Chapter 37
Maeve
Lethologica (n) the inability to remember a particular word or name
After a while, I wake as we are pulling up the gates of Declan's estate. I take in the vastness of the property and all of the manpower: guards with huge leashed dogs are standing at intervals along the stone wall surrounding the place. The mansion, or better yet, the castle, is at the end of a long driveway, and there are even more guards with dogs around it. It’s perched at the top of a hill, and when we reach the top, I see a stretch of beach and a vast reach of water behind it.
I never asked Callum where Declan lived in Ireland.
Had I known we would be next to the ocean, I would have brought more books.
We pull through a second set of gates that sit a couple hundred yards from the front door.
The closer we get to the house, the stronger the security presence seems to be.
“Should I be concerned with the number of men surrounding the property? Are we in imminent danger here?” I ask Cal, and he chuckles.
“No, quite the opposite, actually. Uncail is known for having one of the least penetrable properties throughout Ireland. He’s always dared his enemies to try and step through his front doors.”
“Has anyone done it?”
“Only a handful have had the balls to try. It didn’t end too well for them,” he says cryptically, and Orin chuckles in the back seat.
“Well, that’s comforting,” I say, shaking my head as I unbuckle my seatbelt. Saoirse and Ronan are stepping out of their Rover beside us. Ronan looks amused, even satisfied, while Saoirse seems flustered, her cheeks slightly red.
We walk through the front doors, passing men standing like mirrored statues on either side, each one holding a matching firearm. Neither of them looked at us, their gazes hidden behind sunglasses and fixed in the distance.
Inside, the stone walls are a light grey color, extending 30 feet to the ceiling, where dark wood arches vault across the expanse.
I’m amazed at the scale of it. There’s an eclectic mix of oil paintings along the walls featuring portraits, landscapes, and abstract shapes.
Each table throughout the house features a flower arrangement with vibrant oranges, yellows, and reds.
My mouth hangs open as I scan the vast space from the entryway.
“Whoa, who all lives here?” I ask in a whisper.
“Just Uncail and Saoirse, if I’m not mistaken.”
“And Laoise,” Saoirse chimes in as she strolls past us, heading towards what looks to be the living room.
“Laoise is here?” Orin asks, his voice strained. I turn to him, seeing a look of confusion on his face.
“Yeah, she started staying here about a month ago. She’d been traveling for a while and wanted to be in one place.
She should be in the kitchen helping Cara finish up dinner,” Saoirse says casually as she drops down onto the sofa in the middle of the giant living room.
I turn back to ask Orin why that name sounds so familiar, but he’s already hurrying away.
“What am I missing here?” I ask Cal, seeing that he and Ronan are exchanging looks.
“I’ll tell you later. It’s kind of complicated,” he tells me, begging me with his eyes to let it go. He checks his watch and looks around the room before his eyes land on mine again.
“Saoirse,” he says, holding my gaze, “how much longer do we have until Uncail gets back?”
“Twenty minutes, give or take,” she responds without looking up from her phone.
Ronan walks over to where Saoirse is lounging on the couch and plops down heavily at the other end, hoisting her legs into his lap.
I feel a smile tugging at my lips and start to make a comment when I feel Callum grab my hand.
He leads me in the direction of one of the largest stone staircases I’ve ever seen.
“Slow down,” I say, giggling. “At least stop taking two steps at a time.”
He looks over his shoulder, his fingers still intertwined with mine as we reach the first turn of the staircase, and he yanks me to him. His lips crash into mine, and his hands slide down to my hips, around to my ass, squeezing firmly as his tongue finds mine.
“Cal!” I squeal, and he grins quickly before scooping me up and wrapping my legs around his waist. His lips brush against my throat, and a moan slips from my lips.
“We don’t have a lot of time, but I’m going to use as much of it as I can devouring you,” he says, sounding as breathless as I feel, our chests rising and falling in sync.
He pauses at a door, pressing my back into it as he fumbles with the knob.
Once he gets it open, it swings wide, and he uses his foot to close it behind him, his lips never leaving mine.
“Fuck, Cal,” my voice raspy, needy. “I’m still mad at you. This doesn’t change that.”
His lips are moving over my throat, pulling another moan from my chest.
“Talk to me, baby,” he says, his voice rumbling against my skin as he slowly lowers me into the middle of the bed. “Tell me where you want to be touched.”
I reach down between us to slide my pants off, but he takes over, pulling them down in one smooth motion. They catch at my ankles, but neither of us cares.
“Just touch me,” I beg, breathless.
“Mmmmm. Where, baby?”
“Anywhere, just please, Cal,” I inhale sharply when his teeth latch onto my nipples through my shirt. “I need you, now.”
A growl escapes his throat, and I lean up on my elbows and watch him slide his pants down.
Fuck, he’s huge.
I look at his cock, long and smooth, wanting it inside of me. I try to sit up, but the look on his face makes me freeze in place. I watch as he wraps his hand around his cock and begins to stroke himself, and I feel an urgent tug of desire in my core.
“Touch yourself,” he whispers gruffly. “Let me see how wet that pretty pussy is for me.”
I feel a wave of heat bloom under my skin, and he smiles lazily at me, his eyes hooded. I let my fingers trail down my slit, my arousal already glistening.
“Keep going, baby. I want to see you.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, and the next thing I know, he has pulled me to the edge of the bed. I stand up to kiss him, but right before our lips touch, he spins me around to face the bed.
His cock is resting between my ass cheeks, where he slides the full length of it back and forth.
His left hand snakes around to my breast, then up to my neck, and I lean into him, giving him easier access.
He bites my neck, causing me to hiss in response and sending waves of heat down to my core.
His right hand trails down further and further until his finger circles my clit.
“Cal, please,” I gasp.
“Please what, Maeve?”
“I need more.”
“Tell me what you need more of.”
“Everything.” I breathe. “I need your fingers on my clit.” He obeys immediately, increasing the pressure there.
“Fuck it, I need you inside me,” I say, realizing this isn’t enough. He slides his left hand from my throat and rests it between my shoulder blades, slowly pressing me forward. I feel the tip of his cock glide between my slit, up and down.
“Cal,” I gasp loudly as he finally slams into me, shooting me up to my tiptoes, my hands gripping the sheets as I feel him stretching me. The pain is there, but his fingers working my clit keep me from crying out. He stays still like that for a few moments, allowing me to adjust.
His thrusts are short in stride, slow, savoring.
Each time he pulls out of me, I can feel him pull further out with each pump of his hips.
Both of his hands grip my hips tightly, as if he is on the edge of his control.
He pulls out, and I can feel the tip of his cock on my entrance.
His thrust becomes punishing and relentless as he slides in and out of me with ferocity.
I savor every second as I feel my release growing, waiting for the thrust that will send me over the edge.
He stops again, and I protest with a whimper, but he forces me to perch on the edge of the bed, knees wide.
My pants are still around my ankles, keeping my legs in place.
He presses my chest down to the bed with my ass in the air, then he slams into me, hitting a spot I didn’t know existed.
“Cal!” I call out in a half-moan, half-scream.
His thrusts become more frantic in response. “Oh fuck. Cum for me, Maeve. Cum on my cock.”
And I do. Stars burst behind my eyes as my body begins to shudder. Callum’s thrusts become slow and jerky, and I can feel the warmth inside me like a claim.
“Fuck, Maeve. I love you,” he says, still trying to catch his breath.
I collapse on the bed, and he places a kiss between my shoulder blades before pulling my legs over the edge of the bed.
He begins to pull my pants up for me, and suddenly I feel his finger slide through my folds, causing my body to jerk as his fingertip grazes my clit.
“What are you doing?” I ask, still breathless.
“Sorry,” he whispers darkly, leaning in closer. “Slip of the hand.” He winks, then pulls my pants up all the way and slaps my ass, making me yelp. He grins, then begins pulling his own clothes back on.
“Okay, so,” I say, watching him. “Who is Laoise? Why does that name sound so familiar? And why did Orin look like he’d seen a ghost?”
Callum hangs his head and takes a deep breath.
“Do you remember who Orin and Thadg used to live with?” He pauses as he finishes adjusting his pants. “Well, he and Thadg had an… unconventional relationship with her.”
Pain lances through my chest at the thought of Thadg.
It has been a long time since someone has spoken to me about him.
I sit up and stare at my hands in my lap, feeling the sadness and anger rising.
They told me he’d been shot during the mission to rescue me from my kidnappers all those years ago, but past that, I didn’t know much.
It was the one topic Orin wouldn’t talk to me about.
“So, Laoise is the woman they lived with? I vaguely remember her, but her mother always kept her away from me.” I roll my eyes, remembering the woman who swore I’d turn her daughter into a “hussy.” Although looking back, the concern probably had more to do with Nessa’s constant presence and influence over me.
“Well, she kinda just… took off… disappeared after Thadg… after he passed,” he says haltingly, clearing his throat.
“Just up and left?”
“She left a note for Orin. He searched for her for months. Well, he had people searching for her. He refused to leave your side.”
I consider that for a moment, Orin putting aside his heartbreak to stay and watch over me, and I feel a heady wave of regret.
“What did the note say?”
“No one knows. He wouldn’t let anyone read it,” he answers, shaking his head. “I didn’t know she’d be here. I’m sure he’s fucking reeling right now.”
“I don’t remember much from that year…” I say, trailing off. I drop my eyes to my fingers and pick at an unraveling thread in the comforter.
“Hey,” Callum’s feet appear in my line of sight. Instead of pulling my face to his, he crouches down so that he is looking up at me. “You were healing. No one else gets a say in how we clean up the blood.”
My eyes shoot to his.
“What’s the rest of that saying?” I ask slowly, thinking of the engraving on my book light.
“The people who wound us get no say in how we clean up the blood,” he recites, a small smile on his face.
I smile back. “I should have known. That was the only present I accepted that year. Thank you,” I whisper.
“Always,” he says, those icy blue eyes boring into mine with a sincerity that aches.
“So,” I say brightly, trying to lighten the mood. “Are you gonna tell me how many times you did things like that? How many things you snuck into my life without me knowing,” I say playfully.
“Nope. After all, you said you always knew when I was around. I’m not sure how this one slipped by you, so you’ll just have to figure it out on your own,” he says playfully. He stands again, pulling him with me. “Ready for dinner?”
“As ready as I can be. What should I expect?”
“Well, Uncail will not talk business at the table. Period. That is always done outside of his home, in the building out back. It’s something I had to get used to, but I actually like it now. It’s like a separation of church and state, ya know?”
“Yeah, I guess it is,” I say thoughtfully, thinking that I’d like to adopt the same practice whenever I take over for my father, and the thought surprises me.
I’d never considered any real plans for it, never even pictured myself doing it.
But now, for some reason, I can picture it.
After everything that has happened over the past couple of days, I feel stronger, more capable.
And with Callum by my side, I even feel… invincible.
I smile as I lace my fingers with his, and we descend the stairs. Voices float toward us from the living room as we get closer.
“Ah, Garnia, how were your travels?” I hear a gravelly voice exclaim, and I see an older gentleman who can be none other than Declan rushing over to greet Callum, extending a hand toward him.
“Travels were good. No issues to write home about,” Callum says, shaking Declan’s hand, then holding my left hand up to show him my ring. “Well, besides this.” A proud grin stretches across his face
“My future Garneacht? Our boy did well, no?” Declan says, bowing to me. I nod my head, smiling broadly. He walks toward me, his gait surprisingly fluid for someone using a cane, and he kisses the top of my hand after admiring the ring.
“Come,” he says, motioning for us to follow him. “Let us eat, then we will talk.”