“Bloody hell,” he mutters. “Who the hell is it?”
He glares at the cuffs. “You stay right here.”
I roll my eyes heavenward. “Still not planning on it.”
He tugs his t-shirt on and shuts the door hard behind him. It closes with a bang. I perk up my ears, and listen for what I can hear. I’m trembling, still cuffed to the bed. Is it the doctor again? But no, the voices are feminine.
Tiernan’s voice is harsh and low, and I can’t make out the words. I expect he’ll send them away, but he doesn’t. The voices rise and fall, and a moment later, he enters the room, just opening the door enough to slip in, then shuts it behind him.
“You’ve got company,” he says with a frown, his arms crossed on his chest. My heart beats hard and fast, and I try to sit up but can’t with my wrists cuffed.
“Who the hell is it?” I ask, more than a little grumpy that we got interrupted when he was no doubt going to do those wicked, lovely things he does to me.
He kneels on the edge of the bed and unfastens the handcuffs, then reaches for my hand and sighs. He sits beside me.
“The women of the Clan have come to pay you a visit.”
My breathing becomes ragged. “Women of the Clan?” I whisper. “Really, Tiernan? You mean… your sister?”
He squeezes my hand reassuringly. “Fiona’s here, but she isn’t alone. She’s come with Maeve and Caitlin. Do you remember them, lass?”
I shake my head… “Well, a little,” I say with a frown. “But honest to God, Tiernan, I’m… indisposed to have company.”
He smiles. “They’ve actually come to help with that.”
My cheeks flush. I shake my head. “No. Please, no. I… I don’t want any visitors, especially them.”
He bends and kisses my forehead. “I wish I could honor that, but Keenan sent them.”
“Keenan?” I fucking hate him right then.
“Aye, lass, Clan Chief.”
“I know who he bloody is.”
He quirks a brow at me. “When Keenan gives an order, we obey.”
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Or what?” I snap. “Surely he doesn’t command even the women of the Clan, Tiernan?”
He smiles. “The women obey as well.”
This right here is why I don’t belong here, why I need to leave. If I’m going to retain any of my autonomy, I need to leave now. But how? I’m not free to. I’m a prisoner with certain… privileges.
“Get up and dressed, lass,” he says, lifting the bedsheet. “And I’ll bring you out to them.”
A part of me doesn’t really want to fight this, because a part of me wants to talk to a friend.
What if they judge me? What if they’re mean, like women can be? Cruel and judgmental? Will they gossip about me when they leave? Will it be weird if they know I’m prisoner to Tiernan, that he commands me?
I quickly get ready. It seems I don’t have much of a choice. I brush my hair and splash some water on my face. I tug on a pair of joggers and a t-shirt, and glance at myself in the mirror. Simple but sober. I’ll do.
I’m trembling when I go out to meet him. He’s standing with his hands in his pockets, staring out the window at the churning sea. He looks over his shoulder when I enter the room, and his eyes widen a bit.
“You look fucking beautiful,” he says.
I actually look down in surprise. “Really?” I say incredulously. “I’m literally wearing joggers and a t-shirt.”
He grins, prowling over to me. “Oh, aye,” he says with a smirk. “But I know what’s under those joggers and tee.”
My belly swoops and my pulse races. He kisses my cheek. “Honestly, Ais, you look stunning, even in simple things like that.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He reaches for my hand. “I’ll bring you out. And remember, you behave yourself. That’s my sister and adopted mum out there, you hear?”
I frown at him. “What do you think I’ll do, curse them out or something?”
He rolls his eyes. “I don’t know. That mouth of yours is a bit unpredictable, you know.”
I stick out my tongue, and he gives me a playful smack to the arse. It does little to soothe my fraught nerves.
They must’ve heard me when I lost my mind. They know that I’ve been… addicted and… loose.
When he reaches to open the door, I bury my head against his arm and can’t look up.
“Oh, Tiernan.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t do it.”
He doesn’t scold or lecture or force the issue. Instead, he releases my hand so he can cup my face between both of his. His eyes bore into mine, making my heart stutter. We’ve only been this close for a few days, but something about my depending on him, his watching over me, has drawn us closer together. I can feel the intensity in his gaze that hits every nerve in my body, the possessive, wild look he gets when he’s intent on something.