I sigh and shake my head. “But if it wasn’t for me, you never would’ve… you wouldn’t have been entangled in all this.”
“And if he wasn’t a bloody fucking prick who deserved what he got, none of this would’ve happened as well.”
I shake my head with a sigh. “We could argue this all night.”
“Aye,” he says firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “But we won’t.”
We hear a knock at the door, and a moment later he ushers in an entire staff of people with bags and boxes and things on hangers. I let them do what they need to. I answer questions, lift my arms for them to dress me, bend my head into the sink so they can dye my hair. I watch my crazy curls fall into clumps on the floor, and an hour later, I stare at my reflection.
“Oh… wow,” I whisper. “That’s… quite different.”
My hair’s jet black, cut short, and straightened with a flat iron. I blink. My eyes are a dark brown, thanks to contacts. My freckles are gone, and the makeup they’ve applied gives me an almost exotic look.
Who is this woman?
I stare at my clothes, a tight-fitting dress that dips into a deep vee in the front, hugs my waist, then flares to the floor. I turn around and admire my reflection.
“Whoa.”
Tiernan’s gaze narrows on me, and I feel embarrassed.
“You don’t… like the change?” I whisper. “It’s only temporary. We just need it while we…”
But his hands are in my hair, and he’s dragging my mouth to his. His tongue gently touches mine, sending frissons of arousal down my spine. He pulls away with reluctance.
“I love it,” he whispers in my ear. “Let’s get you situated as soon as we can, before I get fucking blue balls.” He groans, pulling away from me.
“Too late?” I ask.
He growls. “Too late.”
I bite my lip, trying to hide how pleased this makes me. I love that I turn him on. I love that this stern, aloof man is affected by me.
But what more can I offer him, except the one thing I’ve offered so many men before him?
“What are you thinking? You left me there for a minute.”
I shake my head. “Oh, nothing.”
“It isn’t nothing.” He frowns. “And I expect you to be honest with me. Are you hiding something, Aisling?”
Hiding something? Only bloody everything.
“Not now, please,” I say to him, acutely conscious of the staff that still lingers.
“I’ll let you off the hook if you promise to tell me tonight.”
I sigh. “Fine, then. Let’s go?”
Maeve worked some kind of magic, for clothes are waiting for me in bags by the door. “How on earth did they come so quickly?”
He grins. “Oh, she has her ways. Likely went and picked them up herself.”
I marvel at the brand new travel bag, but don’t have time to look at everything before he whisks me away.
The ride to the school doesn’t take very long, and the entire time I pepper him with questions.
“Is it a very strict school?”
He nods soberly. “Very.” Of course it is, I reason. They’re the training grounds for the McCarthy Clan, and the men of the Clan are fearsome, powerful, and brave.
“What was your favorite class?”
“Ealaíona comhraic.” Irish martial arts. Of course.
“Least favorite?”
A grimace. “French.”
For some reason, that strikes me as funny, and I giggle at that.
“Favorite teacher?”
“Malachy.”
“You call the teachers by the first name there?”
“Only him.”
I mull this over.
“Will I get to meet him?”
He frowns. “I hope so.”
When we arrive, a few other cars arrive as well. I look in astonishment to see how many came.
“Goodness, Tiernan. Keenan sent back up, did he?”
“Oh aye.”
I swallow hard. “They take protecting the ones in their charge extremely seriously, don’t they?”
Tiernan nods, but his eyes are a little wide. “Well, of course they do.”
It’s a given, then, for a man like him and so outside my realm of experience, I’m still trying to understand where I fit in here.
“Tiernan!” A tall woman with her hair in a long braid down her back gives him a big hug.
Tiernan’s face breaks into a grin. He bends to embrace her as she gives him a huge, motherly hug. “Oh, it’s good to see you, lad. And would you look at you, how big and manly you are now! Wouldn’t recognize you next to the scrawny lad who came here all those years ago. How long ago was it, anyway?”
Tiernan releases her and chuckles. “Been a while.”
“I’ll never forget the first day I met you,” she says. “Sent you to the headmaster’s office on day one, didn’t I?”
He chuckles. “Aye. Can’t remember why, but I’m sure ’twas something mouthy, no?”
She laughs. “Oh, no doubt.” She turns to face me. “And who’s your lovely companion?”
Lovely companion.
My cheeks flush.
We didn’t discuss my name beforehand. I look to him in a panic, unable to state my real name, but he takes it in stride.
“This is Ruby.”
Ruby? Bloody hell. Not sure I like that. I try not to react.
“So pleased to meet you, Ruby. I hope we can catch up sometime.”
She leaves, and Tiernan reaches for our bags. I take a small bag Maeve packed for me and sling it on my shoulder, but when I go to take one of our travel bags, he frowns and takes it right out of my hand.
Of course.
“Ruby?” I hiss.
“Pretty name.”
“It’s bloody awful.”
He smirks. “All I could imagine was your pretty red arse painted with my handprint, and it seemed immediately fitting. Christ, but it’s good to be back here,” he mutters as we walk around the back of the school. “We’ve simple quarters back here for staff and guests. They used to be nearly spartan, but Keenan decided to improve them a few years back.”
I look around at the rooms that look like simple hotels, sparsely furnished but neat and clean.
He opens the door and tosses our bags in.
“I’ll give you a tour.”
He looks around with pride, as he takes my hand, and I realize, this is the home that built him, that influenced the man he is today. He came from a broken home in Stone City, the poorest of all cities in Ireland. He’s told me before he thanks the McCarthys for raising him, and I know Fiona’s said the same.
The grounds are lovely, ensconced on all sides by flowers and greenery.
“You must have an outstanding landscaper.”
He grins. “We make the boys do it.”
Of course they do. I grin back.
I’ve never been to a place like this before. “Is it all boys?”
“Oh, aye.”
“Can’t let the ladies detract from your work, then?”
He snorts. “Something like.”
“Tiernan? That you, lad?”
A man some years older than Tiernan, tall and muscled with Irish ink on his neck and arms, ambles out, his hands in his pockets. His iron-gray hair is cut short, his jaw clean-shaven, his eyes as steely gray as his hair. His eyes twinkle, but there’s a hardness about him I don’t miss. He’s got a scar along his temple and one on his chin as well.