I stand, agape, so shocked I don’t speak at first.
Tiernan looks from me to him, then back again.
“So sorry Deacon gave you a bit of trouble as well,” the headmaster says to Tiernan. “He’ll be dealt with.”
He gives him a tight smile, and the door shuts behind him.
I look, stricken, at Tiernan, whose gaze is curious and borderline accusatory.
“What the bloody hell was that?” he asks. “Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head. I did nothing wrong, my logical brain tells me this. Yet why do I feel guilty?
I swallow and open my mouth to protest, then shut it again.
Why would he even believe me?
“What are you doing in the men’s restroom, Aisling?” Tiernan asks, his brows drawing together over his stern green eyes.
“I suppose I went into the wrong one,” I say, confused. Did I? Is it possible someone changed it on me? “I didn’t mean to come into the men’s jacks, Tiernan.”
“And why did you have your hand on him?”
I feel my jaw slacken even further as I stare.
“Are you kidding me?”
He shakes his head, one swift jerk that looks almost painful. “I’m fucking not,” he says, his gaze furious. “You come into the men’s room, and the next thing you know, you’ve got your hands all over the headmaster.”
I stare.
What?
“I did not,” I say, my cheeks flushed. “Tiernan, are you mad? He came after me. He told me if I… he said…” My cheeks flame, my ears are ring. What did he say? I’m so shocked at Tiernan’s accusation I can only stare. I don’t recall at all.
He blows out a breath. “Let’s go.”
“No.” I’m angry, now that the initial shock has worn off.
He turns, glaring, and I should heed the deadliness in his warning tone. “No? Are you really defying me? Now?”
“Yes, I said no. I won’t go with you, not when you’re a fucking douchebag.”
His brows snap together. “Who the bloody hell do you think you are?”
I slap at his chest. “Who do I think I am? Are you out of your mind? I was just approached by your fucking headmaster, who nearly fucking assaulted me, and instead of rescuing me….” My voice catches, “You… accuse me.” I don’t know if I’m more angry or hurt.
He blows out a breath. “Aisling, I’m sorry. It’s just that…”
“Just what?” I glare at him. “Say it.”
He isn’t over the fact that I was one of Vivian’s girls.
He says he doesn’t care, but look what happened at the first possible opportunity for him to prove his loyalty to me.
He fucking failed.
He cares, whether he wants to admit it or not.
“You think it’s possible I wasn’t innocent,” I say. My voice catches. “I thought you were here to protect me. You had your chance and you fucking blew it.”
I’m so angry and hurt I don’t know what to say.
He’s been the one to watch over me, to protect me, and now to have him accuse me of something so dreadful…
I can’t believe he’s accusing me. Worse yet, I can’t believe he believes it himself.
I can handle all sorts of criticism and pain. I can handle people hating me or mocking me. But this… this burns.
“You’re right, Tiernan. The only accident… was us.” I point to him, then to me, and shake my head.
He reaches for me, but I shove him away.
My heart feels as if it bleeds.Chapter 15TiernanI feel as if someone’s dashed cold water on me.
I want to believe her. Christ, I have to believe her. But what if she’s telling me a lie? What if she absolutely did hit on him? The idea sickens me.
I can’t bear a lie, and I hate the idea of Aisling being anything but the woman I’ve come to know and love. One of the things I love best about her is how honest and direct she is. So I’ve come to… expect that she’ll tell me how she really feels, regardless of the circumstances.
“Let’s go.” My voice is harsher than I intend, and I hate the way she looks at me, betrayal and anger in her eyes. I reach for her hand, but she shoves me away.
“Don’t touch me.”
Her eyes are ice-cold, and her body’s tight, like a bowstring ready to snap.
“Aisling…”
“No.” Her voice trembles.
Bloody hell, I’m a fucking twat.
I don’t trust easily. I never have. It’s hard for me to take what she says at face value, to not question fucking everything. My Clan brothers are the only ones I truly trust, and it’s taken fucking years to get to that place. Years.
Malachy stands in the hall, scowling down at us.
“What is it?” he asks.
“We need to talk.”
He looks from me to Aisling, then back to me. “In my office.”
Malachy’s one that I trust. He’s one of us.
He shuts and locks the door behind us, then looks around his office. He looks under his desk and in his closet.