“Baby Sam has quite a rash,” Maeve says. “We’ll ask Sebastian about that as well.”
“Hasn’t been changed often enough,” Fiona says, blushing deeper when all eyes come to her. “We did our best, but…” her voice trails off. My heart squeezes, but when she looks at me I only smile at her.
“I know you did, Fiona. No one blames you.”
Footsteps sound in the doorway and I look up to see Keenan coming in. The men fall silent, and my stomach plummets. The record I have on him would fill a diary. Nolan takes his seat beside me and draws in a deep breath.
“Morning, Keenan,” Maeve says, unperturbed. She breaks off a piece of toast and hands it to Sam, who waves it in his little fist.
“Morning,” he says. He pours himself a cup of tea, looking over all of us. “Mornin’ Sheena,” he says to me. The tone of his voice sends a chill straight down my spine. I’m not one to cower, but he’s harder than the rest. He doesn’t trust me.
“Morning.”
“And who are the rest?” he asks. I introduce them all.
“Well, then,” he says. He pulls a seat out next to Caitlin and sits. “I’m guessing you’re here because you aren’t safe at home?”
Tiernan nods, and facing Keenan, tells the truth succinctly. How they were endangered the night before, how they called me, how Nolan and the rest came and brought them here.
“We don’t mean to intrude,” he says. “We know we don’t belong here, and we’ll be going just as soon as we know it’s safe.”
Keenan eyes him thoughtfully as he states his story.
“Doesn’t sound like it’s safe for you to return home,” he says. He turns to me, his gaze sharp as granite. Nolan grips my thigh, a reminder to watch my tone and behavior with the Clan Chief. “And Sheena has some business with us here, don’t you?”
Business with them. My God. He’s right, though. I do.
“Aye,” I say.
“They’ll be Nolan’s responsibility,” Keenan says, buttering a scone. “Nolan, you can call Father Finn and he can help you sort things out. Get them taken care of.”
He says it as casually as if he were ordering cream for his tea instead of issuing an order that could tear my family apart. My body stills, and before I can respond, Nolan does.
“The hell I will,” Nolan says. Keenan’s eyebrows shoot heavenward and he pauses, the scone halfway to his mouth. The room falls silent, even baby Sam watching everyone with wide, curious eyes.
“You know how that will go,” Nolan says, glaring at Keenan.
Keenan takes a bite, swallows, then follows it with a pull at his teacup. “Careful, brother,” he says quietly.
“You will not call Father Finn,” I say. My mind’s made up. I’m prone to making dumbass decisions on the spur of the moment. I should keep my mouth shut, goddamn it, but I can’t seem to stop.
“Who’s Father Finn?” Tiernan demands.
“Parish priest,” I tell him. I don’t even bother to hide the fact that I know who every single person connected to the McCarthys is. “If we call him, you’ll all be sent to social protection before breakfast is over. And I can’t let that happen.”
Keenan purses his lips, working his jaw. Caitlin leans in, placing her hand on his arm, and speaks in a soft, gentle voice. “Keenan, you can’t call him. Fiona told us what happened, what it was like. It breaks my heart to think of sending them back there, where they aren’t safe, or sending them to social protection, where they’ll likely be separated.”
I make up my mind and clear my throat. “I’ll finish my business here with you,” I tell him. “And once we’re done, I’ll take them back home with me.”
Keenan’s eyes don’t leave mine. He stares at me, unblinking. “Will you, then?” he asks. “Are you that sure your business with us won’t take very long?”
My throat tightens. Does he mean to keep me here prisoner forever?
God, I’m so stupid. So stupid. I thought I could waltz right in here, spy without being noticed, then waltz right back out again. That they wouldn’t know who I am, what I’ve done, and maybe even what I plan to do yet.
Keenan folds his arms on his chest. His voice is quiet but dangerous when he asks, “Does the Clancy Clan mean anything to you, Sheena?”
My God. Of course I know of them. Every reporter in Ireland knew that story, how the American reporter tracked the mob and harassed them, doing an exposé and story that brought them to ruin.
How she was found dead in her bed not one day later.
“Are you threatening me, Keenan?” I ask, holding his gaze.
He turns to Nolan. “Perhaps we need a private meeting, brother.”
Nolan’s jaw clenches. “Aye. After breakfast, inner circle.”
“That’s fine, boys,” Maeve says. She runs her fingers through Sam’s hair, unperturbed. “You have your meeting, you make your decision. But you know we’ve a spare room right here in the house beside mine. You know it isn’t safe for them to go home. And you further know that a call to Father Finn could separate them. We may not be in the business of charity, but I think our decision here is clear.”