Reluctant Bride

by Sam Crescent

Luke stilled, glad he hadn’t pulled out into traffic. He usually remained out of touch while carrying out Family business, but he’d already found the man in question. The guy was secured in the trunk, his protests and pleas still ringing in Luke’s ears, and the flash drive he’d fled with was in Luke’s pocket. “When?”

  “I don’t know,” Morag sobbed. “I let her sleep in because she seemed so … so sad. She wasn’t in her room when I finally went in.”

  “What time did you check on her?”

  “Five minutes ago.”

  That left a big window. Supposing the worst hadn’t happened, Sorcha could have reached any one of three communities surrounding the Family’s landholdings on foot. If she’d arranged for someone to pick her up, that gave her a much bigger head start but evened the odds because the cameras along the route would identify the vehicle. He wasn’t going to consider another alternative, although he would put the word out regardless.

  “I’m on my way back.”

  “I’m so sorry, Luke. She didn’t give me even a hint of what she was planning.”

  “Except she was sad.”

  In a hushed voice, his sister confirmed it. “Yes.”

  Something gripped deep in his chest, and he breathed against it, trying to dispel the discomfort. “Did she take her phone?”

  “No. It’s on the bed with her purse. She didn’t take anything that I can see.”

  Sorcha was intelligent, and it stood to reason she would think things through. But where could she go that anyone would help her? He snatched up his laptop, keeping Morag on the line.

  The surveillance cameras picked up a grainy image of a slender form disappearing down an old bridle path in the dark of night. Sorcha carried nothing in her hands, but additional bulk on her torso indicated a backpack.

  His ring was in her purse, and the quilt Morag said was made by Sorcha’s mother remained on the foot of the bed. That troubled him, especially when combined with the pictures that still sat on the nightstand. Had she taken nothing with her to remind her of her family?

  There were no reports of a young woman flagging down a car and no footage of an unknown vehicle in the area. He had no way of knowing which direction she’d taken, but sending out teams to scour the shoulders found small, narrow footprints set sporadically alongside the main road.

  Making an educated guess, he sent one team to the city to the south, the opposite direction of her school, with instructions to visit the local bus transportation offices and staging areas. He sent another to the taxi dispatchers.

  Morag fussed but relayed whatever information he couldn’t access remotely, and then he was able to access Sorcha’s phone log. He spoke with Anya at length, and once she was convinced of his sincerity—and realistic enough to accept she’d been part of an ill-conceived plan—she provided the information he required. “I didn’t know you loved her so much, Luke! But she’s in a temper, and you’d better make it right.”

  He reassured her again, without saying he’d marry Sorcha as soon as he found her, and lock her in his house. Then he set off, cursing the need for a brief stop along the way, praying for her safety. “I’m coming for you, Sorcha. Hang on.”

  After delivering his struggling cargo and the flash drive to the head of the Family—or at least to Sean’s bodyguard and personal assistant—Luke prepared to leave. Alex stopped him with a raised hand.

  “Sean wants to see you.”

  “I have something important to deal with.”

  “He’s well aware. A moment.”

  He followed Alex to the front of the house, and the other man motioned him inside the study.

  Sean sat behind his big desk, his slight form belying the power he wielded. “Luke.”

  “You wanted to see me?”

  His boss pointed to a chair positioned in front of the desk. Luke dropped down on it.

  “I’m sorry to have called on you to find Taggart. If it wasn’t urgent…”

  If what Taggart had said held a hint of truth… But there wasn’t time for that. “I understand.”

  “Do you have any idea where she is?”

  “I believe so.” Supposing she didn’t move on, his resourceful wench. He felt his body coiling, needing to leave. To hunt.

  “She must know who she is running from, and yet she ran.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “She’s spirited, and the circumstances that forced my hand.”

  “You delayed in declaring your intentions. I would have never have given in to Niall’s request had I known.”

  “I waited until she was an adult.”

  Sean shook his head. “You’re honorable, Luke. I admire that, but it cost you this time.”

  “The timing was off,” he admitted, watching his boss closely. “I lost the opportunity to declare myself to Sorcha as well. But she couldn’t be left out in the world. Not with what you learned.”

  The older man’s stare drifted away. “Niall was blinded by his wife’s dreams for their child. I should never have allowed him to marry an outsider.” Sean’s chair creaked as he leaned forward. “Are you certain she will comply?”

  On a rueful chuckle that surprised him as well as Sean’s, to judge by the look on his face, Luke said, “No. But there’s no option.”

  Shrewd hazel eyes studied him. “It was the same with Alice. Not everyone knows this. But we’re coming up forty-three years married in June. You’ll prevail, and I’ll dance at your wedding.”

  Surprised at the confidence, Luke said, “Maybe at our anniversary party. I’m not waiting on a church wedding.”

  Frowning, Sean said, “Nothing saying you can’t have a civil ceremony and then the church at a later date. I suppose it’s as binding.”

  “I’m tying her to me as soon as I can. For her safety.” And to make it absolutely clear to her where her future lay.

  “Give her a child right away, too. It’s good to be a family man.”

  He wanted time with Sorcha before she had children, but he wasn’t discussing his marriage with Sean, who seemed overly invested.

  “I should go.”

  “Indeed, time is passing.” Sean dismissed him, and Luke made his way to the door, pissed the old man had held him up.

  Their rivals wouldn’t know she was in the world again yet unless they had another informer, but there were other dangers.

  Alex materialized. “Everything okay?”

  “I hope it to be. You have Taggart secured?” Which was a stupid question on the face of it.

  “In the basement.” The other man raised a brow.

  Luke shoved his racing thought into order. “I’m gone.”

  Alex said, “Godspeed.”

  Chapter Seven

  Sorcha located Anya’s tiny refuge, a ramshackle house on the outskirts of the tiny town of Lyme. Her friend said it belonged to a cousin who rarely went there, and she knew where the key was stashed. With no small amount of trepidation, Sorcha pushed inside.

  She was nearly broke, had no way of accessing her trust fund, and most jobs required identification for employment purposes. The odds were stacked against her, and the enormity of her decision to run made her shoulders sag.

  Anya had seen it as an excellent adventure, but Sorcha knew better—now she wasn’t acting on emotion. The bus ride had taken ages, stopping at every turn, giving her time to regret her impulsive escape and to think about what hadn’t been said. And there was the fact she thought she might be running from herself, as well. She didn’t like feeling out of control.

  Coughing at the dust as she twitched an old sheet off an elderly sofa, she then perched on the edge of a cushion, surveying what was now her abode for the next indeterminable amount of time.

  Sorcha was under no misapprehensions about the long arm of the Family and thought it likely Luke already knew she’d taken off and had marshaled his forces or whatever he did to work his magic. He’d find Anya, all her school friends, and try to pry information out of them.

  Without caring to examine why,
she knew Luke wouldn't harm Anya, or she would have never accepted her help. But Anya couldn’t be expected to hold the confidence—or could she?

  A startlingly clear image of Luke materialized in her head, and he appeared larger than life. His effortless possession of her mouth, his masterful hands holding her to him, him saying all those things about making her his princess—it made her shiver with memory.

  “Maybe he’s going to find me, and then what?” Her mutter echoed in the stillness of the ramshackle building and made her start.

  Well, she wasn’t going to fret. She’d apply for the dishwasher position posted in the grimy window of the little diner she passed down the road, maybe get paid under the table until she could figure out her next step. Not that her options were varied—or attractive. But she couldn’t simply sit here, waiting for the hound.

  Relieved at having a plan, she threw the front door open and walked out into the sunlight—and the hard wall of someone’s chest.

  “Sorcha.”

  She froze, then looked up into Luke’s face, noting the dark circles beneath his eyes and the lines that appeared deeper around his mouth. His blue gaze locked on her, and she read relief, anger, and desire reflected in its depth.

  “I’ve come to take you home, Sorcha.” His voice, quiet and certain, nevertheless resonated. “Again.”

  She didn’t protest when he relieved her of her backpack and marched her to the car, buckling her in.

  “I’m tempted to turn you over my knee.” His silky threat held great promise, and she understood how furious he really was. Her belly clenched.

  “Are you going to tell me what else is going on?” She certainly wasn’t going to ask how he found her. That was what he did. And if Anya had caved, so be it. She couldn’t deny a tiny sense of relief.

  He cast her a surprised look. “What do you mean?”

  “I think there’s more going on than dragging me back so you get a bride.”

  Seconds ticked by before he replied, “We’ll have that discussion at home. With your father. And Sean. It may be that you need to know to grasp the seriousness of the situation seeing as you’re obviously using that brain of yours, despite recent evidence.”

  That burned because it was the truth. But she’d thought about a lot of things on the bus ride. Her dad’s comment, for one. It’s not… If her safety hadn’t been referenced so many other times since she might not have wondered if he’d stopped himself from saying It’s not safe.

  Her throat closed, and she couldn’t swallow. She was in huge trouble.

  Unexpectedly, he reached for her hand, freeing it from its grip on the other. His thumb rubbed over the underside of her wrist, and she found herself oddly soothed.

  “Did you really think you could stay under the radar?” His hand tightened a little around hers, but there was only curiosity in his voice.

  She stared out the window but saw nothing of the scenery. “I didn’t give anything much thought. I just wanted to take some power back.”

  He sighed. “Marrying me, staying within the Family, that’s what took your power away?”

  “You know it did. How could it not?”

  Taking his hand from hers, he placed it back on the wheel. “Your mother has done you a great disservice, sweetheart. She never adjusted to her life, and it’s costing you.”

  “What?”

  Shaking his head, Luke said, “She encouraged you to look outside the Family, into the world.”

  She realized it probably appeared as though her mother tried to live her life vicariously through her daughter. “What’s the crime in that?”

  “Maybe it’s better coming from me,” he muttered. “Look, sweetheart. Sean has intelligence that a rival Family planned to take you from school and hold you for ransom. Or worse.”

  Worse. She rolled the word around on her tongue and decided she didn’t want to think about what worse meant. She already knew one form of it. A rival family had killed her mom. An accident, as they’d had their sights on someone else but…

  Against her best efforts, tears pricked until she willed them back, thinking random thoughts. The most prevalent one kept surfacing. Was Luke lying to her? Did he offer to marry her to keep her safe?

  When they arrived, her father was pacing in front of Flanagan’s home, hair sticking up every which way, his clothing rumpled. She suffered his hearty hug and remonstrations, still resenting him for his role in making her return. Even understanding this was likely the better of two evils didn’t mitigate her resentment—it was the Family’s fault she was worth kidnapping, after all. Luke remained close, his presence a heated reminder of her future.

  “Thank God you’re safe, Sorcha. I’ve been frantic.”

  “We should go in, Niall.” Luke guided her toward the door, and they filed inside.

  Sean Flanagan surveyed them from behind his desk. “Found, safe and sound, eh?”

  She tugged at her hood, her hair tumbling free, and heard Luke suck in a breath. His hand smoothed over the riot of curls and tangles and she willed herself not to lean into him for comfort in front of Sean.

  “I’m fine.”

  “So you appear,” the man with all the power said jovially, yet with a certain tone behind the humor. She shivered, and Luke closed in, putting an arm around her to guide her to a chair. Not all the power then…

  Her father took one on the opposite side, and then Luke sat, the pair flanking her. The room reeked of testosterone, although the primary contributors were her husband-to-be and the head of the Family, like two alpha wolves vying for precedence.

  “Has Luke informed you of the situation?”

  Her father flinched, and Sorcha shook her head. “No. Well, I suppose, in a way. He told me there’s another Family looking to kidnap me. For ransom.”

  “Did he say what kind of ransom?” The query was imbued with a threat.

  “No. I guess I thought money.” Not that her father was a millionaire or anything.

  “Normally, I wouldn’t enlighten you, my dear, but in this case, I think you should know.” Her father stirred and leaned forward as if to protest. Sean stared him down. “Niall, you brought much of this on yourself, although I’ll shoulder some of the blame for giving you permission. Twice. You have a silver tongue when it comes to the women in your life, and I’ll remember that from here on in.”

  Returning his stare to her, he continued, “A rival Family, the Finnegans, of all people, decided they’d try. And not for money, but for information. When I heard that, I sent Luke to fetch you—if he’d expressed his interest earlier, we could have avoided all of this.”

  So Luke wanted to marry her? It wasn’t just strategy? She stared at old Sean, sitting like a spider in the middle of his web, scheming and weaving strands around the Family members, binding them to his will. Eating them in a figurative sense. She wanted to smack him.

  She had to ask, “And had the kidnapping been successful?”

  Looking strangely disconcerted, Sean barked a harsh laugh. “I wouldn’t have allowed a ransom, Sorcha. The good of the many, you know. And the Finnegans would have come to accept it.”

  “So they’d have killed me.” She felt Luke stiffen and figured he was following her train of thought. Dead or wed. She hoped he felt as crappy as she did at that moment.

  “I doubt it would have come to that.”

  Her head came up, and she stared at Sean. “No? Aren’t they as ruthless as you?”

  A gingery brow quirked, and his eyes hardened. “They are. You’d have been married off within their ranks, not killed. Forging a connection between our families to bring shame on us for eternity.”

  Ah, the antiquated beliefs of the man. The outside world would be hard-pressed to understand it, but not all. When she thought about it, there were many cultures where honor weighed heavily in the balance, and she was living in one. And would be, for the rest of her life.

  She sagged in the chair and let anything else Sean said roll off her back. She heard weddi
ng and justice of the peace but cared less. She almost damned her mother for giving her such a window into the outside world. Better she’d never known.

  Luke urged her to her feet, his hands gentle, worry etched on his face. “You can freshen up down the hall.”

  She shut herself in the bathroom and surveyed herself in the mirror. Had a bride ever looked so scruffy? She was a perfect comment on the state of this marriage.

  Washing her face and hands, she then rifled through the drawers and located some toothpaste. After scrubbing her teeth with a finger, she felt marginally better.

  A rap at the door made her start. She opened it to Alice, Sean’s wife, who clucked, “Such a rushed thing, this marriage, but to such a good man.”

  “He’s a hunter. Your Hunter.”

  The older woman peered at her. “And a good one. He’s invaluable to the Family. Delivers the ones who break the rules. Thieves. Infiltrators. And they receive their just desserts. Sean rules fairly, Sorcha. It’s how it has been forever, like his father before him.”

  Why would she bother to argue with the woman? Sorcha stepped away from her.

  “You’re simply feeling wedding nerves,” Alice fussed, once again the kindly old lady. “Once you have your first wee babe and settle into being a mother, it’ll all work out.”

  “More fodder, grist for the Family mill.” She couldn’t stop her observations, even knowing they were treasonous.

  “You’re quite wrong, dear. Our lives are happy, everyone provided for, free from the unhealthy influence of the outside world, yet we flourish using its bounty as well. There’s no better life.”

  Hiding in plain sight, Sorcha mused. And if anyone revealed them… It had never happened, not in nearly two hundred years, not since the Irish gained their lawful foothold in New Hampshire, and the Flanagans—and a few other families—took it that one step further. Building a life within a life, a world separate from the outside, where the Family was everything.

  One insignificant young woman was hardly to be the catalyst of change. She wasn’t even worthy of ransom, only made a bride of their enemy to bring shame.

  They ended up in the formal living room where Luke waited with Sean and another man, probably the Justice of the Peace. He pulled out a piece of paper, and the rustle seemed inordinately loud in the space.