Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 81504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
I open the door and slam it behind me, half expecting one of them to follow, but they don’t. Will they stop me? Will anyone?
I can’t believe he thinks I’ll just leave my job and become one of the women of the Clan, just like that. As if I don’t have principles and expectations, goals and needs.
There’s laughter at the foot of the stairs, and I try to steel myself for dealing with whatever resistance I might meet. I have to get out of here. There’s no way I’m allowing myself to be tricked into being with him, no way.
“Ah, there she is!” Maeve is at the bottom of the large, winding stairway. Sunlight filters in through the bay windows, making her reddish hair look almost blonde. After they put out the fire on the grounds, they set to work immediately setting things to rights, but from where I am, I can still see the burnt remnants right outside the large windows.
Maeve holds a baby in one arm, nestled up close, a ruddy little beauty with his gran’s reddish hair, and a toddler holds her free hand.
“Hello there, McKenna. Meet the youngest member of the McCarthy clan. Lachlan and Fiona’s firstborn.” She beams at the little bundle in her arms.
“Oh, how sweet,” I say with a smile, my need to get away from here momentarily forgotten.
“So sweet,” another voice echoes behind Maeve. I look behind her to see a black-haired beauty sitting on the cushion by the window, a book in hand. She smiles softly at me. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t know who I am.” She stands, and I’m reminded at once of the mythical fae of Ireland. She wears a long, faded dress that hits the top of her toes, and her black hair’s woven into a plait that hangs over her shoulder. “I’m Caitlin, Keenan’s wife.”
Oh, my. This is certainly not how I pictured the future matriarch of the McCarthys.
“Pleased to meet you,” I say politely. I won’t be rude, but I do have to get out of here.
“And you must be McKenna?” she says warmly. “Tully’s lass?”
“I am McKenna,” I say, not meeting her eyes as I head to the door. I definitely will not identify as Tully’s lass. I often forget I walk with a slight limp, but right now I’m vividly reminded of it, as if they’re watching me. I hold my head high. “I belong to no one.”
They watch me in silence as I open the door. I want to say something polite, like thanking them for their hospitality, but the words fail me. Instead, I clumsily open the screen door to let myself out the front, when a voice comes from the top of the stairs.
“McKenna.”
Goddamn it. Tully.
I look over my shoulder. I will not make a deal with him.
I won’t.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed, Tully.” I sigh. “What is it?”
Caitlin and Maeve, and even the little children watch in fascination.
“A word, please.” His eyes are heated on me.
“I’ve said all I have to say, Tully.” I turn and let the door slam behind me, then like a damn fool, stumble right out the doorway and nearly scrape my knee.
I push myself to my feet and stand on the front step, now the need to get out of here more pressing than ever. How will I, though? He drove me, of course. And I can hardly call a cab to come to the McCarthy estate. I’m not even sure they know how to get past the security gate, and the delay is unthinkable.
In the garden, several other women sit with children roaming about, as well as repair teams mending the damage of the fires.
Some of those here are nannies and others the wives and cousins of the McCarthy men. I recognize Cormac’s wife Aileen, and cousin Megan, now married to Carson. But when a blonde turns to wave at me, I finally breathe out in relief. It’s Aisling, married to Clan enforcer Tiernan.
At least she used to go by the name of Aisling. She’s Faidha now, as a means of protection. I know her from St. Albert’s, as she’s a fellow teacher.
“McKenna! My God, it’s good to see you,” she says, her brow knit in worry. “How are you?”
“Very good, thanks,” I say, sidestepping. “But I need to get going.”
“Going?” she asks. “Where to?”
I blow out a breath.
“Home.”
Is this some sort of cult, or vortex, that I’ve been sucked into so badly I can’t escape? Honest to God. And yet… and yet a part of me doesn’t want to leave.
There’s friendship here, companionship, and family. The scent of the flowers in the garden mixes with the salt air, a perfume so intoxicating I hardly want to go. I live in a one-bedroom flat near the school, and barely go out except to grocery shop. And even though I’ve done my very best to design my simple home to be cozy and warm, there’s a coldness about it that comes from lack of companionship.