8. Kerry
Kerry
Ihear a soft inhalation of breath in the seat next to mine as the driveway curves, revealing the sprawling estate I’ve built for myself. She’s impressed. Good.
Amy is still anxious. I’m not fully sure why, I thought she’d be relieved when we arrived safely in Ireland. Still, I intend on keeping a close eye on her to make sure she settles in okay.
My mind’s been heavy with thoughts of how to eradicate any threat to my home.
De Matteis is ever present in my thoughts.
Things should be easier now that we’re in Ireland, but that doesn’t mean that we’re out of his reach.
I’ve spun it around and around in my mind, looking at it from every angle, but I can’t come up with any solution that doesn’t involve relying on The Nameless to resolve this.
I hate feeling so helpless, and the fact that the answer is out of my control is sickening to me, especially when my Amy is at stake.
That’s the other thing that’s been plaguing me.
I know how far the depths of obsession can go, I’m familiar with its indulgence.
But whatever is happening with Amy is evolving into something else.
Something new, and yet, something that brings back old feelings.
Like eating a food you haven’t tasted since your mother cooked it for you as a child.
It’s familiar, and yet, with so many years passed, it tastes different, since your mother wasn’t the one to cook it for you.
It’s something new, mingling with the memories of your youth.
It’s unnerving. I’d accounted for obsession, thrived in it, actually.
I’ve made my home in that dark place in my mind for most of my life now.
But this? An evolution? The formation of something new?
It’s unexpected. I knew I wanted to live a life with Amy, to wed her and be loyal to her in ways I haven’t with anyone else before.
I’d committed to that in my obsession with her.
But this? This bone deep longing? This freeing ascent into the lightness of feelings?
It’s all wrong compared to what I’m used to.
Obsession is deep into the dark, cold places in the ocean of my mind.
It’s heavy, it weighs me down, sinking me deeper into it.
There’s no breathing there, just hunger.
Desire. Everything goes numb and my mind has a singular focus, achieving.
There are no others. The world above no longer exists to me.
But this feels like the opposite. I’m up in the clouds, soaring, looking down at the earth below me, thinking of all the wonders and possibilities.
I want to give Amy everything. It’s no longer about taking, but about giving.
The world doesn’t just exist, it’s expanded.
Grown to encompass so much more with the need to worship her and lay it all at her feet.
The focus is on her instead of myself and my goals.
It’s frightening to see so much, to want so much, but not for me. For her. The threat isn’t small and singular anymore. It encompasses so much more. I need to keep her safe, to ensure she feels cherished and cared for, to not disappoint her.
I pull in front of the house and put the car into park.
We’re not even able to get out of it before Marjorie steps out of the front door.
She walks with purpose, like we’re her naughty children she’s coming to scold for being out past our curfew.
Well, I am at least. I get the sense from the phone call with Aunt Marjorie that she wouldn’t scold Amy.
She’s like the precious daughter she’s never had.
Which I am happy about, I just wish she’d quit nagging me before she’s even started it.
I get out of the car, and Amy hesitates at the sight of Marjorie, as if she doesn’t know what to expect. She probably doesn’t. You haven’t told her who that is. I remind myself.
I take a deep breath as I close my door and round the car to open hers. No wonder she’s feeling anxious. I haven’t been communicating with her as I should now that we’re here. I’ve been growing complacent now that we’re in Ireland, something I needed to fix immediately.
After I open the door, I lean down to block Amy before she can get out.
“That’s my aunt, the one you spoke to on the phone,” I say softly, hoping to undo my mistake of not preparing her expectations beforehand.
Her deep brown eyes look up into mine, making time stand still.
I barely realize I’m reaching out to cup her cheek, my body is simply drawn to hers magnetically.
“We’ll socialize with her for a bit, but if you’re feeling overwhelmed, just give me a nod and I’ll get her to leave.
Either way, I don’t think I’ll want to entertain her for long.
I’m tired and want to relax in my own home in peace. ”
She gives a nod, and her shoulders lose some of their tension.
I hold a hand out for her, backing up so she has space.
She stares at my hand for a moment before taking it, the sensation of skin against skin, however small, has my pulse racing and my mind darting to places that it shouldn’t. Not yet, anyways.
“How nice of you to tell me that you were coming home, Kerry Michael.” Marjorie raises an eyebrow at me as we approach, before pulling me into a hug.
“Clearly I didn’t need to,” I murmur, and she slaps my arm.
But there’s a bright smile on her face as she turns to Amy.
“Hello there, love. It’s such a delight to meet you in person.
” She shakes Amy’s hand with an enthusiasm that rattles all the way up Amy’s arm until her whole body shakes.
I can’t help but chuckle. “Could I hug you, love? It’s just a miracle, you really have no idea.
This big beast of a man caring for someone other than me?
I was scared I’d never see the day. I’m glad I was wrong.
” I should be offended by the words my aunt is saying.
Instead, I feel grateful. Her teasing shows love, and her words make sure Amy knows she’s welcomed and wanted.
Amy looks a little surprised by her request, but she nods, warmth and happiness flickering in her eyes. Such a small mark of approval from a motherly figure and she beams like the sun. My god. No mother of hers could ever be worth much if this is her reaction.
Marjorie practically leaps forward, wrapping her arms around Amy.
They stay like that for a long moment, my aunt whispering words into my future wife’s ear, ones clearly not meant for me.
My aunt is the only person in the world I trust to do such a thing.
I know Marjorie would never attempt to poison Amy against me.
When my aunt pulls back, there’s tears in her eyes, making me raise my eyebrows.
Marjorie is a tough woman. I haven’t seen her emotional but a handful of times, and all of them completely warranted.
While this doesn’t feel out of character, it does reveal the weight of this moment, even more than I realized.
She smooths Amy’s sleeves down with both her hands in a soft grip.
“All right, then. I’ll be getting out of your way, don’t worry.
There’s stew and a salad in the fridge, and breadsticks and a bottle of champagne on the counter.
You two have a good time settling in, and try to get some sleep. Jet lag is a bitch, yeah?”
She hugs Amy again, quicker this time, and then turns to me.
The hug she gives me is warm, and she lingers more than she usually would.
I can feel the fond affection for me radiating in it.
She leans in to whisper in my ear. “There’s one of your fellows here.
I directed him to your office. An English.
Ugh.” She reaches up and pats my cheek gently, pride sparkling in her eyes like a badge of honor.
And then off she goes before I can even ask her questions about whoever she let into my office.
She’s like a fairy returning back to her homeland after doing a good deed.
She climbs in her small and speedy red car—as if anything else could suit the ferocity of a woman like my aunt—and in a blink of an eye she’s zipping down my driveway like she’s late for more important things.
Amy’s eyes are on me when I turn to her, not on my aunt’s departure. A hunger burns through me unexpectedly, a bone-deep yearning to see her cocooned in my house, in my bed, fully satisfied and happy, with no desire to leave me and no energy to.
Amy gives me a soft smile. “She’s a very nice lady.”
I can’t help but snort in amusement. “For you, it seems she is.”
Amy raises both of her eyebrows as if she doesn’t believe me. “Is she not normally?”
“No. She’s usually a hardass to everyone around her, and a bitch if you piss her off. I’ve never seen her warm up to someone so quickly.”
A smile lifts Amy’s lips, reaching up until it makes her eyes crinkle in the corners, pink warming her cheeks. She’s clearly pleased with my assessment. “Well, I’m glad she likes me so much.”
My hands twitch at my sides, itching to touch her, to draw her near, to show her how much I like her. As much as I’ve always longed for her, it seems bringing her to my home has unlocked the next level of it.
Amy’s smile softens as she tilts her head, looking up at me as if she can vaguely read my thoughts, but they’re out of reach. “Do you want to give me a tour of your home?”
Our home, I want to correct her. My hand clenches into a fist to keep from touching her, from giving her a tour of other things. Now that I have her, I want to show her all that I have to offer her. Anything I can do to prove to her that I’m good husband material.
I’m good at many things in life, including the knowledge of how to please a woman. I fully intend to exercise that skill for my future bride as much as she wishes.
Instead of offering that, I take a deep breath and try to relax the tightness in my shoulders. The fight to win Amy over isn’t done just because she’s in my home. No, it’s really just beginning.
I give her an easy smile, trying to conceal the stress at the nagging thought of someone being in my office, some English prick that’s related to my business according to my aunt.
I trust my men at my estate to not let just anyone in, but there’s still a level of anxiety when I don’t know what’s going on.
I’d be getting a debrief from one of my men right now, but I instructed them to keep out of sight so they don’t scare Amy.
“I would be happy to, leannán.” I step into the house, closing the door behind me. I gesture to the room around us. “Foyer, obviously. Open concept, so it leads straight into a kitchen and living area. Great for parties, not that I have many.” I grin at her.
The smile she returns to me nearly makes me lose all train of thought and steals my breath away.
Amy doesn’t speak much over the next twenty minutes or so as I show her around.
Just little comments here and there, it’s so light and airy in here, and what a lovely accent color.
But she doesn’t need to speak, not when she’s so expressive.
Her posture has changed from shrinking, eyes darting all over, breathing sharp and agitated, to a relaxed stance, eyes exploring but at their own pace, lips slightly risen in a smile.
I’m glad to see her calming down. I’m sure she just needs time to rest from the journey here and the intensity of what she’s been through.
Now I just needed to figure out a way to ease her into the understanding that she’ll be sleeping in my room.
I’m not going to let her go far from me.
I doubt she’ll be opposed to it, but I still want to handle it with a certain gentleness.
I can’t afford to be a brute, even though that’s all I want to do.
To make demands, secure her place by my side, and ravage her like an animal.
The damn Nameless better come through with their promises of security, or else. I’ll not lose everything that I’ve been working so hard to build, just when it matters most. Not when everything I’ve ever wanted is sitting right at my fingertips.