Because You're Mine

  The man grabbed her arm. “Hey, calm down.” The rich tones in his voice held no threat. “You must be Alanna.”

  He knew her name? The panic beating against Alanna’s chest eased until she could draw in a lungful of oxygen. She clutched her robe around herself more tightly. “Who are you? What are you doing in my kitchen?”

  “Taking charge right away, are we?” The young man grinned and leaned down to pick up her cup. “Good thing this wasn’t glass.”

  She snatched the cup back, narrowing her eyes at him. “Who are you?” He knew her name, so he must belong here. Her gaze went to the black tattoos on his bulging biceps. His style statements didn’t surprise her as much as his presence. She’d thought she and Barry were the only ones in residence. “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “I’m your new brother.” He unfurled his arms and held out his hand. “Grady Kavanagh.”

  She touched her fingers to his, then withdrew. More family she was unaware of? Grady appeared around twenty-six or-seven. Smudges of dirt marred his big arms and face as though he’d been playing in the mud. “You’re Barry’s brother? You weren’t at the wedding.”

  He shrugged. “I hate getting dressed up, and Barry said I didn’t have to go if I didn’t want to. He knew we’d meet sooner or later. I thought I wouldn’t see you till morning. Sorry if my banging around woke you up.” He glanced back toward the stove. “Hungry? There’s still some she-crab soup left.”

  She was suddenly ravenous. “I wouldn’t say no to a spot of soup.”

  He stepped to the stove and ladled up some soup. The bowl was warm when she accepted it from him. “Smells good. You made it yourself?”

  “I’m a fair hand at cooking. I do most of it here. The great Barry Kavanagh can’t be bothered with such things.” He pulled a chair out from the painted table that had seen better days. “Have a seat.” His smirk came back when he glanced at her cup. “Want some soda in that?”

  “Milk will do.” She set her soup on the tabletop and scooted closer in the chair. The way he stared at her gave her the jitters. He stood there like some kind of judge with his arms crossed over his chest and his blue eyes trying to see inside her.

  She swallowed a spoonful of soup as he turned to pour milk into her cup. “Very good.”

  “Glad you like it.” He put the milk away and returned to staring at her.

  She put down her spoon. “Why are you staring?”

  “Just curious about the woman who managed to snap up Barry Kavanagh. The society moms in the area are going to hate your guts. I can see how you caught him though. You look just like Miss Deirdre.”

  “Is that the woman in the painting on the landing?”

  “That’s her. She’s been quiet this month. I haven’t heard a peep out of her.”

  “What do you mean?” Alanna didn’t mask her confusion. “She’s living here?” Hadn’t the woman been young in the 1940s?

  He grinned and tugged at his lip ring. “In a sense. If you hear a banshee howling around the house, it’s Miss Deirdre. Or so my dad says.”

  A banshee. Alanna barely held back a shudder. He was just trying to scare her. “Leave off! I’ll not be believing such a story.” But in this house, she could almost accept a myth like that. She scooped up a spoonful of soup and swallowed down her uneasiness.

  His grin widened. “A banshee is the least of your worries. Wait until Barry’s mom gets back and finds out he’s married. Whooee, the fireworks will go off then.”

  She swallowed the suddenly tasteless soup. “She doesn’t know about it at all?”

  “Nope.” His eyes danced, and his smile widened. “She had other plans for Barry.”

  Alanna realized he’d called Mrs. Kavanagh Barry’s mother, not his. “She’s not your mum?”

  Grady shrugged. “She barely tolerates me here. Her perfect husband had to admit his infidelity when I was fifteen and my mother died. Pop was left with a son he had tried to hide for all those years. It was quite something to watch him dance around the three of us.”

  She’d had enough of his stares. “Is that what you’ll be doing with your life . . . watching?”

  “Bugs you, does it?”

  She tipped up her chin. “No.”

  He laughed. “Liar.” His eyes studied her again. “You’re going to shake things up in this house, and I’ve got a front-row seat. But I like you, Red. You’ve got spunk.”

  She’d didn’t want to hear any more. Pushing back from the table, she rose. “Thanks for the soup.”

  “You barely touched it.” He grinned.

  She backed out of the kitchen and fled down the hall. Nothing was as it seemed in this house. Not the manor, not Barry’s family. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard a rumble like a lion’s roar. The sound vibrated through her bones, up her spine and into her hair, which felt like it was standing up on end.

  Her throat closed in a spasm, and she turned toward the door, though she wanted to rush up the stairs to her room and hide under the covers. The roar came again when she reached the front door. She peered out through the sidelight windows, but it was too dark to see the source of the horrifying noise.

  Before it could come again, she raced for the steps and the safety of her room. Alanna flung herself against Barry’s door. “Barry, what is that noise?” The rumble came again, and panic battered against her chest. She pounded on the door, and when he didn’t answer, she pushed into the bedroom. It was empty.

  She took a deep, calming breath. Whatever was making that sound was likely something indigenous to the area. No need to fear. It was just the strangeness of everything.

  Before backing out of Barry’s room, she glanced around. A plain gray sheet covered the bed, every edge tucked in. She could bounce a coin on the taut surface. No pictures on the somber gray walls. The room was a sterile cell, almost monk-like. Even the painted floorboards were gray. She picked up two medication bottles and stared at them. The medicine names on them were meaningless to her, but perhaps he had trouble sleeping.

  The rumble jolted her bones again, and she left, pulling the door behind her. Were there big cats in this area? If so, one could be after the kittens under the porch. Maybe she could coax them inside from the porch. Gathering her courage up with both hands, she went back down the stairs to the front door.

  The blackness outside the windows was complete other than a glimmer of moonlight on the water. Her glance took in a switch by the door, and she flipped it up. Pale golden light flooded the porch and the first few feet of the dark yard. The door creaked when she opened it and stepped out onto the warped floorboards.

  A splash sounded to her left, and she glanced that way. The moonlight caught a thick black tail disappearing into the murky water. An alligator? She shuddered. Did it make that kind of sound? “Here kitty, kitty.” Only the frogs answered her.

  Hugging herself, she backed toward the door. And bumped into someone. A scream erupted from her throat until familiar hands gripped her shoulders.

  “It’s okay, sugar. It’s only me,” Barry said. “What are you doing out here?”

  “There you are.” She burrowed against his chest, taking strength from the steady beat of his heart. She felt safe and protected in the circle of his arms. “That sound, it scared me.”

  He lifted his chin from the top of her head. “What sound?”

  “Some kind of rumble.”

  “The alligators. They’re beginning to mate.”

  “It sounded like a lion.” She shuddered. “I was afraid a big cat was after those kittens. Where were you? I called for you.”

  “I was feeding Pete. He’s the alligator you just saw. He loves marshmallows.”

  “That thing is a pet?”

  A ghost of a smile lifted his lips. “Well, not really a pet. He’d take my arm if I let him.”

  Alanna fell back a step. “Then why do you mess with him?”

  Barry shrugged. “The thrill of it, I guess. It’s exciting to know I have t
o be on my toes. Gators are interesting too. You’ll see.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll not be messing with an alligator.” She seized the doorknob and yanked open the door. “I met your brother. I’m beginning to think I don’t know you at all, Barry. First, you have parents I didn’t know you had, and now I’ve just met your brother.” She stepped into the cool dankness of the house. “It’s a good thing our marriage is a business arrangement.” She marched up the steps, eager to escape the questions raging in her head. Like why she had thought this rushed marriage was anything but insane.

  He followed her, reaching for her arm as she reached her bedroom door. “Is that all it is, Alanna?”

  She turned to face him, and her hand crept to her belly. “You know I’m grateful for all you’ve done. Liam’s dad is powerful. He scares me.”

  “He can’t touch you now.” His fingers tightened on her arm. “You know how I feel about you. I’ll protect you from him.”

  She searched his inscrutable gaze. “It makes for a romantic story. Tragic widow saved by handsome manager. A fairy-tale news article that makes the fans rush to the next concert. Was it all about protecting the money you’ve poured into promoting Ceol?”

  His intense gaze scorched her. “You know it’s more than that. I love you, Alanna.”

  She’d hoped he wouldn’t say the words for a while. If nothing else, she found Barry physically attractive with his broad shoulders and the way his blond hair fell over his forehead. He was like a young lion, proud and aristocratic, with a gleam in his blue eyes that told the world he intended to own all he surveyed. And right now that gaze was fixed on her.

  “I’ve always wanted you.” He reached out to cup her cheek. “You’re so beautiful. You make me feel alive.”

  His eyes burned with an intensity that made her want to turn and run, but the passion was compelling in some way too. What woman didn’t want to be desired? But love was more than that, and she couldn’t forget Liam’s warm brown eyes so quickly. She turned away so his hand fell from her face, then stepped into her bedroom and shut the door.

  Nine

  Though she’d been convinced she’d never sleep a wink after the turmoil of the night, Alanna awoke to bright sunshine flooding her room. She rolled over and looked at the clock. Nearly eight. She sat up and pushed her heavy red hair out of her face. Her fingers itched to practice her fiddle. There’d been little time for it in the days leading up to the wedding.

  Everything would seem different this morning in the daylight.

  Her cell phone rang and she scrambled to grab it from her purse. Glancing at the screen, her gut twisted. She wanted to fling it away, but he’d just keep calling until she answered, so she forced herself to flip it open. “Alanna here.”

  Thomas’s voice boomed out. “What’s this nonsense about remarrying? If this is a ploy to keep my grandchild away from me, it won’t work, lass.” He said something else, but the words cut out.

  Her pulse rebounded in her chest. She moved to the window and got an extra bar on her phone. “It’s not nonsense, Thomas. In fact, I’m already married. The wedding was yesterday.” When he didn’t answer right away, she lifted the phone from her ear and stared at it. Had he hung up on her? She put it back to her ear. “Thomas? Did you hear what I said?”

  “What daft thing have you done, Alanna?” His voice was hard, but shaken. “I saw it in the newspaper, but I thought it had to be wrong.”

  “I’m married to an American now. All your political power can’t touch me.”

  “That baby is all we have left of Liam.”

  “And I would have shared him with you if you hadn’t threatened to take my son from me.”

  The sound of teeth grinding came over the phone before he spoke again. “I’ve never liked you, Alanna. You’re showing your tinker roots with this little move. Does your new husband know about your past?”

  She didn’t answer. He would sense the lie if she gave it. “This is useless, Thomas. I’ll be ringing off now.”

  “Wait, you can’t do this! We want to see our grandson.”

  “You can come here and see him anytime.” The thought of not seeing the green hills and valleys of her homeland brought a lump to her throat, but she had to protect her baby. Liam would expect her to protect their child. Though Thomas’s political power was lessened by her marriage, she didn’t trust him.

  “Cheers, Thomas.” She closed her phone. It rang again a few moments later, and she turned it off.

  Thwarting Thomas should have felt good, but his dismay left her with a hollow sensation. She didn’t like hurting people, but what else could she be doing? Thomas’s power reached across every facet of Irish life.

  But she’d disarmed him in one blow and in a way he hadn’t expected. All thanks to Barry’s generosity. Her heart warmed at the thought of all her new husband had done for her. What a great bloke.

  After showering and dressing, she walked past Barry’s empty bedroom and descended the stairs with her fiddle in her hand. The place was needing a woman’s touch. The first thing on her agenda would be to wash the streaky windows and sweep the front porch, make it more welcoming.

  She heard no movement in the kitchen or living room. Through the kitchen window, she saw Grady working in the yard. His dyed orange mohawk was garish in the sunlight. She’d meant to ask Barry why he hadn’t mentioned his brother to her. Where was Barry? The mansion felt empty.

  She carried her fiddle case to the front porch. The early May morning already shimmered with humidity laced with the promise of heat. She saw no sign of Barry, and the Mercedes no longer sat in the driveway. She laid down her case and decided to go for a walk in the cool of the morning.

  Dew still hung in pristine droplets from the flowers blooming along the flagstone path that wound through the garden. With grass on one side and flowers on the other, she wandered through the expansive acreage. The birds sang out from the shelter of the live oaks and cypress she passed. Even in the bright daylight, the water was a sluggish black. Murky and unappealing. She made sure not to get too close.

  The wind freshened, and she smelled the marsh. Its salty scent drew her out to the waving sea grass, past the lagoon and camellia garden, until the house was in the distance. She should have put some shoes on. Her bare feet were wet with dew. The sound of the ocean grew louder, but she would need a flat-bottomed boat to get out to the waves past this marsh.

  Disappointed, she stopped and let her gaze sweep the horizon. Was that a pier? She drew nearer and saw that a rickety structure ran out over the marsh to the waves. Watching where she put her bare feet, she walked to the pier.

  Some of the boards were missing, and it didn’t look safe, but she tested it with one foot.

  “I wouldn’t try it if I were you, not in your condition,” a voice said to her right.

  Alanna peered into the shadows of a large cypress tree and saw a black woman seated on a quilt. “Cheers,” she said, moving closer to the woman, who looked to be weaving a basket.

  The woman had one of those ageless faces, the dark skin smooth and unblemished. She wore her white braids wrapped around her head like a coronet. White shorts revealed long shapely legs, and the red tank top revealed muscular arms. Sandals lay discarded on the quilt.

  She put down her basket and patted the space beside her on the quilt. “Rest, little one. I’m Hattie Bellamy.” She held out a slim hand, sinewy with muscle.

  “Alanna Co—, um, Kavanagh.”

  Hattie smiled. “Caught him, did you?”

  “Not exactly.” Alanna sank onto the soft quilt and studied the basket. “It’s quite lovely.”

  Hattie picked it up. “I’ve done better. Your man lets me grow sweet grass out by the lagoon. I picked this a few days ago and dried it, but I think it needs to dry a bit more.”

  “I love this one,” Alanna said. “Such a beautiful shape, like a boat. What will you be using it for?”

  “I don’t know yet. Its purpose will come to me.” Hatti
e studied Alanna’s face. “You’re a little bit lost, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Alanna admitted, not willing yet to say more though she’d warmed instantly to the woman.

  “Irish, I hear.” The woman picked up her basket and began to weave the grass into it again.

  Alanna found watching her most soothing. “Guilty, I am. Irish through and through. Have you lived here long?”

  “Born here.” Hattie squinted through the trees. “You can just see my tiny place through the trees.”

  “You live on Kavanagh property?” Alanna was sure Barry’s property went clear to state land.

  “I was your man’s nanny once upon a time. His mama deeded over the old place for as long as I live.”

  The woman must be older than Alanna thought. “There’s so much about the family I don’t know,” she said. “I thought Barry’s mother was dead. Now I’m finding she’s very much alive and most likely will be outraged he married me.”

  “She’s been wanting a grandchild. I suspect she’ll be pleased once she gets over the shock.”

  Alanna shook her head. “It’s not Barry’s child.” She found herself pouring out the story. Hattie listened with an impassive face. When Alanna was finished, she realized her cheeks were wet, and swiped at the tears. “Sorry.”

  “Lass, you got troubles. Miss Patricia won’t take well to this situation.” Hattie hesitated. “And there’s darkness in that house. Scares me. You have anywhere else to go?”

  Alanna shook her head. “Thomas’s reach is long. Only Barry can protect me.”

  Hattie put down the basket and gripped Alanna’s hand hard enough to make her wince. “You listen to me, lass. Watch yourself. Things aren’t always what they seem. People aren’t always what they appear. If you sense danger, you come to me. Just run right out of that house and head for my cottage.”

  Alanna smiled even though she could tell Hattie meant every word. “I don’t think anyone would be harming me,” she said. “Unless you’re talking about the banshee.”

  The older woman snorted. “That banshee doesn’t worry me. It’s the flesh-and-blood folks who do the most damage.”