Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“I have a plan, and I want to know what ye think about it.”
CHAPTER 27
Fiona
Sitting at a table with my da had always been a tense affair, but tonight, it was almost unbearable.
Tonight… my life would change once again.
The Kavanaghs were here, dressed in their Sunday best, despite it being a weekday, and my father was playing the part of gracious host. I had no idea what he’d told them.
Fiona’s got her head on straight again, Brian… come give her another shot.
I could just imagine him saying that, smooth as ever, spinning my obedience as if it were a foregone conclusion.
The long dining table was set with fine china and polished silverware, as though we were entertaining royalty rather than a family my father sought to tie our bloodline to. There was roasted lamb, potatoes and summer squash. The air smelled of butter and herbs, but I barely tasted it.
Paddy was exempt from this show as he was sleeping over at a friend’s house. My mother sat stiff-backed at my father’s right, quiet as ever, her presence as rigid as the starched napkin in her lap. Siobhan was next to me, her movements careful, her tension mirroring mine. She was the only one who knew what was coming.
Brian sat across from me, his father beside him.
If Brian was at all put out by my abrupt cancellation of our festival date and my subsequent falling for another man, he gave no indication. He had been gracious and polite all evening.
I picked at my food, my expression carefully neutral as my father and Mr. Kavanagh discussed horse bloodlines and prices. The men talked, deep in the rhythms of their own importance, as if this dinner wasn’t just another strategic meeting to control my future.
Then Brian turned to me, flashing what I supposed was meant to be a charming smile. “And what about ye, Fiona? What did ye do today?”
I glanced up at him, my fork still poised over my plate. My heart beat steady and slow, completely at odds with how monumental this moment was about to become.
“I met with an attorney,” I said evenly, then took a delicate bite of potato. I let the words settle and as expected, everyone fell silent. I scanned the table down to where my father sat, and stared at him with conviction. “Found out I own half of Glenhaven.”
The minute the words were out, I thought I’d feel a rush of euphoria. That didn’t happen, but within just a fraction of a second, I saw fear flash in my father’s eyes and right there… unexpected joy welled within me—it confirmed I had the upper hand.
My father was utterly still, his wineglass halfway to his lips. The color had drained from his face, his fingers tightening around the delicate stem so hard I thought it might snap.
Mr. Kavanagh frowned, looking between me and my father. “I beg yer pardon?”
I set my fork down, smoothing my napkin in my lap. “I found out today that Uncle Rory left me his half of the farm in his will,” I said, my voice soft but sure. “Specifically, the training center.”
My father blinked, shaking his head slightly, as if he had misheard me. “That’s not true.”
Calmly, I reached into the pocket of my dress and pulled out the folded document Mr. Keane had left me. I set it on the table and slid it across to him.
“See for yerself.”
He snatched it up with jerky, angry movements, unfolding the pages so roughly they nearly tore at the creases. He scanned the document, his breath coming in sharp, harsh exhales.
Across the table, Brian stared at me, completely at a loss. Siobhan gripped her fork so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.
My father slammed the paper down, his face pale but livid. “This won’t hold up,” he snapped. “I’ll fight it.”
I tilted my head, feigning curiosity. “On what grounds?”
His glare darkened. “He had no right to do this.”
I arched a brow. “He had every right. It was his land to do with as he pleased. Ye each owned fifty percent of Glenhaven. Mr. Keane—the attorney—assured me that it was Rory’s to do with as he wished.”
The muscles in Da’s jaw flexed. I watched him struggle to control his rage, to keep from making a scene in front of our guests.
I pushed back my chair and rose, deciding to spare him the embarrassment. “I’d like to discuss this with ye privately.”
His nostrils flared, but he didn’t argue. He shoved up from his chair and strode toward his study, expecting me to follow.
I did.
The moment the door shut behind us, he whirled, his face twisted with barely restrained fury. “Ye little—”
I lifted a hand, cutting him off. “If ye want to throw insults, I can leave and we can have this conversation in front of the Kavanaghs.”