Total pages in book: 11
Estimated words: 9947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 50(@200wpm)___ 40(@250wpm)___ 33(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 9947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 50(@200wpm)___ 40(@250wpm)___ 33(@300wpm)
Cormac and Aileen have been married just under a decade, having married the year after I took the throne as Chief, and like me and Caitlin, seem to fall more in love with every year that passes.
“Ah, hello, there, husband,” Aileen says. He gathers her up in his arms.
“My goodness, it’s a veritable love shack in here.” Cousin Megan’s descending the stairs, her arms filled with wrapped gifts like Caitlin. “Come, Cait, let’s put the pressies under the tree before Santa comes.” Caitlin takes a few packages from Megan, and I follow them all into the sitting room.
“Santa’s coming?” Fiona asks, her eyes shining. “Is he, really?”
“Oh, aye,” Lachlan says, giving her red hair a little tweak. “Question is, are you on the naughty list or the nice list?”
“Mother of God,” Aileen says under her breath. “If she’s on the naughty list, no need to publicize it already, hmm? She’ll have her reckoning behind closed doors.”
“Or not,” Megan says with grin. “You know how Lach can be.”
“Honestly, Meg,” I say sternly. “The children will be here.”
“Will be, cousin. They’re not here now. Oh, my, is that the kitchen’s famous spiked eggnog?”
“Oooooh.” Caitlin reaches for a glass and looks to me with a grin. I give her a nod. She’s a lightweight who can’t hold her liquor, and frequently abstains altogether, but a glass of spiked eggnog will hardly touch her.
“Go for it, sweetheart.”
Everyone will be staying under this roof tonight. Though most still reside in flats that are extensions of the McCarthy family home, some have private residences off site. My youngest brother Nolan and his wife Sheena have lived on their own though nearby for a while now, and the older two of Sheena’s siblings no longer live with them like they once did. Other than Nolan, the entirety of the Clan’s inner circle resides right here. Our supporting members live in houses on the outskirts of our estate.
Mam comes in with a box of matches and sets to lighting the candles on the mantle.
“Is Malachy coming?” she asks curiously, as she lights the tall white candles. They flicker in the mirror above the mantle, shooting silver beams of light to the floor and mirror when the candlelight reflects against a string of garland.
“Not sure,” I say. “I invited him and he planned on it, but if the storm’s as bad as Lachlan says—”
Mam’s brows furrow. “What storm?”
I fill her in.
“Oh, dear. Will Nolan and Sheena make it safely?”
“I’ve no doubt,” Fiona says. “They’ve been talking about it for ages, and I’m sure they’ll just leave early to get here. Sam’s over the moon.”
Sheena’s younger brother Sam, under the protective custody of Sheena and Nolan, has been raised as a member of the Clan since he was only two years old. Holidays are his favorite, and he openly savors every one we celebrate.
“How old is Sam now?” I ask Fiona.
“Ah, well, let me think,” she says. “Same age as your Seamus, Keenan. Twelve?”
I blow out a breath and I take a glass of eggnog from the tray that passes by me and take a sip. It’s thick and creamy, sweet, but with an underlying depth from our good whiskey. I marvel at how the years have passed. “Aye.”
With the Christmas music playing in the background, and the scent of pine, cinnamon, and cloves in the air, it feels warm and cozy.
“Now, everyone, we’ll stay right here in sitting room while the staff sets the table for dinner,” mam says. “When will the children arrive, Cait?”
“Very soon, I’d say.” Between all my brothers, and the men of the Clan, we’ve over a dozen children who’ll be running underfoot, tended by nannies but eager for the attention of their Gran and aunts and uncles.
A fire burns majestically in the large fire place, and instrumental Christmas music plays on overhead speakers. Tiny white lights scatter white across the mantle like fairy dust and against one wall we’ve set up a bar where the staff is tending to drinks. Caitlin comes to me a few minutes later with glass of whiskey.
“Thank you,” I tell her gratefully, sinking into one of the largest, most comfortable chairs in front of the fire. The entryway door opens and closes, greetings are shouted out. Soon, the sitting room’s filled with Clan members and their wives, children running around underfoot, held in arms, and attended to by nannies. They string up the paper chain they made near the bookshelf by the Christmas tree with pride.
I rise to greet everyone. I marvel at the lot of them, how we’ve grown in number since my father’s days as chief.
Tiernan enters with Fiadha, and he’s got a bit of snow on his shoulders like Lachlan did. He shrugs out of his coat, then takes Faidha’s and hands them both to staff, before he heads to the bar.