by Henry, Jane
How does she fit in with what happened here?
“It… came to my attention some two years ago who my birth mother was. I knew she was a woman in Ireland, and that she’d married one of the infamous McCarthys.” She smiles, and a few at the table smile back. “Seems I’ve a sister in Ireland but I haven’t found her yet.” Keenan’s eyes come to me, a silent question in his eyes, but I shake my head. I knew nothing of this woman.
She continues. “And I haven’t found me mum. I came to Father Finn, since Leith Cowen told me he’d know where to go.”
Keenan nods. “Aye, we can help you. Go on, Mary.”
“Mr. Cowen sent guards with me, to keep me safe.” Her voice drops. “And on the first night I came to Ballyhock, my guard was attacked.” We listen in silence. “I alerted Mr. Cowen, of course, and they came immediately to my aid. Sent a heavier guard.” Her eyes go wide, her cheeks flushed pink. “You have to understand, they don’t leave the highlands, Mr. McCarthy. Not ever. They came because I needed them, and when they came, they investigated the murder of their guards.”
Keenan nods. “Aye.”
I speak up. “So the night I saw them on their way to the mansion, they weren’t coming to ambush us, but to help Mary.”
“Aye,” Mary says. “They were, sir.”
“But why? Who, then?” Cormac asks, his brow furrowed. Skittish Mary nearly jumps at his booming voice and stern glare, though he isn’t angry at her.
Maeve speaks up. “I could hazard a guess, Cormac.”
All eyes turn to her, as she settles in. “Tis a long story, though.”
Keenan signals to the staff. “Bring more drinks,” he says. He gestures to the table. “Sit, Mary.”
She obeys. I’m half listening to Maeve as my mind is swirling with thoughts and emotions. If I were a betting man, I’d wager the woman in front of us now is related to my McKenna, seems obvious. She came here to find her mother. Finn will sort her out.
What will McKenna think?
“When I was a lass, the Clans were one, for a time. The Irish, the Scottish, and the Welsh joined together to fight the larger, more powerful, more heavily established groups in Europe. And it may have worked well if not for greed.”
The staff quietly refills our glasses. I take a long pull from a glass of the house wine, and listen to Maeve’s story.
“The Scottish Chief fell in love with a woman from Ballyhock. I knew her well. She was a good friend of mine.” Her face grows sober, her eyes distant. “But he was a married man. He got her pregnant, and the woman tried to flee to Ireland.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “He thought she’d betrayed him and was pregnant by another man, namely a man from our clan. He tried to kill her, and started a war with Seamus.” She turns to Keenan. “Your father was newly-elected, inexperienced in Clan war. The battles were bloody and left few standing. We finally, through sheer force, drove them home and declared victory. We formed a neutral alliance with the Welsh, and reluctantly with the Scottish… otherwise known as the men of the mountains.”
Her eyes quickly flit to Mary, then back to Father Finn as he speaks.
“I remember it all well,” Father Finn says. “I was studying for the priesthood. It was a sad day in Ballyhock when the blood of the innocent was shed.”
“Aye,” Maeve says, her eyes growing misty. “It was.” She draws in another breath. “Occasionally, they’d send word to us, hinting of ill will. Seamus disregarded it. At the time, we were raising a family, he was learning to be Clan Chief, and we relied heavily enough on our alliance with the Welsh that it seemed the Scots were only blowing hot air.”
Maeve frowns, as if dwelling on a past she doesn’t wish to remember. “Could it be the old man who started war with Seamus is bound to punish those who wronged him before he dies?”
Keenan shakes his head. “The McCarthy Clan, then?”
Lachlan speaks up. “Maybe the other day was a stake-out, Keenan, and not meant to truly cause harm. They were testing the strength of our army.”
Keenan scowls. “And we fucking failed that test.”
“It wasn’t the Cowen clan,” Mary insists.
Keenan shakes his head. “With all respect, Mary, it seems evidence points that it may have been.” He sighs, rubbing a hand across his brow, the weight of leadership weighing heavily on him. “Thanks for sharing what you have, Mary.”
“She’s come here because she’s heard the McCarthy Clan can lead her to her mother. And when she heard rumor of what happened, she came to plead the innocence of the men of the north.”
“We’ll see to it you’re protected, Mary,” I say, and everyone looks to me in surprise. I’ve no doubt the woman here in front of me’s related to McKenna. She’s possibly in jeopardy, and I can’t allow her to be injured or at risk.
“Thank you,” she says gratefully. “I’ll only need an escort back to my home in the mountains.” Her voice wavers. “I… they’ll take good care of me there. Though I did hope I could meet my birth mum before that happens.”
Keenan looks to me. “You’ll have to find McKenna, Tully. Take Mary to her.”
* * *
Chapter 6
McKenna
I stare out at of my window of my flat, frowning at the night sky.
I was confident when I left the McCarthy family home that I was doing the right thing.
Several days later, I’m not so sure.
I know they’ve sent a guard to watch over me. They introduced themselves on the first day, and almost as quickly, disappeared into the shadows. They’re present but careful not to interfere with my day to day.
I go to school. I check in with Mum and feed Cookie, my kitten. I wash my laundry and read my books, but there’s an ache in my heart and trouble deeper still.
I know I’m in danger.
I jump when the kettle whistles, indicating the water’s boiled, but my hands are immersed in hot, soapy water, as I’m washing up the dishes.
I drop a teacup on the tiled floor, and it shatters into shards. “Goodness,” I mutter to myself. “Now I’m jumping from the kettle. I shouldn’t be so easily spooked.”
Knock knock knock.
“Just a moment!” I yell, stifling a groan. I did very much like that little cup.
I grab a dish towel and wipe my hands dry, scurrying to peer though the peep hole.
My heart gives a rapid, stuttering leap.
Tully.
And he’s not alone.
Is that a woman with him?
I open the door, but as soon as I do, my manners flee. I stare, agape, at the woman beside him.
She looks just like me.
She stares, open-mouthed, back at me.
“Right, then,” Tully says briskly. “Perhaps we should move inside, eh?”
I blink and stutter, “Y-yes, yes, of course, come in.”
They both enter. I shut the door behind them, and Tully glares as he locks the deadbolt in place.
“Your fucking guard’s been in touch?”
“Aye, of course,” I say, already on the defensive just hearing him speak. Christ, but he’s arrogant. How can I crave a man as gruff and arrogant as him?
Crave him.
“Good,” he grunts, stomping into my flat with his heavy boots.
I open my mouth to speak, but find I’m tongue-tied. Why is he here, and why on earth has he brought a woman who looks just like me with him?
“McKenna, meet Mary. Mary, McKenna.”
“You said she looks like me,” the woman says. She doesn’t speak as if she’s from around here as she has a different accent. I can’t place it yet, though. “And my God, you weren’t lying.”
We both speak at the same time.
“You look…” she begins.
“I can’t believe…”
Tully chuckles. “Mary, McKenna’s a friend of mine,” he says. “Can we get a cuppa, lass?” He smiles, and I hate to admit what that does to my heart. When he smiles, his eyes crinkle a bit around the
edges. “Seems your kettle’s ready anyway, eh?”
I blink, surprised that the kettle’s still squealing full throttle. I race to it and hit the off button, shaking my head. I go to pull out a few mugs but gasp when pain slices through my foot. I remember the broken mug too late.
“Shite,” I mumble. It hurts like hell, and I want to shake myself for being such an idiot.
“What is it?” Tully stands in the doorway, his brows knit in worry. I stifle a sigh. He’s hot when he’s worried, all intense and brooding, and I realize with a little jolt of shock that I want him to make it better.
“Forgot I broke a teacup when you rang,” I say, stepping gingerly to the side and grabbing a paper towel to dab at my foot. It quickly reddens.
“Jesus, McKenna,” he says, stepping right over the broken glass in his heavy, thick boots, and reaching for me. He lifts me straight off the floor and into his arms, crunching back over the glass to hoist me on the counter. “You have a first aid kit?”
“Aye, in the loo.”
Tully yells to Mary. “Mary, fetch us the first aid kit in the loo, will you?”
“Yes, of course. She okay?”
“Aye, just cut her foot is all.”
He frowns, holding the paper towel to my foot. “You need to pay attention.”
“I’m bleeding and in pain and now’s a good time to lecture me?” Honestly, this man.
He looks up at me in surprise. “I don’t like to see you hurt,” he says quietly. “Does it hurt?”
I swallow hard, a lump rising in my throat. He drives me crazy when he’s here, but I miss him so much when he isn’t. He bends, cradling my foot, and brushes his lips to the top of my foot, a gentle, tender kiss that’s so sweet my eyes water. I reach for him, running my finger through his wild salt and pepper hair.
“You’ll kiss it better?” I murmur.
He rises, trailing his hands up my sides until he reaches my waist. I shiver. “Wish I could kiss everything better,” he murmurs, before he bends and kisses me. I close my eyes, sighing into the kiss, when a plaintive “ahem,” comes from the doorway.
“Didn’t know you two were lovers,” Mary says, holding the little blue bag labeled first aid.
“We’re not,” I say at the very same time Tully says “Well, we are.”
He glares at me. I glare back.
I can’t be with a man of the clan. I can’t. It isn’t where I’m supposed to go, it isn’t what I’m supposed to do, but goddammit why can’t I get this infuriating man out of my mind?
He doctors up my foot and I try really hard to make sure that I don’t get all girly and flattered that he’s being so gentle.
Gentle isn’t in his vocabulary, I tell myself. Don’t fall for him.
I can’t help it, though.
I missed him. I missed being with him, I miss the attention he gives me and how I feel when I'm with him. Hell, I even missed fighting with him.
When he's done doctoring up my foot, he kisses the bandaged place and gently puts my foot back on the ground. “Now, lass, we need to chat,” he says. “Mary came to us today. She’s come to Ballyhock, specifically to the McCarthy Clan, because she has it on good authority that she’ll find her mother here.” He smiles. “And I bet you can help her find her mother, too, I’d wager?”
I stare at her for long minutes, and finally she speaks. “Are you my sister?”
“I'd be shocked if I wasn't. I don't know how else to explain our similarities.” I'm filled with apprehension, and excitement, and if I’m honest, a sort of desperate longing.
I've never had a sister. I've never had a brother. Could this woman really be related to me?
“How old are you?” I ask, sizing her up as best I can while I sit on the sofa, my foot propped up. Tully has the nerve to pick up my foot and nestle it onto his lap. I glare at him, but he doesn't even flinch. Naturally.
"I'm thirty-one years old."
“I’m twenty-nine.”
She nods. "That corroborates what I heard.” She smiles at me. "You certainly do look like you could be my sister.”
Hope fills my heart at this. I give her a smile. “Aye, does look like it, doesn't it? What made you think to come here?"
“I work for the Cowens in the north. I mentioned I was looking for my birth mum. I’d given it up after a while, but decided I couldn’t rest anymore until I knew who she was. Until I met her. And Leith Cowen told me he knew me mum married a McCarthy.”
I nod. It’s all so fascinating and wondrous and a little scary.
She swallows hard. “Is our… mum still alive?”
I nod and smile. “Very much so. I think I’d like to give her fair warning before we visit, though.”
“Aye, absolutely.”
We drink our tea, and Tully listens attentively. He doesn't ask many questions. He massages the bottom of my foot, careful not to touch the injured spot. It feels nice, and I almost wish he wouldn’t do it. I need to focus, and I like the feel of his firm, warm grasp. His hands are rough, and powerful. Just like him.
She asks me about my mother, about Ballyhock, about my job as a teacher. But she doesn't tell me much about herself. I know that she works in the north, but she doesn't tell me much about what she does, or who she is. I wonder if she's a private person, or if she has something she’s hiding. But if she works for the Scottish mob, I suppose her evasiveness is somewhat understandable.
“Let me call Mum,” I say, taking my empty teacup to the kitchen. I hobble on the heels of my feet, and Tully comes up behind me.
“Sit down,” he growls. “You’re injured.”
I exhale and roll my eyes so he doesn’t see. “Here we go again.”
“Here we go again, indeed,” he says, and when I hazard a glance over my shoulder at him, I’m taken aback. I didn’t know he was quite so angry, but it’s written in his features, clear as day, with his thick brows drawn, his dark eyes flashing, his body wound tight like a bowstring.
"Do you have any idea how much danger you’re in?”
I blink. “Well, no. Keenan gave me a guard. Has something else happened while I’ve been gone?’
“Oh, aye. Besides your sister coming, you mean? She swears up and down the Scots aren’t to blame, and she’s come to speak on their behalf, but I don’t believe for a minute it’s the truth.”
I blink in surprise. “Is that right?”
He grunts. “Aye. You need to come back with me, McKenna.”
“And what?” I ask, hissing under my breath. “Become one of the women of the Clan, Tully? What if I don’t want that?”
His voice lowers as he draws nearer to me, his mouth at my ear. “And what if it’s already too late?”
A chill comes over me then, and I don’t know how to respond at first. What does he mean?
“Are you threatening me?” He wouldn’t.
Would he?
He shrugs, but he shakes his head. “Now why would I do a thing like that?”
My jaw drops. “You are. You’re threatening me.”
He sighs and shakes his head. “I did nothing of the sort, lass, so relax. I will say that your pigheadedness puts the Clan at risk.”
I laugh in disbelief. “My pigheadedness! Are you for real? You’re stubborn as an old mule!”
His jaw clenches. “For half a pence, I’d take you over my knee and show you respect, I would.”
And in utter shock, I stick my tongue out at him. I can’t believe I did that.
He shakes his head slowly from side to side. “Oh, dear,” he says in a tone dripping with warning.
Seconds later, I feel like a child. God, I acted like a child. Why does he do this to me?
I remember we have an audience. I turn away from Tully and back to Mary.
“I’m sorry. Tully and I have a difference of opinion is all.”
She smiles. “Seems like. No worries. Remember, I’m familiar with the men of the north.”
“McKenna, we’re sorting through things now. Would be a l
ot easier if you were back at the estate.”
“You would say that.” But a part of me wonders, am I being too stubborn? Should I go back with him? But then I also know that if I go, there's no coming back. That would be it, it would be harder and harder for me to make any breaks with the McCarthy clan. Living there with them is one step away from becoming a claimed woman. I know a part of me, the softer, weaker part of me, would like that, but I can’t let myself give in.
Other women like to know where life is going to lead them. But I like the life that I live. I like my humble home, my humble job, the simple life that I have created right here for me. But am I truly safe? And are my choices putting other people at risk? I never want to be so stubborn that I actually cause pain or suffering for anyone else.
Why does it have to be all or nothing? Can I just go with Tully, and not be a claimed woman of the clan? Can't I just go for a time?
I go back to Mary, and ask her as many questions that can possibly think of. She doesn't have that much to tell me, though, besides what she already has.
"And why didn't you come down right away?” I really want to know. If I just found out information about my birth mother that I’ve been looking for, I would've wanted to come straight away.
"You have to understand. People in the north are afraid of Ballyhock. I was afraid to come myself. But finally, when I heard there were things happening down here, I felt the time had come."
We talk easily, and I really, truly like her. She's witty and kind, and I want to get to know her better. But Tully is growing impatient.
“Call yer mam,” he finally says after Mary and I have chatted for an hour. “We don’t have time for any more chattering.”
I roll my eyes at Mary, who laughs easily, and take my mobile to my bedroom. My fingers tremble as I dial my mother.
She’s become a sort of a recluse since her husband died. The Clan took good care of her financially, and she’s set for life. But she rarely leaves home and doesn’t like to venture outside her city. She trusts no one, her eyes ever wide and fearful.
“Hello?”