Carnal Urges

27

“Don’t. It’s an improvement.” The faint approximation of a smile curves the corners of his mouth. “All the lads thought it was dead sound, lass. Wicked craic.” His smile vanishes. “Don’t tell Declan I said that, if you please.”

“I won’t. You can count on me. If he asks about you, I’ll tell him you were a mute asshole. That should make him happy.”

He lowers his head and examines my face for a moment. Then he nods and turns back to the door. Just as he’s about to leave, he turns back to me.

“The name’s Spider.”

“Your mother named you Spider? I don’t think so. What’s your real name?”

He considers me in silence for a while, then says grudgingly, “Homer. And if you repeat that, I’ll—”

“Homer? Very cool! I wish I were named after an ancient Greek poet, but I’m embarrassed to admit my mom wanted a name that would fit either a boy or a girl and found Sloane on some random baby name website. At least your mother had real inspiration. I think mine was drunk on rosé.”

When I notice how strangely he’s looking at me, I get worried. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Most people from this country think of the cartoon character Homer Simpson when I tell them my name.”

“Oh. Well, I’m not most people, now am I?”

When I grin, he chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I hear you offered to cook Kieran a meal.”

“Yes. But not only him. I offered to cook for all of you. I’m a very good chef, if I do say so myself. It’s too bad you and Kieran aren’t supposed to be talking to me, because you could lobby Declan to let me into the kitchen. It would be good therapy for us both. I’m already getting bored. Imagine how much I’ll annoy him in another few days when I’m really climbing the walls!”

He opens his mouth, remembers he shouldn’t be having this conversation, and shuts it again.

“Oops. That’s my fault. I don’t want to get you in trouble, so you should probably go. When I see Declan next, I’ll pretend to be crying and blame it on you.”

“Decent of you. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“By the way, what’s that stench?”

“I used Declan’s cigarette lighter to burn one of his ties.”

We gaze at each other in silence for a moment. He says gently, “Why don’t you give me the lighter, lass?”

“Ooh, good idea! You can tell him you took it away from me and I started sobbing. He’ll probably give you a raise.”

I retrieve the lighter from the bed and set it on the tray of empty dishes Homer’s holding. Then I smile at him. “It’s been nice meeting you. You and Kieran are both very sweet. I can’t believe you work for such a douche.”

He suddenly turns dead serious. “It’s my honor to work for him. He’s one of the best men I’ve ever known.”

Another one who’s drunk the Kool-Aid. The doctor said the same thing. “I think we’ll have to agree to disagree. But it was still nice to meet you. Please give Kieran my best.”

Homer can’t decide how to respond, so he leaves without saying anything.

He returns in short order with bags and bags of clothes. He sets the bags inside the door, turns to me, lowers his voice, says, “Kieran says hullo, and we’re working on the cooking thing,” then leaves again.

If only the lord of the manor were as nice as his minions.

I dig through the clothes, delighted to find almost everything I asked for. I contemplate texting Declan a list of things I’d like from Louis Vuitton and Cartier, just to see what he’d do, but decide I’d rather be shot dead than communicate with him. So I dress, eat the food Homer brought, and meditate again.

By the time all that’s finished, it’s twilight beyond the wall of windows, and I’m tired.

Unusually tired. Unless I had a big night out with Nat, I’m always brimming with energy. Right now, I feel like someone sucked all my energy out with a vacuum.

That’s probably what Declan was doing right before I woke up next to him in bed.

I walk around the room three times, inspecting everything again, hoping to find any clue about its occupant I might have missed, but have no luck. I also don’t find anything I can use as a weapon. Not that I think Declan is going to hurt me, but there’s no telling when the desire to stab him will present itself.

I’m about to give up and go to sleep when the man himself returns.

I didn’t think it was possible for him to look angrier than the last time I saw him, but I was wrong.

He closes the door behind him with such force, I jump. Then he stands there, staring at me with glittering icicle eyes, trying to kill me with a look.

“What did I do now?”

“What exactly did you say to Spider?”

I pretend innocence. “Was that the tall blond guy? I didn’t say anything to him.”

“No?”

Uh-oh. He knows something. s**t, I wonder if there are cameras in here? “I simply thanked him for bringing me food.”

“And what did he say?”

“Only that he wasn’t supposed to talk to me.”

Declan moves toward me, one step at a time, never taking his blistering gaze from my face. I resist the urge to back up and square my shoulders instead.

His voice low, he says, “He wasn’t supposed to talk to you. That was a direct order. Yet somehow he left this room with little red hearts in his eyes and the strange urge to conspire with Kieran to get me to let you cook for them.”

“Oh. Really? That is strange.”