Cormac gives me a curt nod. “Morning. Nolan, get her clothes of her own today,” he says. “I don’t enjoy seeing her wear clothes that belong to my wife.”
Ouch.
“Aye,” Nolan says. “I’m on it, brother. Where are the others?”
I’m assuming “the others” refer to Tiernan, Fiona, and Sam.
“Dining room,” Cormac says. “You first.”
Nolan leads me toward the dining room, and Cormac follows behind us. For goodness sakes, it’s like they think I’m a bomb about to go off, and they’re ready to shout the warning to head for cover.
“Are they that scared of a girl like me?” I ask Nolan.
He quirks a brow at me before responding. “Scared? Hell no. But we do assemble together for a reason. They’re not afraid of you, lass. But they won’t let you forget you’re my prisoner.”
I shrug, feigning nonchalance. Right.
I’m not prepared for what I see when we enter the dining room.
There’s a massively long dining room table and several smaller circular ones. The room’s well-appointed and immaculate. Along one wall lies a table laden with food, buffet style, certainly more food than my brothers and sister have ever seen in once place.
I swallow hard. I’m starving. But that isn’t what surprises me.
Maeve sits at the table, her gray-tinged red hair tucked into a bun. She wears a simple white top, and looks the part of granny quite well. Little Sam sits on Maeve’s lap, happily drinking a bottle, his head on her chest. She holds him to her, her arms loosely about him, content as can be. Gently, almost imperceptibly, she rocks him back and forth.
Beside her sits Caitlin, her long, long black hair hanging down behind her on the chair. She’s got the appearance of one of the sprites in Irish mythology, fairy-like and ethereal. I don’t know how she does it. Her clothing’s simple, and if she wears any makeup it’s minimal. Maybe it’s her eyes. When they meet mine, there’s kindness in them.
It makes me self-conscious. I don’t deserve her kindness.
Beside Caitlin sits Aileen, Cormac’s wife. She doesn’t look up when we enter, nodding her head while Fiona talks a mile a minute. She stands out as the only blonde. Her bright, round eyes dance as she smiles and nods, bouncing a little child on her knee. She’s entertained by Fiona, it seems. Cormac approaches her and puts his hand on her shoulder. She reaches up and squeezes his hand, a gesture both intimate and private.
Tiernan sits nearby, taking it all in, nursing a steaming mug of tea.
I try to pull my hand out of Nolan’s, to get to them quicker, but he holds me fast. “Easy, lass,” he says in a side whisper so the others don’t hear. “You’ll not cause a scene. They’re fine.”
I both love and hate that they’re safe here. I don’t want them to grow comfortable.
Tiernan’s eyes meet mine, and he’s questioning, probing, his gaze traveling to my hand in Nolan’s, then back to my face. He clenches his jaw and waits for us to approach. Light streams in from the window, illuminating his features, and for that one brief moment in time, I see the boy he is now on the cusp of being the man he’ll become.
“Sheena!” Fiona spots me first. She waves to me. “Do you know them? This is Maeve, Caitlin, and Aileen, and can you believe this place?”
I blink. She seems taken with their home, but she’s ignorant. If she only knew… it grates on me that she doesn’t, though I’m loathe to dash her dreams.
Reality sits in my belly like a rock. Fiona has no clue that it’s Maeve’s husband that’s left her fatherless.
When we reach the table, Fiona stands, reaches me and hugs me. Nolan lets me go long enough for me to embrace her back. “I don’t care,” she whispers in my ear.
I lean down and look into her eyes. “Don’t care about what, Fiona?”
“What mum thinks of any of this,” she says, before she turns from me and goes back to the table.
I blink in surprise. I haven’t cared what mum thinks about anything for so long, it didn’t even occur to me.
Nolan pulls out a chair for me, and I sit with Tiernan on my right and Nolan on my left.
“You all slept well, then?” I ask.
“Aye,” Tiernan says. He looks begrudgingly at Cormac, then Nolan. “Thank you.” He doesn’t trust them, and for good reason, but he’s not above thanks when it’s due. He’ll be a good man one day.
Nolan reaches for a basket in the middle of the table and hands it to me. I take a scone for myself. Caitlin hands me the butter dish, but Aileen watches me distrustfully. I don’t blame her. Last year, I was blackmailed by the O’Gregors to trick her into coming to the club. We were both assaulted by them, though rescued by the McCarthys. I’m sitting in her dining room, wearing her clothing, a stark reminder of what I’ve done to the people she calls family.