Keenan (Dangerous Doms 1)

I hope Maeve comes quickly. I want out of these old clothes.

I close my eyes and press my forehead against the cool, pristine tile.

Why did you do this to me? I ask my father. Were you hiding things?

Why would it surprise me if he was hiding things?

He hid me.

I start when I hear a door open, my heart racing like butterfly wings against my chest. Someone comes into the room. Is it Maeve? Would she come in unannounced?

I don’t want to be taken by surprise, or for anyone to think I’m hiding, so I turn the doorknob and exit the bathroom. I freeze in the doorway when I see Keenan’s father walking into the bedroom. Involuntarily, I step back into the bathroom. He’s a dangerous man, and I need to hide. But he’s seen me, and I know it’s foolish to think I can get away from him.

“There you are, lass,” he says, and though his words are casual, his voice is hard. It makes my pulse quicken. “Come here.”

I take one step forward and don’t go any further. His eyes narrow, and he crooks his finger at me. “Closer.”

Keenan won’t like this. Not at all.

I swallow hard and obey. He nods. “Good. Seems he’s training you well, then.” His eyes roam over my body. “I see no marks, though,” he says disapprovingly. I swallow hard.

“I’ve been punished, if that’s what you wonder,” I tell him, a note of anger evident in my tone. What does he wish to see? Bruises on my shoulders or neck? I shudder.

His eyes darken. “Show me.”

Revulsion churns in my stomach, and my cheeks flame. It isn’t right. No. Keenan won’t like this. He’ll lose his mind if he knows his father did this, that he violated me and came in here.

“I—I can’t,” I whisper, faltering. “I don’t think Keenan would approve.”

He stares at me, and I wonder how he’ll react. I can’t swallow or blink. I’m frozen in place, at this man’s mercy, when the door opens again, and Maeve steps in.

“Oh, there y’are, Seamus,” she says, beaming at him. “Came to visit the lass?”

She’s laden with bags, and Seamus walks over to help her carry them. I release the breath I was holding. He takes them in hand, nodding.

“Aye,” he says. “Looks like you’ve got an errand with her, then. I’ll leave you.”

Relief floods through me all at once.

I could kiss Maeve. To my surprise, when he draws near to him, she gets up on her tiptoes and kisses him full on the lips, then wraps her arms around his neck, as if she hasn’t seen him in ages. He pulls her to him, bags and all, and stoops down, hugging her. He whispers something in her ear that makes her giggle.

“Go on with you, now,” she says. “Out you go. We’ve got girl stuff to tend to.” She winks at him.

He looks to me, puts the bags on the floor, and nods. “You answered well, lass,” he says, before he turns and takes his leave.

What? He’s pleased with my answer?

Was he testing me?

Maeve looks at me curiously, her head tipped to the side. “What was that about?” she asks. I tell her about the brief exchange. Her large, luminous eyes widen, and a soft smile spreads across her lips. “Sweet girl,” she says. “You told the Chief his son wouldn’t approve?” She breaks into a full on grin. “You’ve got spunk, I’ll give you that. Now let’s get you out of these clothes and prepared for dinner.”

I’m still shaking, but I soon forget what’s on my mind when I look at the piles of items she’s dumping onto the bed. They’re all so foreign to me. Why did she bring so much?

Talking to people drains you. I miss the isolation and solace of being alone, the quiet and peace of holding my own counsel. I stifle a yawn as she arranges things. I’m tired. So tired.

But before we get to the clothes, I have questions.

“Was he going to hurt me?” I ask her.

She straightens in surprise, looks to the door, then back to me. She mulls her response over before answering. “He might’ve,” she says thoughtfully, and it’s strange how the honest response doesn’t seem to trouble her. “He’s a stern man, Seamus. But if he’s told Keenan that you’re his charge, I can’t imagine he would betray that.”

“He asked me if Keenan punished me,” I whisper.

She nods, then goes back to unpacking the bags. “He would, yes. What did you do to earn a punishment?”

She’s asking me this as if it’s normal and expected. I tell her, and her brows go up.

“Well,” she says. “Did he punish you?”

I nod. He did. My cheeks flame. I’m suddenly embarrassed to be having this discussion, but she doesn’t seem the least bit bothered.

“Then you’ve nothing to worry about,” she says. “We have a code here, and you broke it. You didn’t know, I understand. But that rarely impacts retribution or consequences. You’ll see.”