Since Maeve cared little about marriage, she wanted to make that clear with her father. Her goal was to inherit the lands and the castle. To take care of her people and protect the beautiful home their family built.
Maeve’s future; a husband and children would wait. Her entire life lay ahead. That night, like all previous ones, they sat in silence during dinner before moving in front of the fireplace to mind their own business. Maeve sneaked a glance in his direction. He watched the flames, entranced. “Father, there is something important I want to discuss with you.” The man looked up, his eyes barely registering his daughter. Her heart clutched when she noticed how rapidly lord O’Riordan had aged. Since Finn’s disappearance, he had been nothing more than a shadow of the man who he once was. Now those eyes were empty.
Seeing she had his attention, even though it didn’t seem like he would say a word, Maeve continued. “I’m pleased to tell you that in recent years, I prepared myself to relieve you from your responsibilities when the time comes. I wish you to rest assured I will do my best to take care of our people and our lands. I want to ask for your blessing and your support, father.”
There it was, her carefully prepared speech. Maeve clenched her fists to stop her hands from trembling. Her eyes bore on his, waiting for the answer. The silence became daunting, only interrupted by the crackling of the fire and her racing heartbeat.
When he finally spoke, her blood froze. “You will marry Kieran Callum, and his father will manage our lands.”
The words reached her, but in her mind, they made no sense.
Years of effort working until her hands bled, pushing away the fear and uncertainty her future held. The daily struggles to maintain a reasonable conversation with her father. The overwhelming loneliness. Sleepless nights, holding back the tears that never stopped flowing.
Maeve had lost her brother, her mother, the love of her father, and now she wouldn’t be heard.
She held no power over her fate.
After what felt like an eternity, she let out a shaky breath and stared at him, a lonely man who preferred to study the fireplace before facing her. Tears flooded her eyes, and the pain in her chest was so strong Maeve couldn’t utter a word. It would have been in vain, anyway. Her father would not yield.
She got up in silence and took her broken heart with her.
Time passed relentlessly. The days became dark and cold, and each night grew longer than the last. Maeve immersed herself in her work, and only the peaceful routine and the kindness of the people around her kept her spirit high.
Her days of freedom were numbered. A specific date hadn’t been mentioned, but her marriage to the young Callum should not be far.
Maeve hadn’t spoken to her father again. His inexplicable decision to arrange this union was nothing short of a betrayal.
Walter Callum—Kieran’s father—was an arrogant and inconsiderate man. Despite being neighbors for several generations, her father never got along with him. For this reason alone, Maeve suspected he didn’t even consider other candidates and sought to get rid of her.
Out in the fields, she let out a sigh and looked up to the sky, which threatened rain. Or maybe snow. Winter had passed, and the warm days of spring refused to arrive.
The weather matched her mood.
She pressed forward to the kitchens to protect herself from the cold of the yard, but before reaching the door, a maid intercepted her. “Miss! Go to your father’s room. It’s urgent!”
Maeve had ignored the sense of foreboding weighing on her since morning. For the first time in her life, her father had not joined for breakfast, nor did he go out to inspect the fields on horseback. Only the worst storms prevented him from going out daily. She had pushed the thought to the back of her head until that moment.
She dropped the basket with herbs and sprinted, climbing to his room and opening the door without stopping to knock. Her father had been bedridden all day, and the physician next to him prepared to leave.
His ashen face turned to his daughter, and with a trembling hand, he silently motioned her to sit beside him.
Maeve moved as if in a trance, not paying attention to the physician who closed the door behind him. She sat on the bed, careful not to disturb her father, and took his hand in hers—a cold, gaunt, and frail hand. Fear spread from her stomach to the tips of her fingers, and she pressed her lips in a tight line. “Maeve...”
It was hard to recognize the voice coming out of his body, and Maeve fought the rising panic, facing the bereaved man he had become. Her heart hammered in her chest.
“I owe you an apology, little one. I know I hurt you, and my decision is not what you wanted for yourself. But please understand... I am a broken man. I no longer have the strength to protect you, as I couldn’t protect my family. I lost you all.”
“Father…” Tears fell down her cheeks, and anguish edged her voice. “You didn’t lose me, father. I’m here, I’m with you!” She gripped his hands, trying to instill all her love through that simple gesture.
A fleeting smile found its place on lord O’Riordan’s lips.
“Your father is a fool, Maeve. All these years crying over the loss of my wife and son, and all I had to do was to see you.” He reached to caress her cheek. “You have the courage of your brother and the beautiful heart of your mother. And I dare say, you are as hard-headed as your silly old man.”
A shaky laugh played on her lips as she laid a kiss on his pale knuckles. “I regret my cowardice so much, my beautiful girl. I should have done better by you. I feared to send you
