I ask him about his studies, and after he’s filled me in, I ask him some more pressing questions.
“You were written up many times for your temper early in the term, Lachlan,” I admonish. The boy appropriately hangs his head but nods. Caitlin watches both of us carefully. “A man does well to rein in his temper. I’ve heard you’ve improved, but not enough.”
“Aye, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” Lachlan says, his hands flat on his knees while he accepts his chastisement.
“Any man can rail in anger or fury,” I continue. “It takes a much stronger man to know how or when to act. Do you understand me?”
He looks up at me and nods. “Aye, sir.”
“Good,” I tell him. “You continue your studies and I want a full report at the end of the month on your studies and behavior. You have the strength of character and integrity to make a fine leader in our Clan. Understood?”
His eyes are bright with hope as he nods eagerly. “Aye. Yes, sir.”
My tone sharpens. “But if I don’t get a good report, if I hear of even one instance of you losing your temper again, you’ll answer directly to me.” He blanches, but to his credit swallows hard and doesn’t break eye contact. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Good lad,” I excuse him. “Go with your mates and remember, Lachlan. You are the only one who has the power to control yourself. That power is not in Malachy’s hands, nor mine, nor anyone else’s.”
I dismiss him, and don’t realize Caitlin’s listened to every word until she takes my hand in hers.
“You’ll make a good father someday, Keenan McCarthy.”
I look at her in astonishment, surprised at the warmth in her tone.
“Will I?” I can’t think of having children, not now. The sudden image of a babe in Caitlin’s arms, tucked to her breast and swaddled in blankets, takes me by surprise. “What makes you say such a thing?”
She shrugs. “Well, you can be stern and unyielding, but there’s benefit to that. Children need discipline and structure. But you have a gentle, nurturing side to you as well.”
I scoff. “Me? Nurturing? Bollox.”
“It’s true, Keenan,” she insists, her pretty eyes wide and earnest. “A good father both structures and nurtures, and I’ve seen you do both. With your men. With the boys here.”
I smile at her.
“Do you want children, lass?”
Her pretty face illuminates with the radiance of her grin. “Of course,” she says. “Loads.”
I choke on the tea I’m sipping. “Loads?”
“Well,” she says, thoughtfully tapping her lip. “At least three or four.”
Three or four. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
“Well that ain’t loads,” I say, as if to justify it, and for some reason that tickles her. Her pretty, musical laugh rings out in the small room, capturing the attention of several of my men. My heart stirs, and I want to secret her away, just the two of us. I want to kiss her until her breast heaves with want, then make slow, heated, sweet love to her until she moans in pleasure. I want to put my babies inside her and raise them with her. I know now why arranged marriage and the like can work. Why the men of The Clan—my very own parents, even—have made it work, because I’m as confident in my ability to care for her as I am of anything.
I reach for her hand. “I want you alone tonight.”
“You’ve a job to do,” she reminds me quietly.
“Don’t I know it,” I say on a groan. “And do it I will, but when I return…”
She takes my larger hand in both of hers and squeezes, leaning closer to me. “I’ll be there.”
Does she think differently of what we’ve discussed, then? Does she realize that she has to marry me, that it’s the only way to hold the Martin clan at bay? The only way to solidify me as Clan Chief? No. Of course she doesn’t. It’s my job to explain to her.
My men leave, except for the few I’ve instructed to remain. Caitlin goes off with Caira to one of the classrooms but stays within ear shot. She’s never seen the inside of a classroom and is adorably fascinated by everything about the school. Caira is fascinated by her.
Caitlin is nothing like the women we typically wed, and at the same time she’s everything I need. Intelligent and brave, honest and loyal. I realize then, this isn’t just convenience, it isn’t just what The Clan needs.
I’m falling for this woman.
Hard.
When night falls, we take our positions. Caitlin’s in the room with me, sitting meditatively in a chair by the window, the book she borrowed from Caira momentarily forgotten.
“Keenan,” she begins, her index finger tracing the raised, golden title on the cover.
“Yes?” I’m assembling my weapons, tucking them into the harness I wear, checking my ammunition.