” My tone is brisk, but he looks at me almost placatingly, as if begging my forgiveness. Something in me softens toward him, at this hardened man who’s taught me right from wrong. He’s aging, and it shows.
“I questioned your mother today about what she knew,” he begins, his voice low so only I can hear. “Came clear as day she knew Caitlin’s mother. Finn’s admitted he knew of the pregnancy and condoned the birth, aye?”