Page 26 of The Irish Arrangement

I slapped the device in his hand, and giving it up felt like I was severing a tether I wanted to cling to. This was my only means of contacting Mom. My only method of checking with Oscar that he was seeing to my wishes in my absence. I’d texted him so many times already, and it seemed that he was obedient to my decrees, but I didn’t look forward to losing all contact.

“Mr. Sullivan will return it when he sees fit, I’m sure.” With that, holding my phone, they turned and left me to… nothing. I had nothing to do. Nowhere to go.

I stood there staring at the tall double doors as they closed them. Stuck in a fugue of cluelessness and simmering anger, I tried to rise above the stress of it all.

Now, I was truly unencumbered. I couldn’t focus on following up with the farm or Mom’s health. I couldn’t browse the weather and see if the animals would be all right for any upcoming summer storms.

I had no way to contact the world, and shut away in this huge but dark wing in an old castle, I was a prisoner.

On the farm, I’d wondered if and when I would ever find an option for an alternative life. Surrounded by the trappings of wealth and a lush private suite all to myself, I sure had stumbled upon one.

But I was just as stuck as I had been before.

That first day turned into another. And another. Another yet.

I saw no one but the pair of guards who’d been assigned to me. Declan never came to me, not to see if I was alive or to fuck me hard for his goal of an heir. Nothing. I was isolated but not forgotten. The guards showed me part of the estate home. Several areas of the castle were locked. The whole upper floor was off limits. Even though they gave me a tour of where I was permitted, like the dining room, parlors, library, and study, they indicated that I was trapped inside.

Through the windows, I saw glimpses of the outdoors. The sprawling green lawn. Ornamental gardens just outside the walls and windows, artfully displayed as the gentlemen and gentlewomen’s version of wilderness. Further out, I spotted other buildings, guessing at least one was a stable of some kind.

A pang of homesickness hit me hard as I stared at the hint of such a similar structure. That was where I belonged. Out there, keeping my hands busy, hearing the animals and helping them thrive. It wouldn’t be the same as being home, with the herd and horses Oscar and I tended to, but the mere opportunity of being near animals would ease some of the ache in my heart.

I saw no purpose to hiding inside. Wearing jeans and sweaters and lounging around. This idle, delicate lifestyle didn’t suit me. This wasn’t me.

The staff prepared the dusty lady’s wing with clothing that didn’t necessarily suit me, too stiff and not worn in like my simpler attire back home. I had every personal and private necessity I could ever need, including feminine products. My period had started, as I figured it would, even without the order to track my temperature and use the hormone testing strips that someone had left in my wing. A doctor stopped in, and he explained that Declan expected me to track when I would be most fertile.

I’m not. Ever.

But I didn’t say anything. A small part of me worried that the doctor would insist on an exam, but he seemed hurried, like he was there for someone else at the castle. He’d told me to log my menstrual details, and then he was gone.

Who else is here?

I saw only the guards, a couple of cooks and housekeepers here and there, but that whole first week of living here as Mrs. Sullivan, they treated me like I was invisible while they worked and went with ease through the home.

Declan had taken off. His brother, Ian, was gone too.

All alone and wretchedly miserable, I fell deeper into loathing my circumstances. I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t even go outside, despite the steady gray skies and rain.

I often wound up at the windows, staring out and letting every ounce of helplessness sink into my soul. I yearned for the open, fresh air outdoors. I missed the feeling of drizzle on my face, the thick fur of a sheep under my hand, and the comforting whinnies from my favorite horse as we rode out over the land.

Suck it up. I sighed, pressing my brow to the window. Remember that this is all for her.

I swallowed hard, wishing I could see her. To hear her voice. To make her laugh.

Parted from her, I lost sight of the immediate hardships she’d faced for years now. I didn’t know why, but being so utterly alone had me thinking more and more about the past, all those easier, carefree times when I was young. Before her body was ravaged by disease and illnesses. How she took me out on the horses, taught me how to fish, and which sheep would be easier to shear wool from. Dinners and picnics. Laughing at silly jokes and picking wildflowers.

Too busy with working and taking care of her, I’d let those sweeter memories fall from my mind, but now, with this idleness, I dwelled on them.

I’m doing this so we can have better times again. Together. Healed and happy. The dream of such a possibility refueled my spirits to tough out this isolation, but it wasn’t easy.

After a week, I worried about how dark of a situation I’d found myself in. A prisoner. And a brood mare who wouldn’t succeed.

When Declan finally returned, I tensed and wished I could beg for an escape. To run, because the thought of his leaving me but only returning to fuck me filled me with harrowing dread.

At the sound of his voice as he entered, telling Ian he’d speak with him after dinner, I went still.

Hidden in the library, mindlessly zoning out as I peered at a book of photography about Ireland’s geography, I waited for him to find me.

“Cara!” he shouted, pairing his summons with heavy footfalls as he searched through the first floor.

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