10. Cara
10
CARA
T he two guards, not Declan, saw me to my wing. I wasn’t sharing a room with my husband, but that didn’t surprise me. If his idea of consummating our marriage meant taking me against the front door, then he clearly wouldn’t have any sentimental need to lie with me in a bed for sleeping.
But I was stunned when the guards showed me the entire half of the damn floor. Being in this enormous castle was one thing. Understanding that I had an entire wing—with a bedroom, study, lounge area, and the biggest bathroom I could imagine—took some time.
Mom’s house could fit in the “lady’s wing”, as the taller guard called it. He and another older guy had replaced the two who’d chased me down at the other place, but I was just as wary of them. I’d remain on my guard and cautious here, this new “home” that I was supposed to live in.
“Mr. Sullivan would like your phone.”
I whirled around, tearing my gaze from the wide, curtained windows toward the rear of the room. Furrowing my brow, I replayed in my mind what I thought he'd said. “What?” My phone?
He held his hand out, his gaze not as demanding and cruel as his boss, but unwavering all the same. “Your phone.”
The other guard stood next to him, waiting expectantly.
“Why?”
The second man huffed a laugh. “So you can’t call for help to escape.”
I bit my lower lip and lowered my shoulders, defeated by his bluntness. “Oh. So I am a prisoner here.”
“Your phone.” He lifted his outstretched hand further toward me.
“Or else?” I mocked, taking my phone out of my pocket to unlock it and set it to factory reset. I couldn’t risk these men or Declan finding out about Mom or the deal I'd made with my father and stepmother, about being paid to marry Declan. The last thing I needed was for the Sullivan Mob to go after my mom as more collateral.
I slapped the device in his hand, and giving it up felt like I was severing a tether I wanted to cling to. This was my only means of contacting Mom. My only method of checking with Oscar that he was seeing to my wishes in my absence. I’d texted him so many times already, and it seemed that he was obedient to my decrees, but I didn’t look forward to losing all contact.
“Mr. Sullivan will return it when he sees fit, I’m sure.” With that, holding my phone, they turned and left me to… nothing. I had nothing to do. Nowhere to go.
I stood there staring at the tall double doors as they closed them. Stuck in a fugue of cluelessness and simmering anger, I tried to rise above the stress of it all.
Now , I was truly unencumbered. I couldn’t focus on following up with the farm or Mom’s health. I couldn’t browse the weather and see if the animals would be all right for any upcoming summer storms.
I had no way to contact the world, and shut away in this huge but dark wing in an old castle, I was a prisoner.
On the farm, I’d wondered if and when I would ever find an option for an alternative life. Surrounded by the trappings of wealth and a lush private suite all to myself, I sure had stumbled upon one.
But I was just as stuck as I had been before.
That first day turned into another. And another. Another yet.
I saw no one but the pair of guards who’d been assigned to me. Declan never came to me, not to see if I was alive or to fuck me hard for his goal of an heir. Nothing. I was isolated but not forgotten. The guards showed me part of the estate home. Several areas of the castle were locked. The whole upper floor was off limits. Even though they gave me a tour of where I was permitted, like the dining room, parlors, library, and study, they indicated that I was trapped inside.
Through the windows, I saw glimpses of the outdoors. The sprawling green lawn. Ornamental gardens just outside the walls and windows, artfully displayed as the gentlemen and gentlewomen’s version of wilderness. Further out, I spotted other buildings, guessing at least one was a stable of some kind.
A pang of homesickness hit me hard as I stared at the hint of such a similar structure. That was where I belonged. Out there, keeping my hands busy, hearing the animals and helping them thrive. It wouldn’t be the same as being home, with the herd and horses Oscar and I tended to, but the mere opportunity of being near animals would ease some of the ache in my heart.
I saw no purpose to hiding inside. Wearing jeans and sweaters and lounging around. This idle, delicate lifestyle didn’t suit me. This wasn’t me .
The staff prepared the dusty lady’s wing with clothing that didn’t necessarily suit me, too stiff and not worn in like my simpler attire back home. I had every personal and private necessity I could ever need, including feminine products. My period had started, as I figured it would, even without the order to track my temperature and use the hormone testing strips that someone had left in my wing. A doctor stopped in, and he explained that Declan expected me to track when I would be most fertile.
I’m not. Ever.
But I didn’t say anything. A small part of me worried that the doctor would insist on an exam, but he seemed hurried, like he was there for someone else at the castle. He’d told me to log my menstrual details, and then he was gone.
Who else is here?
I saw only the guards, a couple of cooks and housekeepers here and there, but that whole first week of living here as Mrs. Sullivan, they treated me like I was invisible while they worked and went with ease through the home.
Declan had taken off. His brother, Ian, was gone too.
All alone and wretchedly miserable, I fell deeper into loathing my circumstances. I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t even go outside, despite the steady gray skies and rain.
I often wound up at the windows, staring out and letting every ounce of helplessness sink into my soul. I yearned for the open, fresh air outdoors. I missed the feeling of drizzle on my face, the thick fur of a sheep under my hand, and the comforting whinnies from my favorite horse as we rode out over the land.
Suck it up. I sighed, pressing my brow to the window. Remember that this is all for her.
I swallowed hard, wishing I could see her. To hear her voice. To make her laugh.
Parted from her, I lost sight of the immediate hardships she’d faced for years now. I didn’t know why, but being so utterly alone had me thinking more and more about the past, all those easier, carefree times when I was young. Before her body was ravaged by disease and illnesses. How she took me out on the horses, taught me how to fish, and which sheep would be easier to shear wool from. Dinners and picnics. Laughing at silly jokes and picking wildflowers.
Too busy with working and taking care of her, I’d let those sweeter memories fall from my mind, but now, with this idleness, I dwelled on them.
I’m doing this so we can have better times again. Together. Healed and happy. The dream of such a possibility refueled my spirits to tough out this isolation, but it wasn’t easy.
After a week, I worried about how dark of a situation I’d found myself in. A prisoner. And a brood mare who wouldn’t succeed.
When Declan finally returned, I tensed and wished I could beg for an escape. To run, because the thought of his leaving me but only returning to fuck me filled me with harrowing dread.
At the sound of his voice as he entered, telling Ian he’d speak with him after dinner, I went still.
Hidden in the library, mindlessly zoning out as I peered at a book of photography about Ireland’s geography, I waited for him to find me.
“Cara!” he shouted, pairing his summons with heavy footfalls as he searched through the first floor.
I’m not heeling to you, either.
“Cara!” He growled outside the library. “Riley, where is she?”
The young cook I spotted—once when I dared to go into the kitchen for a snack—huffed. “I don’t know. I’m not her keeper.”
I raised my brows at her tone. He let her talk back?
“Where do you think she is?”
“Somewhere around here. For God’s sake, Dec. She didn’t run away.”
“Is she?—”
Riley groaned. “No. She’s here.”
I furrowed my brow, closing the book. Am I what? What was he going to ask her? I knew better than to think he cared about my wellbeing.
“Cara!” He tried the library next, shoving the door open so quickly that it hit the wall. His dark glare landed on me, and I tipped my chin up.
“Are you with child?”
I rolled my eyes and stood to put the book back on the shelf.
No hello. No greeting. Nothing. Just a demand whether I’d served my purpose yet.
“No,” I deadpanned.
“Are you tracking?—”
I crossed my arms. “Yes. My period is just finishing.” While it should have felt weird to discuss my body like this with him, I resisted a grimace at what I was telling him.
He’ll want to try again. And again. All to be told the same thing. I wouldn’t be giving him an heir, but with the deal we’d shook on in the church courtyard, he’d keep trying to impregnate me for the next five and a half months.
I should have said three months.
His face turned stony, rigid with disappointment and annoyance. “Then after dinner, we’ll try again.”
Fuck. I should’ve been prepared. He had told me what he needed from me, upfront and honest about making an heir with me.
He must have interpreted my smirk as an argument because he stalked closer, narrowing his eyes. “And we’ll keep trying until it works.”