Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“Ah,” she says. She gathers up the papers and I hand her what I’ve picked up, too. “Someone waiting for you, then?”
I open my mouth, then close it. I can’t meet her eyes.
There’s a simple purity about Caitlin that makes anyone who meets her want to be a better person. Raised by the late lighthouse keeper, she was kept apart from the world until Keenan took her as his own. She’s unencumbered with worldly expectations, and she keeps her own counsel. Having grown up in near solitude, she can be a little odd and quirky at times, but she doesn’t know the meaning of the word pretense.
When I don’t answer, her brow furrows, and she pauses in straightening the papers. “You okay, Megan? It’s unlike you to be so serious. Did something happen?”
Aye, something happened alright. But I can’t tell her. Even if Carson wasn’t off limits, even if they’d all sanction our affair… which they would not… It feels too new to tell anyone. Too… sacred.
I’m going mad, that’s all there is to it.
“Ach, no,” I tell her, waving a hand and getting to my feet. “What are all these papers you’re carrying?”
“Ah, not sure,” she says. “Keenan left them upstairs when he came down to breakfast, and he meant to bring them. I offered to trot upstairs and get them for him, since he’s holding counsel after breakfast.” She grins and winks at me. “The man needs his sustenance.”
I smile back at her. “He does.” She’s every bit the doting wife, but she lives for this. Motherhood and married life become her. Some women lose themselves in such domestic pursuits. Others find themselves. I wonder where I am on that spectrum.
We go downstairs, and a strange sort of dread gathers in my limbs. It’s erotic and sensual, the knowledge that I’ve defied the man I’ve called sir. The memory of his punishment, even the glimmer of his frown, makes a shiver of awareness trickle through my body. I never knew I would crave something like this… control. Dominance. Mastery.
And I wonder if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.
Sounds of laughter and chatter come from the large dining room. It’s typically of a morning to have a large buffet of food laid out, as the men of the Clan and their families gather. Sometimes I join them, sometimes I’ve a shift at work and can’t join them until later. But I always pop in when I can.
When I enter the room, I imagine the air leaves with me. Nothing changes in reality. It’s a typical morning scene. Various members of the Clan sit with their wives. Toddlers sit at highchairs and babies are held in arms. Nolan sits at the far corner of the table with Sheena and Fiona, chattering about something, and the single members of the Clan, Lachlan, Tully, and Boner, sit at a little circular table nearby.
Staff wanders noiselessly about, filling juice glasses and steaming mugs of hot tea and coffee. The fragrant scent of fried eggs, hot tea, and the fresh-baked breads our staff is known for lingers in the air, and my stomach churns with hunger. When was the last time I’ve eaten?
But it isn’t my cousins or their wives or their children I’m looking for.
I smile politely when Lachlan salutes my entrance. Caitlin scurries away with the papers for Keenan, and I watch as she hands them to him, he smiles his thanks, and she kisses his cheek.
“Juice, miss?” I nod absentmindedly and take a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. Aileen catches my eye from the long dining room table, and I wave my fingers at her. Will I sit beside her today? Or….
Then I see him. He stands at the buffet table, at the far end, away from his brothers. While everyone in the room continues conversation and their meals, I meet his eyes. And right then, right there, we’re the only ones here. Just me and him.
His eyes narrow, and his lips turn down in a frown that makes my heart do a somersault. His arms are crossed on his chest, and I swallow hard. Until last night, I didn’t know beneath those clothes were powerful arms that can hold me down. Muscles that emanate strength and conviction. A seductive line of dark hair that runs down the length of his abs to his…
I swallow hard. I’m getting turned on again, and he hasn’t even touched me. Slowly, so slowly no one else would likely notice, he turns his wrist to look at his watch. His frown deepens.
I can almost hear his voice.
You’re late.
He looks up from his watch and meets my eyes again. He shakes his head from side to side. Once. Then with careful precision, he brings his hand to his waist, glides his palm over his leather belt, then points to it and gives it a little tug.