by Jane Henry
“You’ve proven that to me,” I mutter. Perhaps she needs to prove it to herself? But she’s reflecting the very fears I had before I pursued her, the very reasons I stayed away. “Maybe if you need to prove it to yourself you need to stop acting like a child.” Maybe Nolan has a point, and I need to break down those walls around her heart over my knee.
We argue back and forth and finally come to a fuming sort of truce. I don’t want to fight her, but I think she’s being ridiculous.
I’m driving through the city centre, not far from Ballyhock.
“Jesus, it feels good to be back home,” I say, and she gives a long sigh.
“Aye. One point we can agree on.”
She opens her mouth to say something when something hits our tire, and the car veers crazily off to the side. A deafening boom! sounds behind us, and I lose total control of the car. I reach my arm out instinctively to brace her from getting hurt, my head crashes on the steering wheel, she screams. There’s an explosion behind us, and I’m thrown from the car.
Chapter 19
Fiona
One year earlier
My head’s bowed down, as I walk with purpose. My heels clink on the pavement, my dress shimmering in the moonlight. You dress fancy for Grads, the last formal dance before you graduate. Sheena and I spent weeks finding the perfect dress and shoes, delighting in this rite of passage, and I felt like a princess when I left. My only regret was that Lachlan hadn’t seen me. I hoped maybe if he did and got a glance at the plunging neckline and high heels, I maybe wouldn’t look like a child to him.
My mates left the dance before I did, each one paired with a bloke. It wasn’t supposed to be that way. We agreed to meet as singles, and tonight would be about us. We wouldn’t let boys come in the way, but celebrate how far we’ve come.
First, Siobhan was asked to dance, then Anne, then Aisling. And every fucking one of them left with said “dance partner.” I left in a huff when I was the last one dancing, and I was so angry, I took off much earlier than I’d planned.
I told my guard to leave me, though I don’t really think they have. And I walk the vacant streets of Ballyhock centre, after leaving the dance, alone.
I feel like Cinderella after her carriage turns back into a pumpkin. I’m not really a princess. Right now, alone and bereft, I’m just a girl in borrowed clothes now that the magic has vanished.
Ahead of me’s a group of men, smoking weed and cracking dirty jokes. I pause for a moment and look over my shoulder at my guard. They’re a few blocks away, giving me the distance I demanded, but they’re there. I cross the street, but it’s too late.
“Well, would you look at who decided to pay us a visit, boys?”
They’re following me. I can feel them drawing nearer, right on my heels.
“Fuck off,” I say over my shoulder, but it’s the wrong thing to say. I’ve only pissed them off.
One grabs me by the elbow and spins me around. He’s younger than my brother but older than I am, his face contorted into anger. But I’ve got a temper, too.
“I said fuck off,” I repeat. I shove the heel of my palm against his chest and he actually stumbles back and falls, but my momentary relief quickly fades. One of his mates grabs the back of my head, and I scream.
“Let go!” I scream. “Let go!”
Seconds later, he’s torn from me, and the men around me scatter, screaming.
“Fucking McCarthy!” one shouts. “Jesus!”
I’m stumbling and shaken, when I see Lachlan lifting the man who grabbed me right off the ground and throwing him onto the pavement. I’ve never seen him like this, so riddled with rage he’s shaking, barely recognizable. Gone are his playful eyes, gone is the teasing smile. He’s a cold-blooded killer.
My assailant gets up from the ground, clutching at his rib cage, but Lachlan sweeps his feet and makes him fall again. I scream as Lachlan attacks, landing vicious punches and blows until the man is crying and begging for mercy. Lachlan holds him by the front of his t-shirt and pulls his face straight to his.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch her again,” he growls. “And tell every one of your mates this woman belongs to me. If you breathe her air, I will hunt you down. If you speak to her, I will cut out your tongue. And if you ever touch her again, I will end you.”
The man runs, and Lachlan watches, until we’re left alone. He wipes a hand across his brow, and wipes blood from his fists. His brows knit together, and his voice is pained. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says. “Y’alright, sweet girl? Did they hurt you?”
“Lachlan!” I scream, until my voice is hoarse and it hurts to breathe. It feels as if someone’s squeezing my chest, adrenaline coursing through me with every step that I take. “Lachlan!” I can’t see him. Where is he? There are people screaming and crying, fire to my left and sirens sounding in the distance.
Rubble surrounds us, smoke billowing like a warning, and I realize with a flare of terror that flames are billowing out from the car. It could blow at any minute. Is he inside? I have to get out of here. If I don’t, I could get hurt or worse, and I know it, but I can’t. If I leave without him, I’ll leave a part of my very soul.
“Lachlan.” My voice catches as hope begins to dwindle. I don’t bother to check the tears that course down my cheeks, mixing with soot and ash. Sirens sound in the distance but my heartbeat’s louder.
Slam.
Slam.
Slam.
If he’s gone… no, I can’t think of such a thing. I can’t. It’s a reality that won’t exist. Not now. Not ever.
Light breaks through clouds, and with it, I feel a glimmer of hope.
Don’t give up. Don’t you ever give up.
It’s like I can hear him, that deep, commanding voice of his chasing away my fears and giving me hope.
“I won’t,” I whisper. “I bloody won’t.”
“Fiona!”
I wonder at first if I’ve conjured it up, I’m that in my head. Is it… can it possibly be?
I look to my left. Nothing. And to my right, nothing as well. I squint my eyes and peer ahead of me, but there’s nothing.
How could I have done this? After what he’s done, after what I have, to argue with him right before this happened?
What if I never see him again?
Oh, God, what if he’s gone?
I can’t believe I let my head get in the way of my heart. I need him, and he needs me. We’ve been created for each other, he and I. If he’s gone…
I can’t bear the thought.
He claimed me.
He claimed me.
And as a claimed woman of the Clan, I’m his.
I’m rubbing at the tears on my face, when someone approaches me, trying to help, but I push them away. I don’t want help right now.
I want Lachlan.
He was the first person I went to when I needed help.
The one I’ve confided in.
And he’s the man I’m meant to be with.
I have to find him. I won’t run from him. I won’t turn from him again.
“Lachlan!” I scream, my voice cracking with the intensity of my need to find him.
And then I see him.
Clothes torn and tattered, his face bloody and streaked with soot, he marches through the rubble and carnage, a man with a purpose. He wears a harness strapped to his chest, gleaming metal for anyone in the open to see, but he doesn’t care. He’s oblivious to anything but his search.
“Fiona!”
“Lachlan,” I whisper, unable to summon the voice to call him again. Is he a ghost? Or is that him, the man that I love, the man I would give my everything for, come to find me?
I open my voice to yell to him, but I can’t. My words are frozen, my mouth refusing to work.
But I can run. And I do.
I ignore the broken glass, the rubble, shattered wood, and hissing warning sounds of things about to explode. I ignore the pounding of my heart. I have one purpose, and one purpose
only: to get to him.
I trip and fall, tear my jeans, bracing myself on concrete. The skin’s torn off my hands and the pain is excruciating, but I barely register it because I’m on my feet again, running. He doesn’t see me yet, and his voice is growing more desperate. I want to yell to him, to ease his worry, but I can’t speak. I can only run.
“Lachlan,” I whisper. “Wait for me.” I’m a sobbing, hysterical mess when finally his eyes come to mine, and he freezes. It’s only a split second before he begins to run to me.
I clash into him, but he bends, catches me, and gathers me to him.
We don’t speak. His strong, powerful arms wrap around me and he holds me so tightly I can’t breathe. I bury my head in the crook of his neck, and I break into desperate tears.
“Oh, God,” I sob, my shoulders wracking as I lose my mind. “I thought I lost you.” My voice breaks, and I sob harder. I breathe him in, squeeze his hard, strong body, lay my head against his neck to feel his skin against mine. His shirt’s soaked with my tears, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t speak. He holds me, our hearts beating as one, and walks with long, purposeful strides to safety.
I don’t want him to release me. I can’t let him go, I won’t. The tears have subsided but my desperate need to hold him hasn’t.
And somehow, he knows, or maybe he feels the same, for he sits heavily on the sidewalk and arranges me in his lap. Slowly, soothingly, my gentle giant of a man rocks me as if we’re the only two people in the world. He’s muttering things in guttural Gaelic, broken words and phrases I can hardly understand, but a few words are clear.
Mo grá.
Tá tú sábháilte.
My love. You are safe.
He holds me on the curb until I shiver with cold. He holds me tighter, closer.
“Are you hurt?” he finally asks.
I shake my head. “I’m fine,” I tell him, and I suppose I’d tell him that even if I’d broken limbs, because I’m with him now. I found him.
I’m fine.
He kisses my temple so fiercely I’m branded, his strong fingers grasping my chin. He draws in a deep breath, then lets it out, holds me to his chest and rocks me once more.
“You’re not fucking fine. You’re bleeding everywhere.” Then he throws his arms around me. “But you’re okay. You survived. Let’s get you home.”
“I don’t want to let you go.” I squeeze my eyes tight. A part of me wants to pretend to be braver than I am, but I can’t help it. I thought I lost him. I need to feel the warmth of his skin, his pulse quickening against my fingers. I want to touch him, to assure myself he isn’t a vision and he’s here in the flesh.
I’ve been so stupid. So bloody stupid.
Before I know what’s happening, we’re surrounded by people we know and people we love. Nolan and Sheena heard the explosion and came back for us, but Keenan’s here, Boner, Tully, and Cormac, all prepared to find whoever did this and to avenge us.
“You alright, Fiona?” Keenan asks. “My God, what happened?”
“Don’t know,” Nolan says. “Get her back home and call Sebastian,” he says to Lachlan. “That was no fucking accident.”
Cormac sees something up ahead, and takes off at a run. Tully and Boner follow close behind. Lachlan watches them go, and turns to Keenan.
“My duty’s to Fiona, now, Keenan.”
Nolan speaks up. “Take her home, lad.” He turns to Keenan. “He’s claimed her.”
Sheena whips her head to me, and her mouth parts. “He’s fucking claimed her?” she asks. Nolan shakes his head sharply.
“Not now, Sheena.”
Lachlan gathers me to him and holds me to his chest. “I’ll tell fucking anyone the truth,” he says. “If you knew the circumstances in Boston you’d have given me your blessing.”
Sheena’s eyes narrow on him. I don’t say anything at first, but I can’t bear to see him under fire.
“And I agreed to it, so don’t you get on his case about it,” I say with conviction. “I fucking agreed to it.”
“Got her sister’s mouth, doesn’t she?” Nolan mutters approvingly.
“No more talk now,” Keenan orders. He turns to me. “I’m glad you’re alright, but I want Sebastian to see to both of you.” He turns to Nolan. “We’ll follow up with the rest when they return, but be prepared for a lockdown, aye?”
“Aye,” Nolan says.
Lachlan takes me by the hand and leads me to a waiting car. He brushes off the police and paramedics and promises a full report when I’ve been doctored up at home. Given he’s a McCarthy, they give him wide berth and agree.
He takes me home in silence, holding my hand.
“I love you, Fiona. I fucking love you so much.”
His voice cracks, and he doesn’t meet my eyes.
“I know you do, and I’ve been a fool, Lachlan. I’m sorry. There’s so much…” My voice trails off, because I’m not really sure how to explain.
“I understand, love,” he says. “We have ages to talk this through.”
He brings me back to the McCarthy Clan family home, and when I see the bright green of the grass, the flowers in bloom, and the depths of the Irish Sea, tears fall down my face unchecked. Lachlan’s holding my hand. He’s claimed me. The sea breeze rustles my hair, and I inhale so deeply, my chest rises and I feel alive again. For the first time ever, I finally feel I’m home. For the first time, I feel as if I belong.
“Keenan said he has a surprise for us,” Lachlan says. “Wonder what it is.”
“No idea. But it’s awfully nice of him, isn’t it?”
“Oh aye.”
“Come inside and let’s have a look.”
When we enter the front door, I’m enveloped in a bear hug from Megan. “My God, woman, what happened to you?”
I fill her in as quickly as I can. Sebastian’s waiting for us by the foot of the steps.
“Conduct your interrogation later, Megan,” Carson says from the foot of the stairs. “Sebastian’s been ordered to take them to their suite.”
I look to Lachlan. “Our what?”
“Keenan works quickly,” he says with a smile. “He’s got us ready to go here.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I mutter.
Lachlan gets a call from Keenan and answers it. He speaks in short, clipped sentences, and I have no idea what they discuss, but I don’t much care either. I don’t question or ask what they discuss. I don’t fear it. For some reason, for the very first time, it feels alright to let him handle whatever they need to. I can let it go.
Lachlan leads us to a full floor on the west wing. The carpet’s thick beneath my feet, and large vases of blooming wildflowers sit on a table in the hallway. Lachlan opens a door and with a smile, gestures me in.
I blink in surprise when I enter. Years ago, when we were first rescued by the McCarthys, we stayed in a suite just like this. There’s a large kitchenette and a dining area, a living room with comfortable-looking furniture, oak bookshelves lined with books, and a fireplace rimmed in red brick. To the right are two doorways, but all I can see is that they lead to a bedroom.
“Where are we?”
“Home,” he says with pride.
I blink. “Really?”
“Aye.”
A knock comes at the door, and Lachlan lets Sebastian in. I do what Sebastian says and let him examine me. Lachlan watches, not missing a single thing. Sebastian announces I have multiple lacerations and a mild concussion, but I’m otherwise unscathed. Lachlan, on the other hand, has a dislocated shoulder.
“It’s because you stuck your arm out so I wouldn’t smash my head on impact,” I say, shaking my head. “Lachlan, you hurt yourself.”
“Would bloody well do it fucking again,” he says through gritted teeth, as Sebastian resets his shoulder. Finally, after what seems like hours, Sebastian takes his leave. I sit on the sofa, completely spent, and look out the window. The sun’s now sitting low on the horizon. From here, I have a perfect view of the sea.
“Oh, Lachlan,” I murmur. “There’s a balcony.” I rise to go out, but he takes my hand and shakes his head. “Naw, lass, not tonight. We need to get cleaned up, we need food, and we need sleep. We’ll explore everything your little heart desires in the morning.”
I open my mouth to protest, but find I don’t actually want to. I sigh and nod.
“Aye,” I agree. “Let’s do just that.”
“Come here,” he says, bending to lift me, and right then, I don’t know why I let myself push him away, push us away from each other.
“Is everyone else okay?”
“Everyone’s fine,” he says, “Except whoever the blokes were who attacked us.”
I drop my head to his shoulder. I don’t question it. I don’t fight it. There were people tonight who attacked us, and they’ll be subject to whatever form of retribution the McCarthy Clan deems. Keenan will order whatever happens. Lachlan will obey his orders. They’re here to protect me, and they abide by a code of conduct that’s ironclad. I won’t question it.
I won’t go into things blind, but I won’t go in fighting, either. Lachlan carries me into a bedroom that I know will be ours. There’s a massive, king-sized bed in the center of the room, but I don’t look at any details. All I know is that this is a home for us—for both of us. Tomorrow I’ll wake up in his bed, with him by my side, and we’ll go down to the dining room for breakfast in the Clan family home. He’ll be happier with me here because we’re so safe and protected. I don’t know what the future brings, but right now I have all that I could ever need or want.
He pushes the door to the bathroom open with the toe of his boot, and when we step in the room, overhead lighting flickers on immediately. It’s gorgeous in here, ivory tile and large, lighted mirrors, a shower enclosed in glass, and fresh flowers. He sits on the edge of a huge whirlpool bath and turns it on. He tosses a round bath bomb into the tub from a little jar on the side. Hot water streams into the tub from jets. I watch like a little girl as bubbles rise to the surface and the sweet scent of lilacs fills the air.
“I’ll smell like a goddamn lass,” Lachlan mutters. “Didn’t know the soap was scented.”
