Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I reach for her, my fingers gently rubbing the back of her neck. She moves a little closer to me.
“Who, Fran?”
I know all the McCarthys. They visit us from time to time, and we’re in regular contact.
“Well…” she begins. “You have kitchen help here, don’t you?”
“Mhm.”
“And Mary Brody’s one of them.”
“Aye.”
She blows out a breath. “Understand that none of them really knew what they were doing, Tate.” She winces when her eyes meet mine. “I lied through my teeth.”
I nod. “Tell me.”
“You should punish me again for this, you really—”
“Tell me.”
Her words fly out in a rush. “Mary’s got a sister named McKenna. I’ve been in touch with her, only she doesn’t really know it.”
“How can she not know it? How does that work?”
“She’s a teacher at the McCarthy finishing school.”
The McCarthy Clan has a school in Ireland where they send the youngest boys to train, to prepare them for Clan life. My father considered one of our own at one point but chose tutors instead because of our location and reclusiveness.
“And?”
She lets loose a torrent of words, filling me in, and I listen in silence.
She’s right. I should punish her for this.
She’s managed to contact McKenna and pretend she’s Mary. She’s asked her questions about the Clan, and then managed to trick Mary into revealing more information as well.
“I feel so awful,” she says. “I really do. I never should’ve done this. It wasn’t worth it. I’ve betrayed my closest friends…”
She covers her face with her hands, and the body language I’m reading now shows utter sincerity.
She is sorry, I believe that.
But sometimes sorry isn’t good enough.
“Come here,” I say, reaching for her. I tuck her against my shoulder and hold her to me. “You’re going to be forgiven for all of this.”
If she were a man, she wouldn’t have this tender side of me.
If my brothers accused me of going soft on her because she’s a woman, they’d be fucking right.
“Will I really?” she asks, looking up at me.
“You will, but you’ve got some work to do. And I think it’s time we put those super sleuth skills of yours to better use.”
She nods. “Aye, Tate. I promise. Whatever you need.”
My cock stirs, thinking of exactly what “whatever you need” could be.
I quickly get myself under control. We’re not done.
“What can I do?”
I cut straight to the chase.
“Tell me about Islan.”
She groans.
I tug a lock of her hair. “Tell me.”
Chapter 12
Fran
I don’t know how to answer him. If I tell him everything I know, I’ll betray my best friend’s confidence.
But at the same time… dishonesty is what got me here in the first place. And I’m weary of holding that burden, so bloody weary. I want the wholeness of trust, the simplicity of honesty. But more importantly, I want my best friend to be safe. And she won’t listen to me.
I bite my lip, mulling it over, as he slides his way over to me. I can feel his warmth, like rays of sunshine, to my left, his presence somehow both soothing and nerve-wracking. I draw in a deep breath, then let it out again.
He tips his head to the side and gives a slight shrug to his shoulders, magnifying their breadth and width. Though his voice is soft, I’m not fooled. “Why are you so nervous?”
“Because I don’t know how to say this.”
He doesn’t reply at first, and I realize he’s in a difficult place, too.
He knows the truth about what I’ve done. He’s asked me to tell him what I know. But he hasn’t come clean to his family yet, and he’s likely torn between his allegiance to his family, and… what else?
I can’t say allegiance to me. He isn’t loyal to me like he is to them.
Is he? Does he have even the smallest measure of protectiveness for… me?
I start with a glimmer of truth, a sliver of honesty. “I got in trouble in the first place for lying, and I don’t want to make that mistake again.”
He nods, his hand coming to rest atop mine. His thumb brushes across the top of my hand. Thoughtful.
“That’s a good start.”
I open my mouth, and the words spill out without my consent, rushed and a bit choked. “I grew up thinking lying was simply something one did when the time was right. I had no incentive to tell the truth, not when a lie would get me out of trouble in school, with the headmaster, with my mom.” I draw in a breath. “My mom lied to me, and I lied right back.”
His eyes hold mine, and he doesn’t look surprised, he doesn’t judge. He just listens. And in that moment, it means everything to me. Silence hangs between us with the weight of emptiness until he finally nods, his voice rough when he says, “Go on.”
“That isn’t an excuse, though. As time went on, the consequences for dishonesty became apparent, and I knew that people who wanted to be trusted and respected had to be people who told the truth. And still… I lied.”