I look at him sharply. Even Aisling grips my arm, and I swear Fiona’s holding her breath.
“You mean it, Keenan?”
“Oh, aye,” Keenan says. “I won’t let a fucking douche frighten away the McCarthy Clan. You bested your last opponent but haven’t returned to the ring since. And I think it’s time you went back and showed them what you’re made of.”
“Do it,” Aisling says, her eyes gleaming. “And Faidha will come and watch.”
“Not now,” Keenan says. “But in time, we’ll have you back in the ring. And anyone who comes to watch will know you’re McCarthy clan stock.” The note of pride in his voice makes me stand up straighter with my arm around Aisling.
“Aye,” I say. “Sounds like an excellent plan.”
We eat our meal and thank those who congratulate us. Fiona puts us through on a call to the hospital to Tully, who’s recovering slowly but getting there. He congratulates us, and Aisling’s eyes shine with tears when she says, “Thank you, Tully. Thanks for what you did.”
“I wish a world of happiness to you both,” he says. “You deserve it.”
I suppose the old me would’ve balked at the notion of “deserving” a world of happiness. I don’t give it much thought, really. I focus on my job, my duties, my responsibilities. But now I’ve got this strong-willed, brilliant, absolutely stunner of a woman on my arm who’s declared herself my fiancée. And damned if I’ll do anything but devote myself to a new purpose.
Dedication to the Clan.
Dedication to Aisling.
She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. I squeeze her back. We thank the staff that congratulates us, Maeve and Caitlin. Megan and Carson, and Cormac and Aileen. Boner and even Malachy’s come to visit from St. Albert’s. I look around this room, beaming with pride at the woman at my side. Sometimes you just know when something’s good and right, and maybe even meant to be.
Aisling looks at me, her eyes beaming. It’s been a hard road for her, and it’ll be a hard road for her yet. I lean in and kiss her, tasting her sweet essence and devotion. There will be challenges ahead of us, but after what we’ve been through, we’ll face them together.
Only this time, we won’t be alone. We’ve got an army behind us, but most importantly… each other.
Epilogue
Aisling
Six months later
“Honest to God, Faidha! Your man’s strong as a fucking ox.”
Cousin Megan’s on her feet, cheering for Tiernan as he fights. Watching him fight’s a bit of a mixed bag with me. On the one hand, I marvel at his strength and expertise. The papers tout him as Ireland’s most talented bare-knuckled fighter of the decade, and I wouldn’t argue that point. It’s been six months, and he’s undefeated. But it’d be a lie to say it doesn’t affect me. I’m not sure how anyone could be impassive, knowing every time her man stepped into the ring he could be badly injured. But I manage.
His leg’s fully healed, though it gives him a bit of a twinge from time to time.
The crowd erupts as Tiernan’s opponent falls to the ring, and the referee holds Tiernan’s arm up in the air.
Victory.
“Bloody brilliant,” Tully says, sitting to my left. He’s only back from hospital now for a few weeks, and already eager to join us at St. Albert’s. I suspect I know why, and it has something to do with a certain doe-eyed teacher who looks at him as if he hung the moon.
My transformation seems nearly complete. Very few at the school had any inkling as to why their headmaster ended up arrested and incarcerated, and once word got out among the parent council that it had something to do with an illicit affair, they hushed it up right quick. Keenan offered Malachy the job, and Malachy took the position with honor and pride.
“Never fancied myself head of the school,” he said. “But I love these boys, and I’ll do my best by them.”
We all knew he would, and it’s why Keenan appointed him to begin with.
His first job as headmaster was to appoint Tiernan head instructor of ealaíona comhraic. Though Tiernan’s specialty lies in boxing, he’s excellent at all the traditional forms of fighting. He’s not only a natural in the ring, his role as older brother and brother of the Clan make him an excellent teacher as well. He’s firm but kind, holding the boys to high standards. But they respect, and even revere him.
As for me, I’ve been hired as an art teacher, and I absolutely love it. Tiernan and I wed in a small, simple ceremony at Holy Family, and Father Finn heard us take our vows. It was actually freeing to shed my old identity and take on my own. I thought it would be odd at first to have a different name, but I suppose married women have been doing just that for centuries. Faidha Hurston is who I am now.
The Prime Minister has put to rest his pursuit of his son’s murderer, due in no small part to the exposé that made headlines several months after “Aisling’s death” that he was having an affair with his secretary. Many thanks to Sheena’s hand in that revelation.
“Christ!” Lachlan says, wincing. I can barely bring myself to look at the ring, certain Tiernan’s been hurt if Lachlan’s reacting that way.
“Scaredy cat,” Fiona says with a laugh. “You can hardly stand these fights, can you?”
I brush her off. “I fucking love them.”
She rolls her eyes. “Sure you do. You won’t even look at the ring when he’s fighting.”
What she doesn’t know is that the reason I temper my gaze has to do with how it affects me, not because I’m afraid. Every time I see Tiernan’s sweaty, massive body, all flexing muscles and raw, masculine strength, it gets me hot under the collar.
“Lair,” Fiona says playfully. “You’ve looked everywhere but the ring, you wimp.”
I elbow her in the ribs. “Fuck off, you.”
I call her bluff by focusing myself squarely on the ring. I ignore the crowd, the cheers and hollers, the noise and heat, and watch Tiernan.
Oh, God. Jesus Christ on a cracker, he’s so fucking sexy I can hardly contain myself. Goddammit, I knew this would happen.
He’s unencumbered with those ridiculously large gloves they have in America, his large hands lightly fisted and ready to strike. He’s doing what I’ve seen him teach the boys time and time again. Bob and weave, light on your feet, wear him out. I gasp when his opponent strikes him, landing a punch to his gut that momentarily winds him. But the next second, Tiernan strikes back, his body moving with grace and power only he possesses.
“Go, baby,” I whisper under my breath. I can’t seem to bring myself to cheer for him like the others do. “Get it.”
My belly clenches when he strikes his opponent. My heartbeat races when he strikes again. My mouth goes dry, and a low hum of need begins to coil in my belly. Jesus, he’s magnificent like this, bloody mastering the ring, and I want him in me right this very minute.
Bloody hell, I knew this would happen.
My panties dampen, and I clench my thighs together watching him win. Strike. Blow. Pivot and move, it’s the sexiest, most masculine thing I’ve ever fucking seen. Then it’s over. His opponent’s flat on his back, and Tiernan’s declared victor. The stadium erupts.