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)
“Yes, sir. She’s here, sir.”
I sit up, brushing sleep from my eyes, when Carson hands me his phone.
“Someone wants to speak to you.”
“Hello?”
“Caitlin.”
The sound of his voice floods me. “Keenan.” I breathe out a sigh of relief that feels as if it comes from my very toes. “Where are you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he says. “I’m with Sebastian.”
“Are you injured? Did they hurt you? Did you have to kill them?”
His chuckle is like balm to my soul, deep and reassuring. “Easy, lass,” he says. “I’m really and truly fine. Yes, I’ve sustained injuries, but none that won’t heal. Soon as he finishes bandaging me up, I’ll be there.”
He doesn’t answer my question about killing anyone. I don’t know what came over me. He’s told me not to ask too many questions, and it’s best this time if I heed that.
“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks. “Were you hurt at all?”
“No,” I tell him. “I’m fine. Just… worried about… everyone.” Why is it so hard to tell him it’s him I’m worried about?
“Where are you?”
I smile to myself. He was so eager to talk to me he didn’t even ask them where I was.
“In the bunker.”
“Bloody hell,” he mutters. “Dad sent you to the bunker? Good call.” His voice pitches off, and I can tell he’s not talking to me. “Let it go. I want to go to her, and I’m fucking fine. You can shove concussions up yer arse, Sebastian, I’m telling you what—”
They have a heated discussion, but Keenan wins. He always does.
“I’m on my way,” he says. “Be a good lass, now, and do what they tell you, aye?”
I sigh. He’s on his way. My heart swells with anticipation, eager to see him. I give him what I know he wants. “Yes, sir.”
I hand the phone back to Carson, who puts it in his pocket. I get out of bed. I want to look presentable for Keenan, but when I go to the bathroom, I frown. That isn’t going to happen. There’s a scratch along one cheek, and my long, thick hair’s in crazy waves about me. My dress is torn, and I look pale as a mermaid.
“I look like Medusa,” I mutter.
“Well, you don’t act like her, so you’re good,” Lachlan says, making the men laugh.
A few minutes later, the door swings open. I see Cormac, Boner, and then I get to my feet.
“Keenan,” I breathe. He crosses the room to me in three quick strides, pulls me to him, and holds me so tightly I wheeze, gasping for air.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he mutters. “Bloody hell, lass. Y’alright?”
I nod. “I’m fine,” I tell him. “How about you?”
But he ignores my question. He’s running his thumb gingerly along the scrape at my cheek, frowning. He’s a mess. One eye’s swollen shut, his lip’s twice it’s normal size, and there’s a bandage along the side of his head. His arm’s in a sling, and he’s got something wrapped around his torso. He’s got broken bones, no doubt.
“They were looking for the notes from Jack Anderson,” he says, first to me, then he turns to the room. “And they didn’t know about Caitlin, not at first. Seems one of the men who attacked saw and recognized her, though.” He turns to me. “We have to get married. Tomorrow. There’s no time to waste, lass.”
I nod. I can’t leave this brotherhood of fierce warriors, the found family that’s accepted me and welcomed me as their own. I will do what’s right, marry Keenan, become his wife, and ensure the safety of all those around us.
“Aye,” I whisper. “I agree. Just put your mom on the job, and she’ll help me get ready. Too bad you’ll be all banged up for the wedding, but it’s of no consequence. You’ll heal up soon.”
His beautiful green eyes twinkle. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Keenan
We ensure that no one’s tracked us, and that the Martins have been suitably punished. There will be no retaliation this time. Clan laws are clear on an attack like theirs: they apprehended the Captain. The loss of a few of their soldiers in self-defense evens the score. Though I’ve no doubt Mack Martin himself is fuming, he has only himself to blame. It was a grave mistake apprehending me.
But I still worry for Caitlin. Word’s out now that she’s mine, that she’s the spitting image of her mother. She isn’t safe until she’s wed to me, until she bears my name and my ring upon her finger. I even contemplate bringing Finn into the bunker and marrying her here, but my mother loses her mind and won’t allow it.
So I secret her back to the mansion under the watchful eye of my guard.
I’ve got Caitlin in my room, sitting on my lap. Her head rests on my shoulder, and her arms encircle my neck. We don’t speak for long minutes, both of us lost in our thoughts after what’s happened. The last time I was with her, she’d walled herself away from me.