Lachlan (Dangerous Doms 5)

I shrug out of my suit coat and begin unbuttoning my dress shirt. Calum watches me, but Fiona’s gaze is just as keen. I shrug out of my shirt and fold it across my knees, flip my arm around, and bare my inked marks to him.

“This here shows I’m McCarthy stock. You know any man who’d bear this mark without proper affiliation would die a painful death.”

Calum looks on, and the man sitting next to him, who’s sat silently until now, nods.

“Oh, aye,” he says. “It’s the mark, isn’t it?” He whistles. “What’s your heritage, lad?”

I shrug my shirt back on as Fiona watches us in silence. “My father was cousin to Seamus McCarthy. When my parents died when I was just a baby, I was taken into the finishing school, raised to learn McCarthy Clan code.”

“Good men, those McCarthys,” Calum says. He raises his pint. “We’ll drink to them!”

We toast and drink, though the tension between us is thick. Moments after I finish a pint, a door to the back opens, and the lights dim. A hush goes over the crowd when a line of women walks on stage, clearly specifically here for our entertainment. Fiona’s mouth drops when she sees them, every one of them wearing nothing more than pretty tassels on their nipples.

Her eyes come to mine, and I hold her gaze. “Look at me,” I say quietly. She obeys.

“Come get a drink with me, Lach?” Tiernan says. I know he wants a word alone, when he jerks his chin toward the bar.

“Aye,” I say, though I’m reluctant to leave her. “Come,” I say, giving her a tug, but Calum speaks up.

“Ah, no women at the bar.” I look at him in surprise.

“Really? Feckin’ Middle Ages, is it?”

He grins. “In more ways than you know.”

“She’ll be fine for a minute,” Tiernan says, clearly eager to talk with me about whatever he needs to. “Keep watch on her the whole time.” He grimaces and shoots daggers at me. “And any bloke that doesn’t see the bite marks and hickies you left all over my sister is a fucking fool.”

I glare right back. “Bringing her in here unmarked would be a hell of a lot worse and you know it.”

I sigh and estimate the walk to the bar from the table.

Behind the women come a line of men, fully clothed in tuxes, dancing their way around the women. One comes our way, swinging a cane as if he’s conducting an orchestra. When he sees Fiona, he walks straight toward her, but before he’s within striking distance, I’m in her space beside her. He takes one look at me and keeps on walking by.

“Feckin’ hell,” I curse under my breath.

“Oh, my,” Fiona says. “I have to use the bathroom, Lachlan.” She shoots Calum a look. “I suppose you have bathrooms for women, do you? Or are they not allowed there either?”

“Fiona,” I say warningly, but Calum just throws his head back and laughs.

“Ah, the feisty sort,” he says. “Figures she’s taken.” He shakes his head. “I love a mouthy one to punish.”

Fiona shoots him a glare. I’m about ready to punish her right here, right now, if she doesn’t watch herself. “Close that mouth of yours,” I tell her in a voice I don’t bother to modulate. “Or you know exactly what will happen to you.”

Calum grins. “And won’t I love to watch.”

I lead her to the restrooms by the elbow. “Watch where you’re fucking going,” I tell her. “And keep that mouth in check or I’ll do it for you.”

“Oh no, you bloody well will not,” she mutters. I don’t warn her, but swing her out in front of me and crack my hand straight across her arse. Her eyes widen, and she covers her rear, looking around to see who witnessed her mortifying correction.

“Oh, they all saw,” I tell her. “And they’ll see more than that if you don’t behave yourself. Do you understand me?”

She glares at me. In seconds I have her pinned against the wall, caging her in with my body, one arm flat against the wall next to her. I grab her chin in my hand and keep her gaze fixed on mine.

“Enough.”

I can tell she wants to kick me, but I won’t allow her to misbehave, not when there’s this much on the line.

“That arsehole over there—”

“Is our ticket to safety,” I say in a warning voice. “And you don’t know he’s an arsehole. You don’t know him at all.”

She glares at me. “I’ve seen enough.”

“Have you?” I ask. “You’ve seen Keenan at battle, lass? Have you seen what your own brother can do when he has to? Or your lover?”

Her eyes are wide. Finally, she whispers. “My lover? Is that what you are?”

Her lips part, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m kissing her, and she’s sinking into me, nestled in my arms and moaning into my mouth. I kiss her until she’s boneless, every ounce of resistance gone. I kiss her because I have to, because I need to, because the only way to show her how much she means to me is this public display of affection.