by Jane Henry
“What’s that?” God, but the fresh buttered scone and good, hot tea are delicious. I let my eyes rove over him. He’s wearing faded jeans and a worn blue t-shirt, his biceps stretching the sleeves. I can see the outline of his muscles. His Superman disguise.
“You know what,” he mutters.
“I do?” And then it dawns on me. “Ohhhh. Aye, well I’m game for that but do ask that you let me take a shower first.”
“Your showers are thirty-seconds long, so that can be arranged.”
I finish my scone. “Aren’t you going to eat anything?”
“Had a protein shake after my run.”.
I must make a grimace, because he laughs. “Rebuilds muscle and all that.”
“Well, glad you like it,” I mutter. “Doesn’t actually change the taste of the shake, now, does it?”
He shakes his head and his lips quirk up. “Suppose not.”
I take a fried egg and sausage, still steaming hot, and eagerly eat them. I’m still starving. “God, this is good,” I tell him. “Did you nick it from the kitchen on your way in?”
“Aye,” he says. “Brought Breena to Maeve, and the staff was just putting everything out.”
“Good timing. I feel as if I haven’t eaten in days.”
His eyes sharpen. “Have you?”
“Well, I’d have to think about it,” I say, tucking into the fresh eggs and sausage. “Not much. I mean, you have to understand my shifts at the hospital are long and difficult. We rarely have time for breaks, and when we’re understaffed, we often don’t even get those.”
He frowns. “Noted. And what about before you leave or when you get home?”
“I often forget before I go, I’m that busy getting ready. And when I get home, I’m shattered. In no mood to cook.”
“No excuse, Megan. You live in a house with staff that’ll prepare food for you. I don’t want to hear tell of you skipping meals again, you understand?”
It doesn’t take much for him to go all serious and conscientious on me.
Hell, I sort of like it, though.
“Aye,” I tell him. “If you insist.”
“But I do.”
A pulse passes between us, and I remember how his name is stored in my phone. I keep it in mind when I respond.
“Yes, sir.” Ah, that feels right. We’re easing back into the familiar.
He gives me an approving smile. “That’s my girl. Very good girl.”
I push my plate away, pleasantly full, and take another pull from my tea. “Best damn tea this side of the Sea, isn’t it?”
“Aye,” he says. He leans back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful for a moment. “Keenan called to check up on you, you know.”
“Did he?” Damn, I want Nolan home. I need to whine to him about his heavy-handed, domineering older brother.
“Aye. Wanted to be sure you weren’t giving me any trouble.”
I roll my eyes.
“Now, none of that, lass,” he says warningly. “It’s a fair question.”
“You all overreact so,” I tell him. “Now why would I give you any trouble.”
He shrugs casually. “Oh, I don’t know. You fancy a spanking, maybe.”
I blink, taken off guard by the rush of heat that rises in my chest. My mouth is dry. And then it dawns on me. Mother of God, I do fancy a spanking. Am I that mental?
I cover up my arousal with a huff of indignation, then get to my feet. “Well, I don’t know about that,” I say. “But I do fancy a shower.”
“Naturally,” he says. “Go but be quick about it.” He glances at his watch. “I’ve got an appointment in about an hour.”
“With Keenan?”
“No,” he says distractedly. He doesn’t meet my eyes.
It troubles me as I head to the bathroom.
“Oh, and Megan?”
“Mmm?”
“I’ve been thinking. Have you ever shot a gun?”
I feel my eyes widen as I turn to look at him. “Definitely not. Are you kidding me? Keenan and the rest would have my head.”
He nods contemplatively. “Aye, in the past, I’m sure. But after recent events… I think it’s time you learn to shoot.”
“Really?”
I don’t know how I feel about that, but the very thought of wielding a weapon, and Carson standing behind me, helping me to… position or whatever… sounds hot.
“Really,” he says. “You let me handle Keenan.”
I nod, then head to the bathroom and take one of my brief showers. As I shave my legs, I wonder to myself. What’s he hiding? It’s pretty clear to me that Carson’s hiding something. My earlier suspicions resurface. It isn’t possible that Carson’s the spy, is it? He has always been scrupulously honest.
The very thought troubles me. I’m angry at myself for even thinking it, but also can’t deny that it’s an important question.
As I’m pulling out clothes, I call out to him. “Did you hear from Father Finn yet? Keenan hear anything?”
“Aye,” Carson says. “Seems our suspicions were right. The man was indeed homeless, with no affiliation with the O’Gregors.”
“Thank God,” I say.
He doesn’t respond.
“Does that change anything?”
“A bit,” he says. He doesn’t elaborate.
As I finish dressing, I mull things over. What he’s said. How he’s reacted. I know he keeps to himself and he’s rather reserved, but this… is he hiding something from the Clan?
I tug on a pair of my favorite leggings and a long, flowy tunic top. I step into a pair of flats, then toss my hair up in a messy blob of a bun. I glide some lip gloss across my lips and step into the living room.
He jumps, startled when I come into the room. He’s holding a phone, but it isn’t his usual phone, a charcoal gray. This one’s black.
“New phone?” I ask. The dining area’s tidied, and everything’s put away. Damn, I’m impressed.
“No,” he says sharply when he realizes I’m there. “Loaner I’m fixing up for one of the guys.”
“Which guy?”
I wish I didn’t feel suspicious. I wish I could just trust what he said and take him at his word.
“Tully.”
“Aye, okay.”
“Megan.”
I pause, turn around, and look at him. When I do, a little bit of my breath escapes. He’s leaning back in the chair, his arms crossed over his chest. His muscles bulge, his jaw clenches. He’s leaning back with his legs spread out in front of him, emanating latent dominance.
“Come here, please.”
The way he speaks affects me, and I feel a bit shy. I walk to him on trembling legs, wondering what he’ll do when I reach him. It’s been a few days since we’ve really been together, and I’m so damn ready for this.
When I reach him, he points to the floor. “Kneel, please.”
My heartbeat quickens. I’ve never been in this position before. No one’s ever played these games with me.
Is this a game? How seriously does he take this?
“And if I don’t?” I whisper.
There’s not a trace of humor in his eyes when he answers. “I’ll punish you.”
I fall to my knees in front of him, and it feels… odd, but nice. He reaches for my chin and holds it in his warm hand, bringing my gaze to his.
“Good girl,” he says. “Why did you ask? Were you thinking of defying me?”
My pulse races and my mouth is dry, but I won’t hide the truth from him. This is new to me.
“Aye,” I say. “I’ve just… well, I’ve never been with a man like you before.”
“Like me?”
I nod. “Well, yes. I mean… dominant.”
His brows raise heavenward. “You never have?”
I shake my head. It’s not that out of the ordinary, I think, but I suppose for a man like him, it’s the natural order of things.
He gently brushes his thumb along my jawline. “That’s surprising to me. You
’ve got all the best qualities of a natural submissive.”
I feel my brows draw together, but we don’t break eye contact. “How?” I ask, truly curious. “I’ve broken the rules Keenan has for the family. I talk back to you. I don’t let anyone ever push me over, and I have a mind of my own.”
He nods. “You do. And it’s that fire in you that draws me to you.” He pauses, working his jaw as if he’s thinking. “Doesn’t mean you don’t have the makings of a submissive, though.” He looks at me thoughtfully. “I’d like to try something with you, Megan.”
I nod.
“Lay your head on my knee and close your eyes.”
Still kneeling, I do what he says. I rest my head on his knee. As I do, he brushes his palm across my forehead, tucking wisps of stray hair from my face. I sigh involuntarily, sinking into this moment. I feel utterly and completely at peace.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
I do. He’s been my protector. And even though I’ve doubted things at times, it doesn’t mean I don’t trust him.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good,” he says. “Get up and go stand in the corner.”
I look up at him in surprise. “The corner?” I ask. “Like a naughty child?”
He shakes his head. “No. This isn’t punishment.”
“Okayyyy…” My voice trails off as I turn from him and go to obey. “Um. Clothed?”
He smiles. “Good girl. It pleases me that you asked that. Aye, clothed this time.”
I go to the corner and stand facing it. I feel his eyes on me. And as I stand there, everything else is blocked from my vision. All I can see is the clean, plain white wall in front of me. The sharp lines where the two walls intersect. And after a minute, all I can hear is the steady beating of my heart.
“No speaking,” he says. “Just stand there, please.”
I do. A minute passes, then another. And as I stand in quiet, a strange sort of peace pervades my senses. I’ve been so busy, so tired the past few days. The stresses of my job are in direct contrast to what I’m doing this very moment. My job is busy and distracting, demanding and noisy. This… this is quiet and peaceful. No demands. No sound save the beating of my heart and the gentle rise and fall of his breath behind me.
“Does standing in the corner make you any less powerful?”
I shake my head. I called him sir before. For some strange reason I’m craving to call him sir again. “No, sir,” I say. My belly warms, and he makes a sound of approval behind me.
I hear him approaching but feel his warmth before he touches me.
“Does this make you passive or docile?”
I shake my head again. “No, sir.”
His hands span my waist. I love the feel of his hands just there.
“Good girl,” he says. “The heart of a submissive woman doesn’t have to be any of those things. Do you like handing over control to me?”
I do. Oh, God, I do. I nod.
“Good. Then that’s all this is. An exchange of power between two people. A giving and taking, as it were.”
“Right. And it’s hot. This is… yeah.”
He nods. “And you’ve hardly seen anything yet.”
He spins me around to face him, cupping my jaw and kissing me again. He rakes up my top, his palm pressing at my waist, drawing me closer to him.
“Bedroom,” he whispers in my ear. “Now.”
I shiver with anticipation. I’ve no idea what he’ll do to me.
But as I turn to go, there’s a ringing sound. He curses and removes his phone from his pocket. I see the name Maeve on the screen.
Breena. My heart quickens. Still clutching my arm, he answers the phone.
“Hello?”
He listens, his brows drawing together. “Ah, poor thing. Right, of course. I’m upstairs with Megan, I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Everything okay?” I ask him.
He gives me a wry smile. “Aye,” he says. “Wee Breena fell and scraped her knee up. Poor Maeve feels awful. Says she did her best, but Breena’s inconsolable. Wants her daddy.”
My heart thumps.
“Ah, of course,” I say. “I’ll go with you.”
Whether it’s happenstance or Keenan really meant it this way, it’s not unusual for the two of us to be with each other now that Carson’s been put on duty watching me, so no one looks twice. We meet Maeve and Breena in one of the living rooms. Breena’s got her little head on Maeve’s shoulder, but when she sees Carson enter the room, she lifts her hands up and wails. “Daddy!”
“Aw, poor girl,” Carson says. He goes quickly to her, reaches his arms out and takes her. She wraps her little legs around his body and sobs into his chest. He rocks back and forth, soothing her.
“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks. “Tell me what happened.”
Her story’s a jumble of gibberish in real words, but I catch a few words I understand.
Walk.
Scrape.
Owie.
Her wide, tear-filled eyes grow earnest when she lifts her little joggers to show him her bandaged knee. Maeve sits to the side, smiling indulgently.
“She was a very brave girl when I doctored her up, now, weren’t you, love?”
Breena nods. “Sucker,” she says, holding her treat out to show Carson.
“Aye, I know you’re a brave lass. You deserve that treat for being so brave, don’t you?”
She nods her head soberly, then looks over to me as if seeing me for the first time. She waves. “Hi.”
I laugh and wave back. “Hi, Breena.”
Carson leans in and kisses her forehead. “So sorry you hurt yourself.”
“Daddy stay?”
Maeve looks apologetic. “I’m so sorry,” she says. “I thought if you just came to see her for a minute she’d settle down. I didn’t know she’d ask you to stay. She’s really fine, Carson.”
Carson shakes his head. “It’s alright, Maeve. She’s been by my side since she was born. It’s hard for her to adjust to being apart from me. No harm done; I promise. I’ll keep her for the day. I appreciate your help, though.”
“You have work to do, Carson?” Maeve asks.
“I do, but I can fit it in,” he says.
“And I’ll help,” I offer.
He sits on the couch and settles Breena on his lap. “Would you like to go for a walk to the pier?” he asks. “See the fish?”
Breena claps her hands and nods vigorously. “Aye,” she says. “Pwease!”
God, she’s so damn cute.
“First we go home,” he says to Breena. “Pack a lunch and grab our things. Then off we’ll go.”
She nods and claps her hands again. “Megan too?”
“Aye,” Carson says. “Of course.”
I watch him as if I’ve only seen him for the first time. This large, stern, alpha male turns into a puddle of goo when it comes to his little girl. My heart literally melts.
As we go to exit the room, Carson leans in and whispers in my ear. “Take a bag.”
Hope rises in my chest. He wants me. He really, truly does. “A bag?” I whisper back.
“Aye, love,” he says. “Take your things for tonight. Don’t forget anything. I want you in my bed tonight.”
A shimmer of excitement flickers through me at the thought of staying the night at his place. God, I cannot fucking wait.
“Wait here for me?” I ask. He nods. “I’ll see you by the garage.”
I head upstairs, only to find there’s already a bag packed. Did he pack this while I was getting dressed earlier? I smile to myself. Dresses, knickers, and shoes. I toss in a few more toiletry items.
I want to run to the rooftop and sing, Carson wants me! Me. Not the prettiest girl or the smartest girl, but me, goofy, clumsy, rather plump ME.
Where other men avoided me because of my connections, I think it’s actually helped me. Helped us, really. He doesn’t have to explain what he does or his allegiance to Keenan or the Clan. I already get i
t. I’m already there with him.
I take the bag he packed and head to my room. I freeze. Oh, God.
The diary.
I open the pocket at the very back to find the diary untouched. I take the ruined diary out of my bag and look at it. It feels as if it’s a sort of betrayal, not telling Carson about it. But what if it implicates him?
I’ll tell him tonight. I have to.
I zip up the pocket.
Chapter 11
Carson
“Well, it is somewhat narcissistic, isn’t it?” Megan says. Breena plays with her dolls happily on the carpeted floor. She’s got a streak of chocolate ice cream on her dress, and her hair’s a mess. She looks every bit the little girl who’s had an excellent day.
“What exactly is narcissistic?”
I’m relaxing on a chaise, my trainers kicked off, watching the news on the iPad, while Breena sings to herself and plays happily. Christ, but it feels good to be having an adult conversation.
Megan’s bloody brilliant. She’s resting beside me, her feet propped up. After a day by the harbor, she made us dinner, even though I offered to order takeaway. It was a simple meal with pasta and chicken, salad and wine, but it was delicious. We cleaned the kitchen up together,
“The whole government hierarchy,” she says. “Kings and queens, presidents and prime ministers. I don’t believe in total anarchy, of course, but honestly, I wonder if the hierarchical structure is the right way to govern.”
I can’t help but take this in, and I go off on a tangent about nepotism and fairness, and the wisdom inherent in the American political systems of checks and balances and how it differs from the British.
She listens and nods and offers her own opinion, but finally shakes her head with a little laugh. “You know, I could sit at your feet and just listen to you speak, all day long. You’ve got a grasp for words and the English language unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”
Breena looks up, oblivious to how we’re solving the problems of the world.
“Play, daddy,” she says, holding up the little doll in her hand. I take the two she offers, and hold them up, speaking in a high falsetto voice, bobbing the head of one doll, while the other speaks in a theatrically deeper one.
