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“Plus marrying her means he can’t take her from you and marry her off to someone else,” Lachlan says, growling.
“Not with a child who has our name,” Kieran growls right back.
He’s got two sons as well, but he acts just as fiercely protective over mine.
We land to dark skies because it’s late November. Escalades wait for us on the tarmac in Kieran’s hangar at LaGuardia.
Men I don’t know take our luggage, and I steer Ana, who’s carrying the baby seat in one arm and holding Sophie’s hand with the other, to one of the cars.
She signed the marriage license on the plane without even looking up at me, without hesitating. She wants to marry me. Or she knows the consequences of facing her father without one.
Just as Kieran said, dinner is waiting for us.
Divona, my childhood home, smells of turkey, thyme, sage, and other scents of the holidays.
“Darragh!” Patricia, Kieran’s house manager, pulls me into a hug that can crush me.
“Hi. I’m so happy to see you,” I tell my former nanny, and it’s unsettling to look her in the eye because she changed my diapers.
Although, I’ve changed a lot in that department in thirty-something years.
“Are you hungry?” she asks with a lilt that really feels like home.
“I am. You remembered Sophie’s allergy?”
“Aye, of course,” she says quickly. “There’s nothing here to hurt her.”
When she cups my cheek, her words ring with a comforting metaphor. I’ve agreed to stay here at Divona while Ana and I find a place for ourselves.
Kieran keeps several guards on duty 24/7 to protect him and his family.
No one looks unhappy or stressed about it. It’s something we’ll get used to, I guess.
If anything, Ana’s only been away from this life for three years. She’s lived with guards her whole life.
“Did you ask about the food?” Her voice slips into my ear from behind.
I turn around and take the baby from her. “Yes. Go eat.”
“You both go eat.” Patricia holds her arms out. “Give me the wee-one. Cillian and Matteo are with their mum and da. My arms feel empty.”
“Are you their nanny, too?” Ana asks, handing him over.
“No. The Mrs. runs a foundation. Kieran hired two nannies for his boys. But they’re off today.”
I peek into the open kitchen and see the girl I remember as Isabella Parisi holding a baby, Kieran holding another one.
“Your brother is very involved with his sons. Gets up early every morning for diaper changes and feedings. At night, he and Izzy do the baths.” Patricia cuddles J.P. and sashays away, singing a Celtic folk song I remember to him.
I put my arm around Ana. “Are you hungry, my love?”
“Starved.” She presses a kiss to my mouth, heating my blood.
The wild look in her eyes makes me wonder if it’s for more than food.
“We’re getting married tomorrow.” I drill her with a look to gauge if it’s what she really wants.
She slips her arms around my waist. “Can’t wait. Too bad we’ll have a platonic honeymoon.”
