How? Why?
I feel as if I’m out of my body, like my physical being is down here on this earth, but I’m rising above it somehow. The woman that was just threatened with death no longer resides here. I’m… detached, somehow. Apart from it all.
When I reach the main auditorium, uniformed police officers wait for me, but Keenan puts up a hand when one of them comes to take me away.
“No. She’s innocent. You won’t take her away today, please.”
One of the officers looks at Keenan sharply.
“And you are?”
Keenan crosses his arms on his chest. “Keenan McCarthy.”
The officer visibly swallows. “Aye. Heard about you. Walsh called me about you.” Walsh, our trusted advisor, is the Ballyhock police chief and on our payroll.
Keenan nods. “Aye. This woman was on your wanted list, and we’ve evidence she’s not the one you want.”
The officers look at one another, and one answers his phone. He comes back a moment later. “Walsh on the line. We’ll let her go, under the condition that she’s in McCarthy’s custody.”
He tosses cuffs to Keenan. “She’ll be on parole until we take her to court.”
This definitely isn’t how things are typically done here in Ireland, but the McCarthy Clan has clout. Keenan nods, takes Aisling’s wrists, and cuffs them in front of her.
I want to whip those out of his hand and hit him for touching her.
Jesus.
I’m so eager to rectify this, my heart hammers in my chest. I feel someone put a hand on my shoulder, and look to see Lachlan’s gaze on me in concern.
“Y’alright, Tiernan?”
I nod. But I’m not.
“Take her, then,” Lachlan says. “Take her in one of the cars. Bring her home.”
Home.
Bring her home.
How I’ve longed to do just that. But I need to know what’s gotten into her before I do another damn thing.
“She’s just under stress, Tiernan,” Lachlan says.
I shake my head. “It isn’t that, though.” Under my breath, I tell him about the supposed phone call she got.
“No fucking way,” he mutters. “We’ll have to see about that.”
Of course we will.
Someone clears his throat in the doorway to the auditorium. Malachy stands there, and he’s got the boy I thrashed in the ring by the collar.
“Looks like someone has something to fess up,” he says. He gives him a little shove, and the boy stumbles. “Go on, lad. Tell all the McCarthy men present what you did.”
“Headmaster put me up to it,” he says, his cheeks flushing red. We all look at him curiously. He’s holding a phone in his hand.
My phone.
He jerks his chin to where the headmaster sits, cuffed and fuming.
“Told me he’d expel me,” the boy says with a scowl. “I caught him with the woman… and knew he was a married man. And he said he’d use me to do what had to be done and let me stay here if I did his dirty work for him.” The boy glares at Clifford with a look of disgust. “I shouldn’t have done it.” He looks at us, his eyes shining.
“I took your phone, sir,” he says to me. “And I’m sorry. I won’t use him making me as an excuse.”
My jaw tightens. He goes on.
“Told me to call her.” He jerks his chin at Aisling. “And I… did. But I pretended to be you, and I… was with a woman, sir.”
Keenan’s jaw could cut diamonds. “No need for Clifford to expel you, boy. You interfered in McCarthy Clan business. I’ll expel you myself.”
The boy winces but doesn’t argue.
Keenan jerks his chin toward Vivian and Clifford.
“These two can be taken away, no question,” he says quietly. “I suggest you deal with them.”
We all hear the unspoken words.
If you don’t, I will.
The police take them both away in handcuffs.
“We’ll follow up tonight, McCarthy,” the officer says, pointing to Keenan.
“You have my word, sir.” Keenan can play the part of a meek bloke when he needs to.
The officers leave with Vivian and Clifford in tow. Aisling looks at the floor. I wonder how she feels about this. I wonder what’s going on in her head. I can’t even be angry for what she accused me of. She’s been traumatized, tortured, put through the ringer, and tormented with the demons she’s only barely escaped.
I want to take her home and make love to her until the sun rises. Every time we come together like that, we draw closer, breaking down the barriers that we’ve both erected so our hardened hearts won’t bleed. Every time we make love, we speak words with our bodies we can’t speak out loud.
Every time.
This isn’t about fucking my woman to claim her, a quick lay, or anything carnal and indulgent. It’s the joining of two souls who’ve found one another despite everything that’s threatened to tear them apart.
I’m taking her home. We’re having an honest conversation, using whatever means necessary to speak truthfully. And then I’m claiming her as my own.