Keep Me (Sinful Manor #1)

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

I hear the familiar click-click again from the library, and I stop in my tracks as I walk in the back door, shedding my boots from the field before quietly crossing the floor. Sylvie hasn’t worked much on her novel in the past few weeks. First, she got sick. Then, we had my birthday party. And ever since then, she’s been back to acting strange again.

It’s as if Sylvie will only let me in one tiny bit at a time. That night of the party a couple of weeks ago, I think she realized how much we mean to each other now, and she didn’t like it. I don’t blame her. I didn’t like it at first either.

It’s such a strange feeling to fall in love with someone you don’t intend to. It’s like being coerced or tricked. Everything that reminded me of what it was like to despise her is gone. Wiped from my memory forever.

Slowly, I tiptoe up the stairs, mesmerized by the hypnotic sound of her fingers punching those loud keys. As I reach the library, I do the same thing I always do. I stand in the doorframe silently with my arms crossed as I watch her.

“I can see you,” she calls, sounding amused while still typing away at her typewriter.

I let out a low chuckle as I step into the room. She doesn’t stop what she’s doing. In fact, she seems captivated by the story she’s typing, and when she reaches the end of the page, she rolls it out of the old machine and loads a new one.

I could remind her again that she owns a perfectly good laptop, but she already knows that. And if this is working, then who am I to stop her?

After the fresh white page is loaded, she rolls her chair backward and stretches her arms over her head, arching her spine and revealing her back and belly. I have to force myself to focus.

It’s now early May, and I’m starting to feel a sense of panic building inside me because the days of our marriage are numbered. Sylvie only has four more months here. It will take me four more months to convince her to stay. To be my wife forever .

“It’s a beautiful day outside,” I say carefully.

She looks momentarily surprised as she pops up and glances out the large window. “It actually stopped raining.”

“We only have a matter of time before it starts again.”

She spins toward me, tugging at the rubber band around the ponytail, letting her wild, warm locks fall around her shoulders. “What did you have in mind?”

“It’s a surprise,” I reply.

The corner of her mouth tilts upward, fighting a smile. “Fine. I can stand to take a break anyway. Let me get my shoes on.”

When I meet Sylvie outside, I watch her expression as she pulls the back door closed and spots Moire standing near the garden wall. Sylvie’s jaw drops.

“What is she doing here?” she asks with sweet surprise as she jogs down the gray stone steps toward the large animal.

“I thought you might like to go for a little ride,” I say without sounding too enthusiastic about it. I’ve learned that approaching Sylvie is like approaching a wild animal. Be gentle. Don’t be too charismatic. She spooks easy.

“I’ve never ridden a horse before,” she says with fright.

I reach out my hand toward her. “I’ve got you.”

When her gaze lifts to my face, I spot a hint of something affectionate, but she quickly wipes it away. “Promise?”

“Of course,” I reply. The desire to call her something special and intimate is strong, but I refrain. Tread carefully.

“All right,” I say, pulling her toward the saddle. “Left foot first.”

She slides her foot into the stirrup and leaps onto the horse’s back. As I climb up behind her, she relaxes against my body with a sigh. She’s more at ease with me close to her. I wish she could see that.

Sylvie leans back as we take off in a slow trot around the perimeter of the grounds. We don’t say much as we go, but my wife and I have reached that point in our relationship where we are comfortable together, even in silence. We don’t need to fill it with meaningless chatter. She’s not like my sister or my friends’ wives. Sylvie lives as if she doesn’t owe anyone in the world an explanation or an apology. She doesn’t belong to anyone—not even me. At least not in that way.

Sylvie is fearlessly herself. And I love that about her.

Especially when I feel as if I’m constantly battling with everyone to let me be myself—my sister, my aunt, and even my dead parents had a vision for me in their heads of what I was meant to be. I have failed time and time again. I’ve never truly been what anyone wished for me to be. So it’s easier just to be alone. In my house, I can’t feel the disappointment.

“Your property goes all the way out here?” she asks when we see the river in the distance.

“Yes.”

“I had no idea it was this big,” she murmurs to herself.

“This runs right out to the sea,” I reply, pointing to the river ahead of us. “It makes me feel more connected to the rest of the world,” I add, unsure why I need to be so open with her. My hand grips around her waist. “I sometimes come out here just to stare at the current, watch as it leaves.”

She’s silent for a while before carefully speaking. “Why don’t you leave? You could go too, you know?”

I swallow down the discomfort building in my throat. “Where would I go? I belong here.”

“You could go wherever you want, Killian. You could leave your sister and this house behind and live your own life.”

My hand tightens around her. “And where will you go?”

I hear her exhale softly. “I don’t know, Killian.”

“Come with me, and we can go anywhere.” It’s foolish of me to try, but I have to. I still don’t understand, after everything we’ve been through, why this woman still wants to hold me so far away. As if nothing between us is real.

“It’s not that easy,” she whispers.

“Yes, it is. I’m your husband. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

“For what? For how long? What happens when this year is up?” Her voice is growing frantic, and I’ve come to learn the sound of Sylvie getting caught up in her emotions. I’m doing exactly what I’m not supposed to be, spooking her with talk of the future and our feelings, but I can’t take it anymore. She has to know how I feel about her—how I feel about us .

“I’ll have our house for good, then,” I say in a pleading tone. “My aunt will be off our backs, and we can do whatever we want.”

She lets out a defeated sound as she places her face in her hands. “Killian.”

My jaw clenches. Is this her way of letting me down? Am I really so wrong about these feelings that she truly doesn’t feel them too?

“It’s all in my head, then,” I reply with a frustrated grunt. “You really do feel nothing for me.”

Her head lifts, and I see a tremble in her lips. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then, what are you saying, mo ghràidh?”

“I don’t know. Why are you asking me all of this right now? Why do I have to decide?”

I feel her body shivering against me just as the clouds start to drop a heavy mist on us. Guilt assaults me for being too hard on her, too desperate to know I’m not alone in this.

“It’s okay, darling,” I whisper with my lips against the side of her head. “Let’s just go back home.”

As we make our steady walk back to the house, the rain picks up from a light drizzle to a slow fall. When we reach the farm, I quickly put Moire back in the stall and shut the door. Sylvie is standing under the roof of the barn, watching the rain. Judging by the look on her face, she’s deep in contemplation and downright worried. It makes me feel like shite for bringing the whole thing up in the first place.

She has only been here for eight months. That’s fast for any relationship, especially a marriage. It’s ridiculous of me to be pressuring her to be married to me beyond the contract we initially set out.

But as I approach her from behind to apologize, she quickly spins toward me and grabs my face in her hands. It takes me by surprise, so I pull back to stare into her eyes.

“Fuck the house, Killian. Fuck this stupid contract. Let’s just blow it all off and go away together.”

My eyes widen as I stare at her in shock. “What are you talking about?”

“You said you would take me anywhere I want to go, so let’s give the house back to your aunt now and go somewhere!”

My hands cover hers as I gaze into her eyes skeptically. “Sylvie, I meant on a holiday. I’m not giving my house to my aunt.”

Her face morphs into an expression of defeat as her lips close, and she stares up at me with sadness.

“Fine,” she whispers. “Then…just kiss me.”

I stare at her in confusion. “Are you all right?”

But she doesn’t answer me. Instead, she tugs my mouth down to hers and bites my bottom lip between her teeth. Latching her arms around my neck, she kisses me as if she’s trying to distract me…or herself.

Her body clings to mine, and I feel her legs spreading like she wants me to lift her so she can wrap them around me. But I have the sense I’m being misled, and I’m even more confused than I was before.

What is Sylvie not telling me?

Keeping my mouth against hers, she breathes between us. “I do want to go away with you, Killian,” she whispers. “I just—”

The sound of tires on gravel down the driveway stops her words before they leave her mouth. We both turn to watch a car driving slowly toward the house. It’s a black sedan, expensive and private, with dark tinted windows.

“Who the hell is that?” I mutter.

“I have no idea…” Sylvie responds wearily.

We each tug our rain jackets over our heads and walk hand in hand toward the house, but I feel the hesitation in my wife’s touch. Even if she doesn’t know who is at the house, I get the feeling she has a specific fear of who it might be.

By the time we reach the front door of the house, whoever it was has already been welcomed inside. Sylvie glances up at me nervously before I guide her toward the door.

“It’ll be okay,” I whisper comfortingly.

Then I pull open the front door just as Sylvie peeks around me and tears down the hood of her jacket.

Standing in the large entryway of my house is a couple I don’t recognize. The woman is slender with a downturned mouth and long red hair, a few shades darker than Sylvie’s. The man has dark curly hair and a receding hairline, leaving the top of his head bald.

Sylvie’s hand squeezes mine as if she’s suddenly afraid. I glance at her as she gapes in shock at the two people standing before us. I’m just about to scream at someone to tell me what’s going on when she finally opens her mouth to speak.

“Mom…Dad…what are you guys doing here?”