26. Ravenna
Ravenna
T wo weeks later, it’s time to say goodbye to my sister.
Finding relatives in Italy, willing to take her in for as long as necessary, took longer than I expected.
Not only did I have to find her a place to live, but also guarantee she’ll be protected and well hidden.
I’m now confident that she’ll be safer over there, away from this city, and given a new identity to travel under. A fresh start.
Uncle Davide was understanding enough to lend us a couple of Italian bodyguards as Elena’s escort. They’re men, but they aren’t Irish men.
“I’ll miss you so much.” I hug her tight for what must be the hundredth time this morning. “When you’re ready to come home, just tell me and I’ll be there in an instant to get you moved back here.”
“I will. But don’t hold your breath. I’m not sure I ever want to set foot in this city again.” Her gaze flits around the tarmac as if she’s expecting a viper to strike her out of nowhere.
“I understand.” I do, but it still hurts to see my sister leave. I miss her already.
God, please help her, and keep her safe in Italy.
I watch her warily board the jet, a piece of my heart going with her. Cian, who had been giving us space, comes up beside me, wrapping his arm around my waist. I breathe him in, taking comfort in his unique scent.
Now, all of my immediate family is gone. Either dead or traveling thousands of miles away. Tears well in my eyes, and seeing them, Cian tugs me closer.
“We can visit her whenever you want. Just say the word, broc meala, and we’ll be on a jet.”
I nod, clinging to his arm. When it begins to rain, we head back to the town car, where I watch the jet taxi, then take off, disappearing through the low cloud cover.
My heart constricts. A deep sense of loss pools in my chest. Why does her leaving feel so final? Like I’ll never see her again?
Beside me, Cian sighs. “You’re strong, capable, and have such a big heart, Ravenna O’Rourke. You welcome my touch, and can stomach the look of my scars. You make me happier than I’ve ever been in my life.” He laces his fingers with mine.
“You know I?—”
“I’m not finished yet. What I want to say is, I’m so very grateful that you took your twin sister’s place at that altar and became my wife. I can’t imagine my life any other way.”
My breath catches, my heartbeat fluttering at his sweet words.
I know he forgives me for deceiving him in the beginning, but I didn’t know, until now, that he’s actually grateful for the outcome of my deception.
Thankful that my rash decision has led us to each other, and exactly where we’re supposed to be.
He glances out the window. “Marrying your sister would have been a disaster for all of us.”
Once again, that queasy, pained sensation slithers in my stomach. Cian is mine, my husband, and I don’t want to think about him with my sister or anyone else.
“She was different before she was taken,” I say in her defense.
“But she’s always been timid, right?” Cian’s features darken. “At least that’s what your father promised me. A timid, quiet wife.”
I nod. “She’s always been the shy one.”
He lifts my hand to his lips, gently kissing my fingers. “Well, turns out I like my wife difficult . Challenging. A real harpy. ”
I laugh as he repeats the words he unknowingly called me on our honeymoon, when he thought he was speaking about my twin instead of me.
“I’ll show you a real harpy, Mr. O’Rourke.” I climb into his lap, straddle his thighs, and playfully bite his neck.
His head falls back with a moan. He palms my ass, dragging my body closer to his. “Fuck yes, Mrs. O’Rourke. That’s exactly how I like it.”
A delighted shiver runs through me. This man has owned my body for a while now, but I’m beginning to suspect that he also owns my heart.
I think I’m falling in love with my husband.
“I need you to hold that thought,” he says. “We have somewhere to be.”
“We do?” I’m not aware of any other set agenda today apart from seeing Elena off. I can’t believe she’s really gone.
“Yeah.” He doesn’t elaborate.
The car rolls forward, and I climb off Cian to settle into my own seat, wondering where we’re going. Gazing out the window, I realize we’re driving further into the airport instead of toward the exit. Two minutes later, we stop beside a helicopter.
I shoot Cian a questioning look.
“It’s a surprise.” He takes my hand, kisses my fingers, then helps me out of the vehicle.
A porter grabs two suitcases out of the trunk and carries them to the waiting helicopter. When did my sneaky husband pack for us?
Curiosity sears through me as we’re helped into the chopper, our seatbelts secured, and given headsets so we can speak to each other over the roar. Then, in a matter of minutes, we’re airborne.
I admire the breathtaking views as we fly over New York City. Headed east.
W e arrive at Martha’s Vineyard airport, where an SUV picks us up.
I gaze out the window at the island’s unique architecture and historical monuments.
I’m enraptured as we pass light houses, churches, and vibrantly colored Victorian Gingerbread cottages.
New England’s history is one of my favorite subjects to read about and explore.
Martha’s Vineyard holds special interest since it’s one of the oldest settlements.
But surely my history fascination isn’t why we’re here. It’s also a popular vacation spot. Though not normally this time of year when we have chilly, rainy weather.
We travel along a narrow road that leads to a cottage beneath budding trees. As I exit the vehicle, salty air mingled with the fresh scent of Spring teases my nose. The gentle sound of lapping water catches my attention.
I round the house, Cian lumbering behind me, to find that we’re right on the water. A short staircase leads to a sandy beach, with blue-green waters beyond.
Cian wraps his arms around me from behind. “One day, I’ll bring you back here in the summer when it’s warm enough to swim and sunbathe. This time I wanted us to explore the area while there are fewer tourists.”
“Oh? What do you have in mind?” I’m curious about our itinerary.
“Let’s talk inside, it’s starting to rain again.” He takes my hand and leads us into the adorable cottage. It’s cozy in a modern rustic sort of way.
I set my purse down on the entry table, then step into the main part of the house. Cian flicks on the lights and my heart stills, before beating double time.
“Cian…” I gasp his name.
Purple tulips decorate every horizontal surface from the kitchen countertops, to the dining table, to the sofa’s credenza. They’re everywhere, I breathe in their sweet floral scent.
I enter the space, spinning in a slow circle to take it all in. He remembered. I told him once, what seems like a long time ago now, that these are my favorite flower. I never in a million years expected him to remember, much less do something like this.
Cian clears his throat, drawing my attention to him. “It’s not too much, is it?”
Is he really asking that? I launch myself at him, and he catches me, chuckling. Our lips meet and I pour my gratitude into this kiss.
“They’re beautiful. Thank you. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
His smile transforms his features from harsh and rugged to devastatingly handsome. “I aim to please.”
“You’ve more than succeeded.” I gaze in awe at the countless vases of purple tulips. They range in color from pale lavender to deep plum. I love them all. “So, how long are we here?”
“Just through the weekend.” He drops a kiss on the top of my head, then moves to the kitchen island. “I thought we’d spend our time visiting these places.”
Intrigued, I follow him, finding numerous informational pamphlets on the marble countertop. Picking them up, I shuffle through them. They’re all historical attractions and tour schedules.
My gaze flits to Cian. He’s watching me with interest.
My brow furrows. “You want to go… sightseeing?” That’s the least Cian-type activity I can think of doing.
His pale blue eyes light with amusement. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure all of those New England history books you have piled on your nightstand aren’t there for decoration. You’re always reading about the area, I thought you might like to see it in person. More than just Manhattan.”
My lips part in shock. I didn’t realize he paid that close attention to me and my reading habits.
A frown creases his brow. “If that’s of no interest to you, we can always?—”
“No, I want to. I just didn’t think that you would find any of this interesting.” I don’t want him to be bored out of his mind.
His features soften. “I’ll be perfectly happy listening to you talk about all these places and the bits of trivia you’ve read about.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. Stop worrying so much, broc meala . We’re on vacation. We’re going to spend our days exploring this island, and our nights cozied up by that fireplace.” He tilts his head toward the stone hearth.
I relax, taking him at his word. It just feels so strange to be put first. To have a whole weekend planned around what I find interesting, without having to feel guilty about it.
Stepping closer to my husband, I beam up at him. “Thank you. This is…” My heart warms. “I can’t wait to do this, I’m so excited! Martha’s Vineyard is one of the oldest British colonies, after Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay of course, and I’ve been dying to visit one day.”
“Good. Now go get ready, there’s a tour of some old church starting in an hour.” He kisses me once before sending me off.
Giddy, I go in search of the single bedroom and my suitcase. I’ll have to dress warmer if we’re going to be out in the elements.
This is a dream come true. The island’s only accessible by boat or plane, and although I could have taken the ferry over from Cape Cod, my parents never agreed to let me go. Plus, I don’t know anyone who enjoys history as much as I do, and I’ve never really wanted to go alone.
With this trip, Cian’s given me much more than he realizes. Purple tulips, a chance to indulge my interest in history, and a distraction from incessantly worrying about Elena’s flight to Italy.