Is this how it feels when memory resurfaces? I look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are bright and my cheeks light pink. My hair shines glossy and golden, cast beneath the glow of sunlight that filters through the window.
My face is round and full, and is it my imagination, or does it look a little softer somehow? I open my mouth and close it again. I wonder if doing some jaw exercises or something would firm up my face a little. I turn to the side and open and close my mouth with wide, exaggerated poses, when I hear Cormac’s voice.
“Aimin’ to catch some fish, lass? What the bloody hell are you doing?”
I feel my cheeks flush a bit, but I keep at it, nonplussed.
“I need to firm up my jaw,” I say, stroking my chin. “I’m getting older or something, because my face looks… fleshy.”
“My God, it doesn’t,” he says. He steps into the bathroom and stands behind me, his hands on my hips. A little tingle races through me when he touches me.
“Are you out of your mind? Fleshy? Mack Martin’s got a heavy-jowled, fleshy face. Your face is perfect.”
“And look at my eyebrows,” I say, arching my brows up and down. “They need a good pluck.”
He blinks and doesn’t respond right away. “They look fine to me,” he mutters.
“Pluck,” I say stubbornly. My eyes drop to my breasts. “And my breasts look bigger, no?” I squeeze them, wincing in pain. “Aye, they’re tender. Must be gettin’ my monthly soon.”
“Mad,” he says under his breath. “And I’ve no objection if your breasts are bigger.” He gives me a wink.
I elbow him. “My breasts aren’t good enough? You need bigger, is it?”
He laughs out loud, releases my hips, and gives me a teasing smack to the arse. “Go on with you,” he says. “Let’s get to the shops before they close.”
“Hey!” I ignore the way my stomach flips with nausea. I’m not going to miss a chance to get out of here, to actually do something. But he’s already nearly at the door.
I take one of the bags hanging up in the closet and slide my phone in a pocket. I’ve got a wallet, with cash, and a credit card he’s gotten for me.
“Cormac?”
“Hmm?”
“Are we going alone?”
“Course not. We’ll have a few men with us as well.”
I frown. “Is that always the way?”
“Aye. Naturally.”
“Was it that way with the Martins?” I ask. I don’t remember having a guard on me. Did I?
“I know you had a guard of some sort, but I can’t say how or when or where.” He frowns. “Wouldn’t be surprised if it was hardly a guard at all.”
“Why not?”
He purses his lips, pausing before he responds. “The Martins aren’t the protective sort.”
I blink, and a memory surfaces again.
I’m in a small room, decorated in whites and yellows with a girlish duvet and thin pillows. It isn’t posh, like this room, but small and utilitarian. Was it my childhood home, then? And there was a man standing out front. Watching guard. I don’t have a fond recollection of him, but a sick feeling of dread twists in my belly when I think of him.
It comes back to me in a rush. He’d give me information or help if I asked in exchange for sexual favors. He took advantage of my situation.
His name was Dermot. Blaine said they killed him for letting me go.
“Aileen? Y’alright? You look stricken.”
I blink, shoving the memory away, the bitter taste of it still on my lips. I shake my head.
“I’m fine.”
He gives me a curious look, frowning. “You sure?”
I sigh. “Yes. I’m sure. It’s just that some of my memories are coming back to me, and so far none of them are pleasant.”
His eyes widen so slightly, it’s barely noticeable, before he hardens his face again. He nods. “I see. Perhaps we need to speak with Sebastian. See what it is that you can expect, or if you—”
“No.” I shake my head, resolute.
“No?” he asks, quirking a brow at me. My heart pitter pats a bit quicker.
“No,” I repeat. “You said you’re taking me into town, and I mean to do just that.”
He raises his brows and leans his hip against the doorway. “That right?”
I feel somehow smaller with the way he looks at me. In the garden, like an idiot, I challenged him. Perhaps that was a strategic error.
I decide it likely smart I rephrase my request. Just to be safe. “I mean… please. Can we please still go into town? Maybe just call Sebastian on the phone or something?”
Another wave of nausea hits.
He stares at me for long seconds, before nodding, his lips pursed. “Right then. Off we go. But if I say it’s time to go home, you’ll obey without giving me that smart mouth of yours. Understood?”