by Jane Henry
He reaches for my hand and I begrudgingly allow him to take it. I’m not sure why I’m so out of sorts, but I can’t seem to shake it.
“Would you look at that,” he says, his brows rising. He lifts the thin test off the counter and shows it to me.
Two pink lines.
“Does that mean what I think it means?” I mutter, unsure of how I feel. I’m still tired and queasy, and now I’ve just found out my body’s to be taken over by another. It’s an odd feeling.
“It does,” he says with unmistakable pride. He’s fairly grinning. “We’re to have a son. The McCarthy swimmers have done their duty.”
I snort. “First of all, that test doesn’t say son, it says pregnant. Second of all, your swimmers hit fertile territory, so this wasn’t all your doing.”
He grins at me, lifts me, and crushes me to his chest. “A baby, Aileen. I can’t believe it.”
“Neither can I,” I say. I think I may be in shock.
We head back into the bedroom where Sebastian waits, and Cormac waves the test at him. Sebastian smiles. “Well done, you,” he says to Cormac.
I roll my eyes again. “Again, it’s the McCarthy virile sperm we applaud.”
Sebastian smiles at me, gathering his things. “Congratulations, Aileen. I suspected this might be the case, so if the nausea’s still bad, I’ve got some medication for you.”
I can barely stand through the waves that assault me, so I gratefully take the medication and swallow it down with some water.
“Anything that sounds good for breakfast, get it for her,” Sebastian instructs Cormac. Cormac nods, wide-eyed and eager. “She can take the medicine regularly to help quell her nausea, but there are a few remedies I can send up as well.”
“Thank you.”
Sebastian takes his leave.
“Really, all that sounds good is some toast with marmalade.” My mouth waters at the very thought. It’s odd, since I’ve never liked the sweet yet bitter preserves.
“Anything else?” Cormac asks.
“Hot tea, please.”
“Of course.”
He orders my food, then takes a call from Keenan. He walks to the other room while we wait for breakfast, and I’m left with my own thoughts. Though I’m trying to be brave, this unnerves me.
I’m carrying the baby of a man who’s virtually a stranger.
I don’t know our history. I don’t know his. Hell, I hardly know mine, though it comes back in bits and pieces. And now, this makes things so much more permanent than the mere band on my finger did.
I’m carrying the man’s child.
I’m raising a child with this man.
With a man I hardly know.
I close my eyes and wait for the medication to kick in, and I think I may even drift off to sleep. I startle awake when I hear the door open, and a minute later Maeve comes in, carrying a large silver tray. She’s already dressed for the day in a soft white sweater and slacks, her makeup perfect and her hair fixed just right. I feel frumpy and frazzled next to her.
“Cormac called me,” she beams. “Congratulations!”
“Thank you,” I say. “Cormac, could you give a girl some notice, first? I’m still in my pajamas, Maeve. Haven’t even showered yet, so my apologies.”
She waves a hand at me. “Pfft, go on with ya. Nothing I haven’t seen before, and you’re pretty as a picture just rolling out of bed as y’are.”
I want to like this woman. I do like this woman. It’s just that I don’t know what my place is here, who I am. Who she is. If I should even like being part of this clan of people who seem nice, but then do things like capture reporters and… and all sorts of things, I guess.
“Sit up, love, and we’ll get you sorted.” She sits on the edge of the bed and looks at me with her kind eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Bit nauseous.”
Cormac snorts. “She’s been riddled with nausea, she’s utterly exhausted, and she—”
“Cormac! You’re exaggerating. For goodness sakes, you act as if I’m an invalid.”
He grunts to himself, but his phone rings, so he steps into the living room to take it.
Maeve leans in. “It’s always the way with the McCarthy men,” she says with a knowing smile. “Overprotective.” She rolls her eyes and lifts the lid on my food tray. “He’ll have you lying in bed and waited on hand and foot before you hurt yourself.”
I frown as I take a slice of toast with butter and marmalade. My, but it looks good. “We’ll see about that,” I mutter.
She smiles and pours me a cup of tea. “Good girl. We will. But you’re no pushover, Aileen. You give that son of mine a run for his money, and it’s about time someone did.”
Alright, then. Yes, I like her.
I eat the toast and follow it with the tea. “God, this is good,” I say. The bread is thick and fresh, lightly toasted, slathered with creamy, rich butter. The marmalade is sweet with a pleasant tang, studded with liberal flecks of candied peel.
“Aye,” she says with a smile. “Our chefs make it on site. Some of the best you’ll find in all of Ireland.”
The scalding tea washes down the toast, and between the food, tea, and medicine, I’m almost feeling myself.
“Goodness, I’m feeling better.”
“Excellent,” Maeve says. “I’m going to get you some ginger biscuits, an old remedy, and I’ll be sure they’re here if you need them. And if you need anything at all, you’ll call me?” I can tell by the earnest look in her eyes that she hopes I do.
“Of course,” I say with a smile.
“Get good rest,” she says. “Eat small meals frequently, and we’ll keep them nice and bland, but let’s be sure it’s something you want, okay?”
“Aye.”
“Our staff makes some of the best ginger biscuits. Just nibble them with tea. If you feel like it, mind.”
I nod. It’s like she’s been waiting for just this moment to mother me, like she’s come into her own as matriarch of this family. I’m not complaining. I don’t know if I’ve ever had anything like this.
“Wear good, loose clothing, none of those tight jeans and elastic bands around your waist,” she continues. “It’ll help not put pressure on your tummy. We’ll get you some nice leggings and things.” Cormac steps into the room.
I suddenly remember something. I sit up straight in bed. “Cormac! I drank wine last night. My God! I could give the baby brain damage!”
He blinks, looking as stricken as I feel, but Maeve just rolls her eyes and clucks her tongue.
“Easy, you two. It’s early on yet, and many have a bit of drink before they find out they’re expecting. It’ll be fine.”
“How do you know?” I ask. “How do you know?”
“We’ll call Sebastian back,” Cormac says.
Maeve gets to her feet and pats my hand, and I don’t miss the smile she tries to hide when she turns to go. “You do that, son,” she says. “I’ll go to the kitchen and be sure they make her a batch of the biscuits.” She walks to the door. “I’ll be back!”
Sebastian does indeed return, and he echoes Maeve’s sentiments. There’s nothing to worry about. He assures us the baby will be fine and leaves. I’m a little relieved.
“How’s your tummy?” Cormac asks, sitting on the edge of the bed, his brows knit with concern.
I can’t help but smile.
“What?” he asks.
“It’s just funny, a big, burly, tough guy like you asking about my tummy. Do you say owie or boo-boo if I’m injured?”
He growls, but his eyes twinkle at me. “Wonder if yer ass is injured,” he mutters teasingly.
“Now, Mr. McCarthy, we’ll have none of that. I’m pregnant.”
“Nice try,” he says, his lips tipping upward. “Doesn’t mean I can’t have my way with you.”
“You most certainly cannot!”
“Is that right,” he asks, climbing onto the bed beside me. In ten seconds flat, he’s got me pinned to the be
d, his massive body pressed to mine.
“You can’t—can’t spank me and do all manner of torturous things to me, though.”
“Can’t I?” he asks, bringing his mouth to my ear and nibbling the lobe.
I make a noise that sounds something like, “unnngh.” I close my eyes, losing myself to sensation as he licks and nibbles and teases.
“I’ll have my way with you,” he promises. “And you’d best behave yourself as well, or I’ll be forced to find alternative methods of punishment.”
Wetness pools between my legs, goddamn him. “Hmmph,” I say, trying to pretend that I’m not turned on. I gather the scraps of my dignity.
“You act as if… you talk like…” my voice trails off. I’m at a loss for words.
“Like what, lass?” he says, bringing his mouth to my nipple, still covered in my pajama top. He nips me straight through the fabric. I gasp and keen with pleasure.
“Like you own me.”
“But I do.”
“I beg your pardon,” I say, trying fruitlessly to wriggle out of his grasp. “But I—”
“You wear my ring,” he says. “You bear my name. And now you bear my child. There’s no getting away from me, Aileen McCarthy,” he says, giving me a wolfish grin.
“Apparently not.” I keep a haughty air, holding onto my dignity, even as his words excite me. I feel as if I should protest this further, as if I should fight for my autonomy, but when I’m under his heated gaze, I forget exactly why. The air’s suffused with his ruggedly masculine scent, my wrists captured in his firm grip, the muted pain mingling with arousal a reminder of our lovemaking the night before. My whole world in that moment is Cormac.
He leans down and kisses first one cheek, then the next. I close my eyes when his lips meet mine, a gentle brush of warmth and possession, my body rising to meet his for a brief second before he pulls away.
“I know why you protest,” he whispers in my ear. I shiver when the vibration of his voice glides over me. “And there was a time when I’d have taken my time with you. Introduced you to the ways of The Clan slowly. Given you space to really process who you are here with me, what your role is here.” He brushes my hair off my forehead, bends down, and kisses my cheek. “But not when you bear my child, lass. You were mine to protect before, aye. But now it means so much more. You’ll be the mother of my firstborn.”
“It’s hard for me to understand this, Cormac,” I whisper. “I… I like how it makes me feel. I think? But it scares me, too.”
“Aye,” he says. He releases my wrists and joins me on the bed. He lifts his arm, and I scoot beneath it. He holds me to his side, and I close my eyes. I’m still tired, and it feels warm and comfortable here. He sighs. “I get that, lass. I do. You’re still in a place where you don’t know who you are, or where you came from, and I imagine that scares you a little, because what happens next is a mystery as well.”
I nod. “Hmm. Didn’t expect a guy like you to be so understanding.”
He gives me a teasing pinch to the arse.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I can’t help but giggle. I sober quickly, though, at what I have to say next. “It comes back to me, you know.”
“What does?”
“The memories. Who I am. Where I came from. How I got here.”
“Aye,” he says. “Kinda wish it wouldn’t sometimes.”
Well that’s an odd thing to say. “Why not?”
“I want you to start fresh here. And the memories you take from your past aren’t good ones.”
I sigh. “Aye. What can you tell me about my parents?”
“You sure you want to have this conversation?”
“I do,” I insist.
“Why now?”
“Why not?”
He chuckles. “Jesus, you’re persistent. Alright. Truth be told, I don’t know much about them. Your mam and dad had six girls and one boy. The girls were all given away to various clans, including the one you came from, as payment for various jobs.”
I flinch. I knew this, I suspected it anyway, but to hear him confirm it makes me want to cry.
“Aye,” I whisper.
“You were the last to go. Your parents profited immensely by giving your sisters to the Martin Clan to use. And this is why I won’t allow you to go back home. This is why I tell you you’re mine now.”
I’m quiet for long minutes. I listen to his heartbeat and our quiet breathing in the stillness of the room. He gets a notification on his phone and swipes it aside.
“You have to go?”
“No.”
“Who was it?”
“Just Keenan. Meeting.”
“And you don’t need to attend?”
“Actually, I do need to, but I’m having them come here. I’m not leaving your side. Not today.”
I practically jump out of bed. “Cormac. I’m not dressed!”
He shakes his head. “You’ve got an hour, sweetheart. Don’t get your knickers in a bunch.”
I grunt under my breath.
“Mam says she’s sending the biscuits up shortly,” he says. “You need help getting to the shower?”
“I think I can manage,” I tell him, but not surprisingly, he doesn’t take my answer. He helps me into the shower and joins me.
We lather each other up. I love his powerful, muscled body, and revel in the way the warm water and soap help me glide my hands over his muscled shoulders, powerful back, the strong, chiseled planes of his body. When I reach his hips, I take his cock in my hand and stroke, watching as his eyes go half-lidded and he releases a low, guttural moan I feel right between my legs.
I love when he touches me, but I love when he gives me this control as well. I feel powerful, my own form of possession overtaking me as I stroke the length of his swollen cock. He braces himself on the shower wall and groans.
“God, that feels good.”
“I’m glad,” I whisper. The warm water cascades down the back of my head and my back. I brace myself by holding onto his shoulder, while with my other hand I continue to pump my fist with his cock, until he shudders and groans, throws his head back and comes. The pounding of the water drowns his groans as I stroke him to completion, the water washing me clean as quickly as I’m marked.
“Good girl,” he whispers, pulling me soaking wet to him. “Jesus, that felt good.”
“It did,” I agree.
He holds me and kisses me, our steaming hot, soaked bodies melding together. “I haven’t even done anything to you yet.”
“But you have,” I say with a smile. “Just not this very moment.”
“Is that right?” He cups my jaw and my heart flutters when he lowers his mouth to mine. I lose myself in the kiss, pressing my body up to his.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Get out of the shower,” he whispers back. “Towel off. No clothes. Lie on the bed and wait for me, your knees parted. I want you to spread your legs for me. I want to taste you. I want to watch you come on my tongue.”
“Right now?” I manage to whisper.
He grips my arse and cups it firmly. “Now.”
I do what he says, step out of the shower and towel off, then go to the bed and lie on my back. I close my eyes, tired but eager, my body vibrating with need and arousal. He joins me a moment later, dressed in a pair of boxers.
“Good girl,” he says. “Just like that.”
He kneels before me, lifts my legs, and bends his head to kiss the fullness of my inner thigh. I’m longing for pleasure and release, to feel him take my body to orgasm once more. I shiver, holding my breath until I feel his mouth where I’m desperate to feel him.
I’m already aroused, already pulsing with need. With slow, masterful strokes of his tongue, he quickly takes me to the edge of climax. He grips my legs and suckles my clit, releases me and presses his warm, wet tongue upward. My head tips back, and I come.
He works me to completion, drawing out the last spasms of orgasm until I nearly
collapse.
He stands, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and grins at me.
“Get dressed, sweetheart. My men will be up here in…” he glances at his phone. “About one minute.”
Chapter 15
Cormac
Aileen sits up in bed, grabbing at sheets, her cheeks still flushed pink from climaxing. Her sweet, seductive taste still lingers on my lips, as I pull clothes on and she scrambles for her own.
“Why didn’t you tell me what time it was?”
“Just did.”
“But I’m not… I’m not ready,” she stammers. “They’re going to take one look at me and think ‘sex-crazed.’”
I snort. “What?”
“I’m all pink and flushed and my heart’s still racing, and I—”
I reach over to her, yank her to my chest, and press my finger to her lips. “None of them are going to know that I just made you come. And if anyone does, they’ll know I’m only doing my duty as your husband.”
She blinks. “Your duty?”
“Aye, lass. You belong to me. As mine, you ought to have your needs met. That is one of them.”
“Right,” she says, pinking at the cheeks again. She swallows hard. “I s’pose.”
I tug a lock of her blonde hair and kiss her forehead. “Go. Get dressed.” I pull out a light cotton dress, remembering what mam said about tight things around her belly.
“Alright, alright,” she says.
“Wear this.”
She pauses and raises her brows to me. “You’re picking out my clothes?”
“What does it look like?”
She frowns, but a knock on the door has her squealing and running for the bathroom to get changed.
“Just a minute!” I shout to the door, dragging a t-shirt over my head and walking to the door.
Mam stands on the other side with a plate of biscuits, and behind her stands Caitlin and Megan.
“Ladies, we’re having a meeting up here shortly,” I say, exasperated. “It isn’t what one might call a community meeting.”
“I know,” mam says, breezing past me. Caitlin gives me a sheepish look but follows. The door opens again, and Megan enters.
“You can’t be here,” I protest. I might be the Bonebreaker for the Clan, but I have no control over my mother.
