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)
“Aye.”
“And said that Caitlin’s mother was thought to have killed herself.”
I nod, agreeing again.
“I’ve asked your mother for more information, and Father Finn as well. I’ve spent the afternoon looking through records, piecing things together.”
“What’d you find?”
“Caitlin Martin was betrothed to Ouen O’Gregor, in the north. Their marriage was to bring an alliance to two rival clans, but she went to Boston on college break, and lost contact with your mam. Word was that she’d killed herself, but we know now that wasn’t the truth. She was pregnant, and Father Finn avoided war between The Clans by hiding the child.”
If The Clans knew she’d been knocked up by another man other than her betrothed, there would’ve been hell to pay, no question.
“Caitlin. And why did Anderson spy on us, then?”
“My theory’s that he did it to keep an alliance with the Martins. If they knew he had a girl that belonged to them by birth, related by blood, they’d kill her. Martin’s another daughter of his own, now, and Caitlin’s birth would complicate things.”
I nod slowly. Christ, but it makes sense.
“So Anderson spied on us as a way to form a truce with the Martins. If he was their informant, he’d have some sway.”
“Looks like.”
I look at the girl, twirling violets in her hair with the innocence of a child.
“What the fuck am I to do with the girl, then?”
My father doesn’t bat an eyelash. “Well isn’t it obvious, son?” He shakes his head, as if he’s given me a mathematical equation with an obvious answer. Two plus two is four.
“Níl leigheas ar an ngrá ach pósadh,” he says in guttural Gaelic. I frown at him. I know the expression well.
There is no cure for love other than marriage. The only way to solve the troubles of being in love is to marry someone.
In love? I’m not in love with the girl. I barely know her.
I look at him curiously.
He shakes his head. “Christ, Keenan. Marry the lass. If you’re married, Martin can’t touch her, even if he does find out who she is and how she got here.”
He says it almost casually, as if he didn’t just suggest changing the entire course of my life.
He scrubs a hand through his short gray hair, looking older than I’ve ever noticed before. “Keenan, you’ve taken her into our custody. If Martin catches wind, he’ll consider this in act of war.”
“Bloody hell.” I shake my head. He’s right. I can’t believe I haven’t thought of that myself. She’s his blood relative, for Christ’s sake, and my taking her here against her will would be an act of war, firing the first shot as it were.
But marry her?
“The girl isn’t going to want any part of marrying me. For Christ’s sake, she’s an innocent.”
“Son, in order for you to assume the throne as chief, you know you need to marry. Of that there’s no question.”
“Aye.”
“Rules state she’s to be of Irish descent, and that’s also clear now. Her mother was Irish, she’s of Irish descent.”
We’ve detailed history of relations of mine as well, so I know there isn’t a chance her mother hooked up with any of my own relatives either, thank Christ.
“Mother of God,” I mutter. If I marry her, I’ll be able to assume the throne as Clan leader. I’ll protect her against any retaliation with the Martins. “If done right, we can actually form an alliance with the Martins over this.”
“Aye.”
I watch her walk in the garden, holding out a cluster of violets to my mother.
“Don’t think too deeply on this, son. In our family and line of work, marriage for the sake of convenience is the norm.”
“I know it.” Christ, don’t I. But how can I tell him what I fear? That touching a woman like her with my blood-stained hands, that defiling her, will be the very thing that damns my soul to hell? She’s too good for the likes of me. Too fucking good.
“Think on it. Ask counsel of those you trust. Then do what you must.”
Again, deferment to my authority where none existed before. A lump rises in my throat, and I swallow both pride and emotions when I nod.
“Aye.”
“Go,” my father says. “Make an honest woman out of her. And tell me what you need.”
His phone rings, and he goes to answer it. I stand in the garden, looking at Caitlin and my mother, and for the first time in a long time, the first time in years, the first time in, God, ever? Hope rises in me.
Marry her.
My mother comes to me, but Caitlin holds back. She pretends to stoop to pick something up, but I know she’s fearful of coming to me. She knows she disobeyed.
“Caitlin,” I say sternly, crooking my finger at her. Now that I know she’s to be mine, I feel the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. The obligation to ensure she obeys me, that she learns her rules of The Clan for her own safety. That she knows she’s my very special girl, and that I’ll not let a hair on her head be harmed. Her wide eyes look up at me with apprehension.