Caesura - 9. Chapter 9

Directly the next morning, Diarmad called Ronan to his office, and informed him about his new position as chief of security. Ronan didn’t seem to be particularly surprised about his sudden promotion though. The constant tension radiating off Diarmad, Landyn, and Simon must have been enough to answer that particular question. Diarmad still felt obligated to mention that Landyn resigned voluntarily—albeit not forgetting to add that Landyn merely preempted his dismissal, as Diarmad felt no longer safe under Landyn’s protection. He did not trust him any longer.

Noël had made sure of that.

The worst was that no one could see what Noël was doing. Everyone was enamored with him, charmed by his quick wit and beauty—Landyn, Simon, Keith, the council. And if that wasn’t enough, Sean had told Diarmad they were going to make him a licensed telepath, giving him even more power and more opportunities to influence Diarmad’s confidants and further divide him from his people.

The rest of the day was hectic; guests were leaving, and last minute meeting requests to settle some political squabbles had to be met. All of this required Diarmad’s undivided attention, effectually distracting him from a general uneasiness assailing him as soon as he had a minute to himself.

When everything had calmed down and even the leader of the local clan had finally left, Diarmad retired onto the patio. He stared at the empty beach through the wide-open double-French doors, listened to the waves crashing against the shore, and the cries of the seagulls fighting over washed-up detritus. He had always loved this place, enjoyed the soothing rhythm of the sea, the smell of the salty air and the warmth of the sun on his skin. Here he could forget his time planner and recharge his batteries among friends—and long-awaited mate. He had looked so beautiful yesterday…my wild boy. Somehow, everything feels tainted now.

“My lord, can I bring you something, another glass of red wine, a light snack maybe?”

Just hearing those suggestions made Diarmad aware of how hungry he was. “Yes, that would be nice. Do we still have some of those crackers layered with goat cheese and tomato?”

“Of course, Sire. May I suggest some grilled zucchini roll-ups to go with the crackers? Some of the beef bouillon you liked so much?”

“If it isn’t too much hassle.” Diarmad knew Keith had worked hard these last few days setting up the festivities, so he felt badly taking away any more of his well-deserved break. Lionel was probably already waiting for Keith in their room.

“Of course not. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Diarmad was sure that in the end, Keith would assemble quite the spread for him, as he always did. “Thank you, Keith.” He looked after the retreating man and smiled. Keith had been upset when Noël left. Diarmad knew that the man slipped his ex home-cooked food sometimes, and he had made no secret of the fact that he loathed Laird. But at least Keith had never been undutiful, let alone disloyal, nor had Lionel. They always acted professional—something that could not be said about Landyn and Simon—and for that alone Diarmad was eternal thankful.

Landyn’s words echoed in his mind. Noël was angry and hurt? Of course he was, because Diarmad had seen through his plan. And if nothing else, Noël’s performance the night before had confirmed his suspicion. He wants to drive a wedge between my people and me. Seeing how Diarmad had already lost two of his most dear companions, Noël’s scheme was working perfectly.

Nobody had seen Noël’s true nature yet, and how he had influenced the council, bringing them to his side with his ready smile and youthful eagerness to help. While Diarmad had managed to reduce Noël’s influence by forcing a separation against everyone’s advice, they were still very taken by him, especially O’Connor. And now they wanted Noël wearing the black triangle of a licensed telepath, working for them in court hearings and business negotiations. This could change everything in Noël’s favor again.

Diarmad knew he had to try harder, showing them what a danger Noël had become. Unfortunately, he couldn’t right out accuse his mate of treason; there was no real proof, at least not yet, just this deep knowledge inside of him telling him that Noël was up to something. Diarmad had to tread carefully and be patient. Someday Noël was going to make a mistake, and then he would catch him. Hunting prey was his specialty, after all.

***

Diarmad woke up the next morning to a strong feeling of wrongness. Everything was off; he realized he no longer felt comfortable in his own bed, his rooms…the entire summerhouse. The place he loved and cherished was drafty and cold, and the constant surf suddenly annoyed him. What he needed was to leave, if only to feel at home once again. Therefore, when Keith entered his room carrying the usual tray with his breakfast, he told him to pack. Even though he had planned to stay for another week at least, relaxing after the strenuous anniversary celebrations, all he wanted now was to leave others to wrap things up for him. He wasn’t even sure he ever wanted to come back to this place. Maybe he should sell it.

They were on the road early in the afternoon. Ronan and Becca were riding with him, with Lionel driving and Keith in the passenger seat beside him. Since the incidents last year, Landyn had insisted on always having a vehicle in front and one behind when Diarmad was traveling by car. Ronan obviously hadn’t seen a reason to change Landyn’s MO and had given his men the appropriate instructions.

After an hour of stilted conversation that had eventually trickled away, with Ronan constantly scanning the outside for a threat that wasn’t there, and Becca’s eyes glued to her Kindle, Diarmad could no longer pretend he didn’t notice the rising awkwardness. Every so often Becca’s gaze would fall upon him, but as soon as he looked up to catch it, she quickly averted her eyes. It annoyed him immensely; he was about to ask her to just come out with whatever the problem was—only he already knew. He had put them in an impossible position. They still considered Landyn and Simon their friends, as was Noël. Now he was forcing them doing a balancing act between duty and friendship. In addition, Ronan found himself with Landyn’s job even though he had always freely admitted the other man was the better head of security, and he was happy with being second in command, because this way, he had time for his growing family.

They were heading for the place he had called home for the past few years, and Diarmad asked himself why he even lived there anymore. He had bought the high-rise to be near Noël and stayed in its penthouse because it was convenient being close to campus when his mate lived with him. Those reasons were no longer relevant, though.

Home. He let the word sink in, let it resonate within his soul for a while, probing it, questioning it, and then he had the answer: Sundial House.

The estate has been in his possession for centuries. He had moved in and out several times so that people living there didn’t become suspicious. For them, ownership had changed several times in the past, but in reality, it had always belonged to him.

It was the place where he first met Luis. It was his gardens. He created every one of them with so much love and devotion put into the plantings. Diarmad could still feel his presence when he walked along its paths. One of Luis’ masterpieces was the circular maze on the western side; only a few had ever reached the marble basin at its center on their first try. He also remembered the one time Tristan couldn’t find his way out. He got angry and finally cut a hole in the hedges with his sword. The gardeners hadn't been all that happy with him that day. It took years to repair the damage. Diarmad thought if he looked really hard, he might still find the spot where Tristan broke through the bushes, with leaves and little twigs in his hair, fuming, while brandishing his abused sword.

The house was originally built to accommodate plenty of personnel and a constant flow of guests. If he relocated there, some of the rooms would have to stay closed; otherwise, it would be too much work for Keith and Lionel. Maybe later they could employ some help. He had to ask Landyn...Ronan, if he knew someone suitable. He and Becca could move into one of the suites on the second floor. This way they had their own rooms but were still nearby and could accompany Diarmad for some of the meals. A security detail could move into the staff house...and he also needed additional gardeners.

Diarmad already saw himself strolling through Luis’ gardens, which would be full in bloom by then, or working in the study with those ornate bookshelves that were holding some of his most precious folios, while the double doors were open to the outside, letting in fresh, spicy air from the herb garden...

“I will move back to Sundial House,” he declared, and with that announcement, he had Becca’s and Ronan’s full attention again.

Ronan pressed a button of his earpiece to close the connection with his men in the other cars before he responded. “It has been a while since you lived there. Wasn’t it with Luis?”

Diarmad smiled. “No, the last time I lived there was with Tristan. But Luis planned the gardens and even planted most of the flora. I renamed the house after he found the antique sundial in London and insisted we install it on the back lawn.” He frowned. “I have not lived there for a long while; people surely would have forgotten about me by now.” Then he looked at Ronan expectantly. “Do you know anyone who would be suitable for organizing the move for me?”

Normally Diarmad would simply have asked Simon; he had done this several times for him and others who had to leave their places when their neighbors started wondering why they weren’t getting older. Under the new circumstances, he believed that Simon would rather not work for him anymore.

Becca looked up from picking at her fingernails. “I could do it. I did smaller moves already, and I could coordinate things with Ronan security-wise. Maybe I’ll even ask Simon for some advice.”

“That will be fine by me. Just make sure when you talk to Simon he knows it was your idea contacting him, otherwise he might not want to help you.” He knew his voice sounded irritated, but at that moment he couldn’t help it. There was this hollow feeling inside of him, left by the loss of two of his closest friends, which made him angry all over again. This was all Noël’s fault. By destroying his closely knitted circle, he was purposely weakening his position.

For the rest of the drive, he imagined living outside the city again, surrounded by the beautiful gardens created by his Luis. It made the future look much more bearable.

When Diarmad stepped through the door of his penthouse, Laird already awaited him, lying on the couch, wearing nothing but a leather thong.

It did nothing for him.

Diarmad ignored his lover and went straight to his bedroom where Keith was already unpacking the suitcases. He took a quick shower, dressed in fresh clothes, and then sauntered slowly to the kitchen, where he fetched a water bottle out of the refrigerator. Back in his study, he switched the computer on and scrolled through emails.

Half an hour later, he heard the front door open and then Ronan asking Laird where he was. He imagined Ronan standing near the coffee table with raised eyebrows, doing his very best not to grin at a pouting Laird. Diarmad chuckled when he thought about what Ronan would tell Becca later.

Stepping into the study, Ronan looked perfectly professional again, maybe with a light twinkle in his eyes, when he informed Diarmad that he had contacted Landyn, and they had agreed to meet the next day in order to make the transition as smooth as possible. Landyn apparently was willing to support Ronan in an advisory capacity if Diarmad wasn’t opposed to it. Ronan also let him know that Landyn had taken over the duty as Noël’s personal guard.

After Ronan had left, Diarmad went back to the living room, where he found Laird still waiting for him in almost the same position Diarmad had left him ninety minutes ago: idly stroking his cock, his legs spread out invitingly. He swallowed rapidly when he heard Diarmad’s footsteps on the hardwood floor, but he knew not to speak until prompted to.

“Up!”

Diarmad ran a finger along the shaved skin around Laird’s cock, feeling the slightest of stubble where he expected to find only smooth skin, and he flicked his finger against the swollen cockhead, making Laird flinch. Suddenly, he did not know what he ever saw in Laird. His fake devotion appalled him. The man was only playing a role he thought was expected from him. Diarmad felt disgusted─with himself for not caring about that before, with Laird for being nothing but a parasite, with the whole situation really.

Laird would definitely not move to Sundial House with him. He would not defile the place with the man’s foul presence. Their time together was definitely over.