The man she called father… I bet hers is an interesting story.
I nod. “Go on.”
“They kept me here as prisoner while they investigated my supposed betrayal. But at the same time, Keenan was heir to the throne, and he needed a wife…” her voice trails off and her eyes go misty as she looks far away, lost in her memories. I’m shocked she speaks of this so plainly. Neither Fiona nor Maeve make a move to stop her.
“I’d never left the lighthouse,” she says.
Surely, she must be exaggerating.
“Never?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Never. My father was an American, so I don’t sound like everyone else. And when I say I was a fish out of water…” she laughs, a pretty little musical sound that delights me. “Well, I’m not exaggerating. I’d never seen a cell phone, driven a car, or so much as walked through the streets of Ballyhock.”
I marvel at her, shaking my head in wonder. And now here she is, gracious and kind, the matriarch-in-training as it were.
“Wow.” My words fail me.
“But Keenan was immediately possessive of me. It’s how they are, you know. They… well, they’re at ease when they’ve a lass to protect, or even a family. They can be possessive. Domineering, even. But you’ll never find a more devoted soul.”
I nod slowly. “Aye,” I say softly. “I’ve seen Lachlan behave that way.”
She nods. “The men of the Clan hold the weight of everything on their shoulders. The wellbeing of the McCarthy family, not to mention the prosperity of all of Ballyhock. They command a small army here on the coast.” She smiles. “They’re old-fashioned men. We like to give them space to pound their chests, as it were.” She winks. “But we keep them on their toes.”
Maeve chuckles. “That you do, love, and you girls make me proud. Not a one of you quakes in the face of danger. You’ve got spines of steel and wills to match theirs. I’m right proud of the lot of you.”
I nod, mulling this all over. I want to be honest with these good, sincere women.
“I have… a past I’m not proud of,” I say, staring at my hands.
“My brother doesn’t seem to be troubled by that,” Fiona says. “And I’ll have you remember, I didn’t exactly come from a perfect home myself.”
Neither did her brother. I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes me back.
“Now, then, let’s see to that ordering,” Maeve says, reaching for my laptop. “You haven’t even scratched the surface of your budget, love.”
I give her a grateful smile.
She squints at the screen. “What the bloody hell is that?” she asks. “Fiona, did you log into a retailer or a damn sex shop?”
Fiona howls with laughter at Maeve’s expression, accidentally knocking over a teacup. Tea goes splattering onto Caitlin, who jumps up and screeches, making Fiona laugh even louder.
“Oh my God!” I say, running to the kitchen for a tea towel, when the door bursts open and Tiernan runs in. If looks could kill, I’d be a dead girl. His eyes are flashing, his cheeks hot with anger. I haven’t seen him this angry since the night he killed my assailant.
“What is it?” I ask. I can feel the color draining out of my face. “Are you alright?”
He looks around the room. The other girls have gone still, all eyes on him. He exhales, leaning against the counter, and shakes his head.
“Heard screaming,” he mutters. “Thought you were in danger.”
“Oh, Tiernan.” I reach my arm to his shoulder, kneading the tight muscles. “We’re fine. We were just laughing, and we spilled some tea…” my voice trails off as I look to Fiona for help.
“My fault, Tiernan, so sorry,” she says briskly, wiping her hands on her trousers. “But relax. All good. I’ll just clean this up.”
“Leave it,” he says, waving a hand. “I need you all to leave. Thanks for keeping Aisling company, but the two of us need to talk now.”
“Tiernan, I—”
He holds his hand up to silence me. “They need to leave.”
My heart beats faster. What’s wrong? Did something happen while he was gone?
“See you tonight for supper, then?” Maeve asks.
Tiernan shakes his head. “We’ll be gone before then, thanks.”
I watch him in silence, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
She gives him a brief hug. “You be careful, then,” she says. “And thanks for letting us borrow her for a little while.”
She walks over to me and kisses my cheek, then winks at Tiernan. “She’s lovely.”
His eyes shine. “She is.”
Fiona gives me a little wave as she leaves. “You be good to her, Tiernan Hurston,” she says sternly.
He glares, which makes her giggle, and Caitlin shakes her head. She waves to me, and the door shuts tight behind them.
I turn to face him. “Are you okay?”
He reaches for me, dragging me closer so that I’m standing in his space, caught between his arms, his forearms resting on my shoulders.
“I’m fine,” he says. “But we need to go sooner than later.”
I can’t help myself. I lean in and kiss the crease across his forehead until it relaxes, then I rest my head on his chest.
“Alright, then,” I say. “Let’s go.”
He holds me to him, rocking me gently back and forth, and my body instantly reacts. My pulse quickens and my palms are sweaty. He’s so strong and powerful, and he smells so fucking good. He reaches down and squeezes my arse.
“What I wouldn’t give to fuck you right now, right against this counter, until you screamed.” He bends and kisses my neck.
“Thought we had to go,” I manage to choke out. My eyes flutter closed.
“We do,” he whispers in my ear. “But you’re distracting me.”
“Me?” I say. “Ha! Hardly. You’re the one to blame here, sir.”
His large palm cracks against my arse. “Ah ah, you don’t. No deflecting of blame, babe.”
He pulls away with a groan and releases me. “You’re okay,” he says, running his hands over my arms until he reaches my fingers. “I was worried.”
I think back about what the girls said about their men. Guys like Tiernan likely meet a need by taking care of others. Tiernan clearly falls in this camp,
We pull away from one another with reluctance. He retrieves a travel bag from the closet and quickly packs, then takes my own meager possessions from the bathroom, as he fills me in.
“We’ve got some people coming up here soon,” he says. “Keenan’s hired them to change your appearance.”
I blink. “Oh?”
He nods, zipping up the bag. “Aye. We’ve no choice, Aisling. Your picture’s plastered all over the bloody paper. They think you were somehow responsible for Edmund Doyle’s death.”
“Edmund… Doyle?”
He sighs. “Prime minister’s son, Aisling.”
I sit heavily on the bed. “But I was, wasn’t I?”
He turns to face me, his eyes growing angry and dark.
“You bloody well weren’t. He assaulted you. I was the one ended him. Not you.”