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)
“Get us some drink, Tully, will you?”
“Aye.”
I sit and look at the two men. Tully I recognize from the day we went to the church. I blink in surprise when I realize the third man with me isn’t a man at all, but the boy called Lachlan.
“What’s your name?” I ask the man with the glasses.
“Name’s Carson.”
“And your role here?”
His lips twitch before he answers, and I’m not sure why. “Clan bookkeeper,” he says, holding my gaze.
I turn to Lachlan. “Lachlan, what are you doing here?”
The boy also holds my gaze without turning away. “Brought word to Cormac of his brother’s illness,” he says. “Keenan told me to shadow the men for the day, see what happens.” A corner of his lips quirks up. “Got lucky. Seems I came on a good day.”
Carson cuffs him good-naturedly. “’Tis about time we induct Lachlan anyway,” he says. “Once Keenan signs off.”
I exhale in relief. “He’s alright, then?” I ask. “Keenan?”
“Aye,” Carson says, his eye gentling, though he looks away this time. “Don’t you worry about Keenan, lass. The best of The Clan are onto the extraction right now.”
“Extraction?” I say, my voice oddly high-pitched. “That sounds painful.”
Why do I care so much? This is a man I wasn’t going to stay with. He’s highhanded and domineering, and, and…
I love him. I sigh.
“Sounds painful,” Tully repeats, not bothering to hide his booming laugh or the fact that he’s amused by me. “Aye, lass, it very well may be, but yer Keenan’s a champ. He’ll come out of this just fine, you’ll see.”
Still, I pace the small area back and forth, and every second that ticks by feels like hours. The men don’t do much more than guard the door, and after some time find food.
“Eat,” Tully says, handing me a plastic cup with soup in it. I frown at it.
“Where’d you get that?” I ask. I’ve never eaten anything out of a plastic cup, and I don’t trust it.
He snorts. “We keep rations here,” he says. “You add water, and you’re good to go. I trust you’ve never seen such a thing?”
“No,” I say, “and I have no appetite anyway.”
“You best eat, ma’am,” Lachlan says, almost apologetically. “Keenan won’t be pleased if you don’t.”
I furrow my brow at him and frown. “How do you know what Keenan wishes for me?” I’m feeling petulant and moody. I want out of here. I want to know Keenan’s okay.
To his credit, Lachlan looks a bit abashed, but his voice and gaze don’t waver when he looks at me. “They sent you to the bunker, miss,” he says, as if that explains anything at all. When I look at him blankly, he continues.
“She don’t know what it is,” Tully says, slurping soup from the cup.
“I do so,” I protest. “It’s a safe place, where we are now.”
“Aye,” Tully says. “But you don’t know the purpose, lass. The bunker’s meant for the Chief only. In the entire history of The Clan, we’ve never had a woman in here. The Chief’s sent here if his life is endangered. Notice only one bed?”
I nod, looking around the dark interior a second time.
“That’s for the Chief. The others who accompany him are his watch. There’s no way in, except through the guard, sent here to watch the Chief. And yet here you are, the one under the deepest protection we can muster. Guard with you in a veritable fortress, and guards stationed outside as well. Absolute iron clad protection.”
I finally realize what he’s telling me. “Oh,” I say in a little voice.
Seamus sent me here for a reason. They don’t take this level of protection lightly. For some reason, my nose feels all tingly, and a lump forms in my throat. Maeve loves me like a daughter, and Seamus has given me the highest level of protection.
I… mean something to them. To all of them. To the man I’m betrothed to and the men in front of me now.
“I see,” I say finally.
“Eat, lass,” Carson suggests, pointing to the cup, though there’s a note of steel in his voice I recognize. He’s trying to be polite, but they want me to take care of myself. So I do. I frown at the cup and raise an eyebrow at the little square-shaped vegetables I recognize as peas and carrots. I take a tentative sip. It’s hot and salty, and surprisingly tasty. I finish it, hand the cup to Tully, then go to lay on the bed.
“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.