30. Isla
30
ISLA
T he bed is cold when I wake up. I'm alone. Declan has slipped out at some point, and my exhaustion has carried me straight through to morning. Sunlight streams in the windows. I hear birds singing, and it feels good to be alive. Except for the awful nausea tainting my stomach yet again.
This time, however, I know it's due to the little one I'm carrying and not nerves over a wedding or terror from being imprisoned by horrible men. It makes me smile to think I'm going to be a mother, and I am thankful for the morning sickness that reminds me that life is good. I'm alive, and I have a fierce man who will always make sure I'm safe.
Pushing myself up on the bed, I remember the conversation I had with Declan after I had a bit of food and some water last night. I don't know what time it is, but he promised to have my parents here first thing in the morning. I'm sure they're sick with worry, Rebecca too. I wonder if she'll come. My running off had to have given them the scare of a lifetime. I know it traumatized me, and I'll be working through some heavy emotions for weeks to come.
I slip out of bed and rush to the toilet to relieve my bladder. It's the first time I've had to pee in so long. I was so dehydrated, but Declan insisted I drink until my belly was bursting. I'm thankful he cares for me and hovered last night.
I see someone has laid out a toothbrush and toothpaste, some deodorant, a brush, and a small bottle of lotion. It makes me smile to think the large, hulking madman who guns people down, to whom I am now consummately married, is thoughtful like this. No one would ever know it judging by his appearance or reputation, but he's a romantic at heart.
After pampering my skin with the lotion and brushing my teeth, I rake the brush through my hair, slap on some deodorant, and walk my naked body back into the bedroom. When we came here the night before the wedding, the night Declan's home was burned to the ground, I brought only a few things with me. I had no intention of staying with him forever. I packed light, expecting him to force me off on some ridiculous honeymoon if my attempt to flee failed.
Now I wish I'd have had more forethought. I pluck the only thing I brought with me out of the dresser—a pair of stretch pants and a white cotton shift that falls to mid-thigh. No panties, no bra, but I'm covered, and if I know my husband, he'll send for a wardrobe fit for a queen, which is what he called me last night.
After everything I'd been through, I just wanted to be with him, not ask a million tough questions. But this morning, after a full night of sleep and a meal, a bath, and feeling clean again, I want to know. Why do these men keep calling me Princess? And why did Sebastian say I had the O'Connor heir growing in my womb?
My hand touches my belly unconsciously as I walk toward the door. It's a habit I've noticed myself doing. Every time I think of my unborn child, I touch my stomach and smile. Secrets and heirs aside, Da and Mum will be thrilled to know they'll be grandparents. Rebecca will think I'm insane until I tell her how much I've fallen for this man, the one I thought I hated but found later that all that animosity wasn't really his fault.
I hated the arrangement, the idea of it. The principle that women should be free to choose never left me, but now my heart has chosen. I want him. And I want him forever.
As I pad softly up to the living room, after nearly getting lost down the hallway, I hear sniffling and laughter. These two sounds seem strange juxtaposed, and I peek into the room before I walk fully in. Mum sits on a couch with Da next to her, Rebecca with a tissue in hand wiping her nose. Declan stands in front of them serving tea into tiny mugs with hand-painted flowers and gilded rims and handles.
It's Mum who sees me first. She rushes over to wrap her arms around me tightly, and I melt into her embrace. Da follows, walking with pride and strength toward us. Rebecca blubs and gushes, shoving her way into the center of our reunion as my father wraps all three of us ladies into his arms. I press my head against Rebecca's and close my eyes, finally at peace. I'll spare them the worst of the stories, but Da will want to know everything, I'm sure.
"I'm so glad you're back," Mum whimpers.
"Oh, Isla," Rebecca coos.
"I'm okay… Please," I mutter, feeling crushed a little. I chuckle, and one by one, they pull back.
"Come sit," Declan invites us. I'm surprised Ronan isn't here for this too since it's his home, but I do as my husband says and have a seat. He sits next to me and takes my hand and smiles.
"Well, what an adventure you've been on," Da says, but I hardly think his positive tone is the appropriate response. Still, he's a master at looking at the bright side of things.
"Yes, well, I'm here now." The question burns on my tongue, but I wait for Mum and Rebecca to fawn over me for a bit. Declan seems to sense my annoyance with them and encourages them to have some tea, which refocuses them back on doctoring their tiny mugs with cream and sugar.
I take the opportunity to address my father, whose nonchalant attitude is somewhat chilling. We've never experienced tragedy as a family, at least none that I know of, so I'm not sure if this is his normal demeanor in situations like this or if he's lost his mind. I have to know what's going on, and I can't wait any longer.
"Da," I say firmly, "what is happening?" I wring my hands in my lap and study his face as it softens and the sadness starts to creep in.
"Why, my oldest daughter is having our first grandchild. I think that's reason enough to be happy." He fiddles with his tie and glances at Declan. I don't bother to look at my husband. This is between me and my father.
"Da, tell me the truth. Why did you force me to marry Declan? Why are those men calling me Princess all the time? What does it mean that I’m carrying the O'Connor heir?"
He trades furtive glances with my mother and his shoulders stiffen, squaring. I expected him to shrink back, but this is surprising to me. He slaps the tops of his thighs and lets his hands slide to his knees where they stop.
"Aisling, I'm a proud man," he says, and suddenly, his eyes take on the same darkness that Declan's eyes get sometimes when he’s angry. I glance at Mum, whose head is now hanging. "There is a lot you don't know about me."
"I think what your father is trying to tell you is that he's kept things from you for your own protection, things he should've told you a long time ago." Declan touches my leg and then lets his fingers slide into my grasp, as if knowing ahead of time that I'll need him. I look up at him with warmth and then narrow my eyes on my father.
"Tell me everything."
My father proceeds to tell me how his father built a crime organization much like the O'Rourkes’. How he traded in drugs and weapons. He tells me how when he was in his twenties, he took over for his father, running the underground crime syndicate, and how clashes with other families like the O'Rourkes led to an all-out war, a war that killed Declan's father.
When he gets to that point, I see the first sign of frailty I've ever seen come from my father. Remorse, perhaps, or grief. He goes on to tell me how after men in his organization murdered the O'Rourke chief, he was cornered and forced into a dark place he couldn't bargain his way out of. His family was turning on him. He'd allowed them to murder one of the most powerful men in the city, and now he had a debt to pay—hand over his family or just his daughter.
I sit there feeling gutted by the truths rolling out of my father's mouth. To think my entire life, he's been keeping this from me, lying for what? To give me a normal lifestyle, even when he knew I'd be forced to live with this legacy? There is no way I could ever have lived my full life without finding out. The arranged marriage was simply the catalyst for the truth to be revealed.
I'm angry, but simultaneously, I am comforted. Declan's arm comes around me, and I lean into him. Life always has a way of showing me the silver lining, and if the man to whom I'm bound continues to be the man who cares for me and protects me, then I have been the one to benefit from this whole situation.
"But an heir? What does it mean?" I say, but I already feel like I know what it means. The child in my womb will never have the future I hope for him or her.
Da nods at me and blinks, as if I'm supposed to understand, but I shake my head in confusion. "The firstborn male grandchild will be raised to take this family and lead them properly in ways I can never do." Da's voice is solemn, and I get the feeling that the choice to place that on my shoulders wasn't his, but it doesn’t have to be the future. It doesn't have to be this way at all. Together, Declan and I can and will change that to make the future for our child different from what I fear, better.