Illicit Captor by Maggie Cole

6

Aidan

After I watch Scarlet check me out with her cheeks flushing the color of her hair, I leave the room and get dressed. Then I go out to the barn and sort through the tools. I find what I need and return to the cottage to take the bathroom doorknob off.

"You're being ridiculous," Scarlet accuses.

I don't look at her, focusing on my task and replying, "Yea? Well, I won't have to do stuff like this when ya can behave correctly."

She spouts, "I'm not a child."

I glance at her. "No, you're not. Which is why I should be able to trust ya, but I can't."

She scoffs, muttering, "Hypocrite." She storms into her bedroom, but the door is ripped apart, so she can't slam it this time.

I finish removing the knob, then go to the bedroom. I remove the broken wood, releasing the hinges from the frame. I take it to the bonfire pit, step on it a few times to break it further apart, then pour lighter fluid over it. I strike a match, staring at it, trying to calm down from the morning's events, but I'm still riled up.

Scarlet infuriates me. Yet there's something about her defiance that makes her intriguing to me. And that's dangerous. I need to remember she has O'Leary blood, which makes her unpredictable.

When the flame gets so close to my fingers, black forms on the tips, I toss it in the fire pit.

I've always been obsessed with fire. I like to do many things with it, including burn men when I torture them. And I wish I had somebody to do that to right now. Tommy or one of her brothers would be perfect.

Patience, I remind myself.

Tommy will endure much more than just my wrath before I take his last breath. I'll shame him in front of his entire clan before crossing him off my list.

The wood goes up in flames, and I wait until there's barely anything left.

Then I return to the cottage and assess what's inside the cupboards and fridge.

"What are ya doing?" Scarlet asks.

I curse Devin in my head. I gave him the task to make sure we had plenty of food, but there isn't much selection. Now I have to do something I don't want to.

I go into the hallway closet and pull a pair of handcuffs out of my bag. I walk toward Scarlet.

She glances at them. "What are those for?"

I grab her wrist and pull her into the bedroom.

She cries out, "Aidan, what are ya doing?"

I stop in front of the bed, ordering, "Get on the bed."

"What? No."

"Don't make me force ya on the bed," I warn.

She lifts her chin. It reminds me of Alaina in some ways. She asserts, "Do not restrain me to this bed."

"I have to go to town, and I don't trust ya to not try to run."

Her expression changes to fear. "Don't leave me here. I'll go to town with ya."

I shake my head. "Ya know that can't happen, petal. People will see ya."

She bursts out, "They're going to see ya. You're as large as a giraffe."

I refrain from chuckling. "Maybe so, but somebody has to go get food, and it won't be ya. Now get on the bed. I'm not telling ya again."

She gives me another angry, hateful look and finally slides onto the bed.

I take her wrist and cuff it to the headboard.

She protests, "This isn't necessary."

"Aye, it is. I'll be back as soon as possible." I leave.

"Aidan, get back here!" she demands.

I ignore her, grab my keys, and lock the cottage. My stomach flips. I don't like leaving her, and especially restrained when I'm not there, but I don't know what else to do.

I get in my car, and a pain shoots through my back. "Damn sofa," I mutter and turn on the engine, adding to my mental list to get some Deep Heat. I grab the baseball cap from the seat behind me and put it on, along with my sunglasses.

It's a forty-five-minute drive to get to town. The entire way, I can't stop wondering what she's doing. God forbid Tommy should show up when I'm not there. I'm confident he won't since my brother sent me an alert he's scouring Belfast, and I'm far from there. Yet it still makes me uneasy since I know anything is possible.

When I finally arrive in town, I go into the store and grab whatever I can find to add some pounds to Scarlet. I toss cheese, crackers, chocolate, potatoes, butter, bread, salmon, vegetables, sour cream, bacon, and rib eye steak into the trolley. Then I go to the dessert section and pick a trifle. When I get to the checkout, there's a stack of cards, so I toss those on the conveyor belt.

I pay, put the groceries in the trunk, and go to the only other store in town. I select a set of flannel pajamas, a thick jacket, and boots for Scarlet. My brother got her tennis shoes, but the farm's muddy, and he didn't get her a jacket.

Knowing Scarlet, I won't be able to keep her inside. I don't really blame her. Plus, fresh air is good for her. Once she starts getting some weight back on her, she won't be as fragile. I won't have to worry about her breaking a bone as much.

I pay for the items, return to the car, and head out of town. I watch the cars behind me, ensuring no one's following me, and relax once I'm back on the dirt roads and no other cars are in sight.

When I pull up to the cottage, I unload the car and put the groceries in the kitchen. I stick the boots and jacket into the hall closet and go into the bedroom.

Scarlet gives me a hateful look. "Was wondering when ya were going to get home. Thought maybe you'd just leave me here for weeks on end."

"Once again, you're being dramatic," I say, then take the key out of my pocket and unlock the cuff. I leave the other cuff attached to the bed.

She pulls her arm down and starts massaging her wrist.

"It wasn't that tight," I comment.

Her eyes turn to slits. "When you're the one who's restrained, ya can tell me how it feels."

I grunt. "That's the thing, petal. I won't ever be the one restrained."

She shoots me another death glare.

I ignore it, return to the kitchen, and unpack the groceries. I leave out the cheese, crackers, bread, butter, and ingredients to make twice-baked potatoes. I put the ribeyes on the counter. I turn on the kettle, slice the potatoes with a knife, put them all in the oven, then turn it on.

Scarlet comes out and steps next to me. She picks up the Kilmeaden cheese. "This is my favorite."

"Good. Ya can cut it up," I say, then open the package of bacon and put it on the skillet.

She grabs a knife, slices several pieces of cheese, and asks, "What are ya making?"

"Dinner."

"What are we having?"

"Twice-baked potatoes, ribeyes, onions, mushrooms, pepper sauce, brown bread, and butter. If you're good, I'll let ya have some trifle for dessert."

Her lips twitch. "That's a lot of food."

"Ya need to eat. You're too thin," I remind her.

Her face falls. "Do ya have to keep telling me how disgusting I look? I don't need a reminder. I see it whenever I look in the mirror or down at my bony body."

My chest tightens. "Do ya think I'm trying to insult ya?"

She doesn't reply and returns to focusing on the cheese.

I add, "I just want ya to get healthy. I don't want ya to get hurt. I thought we've been over this."

She remains silent.

I'm pretty sure she doesn't believe that my intentions aren't bad. So I try again. "Petal—"

"Can ya just drop it?" she asks.

I sigh and obey. I turn the burner on the stove for the bacon to cook. Then I wash my hands and grab a piece of cheese. I hold it toward her mouth, commanding, "Eat."

She looks at me. "You're going to feed me now too?"

I grin. "Maybe. If you're good." I wink.

The little flush in her cheeks erupts. My dick hardens. Something about it turns me on. I wish it didn't. It makes my time with her so much harder.

"Well, are ya going to eat your favorite cheese in the whole wide world?" I say, wiggling the cheese in front of her.

She smirks, "Now who's being dramatic?"

"Eat," I repeat.

She grabs it and pops it into her mouth.

I praise, "Good lass."

She continues slicing the food, and I open the cracker box. I start piling cheese on them and set everything on a board, along with bread and butter. Then I take it to the table.

The kettle whistles, and I fix two teas and take them to the table. I state, "Time to eat lunch."

Scarlet sits at the table and eats a few crackers and cheese.

I pull the cards out of my pocket. "Assuming ya know how to play?"

She glances at them. Her face lights up. "I don't know. What do ya Americans play? Maybe ya don't know how to play Irish games?"

I laugh. "Of course I know how to play Irish games."

"What about Lives?" she says.

"I'll slaughter ya in Lives," I declare.

She laughs. "Is that so?"

"Pretty sure. I'm quite talented," I claim.

She rolls her eyes. "We'll see about that."

I take the cards out of the box, shuffle, and deal. We play a few games, and I keep reminding her to eat more food.

"You're definitely going to make me fat," she mutters.

"I don't think ya have to worry about that," I claim.

She lays a card down, shouts, "Yes," and pumps her hand in the air.

I groan.

"That's game three. I win. Ya just lost," she boasts.

"Ugh," I groan again, tossing my cards on the table.

"Should have bet ya some money," she states.

"Too bad for ya," I tease, then get up. "Time to make dinner."

"I've been eating all afternoon," she claims.

"Aye, and you're going to eat all night," I assert and grab the steaks out of the fridge. I check on the potatoes and turn off the oven but leave them inside. Then I put on my flannel jacket and boots.

"Where are ya going?" she asks.

"To grill the steaks."

"Okay, I'll come outside too. I need some air."

"I figured you'd say that." I open the hallway closet and hand her the coat and boots. "Put these on."

She arches her eyebrows. "Ya got these for me?"

"Aye. You're not that much of a prisoner," I add.

She bats her eyelashes. "Good to know, prison guard."

My lips twitch, and I take the steaks outside. I set them on the tray, then I turn the grill on. I hold the match in my fingers just like I did at the bonfire, and when it gets too intense, I toss it onto the charcoal.

Scarlet startles me, asking, "Why do ya do that with matches?"

Unaware she was watching me, I turn and admit, "Fire's always intrigued me."

"What intrigues ya about it?"

"I'm not sure. The more I stare at it, the more obsessed I am with it," I confess.

"Really?"

"Aye. It's a tool."

She furrows her eyebrows. "How so?"

"It can be a weapon to hurt people, a way to eliminate things, a light in the darkness, or it can cook your steak."

She stares at the fire, and her expression changes.

I put the steaks on the grill, then shut it. "What's that look for?"

She hesitates, then replies, "My mom died in a fire."

I almost tell her that her da killed her mum, but I don't feel like rocking the boat tonight. Brody found out the truth. Alaina had a hard time with it, and I'm sure Scarlet will too. So I decide it's best to leave that for another time. Maybe it will be better for Alaina to tell her when I eventually let them reunite.

I reply, "Aye. I heard about that. I'm sorry for your loss."

She stays quiet, then walks over to the chicken coop. She opens it up, steps inside, and exits with a basketful of eggs. She shuts the chicken coop and beams. "Kind of cool we have these."

"Such a country girl," I tease.

She smiles. "I'm like a chameleon. Ya can put me in a five-star restaurant or the best crappy pub in all of Ireland, and I'll shine."

I chuckle. "I'm sure ya do, petal."

Her face stays lit, and I wish it was always like that.

"I'll take these inside," she states.

"Okay, lass." I finish cooking the steaks and return to the cottage.

Scarlet set the table and put the potatoes on a plate. A dish with onions, mushrooms, and pepper sauce sits next to them on the table.

I put a steak on each of our plates, and we sit down and eat.

She takes one bite of everything and announces, "I'm full."

"Ya can pick at it all night," I tell her.

"I really am full. I've been eating all day."

"I know. It's okay," I assure her.

She rolls her eyes. "I think ya like to take things overboard."

I shrug. "Maybe so. But humor me." I push my plate to the side and grab the cards again. "Ya know 21?"

"Duh. Who doesn't know 21?"

"Okay, then. Let's play 21. I'm pretty sure I'll beat ya at this game," I declare.

"Ya said that last time, remember?" She smirks.

I chuckle and deal.

We play until it's late into the night. Half the food remains on her plate, but I finally pick up our dishes and take them to the kitchen. I bring the trifle back to the table, claiming, "There's no way you're resisting this."

Her eyes widen. "More food?"

"Aye." I put a piece on a plate and put two forks on it.

"You're not going to make me eat the whole piece?" she teases.

"Oh, we can have more."

She shakes her head, takes a bite, and closes her eyes. "Mm, this is so good. It's my favorite."

"Is it?" I ask, happy I picked the right one.

She nods. "Yea." She takes a sip of her tea, then tilts her head. "Ya really are from America, aren't ya?"

My heart pounds a little harder. It's not something I ever talk about in Ireland, but I reply, "Aye."

"New York, right?"

"Correct."

"What's it like? I've always wanted to go there."

"Ya have?"

Her face drops. "Yea. Da would never let us leave Ireland though."

"Well, maybe I'll take ya there one day," I offer.

She pauses, licks her lips, then asks in a quiet voice, "Why do ya say stuff like that?"

"Like what?"

She locks her greens on me. "Like ya actually like me and our futures are together. Ya know you're an O'Connor, and I'm an O'Leary and your prisoner. So what's the point of saying that kind of stuff to me?"

My chest tightens. I admit, "Maybe I actually like ya."

She glances down at her body. "Yea, sure ya do."

"Do ya always disregard men when they say they like ya?" I question.

She doesn't flinch, answering, "Men haven't said anything to me in a long time. Did ya forget again that I'm married?"

My insides roil in anger. "Are we going to go through this again? We were having such a good night."

She tilts her head and sighs.

I point to the pie. "Eat your dessert."

She slowly takes another bite and we finish it in silence. She sets her fork down and puts her hand over her mouth, yawning.

I state, "Regarding your question about New York, it's fast-paced. Everything moves way faster than in Dublin or Belfast, but it's fun. It's a different energy."

She questions, "So ya like it better than Ireland?"

I shake my head. "No, not better. It's just different. I'm pretty sure you'd like it."

"Ya think so?"

"I do."

A tiny smile fills her face. She yawns again.

I glance at my watch. It's after one. I state, "I think it's time for bed." I get up, put the plate and forks in the sink, and go into the bathroom. I brush my teeth, step out, and let Scarlet get ready. I grab the set of pajamas I got earlier.

She reappears, and I hand them to her. She arches her eyebrows. "Why did ya get these?"

My gut drops. "Ya don't like them?"

She stares at them. "No, they look comfy."

"Thought it'd be better than ya sleeping in sweatpants."

"Thank ya," she says.

"Go put them on," I tell her and nod toward the bedroom.

She disappears, and I clean the kitchen.

She comes back out. The pajamas aren't as loose as the sweatpants, which makes me happy.

"Now ya look ready to go to bed. Although I'm pretty sure some sexy lace lingerie would look good on ya too."

Her face heats. "And there ya go again."

I chuckle, grab the Deep Heat from the side table, and go to the couch. "See ya in the morning." I squirt the cream in my palm and reach behind me, trying to slap it on my back, but the part that hurts the most, I can't reach.

Scarlet slides behind me and gently says, "Let me help ya." She puts her hands over mine, and I freeze.

I glance at her.

She won't look at me, focuses on my back, and orders, "Stop staring at me, Aidan."

I look forward and rub the rest of what was on my hands into my palms.

She massages my entire back with the Deep Heat, spending more time than required, but I don't complain. I'd sit here all night if she wanted to continue.

She announces, "All set," then rises.

"Thank ya," I say and pick up the afghan.

She grabs it from me and tosses it on the other end of the couch.

"What are ya doing?" I ask.

She bites her lip for a moment, and a nervous expression appears. She takes a deep breath and declares, "Ya can't sleep out here. It's ruining your back."

"Well, I'm not trusting ya to sleep out here alone."

She smirks. "Did I say I was giving up the bed?"

My adrenaline perks up, but I stare at her, waiting for her to finish her statement.

"Ya can stay on your side of the bed. No funny stuff, prison guard." She winks.

I softly chuckle and watch her disappear into the bedroom. I wait a few minutes, telling myself not to make any moves on her. The last thing my back needs is to return to this couch, and she'll surely toss me out if I try anything.

But my cock's already hard, and it's been a long time since I've had a woman, especially one I'm attracted to.

I continue lecturing myself as I go into the bedroom, wondering how I'll get through this night while keeping my word.