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)
Keenan sits on the cliff’s edge, looking out at the sea. He does this early in the morning, and it’s become our tradition. Many mornings, fog rises, or a fine mist. It’s often windy and a bit chilly, but it doesn’t deter him. A part of me wonders if he likes when the weather’s inclement. He’s certain to be alone then. While he overlooks the ocean, I bring him morning tea.
He doesn’t look up when I approach, but when I sit, he smiles at me.
“Good morning,” I say simply. My heart flutters when his green eyes meet mine, and his deep, husky voice greets me.
“Morning, lass.”
I sit beside him, with my own steaming mug of tea.
“I sat right here,” he said. “The morning of the day I found you.”
“Did you?”
“Aye. I knew something was brewing but didn’t know what.”
“I was starving to death and friendless,” I say. I don’t need to tell him how drastically that’s changed. I now have a family, friends who love me, and my needs are met in spades. I shiver when a brisk wind picks up, tinged with the salt of the sea. I breathe it in. My chest expands when my lungs fill. Keenan reaches his arm out and stretches it across my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. I put my head on his shoulder, shielded from the cold.
We stop talking for a few minutes. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I’m marveling at the changes we’ve seen in such a short time. Nolan, bless him, my new-found brother and secretly my favorite of the lot, has been released from rehab. He hasn’t touched a drink and swears he won’t again. There’s a crease on Keenan’s forehead I swear Nolan put there, but Keenan’s been patient with him. We all have. Nolan’s family. As of yesterday, though, Keenan’s put him to work. I’m intentionally kept out of the inner dealings of The Clan, but I know that Nolan’s latest personal mission has been keeping the nosy reporter who will keep trailing The Clan in check.
My husband leads his fierce group of soldiers with fearlessness, bravery, and honesty. Though I know they skirt the law, and that old Father Finn shakes his head at what they do, I love this brotherhood of men. They live by a code unique to them, symbolized by the Celtic knot tattooed on their bodies. Keenan’s too humble to talk of it, but Maeve explained the knot they wear.
“’Tis the Dara. It symbolizes wisdom, strength, leadership, and power,” she said. “A reminder that they’re bound by blood, honor, and loyalty.”
And they are. They fight like brothers do. They tease, they drive each other crazy. But they’d lay down their lives for each other.
We visit the school sometimes, and Keenan’s allowed me to befriend the women who teach there. His cousin Megan’s taken a liking to me. She’s bold and fearless, and in many ways my opposite. But she’s got a good heart and a ready laugh. Keenan’s possessive of my time, though.
Keenan squeezes my shoulder.
“A question, Caitlin.”
“Yes?”
His eyes still watch the endless waves as he clears his throat. “Are you happy, lass?”
My only hesitation comes from the lump that’s suddenly formed in my throat. I swallow hard a few times before answering.
“Keenan, I’m happier than I ever thought possible.”
His lips tip up in a rare grin, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes. “That pleases me, sweetheart.”
“Keenan?”
“Mmm?”
“Are you?”
He thinks for long minutes before he speaks, and I wonder if he’s going to answer at all. Finally, he nods. “Aye. I carry responsibility, and you know that. For my men. My brothers. My mother. For you, and the little one you carry.” He places his hand thoughtfully on my swollen belly. “But every night, I come home to you. You’re a precious gift to me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you, but I will spend the rest of my days honoring that privilege.” He cups my jaw and kisses my cheek.
He’s introduced me to so much. The world outside my door, from the highest mountain peaks of Dublin to the lowliest pub in the valleys. He’s shown me sunsets from the peak of Cold Stone Castle, and held my hand when I dipped my toes in the Irish Sea. He gave me my first kiss. My first taste of what it means to make love. My first earth-shattering orgasm. He even took me to a club his brothers frequent, and shown me just how much pain can heighten pleasure.
“I’ve got something for you,” he says, and he dips his head almost shyly as he reaches into his pocket.
“Do you?”
He gives me a boyish smile. “Aye.”
His hands shake a little when he draws a slim, narrow box from his pocket.
“Keenan… what is it?”
“Open it, then.” He hands me the box. “Our wedding wasn’t a memory I want you to keep,” he says, his brows furrowed. “It was pragmatic and had a violent end. I want to give you something more. Something to remind you that you belong to me.”