Savage Redemption (The Caraksay Brotherhood #10)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

R osie

Life on Caraksay has not turned out to be the ordeal I feared. Yes, it’s remote, with few visitors apart from migrating birds and breeding seals, but there are a lot more people here than I originally imagined, including a lot of women and children. Apart from the pilot, Magda, there’s the resident medic, Megan, Ethan’s wife, Cristina, the cook and housekeeper, Mrs McRae, and an older woman, Faith, who is apparently some sort of relative by marriage and lives in a cottage close to the cliff path. Two Belarusian teenagers live with her, and I’ve yet to work out their connection, but everyone seems to rub along well enough. It’s a real community, and Eva and I have been sort of absorbed into it.

On that first day, Jed and Casey showed us to our apartment in the converted castle. I gather it was once the home of Ethan’s brother, Aaran, and his wife and son, but they decided to relocate to the mainland. Better for her plumbing business, apparently. The apartment has two bedrooms, so we have plenty of space, including for when my dad hops over to visit.

We’d only been in the apartment for a few minutes when the housekeeper popped in to welcome us and explain the domestic arrangements. Despite the obvious wealth of the Savages, they keep a very informal home. There is little in the way of staff. Mrs McRae brings a team of cleaners over from the mainland once or twice a week to keep the place in good order, and occasionally caterers are hired for special events. There are no official mealtimes, apart from if Cristina decides to invite us to eat in the main hall which tends to be occasional and usually to celebrate a birthday or similar event.

Mrs McRae cooks for an army, and we all make or way down to the kitchen at around lunchtime and dinner time each day and help ourselves. We can eat there, in the huge kitchen, or take our meals back to wherever. Most of the men live in the cottages, and several of their families, too. If we feel like cooking for ourselves, we can just raid the massive larders, and if there’s anything in particular that we want, Mrs McRae orders it in.

There’s a sort of ferry service a couple of times a week, mainly for bringing in supplies. Most traffic between Caraksay and the mainland is by helicopter. Two days after Eva and I arrived, so did most of our belongings from Black Combe. Two crates of stuff, including both our violins.

My instrument is new. Well, new to me. It was handcrafted in 1709. I lost my original one when I was abducted in London. It had been a gift from Eva, when I was just ten. It’s loss is still a source of sorrow, I loved that violin, but I’m getting used to the replacement.

The instrument was a gift from my father in the early weeks after my return. He knew how much my original violin meant to me and how gutted I was to lose it. That one was nothing special, not really, but the sentimental value to me was immense, and I thought it was irreplaceable. That was, until they presented me with my gorgeous Scala Vilagio R.O. Stradivari Viotti. It was handcrafted by Ryszard Osowski, one of the finest violinmakers or ‘luthiers’ as they prefer to be known. It’s based on a model by an even more famous luthier, Antonio Stradivari himself. The lacquer was applied by hand, and it is crafted from well-seasoned tone woods. The body is made of deeply flamed maple.

It’s a thing of beauty, and I know my dad will have had no change from ten thousand pounds. I’m relieved to see it again.

Breakfast tends to be a communal affair and very hectic. Everyone descends on the kitchen to partake of an endless supply of bacon butties, coffee, and toast. The room is full of children of varying ages, all squabbling and jostling for the best seat, which for most of them is the seat closest to Ethan. He’s very good with them all and rarely seems to eat his breakfast without at least one toddler on his lap. The older ones are chivvied by their parents to get ready for school, and somehow, miraculously, all get bundled out on time.

The school run is by helicopter, and this is where Magda comes into her own. Her role is somewhere between a nanny and a pilot, and the family rely heavily on her. There’s always a massive exodus at about eight o’clock, followed by a blessed silence when the bedlam ends.

There’s no shortage of babysitters. Faith, Cristina, Magda, all are willing and offer frequently. Even some of the men are happy to get their hands dirty. Family is everything to the Savages, and the children here are treasured.

The main hall in the castle doubles as a playground. Basketball hoops and goalposts occupy one end, and when the weather permits, the men will take the children out into the courtyard for a mass kick about. It’s loud, boisterous, and everyone has a whale of a time.

“Do you need a hand?”

I’m in the kitchen grabbing a snack. I missed breakfast because Erin was fractious. Teething, probably, and I know it’ll pass, but I’ve had hardly any sleep for three days. I thought I could take advantage of her nap to help myself to a sandwich, but no such luck. She woke up and started screaming again. She’s inconsolable, and I guess I’ll have to take her back up to the apartment. At least then she won’t disturb the entire household.

The last person I’d expected to offer to help is the mighty Ethan Savage himself, but there he is, strolling across the kitchen to deposit his dirty coffee cup in the sink.

“No, I can manage. Sorry, I didn’t mean to get in the way. We’ll go back upstairs…” I pluck Erin from her baby carrier and head for the door.

“Wait.”

I halt, turn around.

“May I?” He approaches me, his arms held out to take the baby.

“Really, there’s no need…”

“Please.”

I hand the squalling bundle over. “I’m sorry, she’s teething. Again.”

“Yeah, I guessed that three nights ago. And the next night, and yesterday.” He cradles her gently and murmurs something to her, his tone low and soothing.

“Oh no, has she been waking you up as well?” I’m horrified. “I do try to keep her quiet.”

“Well, don’t bother. We’re used to it, aren’t we, sweetheart?” He smiles broadly and coos to my fretting infant.

And, amazingly, Erin goes quiet. She gazes up at him, enthralled, mesmerised by his voice and the words she can’t understand but which seem to get through to her anyway. Her lips purse in a contemplative little ‘O’, and she watches his every move and expression.

“I don’t believe it. Can I bring her to you at four in the morning?” I blurt.

He laughs. “Cristina might object, but if you get desperate…”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”

“You apologise a lot. There’s no need.”

“I’m sorry, I…” I drop into the closest seat. “There I go again. I’ll stop. Really, I will.”

He sits down next to me, still rocking Erin in his arms. “Babies aren’t easy. I spent hours walking the castle corridors with Sebastien.”

Ethan and Cristina have two boys, an older lad called Tomasz and their youngest, Sebastien, is just a toddler but with boundless energy. I can easily imagine him running his parents ragged so I guess I’m in the presence of vast experience.

“I usually find music quietens her,” I explain.

“Oh? What does she like?”

“Beethoven. And perhaps a bit of Mozart.”

His eyebrows lift. “Unusual choices. Very traditional. I prefer some of the more modern composers myself. Stravinsky, Bernstein, maybe a bit of Philip Glass.”

“Oh, I love Glass. His Glassworks is fabulous, mostly intended for the piano, but it works on the violin.”

“Violin?

“Yes. I don’t play the piano. Eva does, though. She’s very good. Concert standard.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

“Oh, yes. She taught me the violin. That’s how she and my dad met, when she came to our house as my violin tutor.” I cut myself off. I’m babbling, to a dangerous crime lord of all things. He doesn’t want to hear my life story.

“There’s a grand piano in the library. Eva’s welcome to use it. Concert standard, did you say? She’s an impressive woman, your stepmother.”

“I know. I want to be like her.”

“You could do worse,” he agrees. “But you’re pretty impressive yourself.”

“Me? No, I’m just?—”

“A survivor. You had a horrific ordeal, but here you are. Still standing, bringing up your beautiful daughter. It took real courage to come here, especially after what happened to you.”

“Everyone’s been very kind.”

“I should hope so. Even so, never underestimate yourself, Rosie. You’re a fighter, never stop being that.” He gets to his feet. “She’s quiet now.”

“Yes. Thank you.” I reach to take her back.

He hands her to me. “If you want to thank me properly, how would you and Eva feel about performing for us? The great hall has good acoustics, I’m told.”

“You want to hear us play?”

“I do. And I daresay most of the others will, too. How about this evening?”

“Okay. Yes, yes, we’d love to.”

“Brilliant. Shall we say about eight? Once everyone has eaten?”

“Eight o’clock. Right. Great hall.”

“See you later. Oh, and be sure to bring Erin, since she’s so fond of music.” He treats me to his dazzling smile once more, then strolls from the kitchen.

I gaze after him, baffled by my sudden attraction to this fearsome man. He’s handsome, but it’s not really that. And he’s married, very happily as far as I can tell. There was nothing even remotely seductive or flirtatious in our conversation, but somehow, he stirred something in me.

It hits me as I make my way back up to our apartment. Ethan Savage reminds me of Adan. Something in the easy confidence, the relaxed cloak of power, worn so effortlessly. I gaze down into my daughter’s angelic features. She looks so much like her father it actually hurts.

Whatever my dad might say about the Stockholm Syndrome, I miss him. I miss Adan San Antonio.

Our impromptu concert goes down well. Ethan offered to have the grand piano moved into the great hall, but Eva preferred to rely on her violin. We delivered a duet of pieces, including a generous helping of Philip Glass, playing to an audience of about thirty.

Ethan had chairs brought from all over the castle and arranged in the hall, and the audience all filed in before eight. There were family members, including the children perched on various laps, as well as most of the guards based on the island. We start with a lively rendition of Vivaldi’s ‘Four Seasons’, followed by a medley of Philip Glass. We conclude with a seriously tricky piece, ‘Nocturne’ by Kaija Saariaho. I was nervous about attempting something so ambitious, but Eva encouraged me, and I remembered Ethan’s odd words to me about being a fighter and not underestimating myself. I decided to give it a go, and the applause when we finished made it all worthwhile.

We brought that bunch of gangsters to their feet. They were cheering, whooping, clapping. It felt amazing, and we bowed again and again to cries for more.

We played a couple more pieces, then the evening descended into a sort of barn dance. The chairs were hastily cleared, and we knocked out several more banging tunes while the Caraksay community showed their appreciation by prancing wildly around the hall. The children joined in, naturally. It was more fun than I’ve had in a long time, certainly since before I was abducted.

I felt valued. I felt that I belonged.

Against all expectations, I’m actually happy here. Who would have thought it?