The Enforcer's Redemption (Sins of the O'Rourke Empire #2)

29. Declan

29

DECLAN

F inally back to the safety of Ronan's home, I carry Isla across the threshold, the way I should've done days ago, and up to the room he prepared for us to stay in until I find a new home suitable for protecting and growing my family. My strong arms hold her as if she's nothing. It's only been a few days, but it feels like she's lost weight. She's weak, clinging to me, crying softly in a way I've never seen her do before. Sebastian broke her, and I'm anxious to find out how badly.

"We're home now, for a while, anyway," I say to her softly. My lips press kisses to her forehead and temple as I climb the stairs. "And we'll stay here until we decide what to do next."

If it were up to me, I'd go house shopping tomorrow, perhaps buy some land outside the city on a large, sprawling farm like Mick's so that my son or daughter will have a safe haven to grow up in. But it's not up to me.

Sebastian didn't just take Isla.

She ran off.

Her wandering, frightened heart had so much pressure on it, she was never given the opportunity to adjust and accept the facts. They were forced on her. People hid the truth, her father and my brother.

Right now, she's in no shape to learn it all, and after being with Sebastian, I don't know what to think or what she knows. All I know is I have her safe in my arms and I don't ever want to let her go. It shatters my heart to think that she may still want to escape, but now as my bride, with the alliance secure again, if she wants to leave, I have to make a way for her to do it. Love demands that of me.

"Are you hungry? Have you eaten? Thirsty?" My questions are returned with sniffles and a shrug of her shoulder. I don't know how they treated her, what they might have done to her. I don't even know if she knows that she's pregnant yet, if anyone told her.

When I set her on the edge of the bed and kneel in front of her, she looks me in the eye and places her palm on my cheek. "I knew you'd come for me," she says softly, blinking out a few more tears.

My hands cup her hips. I drop my head to her lap for a moment, breathing in the feeling of relief that she's back in my protection. "I would never let them take you, Isla." My voice is muffled by the fabric of the faded skirt she wears, clearly not her own clothing but something they forced her to put on. Her fingers tangle in my hair and she scratches my scalp.

"I'm sorry for running away," she sobs, and it draws me up to pull her into my chest.

"Hey, no… I'm so sorry you were forced to go through all that. We all should've known better. You deserved better, and I’m here to give that to you now. You are my wife, Isla, not Mick's daughter, not Ronan's employee. As my wife, now I make the choices for you." I cup her cheek and brush the tears from her bruised skin. Her eyes are full of sadness and pain. It makes me want to go back to those docks and gut Sebastian O’Reilly with a spoon.

"Thank you for saving me… and…." Her head drops, and I watch her slide her hand across her belly. When she lifts her eyes, they're searching my expression.

"I know, baby…" It doesn't feel appropriate, but I smile. "I know. We're having a baby, and it makes me the happiest man alive." I say those words with hesitancy, not sure how she feels about being forever linked to my bloodline. After knowing how she's felt for two months now, she could honestly hate the entire idea.

She says nothing for a moment, but when I press my lips to hers, she returns the kiss. Then when she pulls away, she says, "Are you sure?"

I'm not certain what that is supposed to mean, so I give her the only answer I can. "I want a family. I want you as my wife, and not because of some alliance but because I love you. I've never loved anyone but you." My hand covers hers on her belly. "And I want this baby, and I don't want any of this if I don’t have you." Blinking, I add, "And if you still want to run away and find freedom, I will make sure it happens."

Isla shakes her head and closes her eyes. Rivers form on her cheeks. She covers her mouth with a hand and sobs quietly, then throws her arms around me and whispers, "I love you too." The words hit my chest harder than those bullets, the wounds of which are still healing, but instead of pain, I find healing. "And I want you too."

My hand rises to the back of her head, and I crush her against my body, breathing in her scent, the vomit, urine, and body odor. It's all heavenly to me, simply because she is in my arms. For better or worse, richer or poorer, sickness and in health, until death do us part, she's mine.

After a few moments, I pull away and use the pads of my thumbs to wipe the rest of the tears off her cheeks. She must be starved and exhausted, but she is still every bit as gorgeous.

"I'll draw you a bath, and then you should eat…" I rise, and she clings to my hand.

"But Mum and Da…" The pain on her face seeps through her words, pulling my heartstrings.

"They know you're safe. You don't want them to see you this way. Let's clean up, and after you've rested, we'll go visit them. Or if you'd like, they can come here. You're the queen now." The corner of my mouth lilts in a smile, but she narrows her eyes. Still, she rises and follows me into the bathroom.

I stoop to draw her a bath, and she slides the skirt and her soiled panties off, immediately tossing them into the trash bin. While the water begins to fill the clawfoot bath, I turn to help her take off her shirt. She winces as she lifts her arms, and when the tatty fabric of the faded T-shirt is off and her skin is exposed, I see why. She’s bruised all over her body.

It makes me feel instantly enraged. I will get revenge on Sebastian for this. And it makes me feel so protective of her. I touch a bruise lightly and then hold her arm gently as I ask, "They hurt you?" The horrors she’s seen probably outweigh anything I have ever been through. I'm terrified they've done more than just smack her. My face must express it because she sighs and rests a palm on my chest.

"Not like that, Declan. They just manhandled me, hit me a few times." By the looks of it, it was far more than a few times, but I don't question her.

"I'll kill him," I tell her, and she lays her head on my chest.

"I love you." Her arms wrap around my middle, but I pry them away and help her climb into the tub. It's large enough for both of us, but I kneel at the side for the moment. I won't take that liberty unless she asks me, but having her back, seeing her skin purpled with trauma, it makes me fiercely possessive, gives me a craving to consummate this marriage and show everyone in this world that she's mine, and I will kill for her if I have to.

Isla sinks into the water and I shut it off. She reclines, letting her body relax under the surface. Her eyes shut as she lays her head back, and I unbutton my shirt and remove it. I can't very well help her wash or massage the tension from her body with my sleeves in the way. When she hears me toss the shirt away, she opens her eyes.

"Joining me?" she asks, and I see the hint of desire in her eyes.

"We don't have to do that tonight, Isla. I want to take care of you. You've been through so much." I reach for a wash rag under the sink and return to wet it, lather it with soap. I move to begin washing her skin, and she grabs my wrist.

"I want to do that tonight," she says meekly, "with you." Her eyes lock on mine. "And every night from now on. You're my husband. Are you telling me you'll deny me?"

The faintest smile curls her lips, and I grin like an idiot. Just at her showing any interest in me at all, my cock has gone rock hard. I leave the wash rag in the water to sink against her body, and I stand up, kicking off my boots. My pants and boxers join my soiled shirt, and Isla leans forward in the bath so I can slip in behind her. She sits between my legs for now, leaning on my chest as I retrieve the wash rag and start washing her clean.

Her skin is so tender, I'm not sure where to even touch so I don't hurt her, but she revels in my touch, guiding my hands to her tits, then between her legs. Once shaven clean, she now has stubble, and I take a razor perched on the stand next to the tub. She lets me shave her and wash her, and as I do, her moisture builds. Its thick, sticky texture is vastly different from the water we're submerged in.

"Touch me," she whispers, sliding my fingers between her folds, and I set the razor to the side and kiss the side of her neck.

Isla grinds against me softly, my cock pinned between her back and my pelvis, then she sinks under the water, soaking her hair before rising back up and forcing my fingers to begin rubbing her clit.

It's so sensual and slow, so different from the past sexual experiences with her. I like it, though I can't wait to dominate her again.

I rub her clit as she spreads her legs as wide as she can in this tiny bath.

I slip two fingers inside her, and she moans, her head falling back against my chest.

"Oh, Declan… f–faster…" she pants, and I oblige her. My thumb now rubs her clit in circles as my pointer and middle finger penetrate her, searching for that spot. The water sloshes around us as she writhes against my dick, making it harder. Her body tenses and goes rigid, and I bite her neck hard. She shudders and cries out as she comes with a muffled moan, her vaginal walls clenching around my fingers.

I pull my hand free of the water, bring it to my lips, and lick it clean before kissing her neck. The water has washed most of it away, but I can still taste her delicious flavor. "You're delicious," I tell her huskily, "and you're mine."

"Yes," she moans. "I'm yours, Declan. I've always been yours."

When she presses her hands against my thighs and begins to lift herself up, I think she’s going to get out. Instead, she hovers, waiting for me, so I hold my dick upright, sliding it along her folds, and she lowers onto it with a satisfying grunt of pleasure.

"Isla," I groan, my eyes rolling back in my head, "fuck, you're so tight."

I reach around her and grab her tits as she begins to move on top of me, up and down on my dick like she's riding a horse. She moans, throwing her head back as she takes me deeper and deeper. I can feel her walls squeezing me, milking my cock as we fuck.

"Oh, fuck," I groan. "Isla… You feel so good… So fucking good."

It’s loud, water sloshing around, but her body is better than ever. She grips my thighs and continues riding me, rising until my cock almost springs out of her, then sinking down until I hit her back wall. Her pussy feels so incredible, and I guide her movements with my hands on her hips.

"Yes, baby… Like that… That's it…"

Her moans are music to my ears, her pussy milking me, and I feel myself getting close.

"I'm c–close," she gasps. "Oh, fuck… I'm?—"

I pull her hips down so she takes me all the way in, and she keens, her pussy tightening around my dick. I moan as I orgasm inside her, releasing my seed deep in her womb. She convulses and jerks. I grip both of her tits and pull her back against my chest and push deeper into her core. Her pussy pulses rhythmically around me, and I bite down on her shoulder again. Feeling the waves of pleasure course through her in this position is erotic, but claiming her as mine, once for all, knowing she wants it as much as I do—that’s the part that satisfies me.

Isla is mine, and no one will ever take her from me again. I just hope she doesn’t completely flip out when we tell her the whole truth. That Mick O’Connor’s legacy is darker and more dangerous than anything the O’Rourkes have ever done, and she was the key to saving his soul from the devil.