by Jane Henry
“Don’t lecture me, Carson,” she says, her eyes flashing a warning I don’t heed.
Oh, no, she doesn’t. She may have escaped a spanking, but she won’t escape this.
“You could’ve been raped by that man before he threw your body off the cliff.”
She shivers.
“You could’ve been accosted by the O’Gregors, because you were in their territory. And they’d claim ignorance of your family history. No ink, no McCarthy man with you, you don’t get the coverage of Clan protection, do you?”
“Whatever,” she says. “You men are insanely frustrating. You act as if a grown-ass woman can’t defend herself.”
“I act as if a grown-ass woman and cousin to the McCarthy family shouldn’t have to defend herself, because by virtue of birth, she’s granted a lifetime of protection? Yes. That her loyalty to the Clan impacts fucking everything? Yes. Because it does. I act like a joy ride to Stone City’s the stupidest fucking thing anyone’s fucking done because it is.”
She opens her mouth, then slams it shut. With a little angry growl, she turns back toward the bathroom.
“I’ve had it,” I say to her.
She turns and looks at me. “Have you, then?”
“Oh, aye,” I tell her, my voice laced with anger.
She should know better. I want to stripe her perfect, heart-shaped arse with my belt for real this time, and not just a few warning smacks like she got earlier. I can’t believe she did this, that she’s this nonchalant about it.
Keenan will be here any minute. There’s no time for me to haul her over my soaking wet jeans and give her a proper, thorough belting.
Shame.
She slams the door to the bathroom shut, and I hear a definite click of a lock. I narrow my eyes at the door and growl. No one’s ever driven me to anger like she does. No one’s ever made my palm tingle with the need to punish like her, even Eve.
Bloody hell.
Especially Eve.
Eve was docile and compliant, and even though I’ve been raised to be the head of the house, she obeyed implicitly. She lived to serve. Even the slightest rebuke from me would destroy her, so I had to temper everything I said with gentleness. Sometimes I honestly wished she had a little more fight in her.
But Megan.
Christ, I shouldn’t compare them. How would I feel if she compared me to an ex-boyfriend?
But no. I close my eyes and inhale deeply.
Eve wasn’t my ex.
I loved her with every breath I took. I mourn her loss as if a part of my heart and soul were buried along with her.
I hear a knock at the door at the same time the shower turns off and dimly note how quickly she gets ready. Interesting.
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts, to bring myself back to the present, and go open the door to Keenan.
I groan inwardly.
I am not looking forward to this conversation.
And bloody hell, Keenan isn’t alone.
Jesus.
I open the door to Keenan and Cormac with a sigh. Nolan likely would’ve come as well, but he’s on his honeymoon. Cormac looks at my sodden clothing but doesn’t say a word. They sit around Megan’s decidedly feminine living room, decorated in whites and pinks and grays. Cormac dwarfs a little loveseat, and Keenan sits by the fireplace.
And she thought she was in trouble with me.
“Carson, you alright?” Cormac asks. His heavy brows draw together over his green eyes, his frown still noticeable despite his heavy beard. He glances over my clothes.
“Aye,” I tell him with a sigh. Keenan’s the only one who knows my errand to Stone City, so I have to be careful what I say. “Got caught in the rain.”
“Did you, now?” Cormac asks.
“Aye.”
“Where’s Megan?” Keenan asks.
I jerk my thumb behind me. “Shower.”
“I see.”
I’m glad Nolan’s away. He’s the closest with Megan. They were born the same year, went through the stages of life at the same time. If he suspected there’s anything going on between me and Megan, he’d want to know, and he’d want to fucking warn me.
Or kill me.
One or the other.
We’re like brothers, but she’s his flesh and blood.
Megan chooses that precise time to exit her bedroom door. Poor girl likely didn’t know she’d come out to the leaders of the McCarthy Clan arranged around her living room. She’s wearing a light purple dress with a low, deep vee in the front, and strappy little sandals. The dress accentuates every curve, from the fullness of her breasts to her gorgeous thighs. I want to kiss my way down her temple to her pinky toe, until she’s moaning and wet.
She takes one look at the men assembled in her living room, squeaks like a mouse in a trap, and brings her hand to her mouth. She steps back as if to retreat to her room, but Keenan’s sharp voice arrests her.
“In here, Megan,” he says sternly, his arms crossed on his chest.
As the eldest, the one with the most authority, all obey him.
With a sigh, she comes back in. She looks around the room, from Cormac’s serious face to Keenan’s, completely devoid of any sympathy, then looks at me. Finally, she crosses the room and sits at one of the dining chairs.
“Y’alright, lass?” Cormac asks softly.
She swallows and nods, meeting his eyes.
“Almost forgot, Carson,” Keenan says, holding up a sack. “Got you some dry clothes.”
“Aye, thank you.” He tosses the bag to me, but I don’t move to get up. “I’ll get changed,” I tell her. “And you can begin by telling them all why you were at Stone City.”
I go to her room and open the door but leave it ajar. I want to hear every word.
She begins by mumbling, but I yell from her bedroom. “Louder. I want to hear every word.”
She raises her voice so loudly you’d think she was sportscasting for a stadium of deaf people. I grit my teeth. Keenan says something to her, and her voice modulates a bit.
I dress quickly then rejoin them. “And I didn’t mean anything by it,” she says. “I really just wanted to go and visit the old haunts Eve and I used to visit is all.”
But I’m not buying it. That isn’t her reason. Did she see something when she came to my flat that made her suspicious of me?
“Did you have a guard with you?” Keenan asks, his green eyes piercing hers.
Here we go.
She shifts and looks away. “No.”
“Why not?” Cormac asks. His usual placid face is drawn and stern. Neither of them are happy with her. I’d feel bad for her, if I didn’t think she deserved every bit of this. If I wasn’t afraid for her safety myself.
“Because I don’t like going about with the guard, Cormac,” she says. “For Christ’s sake, I’m a grown woman.”
Cormac shakes his head. “As is Aileen. And Sheena. And Caitlin. And mam. Every damn one of them, fully grown women, capable and intelligent. Not a one of them leaves this property without the guard.”
Her brows draw together, and she frowns, her full lips drawn downward into a pout. Christ, I want to kiss those pouty lips and make her mine.
“And they let you,” Keenan says. “Did you see anyone else?”
“Wellll,” she says. She bites her lip and twists a strand of her curly locks between her fingers. “I may have seen Lachlan.”
“Did he try to stop you?” Keenan asks, his eyes dangerously dark and stern. Keenan knows he did, because he got a text from Lachlan himself, but it seems he wants the truth straight from Megan. Her side of the story, as it were.
She nods with a sigh. “Well, aye, yeah,” she says. “But I… well, I left when he went into the house for his keys.”
Cormac releases a low whistle, but Keenan’s heard enough.
“Then what?” Keenan asks.
She tells them the story, about how she was attacked and I helped her. She gets as far as the my coming to help part, then s
tops and looks at me.
My turn.
I tell them everything.
When I’m finished, Keenan closes his eyes and shakes his head. Cormac works his jaw. “Did you see any signature ink?” Keenan says.
Megan looks to me, but I shake my head. “No. Likely homeless.”
Keenan nods. “No ties to the O’Gregors, but you killed a man on their territory, and that alone is worthy of retribution.”
“Of course,” I tell him. “Understood.”
And Keenan knows as well as I do that I shouldn’t be even flirting with such things, not when I have the job ahead of me that I do.
“Well, then,” Keenan says. “You both fucked up properly, didn’t you?” Christ, I feel as if we’ve both been hauled into the headmaster’s office.
“Well, now, I wouldn’t go that far,” Cormac says, “I’d have fucked the man up as well, wouldn’t you, Keenan?”
“Killed him? No,” Keenan says. “Incapacitated and warned? Aye.”
Shite.
“True,” Cormac says. “Killing on O’Gregor land is feckin’ stupid.” He looks quickly at me. “Erm, sorry, Carson.”
I only shrug. “Aye. ’Tis though. I don’t disagree with you.”
“I’ll contact Father Finn,” Keenan says. “Conduct an investigation on the side, ensure that killing the man didn’t just start a fucking war.”
“Aye.” I nod. I’ll do my own investigation as well, and Keenan knows it.
“We have a bigger problem here, though, Carson.”
We all look at him curiously.
He jerks his chin toward Megan. “With all due respect, cousin, we can’t have you traipsing about causing mischief and havoc.”
Megan rolls her eyes. “I’m hardly—”
“And I won’t allow you do something like this again. There are times when most of us fight against the laws of the Clan, but know this, lass. The laws are here to protect you, not hinder you.”
She blinks, swallows hard, and looks down at her hands.
He’s giving her a dressing down worthy of a younger lass, but there’s too much at stake here.
“So I have a solution.” Keenan gets to his feet. We all watch him warily.
“Carson, you’ll be her personal guard until further notice. See to it when she goes out her guard goes with her. See to it they’re attentive and vigilant, and if they’re not, report back to me.” He turns to Megan. “And Megan, what Carson says is law. No more endangering the Clan, lass.”
He gets to his feet and she opens her mouth to protest, then slams it shut. Her cheeks flush a little pink, but still, she says nothing in return. When they go to leave, she opens her mouth. “There’s… well there’s one more thing,” she begins, but when they turn to look back, she shakes her head.
“Forget it. It’s nothing,” she says. “Ignore me.” She’s looking at her hands again.
Keenan looks with curiosity at me, then back to her. “You sure, lass?”
“Aye. Sure. All good now.”
They leave. When the door shuts, her sweet face falls, and her shoulders slump.
I’ve never seen Keenan assign a man of the Clan on security detail before. But I know it’s punishment for me for my lapse in judgment as well. He could’ve punished me worse than this. And he’s right. I could have incapacitated or maimed, but no, I had to lose my fucking mind.
Still, I feel badly for Megan. I sit on one of the overstuffed chairs in her living room. “Megan.”
She lifts her eyes to mine. “Yes?”
I crook a finger at her. “Come here, love.”
She eyes me warily but comes.
When she’s in front of me, I tug her onto my lap.
At first, she sits stiffly, and I gently rub my palm on the small of her back. “You’ve had a rough day,” I tell her.
She nods. “Aye.”
They say that having a child softens you. That you learn to be more empathetic. And I know she’s been through much today. I used to be more aloof, more detached. But being dad to Breena, even though she’s still little yet, has made me a bit more aware.
“You know they only want to protect you.”
As do I.
She sighs. “Aye. I do know. Gets a bit oppressive though, you know. Makes me feel like a child.”
I bend my mouth to her neck and kiss her gently. “You’re no child, lass.”
She smiles and sighs, letting her head rest on my shoulder. “I’m not. It’s interesting to me he put you on duty with me.” She looks up to me. “You think he knows there’s… something between us?”
I shake my head. “No. He knows that I killed a man today unnecessarily. And this is my punishment.”
She smiles and winces. “I’m your punishment.”
I laugh. “No, lass. It’s duty that’s my punishment. Men of my rank don’t get guard duty. That’s entry-level.”
She isn’t my punishment.
She’s my gift.
Chapter 10
Megan
The next few days pass in a sort of weird blur. I have to work at the hospital, and Carson attends the guard that goes with me. I have to reluctantly admit that having a guard that involves him isn’t so bad. I reckon it’s the principle of the thing that gets me so angry.
I can’t forget what happened in Stone City, and it’s almost disturbing to me how easily I move on. Carson took a life. He did so because of me. But my main focus is on what was in the contents of Eve’s diary.
Is there really a mole in our midst? I have a hard time bringing myself to think about such a thing. These men are my family, and I trust them implicitly.
Should I go to Keenan? Nolan is the one I confide in, the cousin I trust the most. There were days in my youth we spent all night by the shore, sitting on the rocky cliffs of Ballyhock, sharing a smoke, sharing a drink, sharing our minds and hearts. A little part of me misses the way we used to be able to confide in one another. Now that he’s married, we have less time together. And his wife is the woman he confides in, as it should be.
Still, I wonder… does the Clan know there’s suspicion of a spy among them? Keenan misses absolutely nothing. I ought to know, I think wryly. Then I remember the note in Eve’s diary. I sigh.
They know. But do they know who?
I haven’t had any time off since the incident in Stone City, my hours long and arduous. I work all day. At work, I barely have time to take a sip of water or sit for lunch, the tasks coming one after another. There’s a shortage of nurses in the Ballyhock hospital, like many throughout the country, and though we’re compensated well, the work is grueling.
I’m grateful for the work, though. When one is busy, it’s much easier not to think about problems or worries. I move from one task to the other, my interaction with Carson mostly the texts he sends me—which, I note with glee, are growing more and more salacious in nature—and his presence with the guard that escorts me.
On the fourth day after we went to Stone City, I have my first day off all week. I’m dead asleep, the curtains pulled, when I hear a knock on my door. I open one groggy eye and glance at the clock. Seven o’clock. Bloody hell, who could it be at this hour?
I’m quickly in a panic. Did something go wrong? Is everyone alright? I glance to the table, where my mobile lies, dead. I was so tired last night I forgot to plug it in.
I throw the covers off and race to the door, standing on tiptoes to see out.
And my heart nearly stops. Carson, his hair still damp from a shower, carrying a tray. He waves at the peep hole.
I glance down at myself. Jesus, I need to get better about my night clothes. I’m wearing a faded pair of shorts and a thin wisp of a tank.
I unfasten the deadbolt—learned that lesson right quick—and open the door.
He steps inside, while I shut and lock the door behind him.
“Good girl,” he says with an approving smile that makes my belly flip. “You’re catching on.”
“Aye,” I say on a yawn.
“Carson, I’m a mess. Just rolled out of bed, and I—”
But I don’t get very far. He put the tray he carried down while I locked the door, and just as fast he’s pressing me up against the door. One hand on my chin, the other on the small of my back, he’s pulling me into him for a kiss.
Ah. So he’s missed me. My belly warms at the very thought. It’s nice to be missed.
Before I can tell him I haven’t even brushed my teeth or rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, his mouth is on mine and I’m moaning softly into him. My knees buckle but he holds me up. Oh, how I’ve missed this.
He kisses me until I’m boneless and aroused, and I’m eager for so much more. When he finally releases my mouth, his eyes meet mine, and he smiles.
“Missed you,” he says.
“Missed me?” I tease with a smile. “You’ve seen me every day.”
He grins. “Seen you, aye. Haven’t had time for more than a quick conversation.”
He bends and picks up the tray he brought. “Fancy breakfast? Breena’s with Maeve, and we’re interviewing nannies today.” He’s got a pot of tea and a plateful of my favorite scones, clotted cream, Ballyhock’s good butter, preserves, and a plate of fried eggs and sausages. My stomach rumbles with hunger.
“Oh, aye, this looks delicious,” I say. “But I only worked, didn’t run a damn marathon.”
He snorts. “Need to keep up your energy.”
I stick my tongue out at him, and he gives me a teasing smack to the arse. We sit on the high stools in the little dining area. He takes a little dish from the tray, fills it with food, then pushes it my way. I butter the scone.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would have at least brushed my teeth.”
“Tried to,” he says, raising a brow at me. His voice grows stern. “Seems you ignored my texts?”
“Oh, right,” I say, with a nervous laugh. “Forgot about that. I forgot to plug it in last night. And also, I was sleeping. It’s seven in the morning, not all of Ireland is up at the crack of dawn sweating after a run.”
He huffs out a breath.
“Eat your brekky, it helps the grumpiness, you know,” I say with a smile.
“You know what else helps the grumpiness,” he mutters. He drinks his tea black, leaning back in the chair while he watches me eat.
