“What is it?” she asks with mild concern. I smile and shake my head, pulling her close and breathing in the smell of her shampoo, hints of vanilla and peony.
“Nothing. I’m just thinking about how lucky I am,” I whisper. She squeezes me a little tighter as she lies on top of me. I sigh, standing up from the bed, and she rolls onto her back with a groan. I chuckle, but when I turn around, my breath catches at the sight before me. She’s bare, stretched out across the king-size bed that used to feel too large. Her hair is splayed across the pillows in a cascade of fiery waves.
“What time are we supposed to board the plane?” she asks sleepily.
“We leave in less than 2 hours, so we'd best be moving. We’ll each only need a small bag. We’re gonna do some shopping while we’re there,”I tell her, crawling across the bed to hover over her. Her hands cup my face as she searches my eyes. I smile down at her and place a chaste kiss on her forehead, then I reluctantly get up and walk to my closet, grabbing a pair of darkwash jeans and sliding them on.
“I guess we’ll have to run by my place next,” I hear her call, and I smile to myself as I grab one of the brand new pairs of leggings from a shelf I’ve cleared off for her, along with a new t-shirt and hoodie. I step out of the closet, and with a casual flick of my wrist, I toss the clothes on the bed before her. She cocks an eyebrow, then dissolves into laughter.
“I know, I know,” I say as I pull a t-shirt over my head. “I think of everything.”
“Maybe I’ll stop being surprised by it soon,” she says, tearing the tags off the clothes. “And, whaddayaknow!” she exclaims, holding them up. “Perfect size.”
I smirk at her, then bend down, planting my fists into the mattress on either side of her. “What can I say? I’mdetail-oriented,” I say lasciviously, looking her up and down.
She laughs and pushes me back before hopping off the bed. I watch as she strides to the bathroom, her perfect, heart-shaped ass swaying side to side, and I can’t stop the groan from escaping. She looks over her shoulder and shoots me a wink before shutting the door behind her. I shake my head, walking to the nightstand to check my phone.
Ronan:
Jet is fueled up and ready, boss.
Orin:
We have him loaded for the flight. Won’t even know he’s there.
Eoin:
Saoirse will meet you at the airport with men to escort you to the train station, and one of the men will drive the package straight to Declan’s.
I send them all a brief response before continuing to dress. I throw on a black button-up and black boots, then slide a pistol into the waistband of my jeans. I strap a smaller backup pistol inside my boot, then I grab the black leather shoulder holster and slide it on before sheathing a pistol on either side.
I shrug on a leather jacket to cover all of the artillery, then I open the bathroom door to find Maeve standing in front of the sink, fully dressed, brushing her teeth. I lean against the doorway, sliding both hands in my pockets, and I watch her. She rinses her mouth and turns my direction. She has her hair up in a half-up, half-down ponytail, and the leggings cling to her like a second skin. I stand straight and hold an arm out for her to join me. She rests a hand on my bicep and smiles up at me.
We step out of my bedroom and walk down the hallway toward the stairs.
“How long has this been here?” Maeve asks, pausing at one of the large golden frames on the wall.
“Oh, man,” I say thoughtfully, rubbing my jaw. “It was hung up almost two decades ago.” The painting is of a young woman sitting on the edge of a lake as dusk falls around her. It always reminded me of her, and when one of the housemaids was redecorating, I lost it, seeing that it was gone. I had to apologize to her for the way I reacted, but I got it back.
“It’s beautiful,” she says softly before looking at me. My arm is draped across her shoulders, her fingers laced with mine, and her other arm is wrapped around my waist. I lean over and kiss the crown of her head. I hear her sigh faintly before we descend the stairs.
In the dining room, my father sits at the head of the table, my mother sitting to his left. She always looks put together and elegant. Across from her is Eoin with his usual cup of coffee, black as night, just as he likes. The table is filled with a variety of savory and sweet breakfast foods. I pull Maeve's chair out, letting her get adjusted before leaning toward my mother and placing a kiss atop her head. I sit between them and reach out for the eggs, loading my plate with a variety of fruits and proteins. Maeve has already dug into the cinnamon rolls, finishing one completely before I can even begin.
“You’ve got quite an appetite this morning, Maeve,” I say casually, then take a sip of coffee, eyeing her over the rim.
Her face flushes, and her eyes go wide. “Umm, yes. Yes, I do. Thanks for pointing that out, Callum.”
I waggle my eyebrows at her suggestively, and she stares pointedly down at her plate, the color in her cheeks growing redder.
My father clears his throat loudly. “Well, son, the plane is loaded and ready for all of you. I hope you can enjoy a little bit of the trip, though I have little doubt you’ll be able to,” he says as an afterthought, glancing between Maeve and me. “I know the business usually takes over, but I hope all of you can make some time to soak it all in.”
“Uh, yeah”, I say, trying to keep my expression neutral. I’m not used to expressions of sentimentality from my father. “We’ll be making some stops along the way. I want to show Maeve a few of my favorite places.” I look over at her, her eyes soft and unguarded. She’s excited to travel, and I get to be the one to take her.
“That sounds wonderful,” my mother says, sipping her tea. “Take her to that lovely bookstore in Waterford. I have a feeling it’s right up her alley.” She winks at Maeve, and Maeve grins in response. The excitement radiating off of her almost makes me forget about our…carry-onwaiting for us on the plane. I think of what awaits him in Ireland with a grim satisfaction.
“Anything we need to know before we head out? The guys are on their way back to pick us up,” I say, biting into a homemade biscuit.
“Nothing yet, but we will keep you updated as we find out any new information,” Eoin chimes in, taking a sip from his mug. The tattoos on his hands are marked with scars, and the ink has faded in some spots. He has seen things that few could stomach. I have had to turn my head once or twice myself.
