I wake the next day more rested than I remember being in a great long while, and she’s already awake beside me. Her hair’s wrapped all up in the sheets and my arms, and we silently laugh as we disentangle ourselves.
“Maybe I should get a haircut,” she mutters.
“Don’t you dare do such a thing.”
She raises her brows. “Oh? Is that an order?”
“You cut this gorgeous hair of yours, and I’ll take you straight across my knee.” The way she laughs, she thinks I’m joking.
“Well, then. I’ll have to remember that.”
“And I’ll have to show you the fun we can have with that hair.”
She flushes a pretty shade of pink. I love when I can make her do that.
But duty calls. I get out of bed and tuck the blanket back around her. Answer my texts and phone calls, issue orders for us to ensure the safety of the women at St. Albert’s when we return home, and answer my mother’s questions about the wedding.
I take Caitlin’s hand and lead her to the shower. She doesn’t ask questions, while I mull over what we do next. We get ready for the day and dress, and I’m eager to get back home.
“Keenan?” she asks, drawing a hairbrush through her thick hair.
“Mm?”
“Will you let me come back here sometime? I like the women here. And the boys.”
“Yes,” I tell her. “But likely not for a while. I’m confident after last night we won’t see any more attacks, but I don’t want to test that theory. And we’ve much to do to prepare for the wedding.”
She nods, turning away from me as she places the brush back in her bag. “Thank you,” she says. “I suppose there’s no rush.”
I smile. “No.”
“One more question, please.”
I nod, fastening the buckle of my belt.
“Do you think you got me pregnant last night?”
It’s not what I expected her to ask. I discarded the notion of protection, for she was a virgin and to be my wife. We welcome children quickly within Clan unions, to solidify our bond and The Clan itself.
“Don’t know,” I tell her, wanting to kick myself. “I should’ve discussed it with you ahead of time.”
“Discussed what?”
“Birth control. Babies. Pregnancy.”
“I’m assuming the Clan Chief is expected to procreate,” she says meditatively, and I can’t help but laugh out loud.
“What did I say?” she asks, smiling along with me.
“Procreate,” I repeat. “Yes, lass, prepare to procreate as often as humanly possible.” I take a step toward her, cup the back of her head, and draw her fiercely to me for a kiss. “And you did say you wanted loads of babies.”
“Well. Maybe not today,” she says, and I laugh out loud again.
“Fortunately, that’s not the way it usually works.”
My phone rings, and I’ve exhausted my luxury of silencing it, so I take the call. We make arrangements, head down to get some breakfast. It isn’t lost on me how tightly she hugs Caira. I’ll have to be sure that she does indeed get a chance to visit her again.
I beckon Lachlan to me. I need a final word before I leave. He looks tired, but a little older this morning, as if the events of the evening before matured him a little. I suppose they did.
“You were brave last night, son,” I tell him. “I’m proud of you.”
His chest expands, and he lifts his head up high. “Thank you, sir. I’m honored you had me.”
I nod. “I was a lad of your age when I began the initiation. I’ll be checking with Malachy to ensure you’ve kept yourself out of trouble. Do you understand me?”
He nods, slightly abashed. “Yes, sir. I will, sir.”
“Good. And before I leave, I’m giving instructions to Malachy that you’re to come to my wedding. It’s my wish that you join The Clan in witnessing our vows. Aye?”
His eyes widen as large as saucers. “Yessir,” he breathes. “Thank you, sir.”
“Go on, now. Back to your breakfast and studies. Remember my instructions to you. Brave men keep their tempers in check. You’ve done it before, and you shall again.”
“Yes, sir.”
Caitlin squeezes my hand when I dismiss him. “You’re like a mentor to him. Like an older brother.”
I shrug. “It’s how we do things with The Clan. We’d be weakened without the strength of the brotherhood.”
“Yes,” she says. “I can see that. I’m very eager to have your brothers witness our vows.”
I kiss the top of her hand as Cormac comes to our table.
“Where’s Nolan?” I ask, looking around the room.
He doesn’t meet my eyes and mutters when he responds. “He’s… a bit under the weather.”
“How so?” I snap. I’ll have the boy’s head. Fucking Nolan.
“Hit the pubs last night after you left, and he—”
“Fucking hell,” I mutter. “That’s it. I’ve had it.” I’ve contained my anger too long, withheld repercussions longer than I should have. If he were anyone else, he’d have suffered my wrath long before now. I point a finger at Cormac. “You tell him if he isn’t present at the meeting at home this afternoon, I will personally hunt him down and kick his arse from here to the armory. Understood?”