Tully: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance: Dangerous Doms

by Henry, Jane

  I settle in, my head on his chest, our fingers laced together. Our breathing mingles as others find their places. Keenan says a few hushed words to staff, and within minutes, they’re circling the room with steaming teapots and saucers with cups on them.

  “’Tis a sad evening indeed,” Maeve says, and her eyes make her look a little older than she is.

  “Did you apprehend him the man who attacked Mary?” Keenan says, and I know in this context the phrase “apprehend” is being used lightly. They’re not police officers who peacefully handcuff those under arrest.

  “No,” Tully says. “We haven’t.”

  “See that you do.”

  “Aye, brother,” Tully says, a fire in his eyes I haven’t witnessed often. “You have my word. As soon as we’re finished here, that’s my first mission.”

  “Not yours, Tully,” Keenan says sternly. “I won’t send a man of the Clan out alone. You’ll take your brothers with you, and together we’ll find and apprehend the man who hurt Mary.”

  Mary flushes. “I’m sure the Cowen Clan will see to my protection.”

  Keenan shakes his head. “That they will, Mary, and we’ll avenge those who hurt you. But understand that you were attacked because of your likeness to McKenna.” Keenan’s eyes come to me. “Who’s soon to be a claimed woman of the Clan. Are you not, McKenna?”

  My heart thunders and my palms grow sweaty. I sit up, and Tully tightens his grip on my hand. I swear he’s holding his breath, his body’s gone rigid in anticipation of my response. I swallow hard.

  “Aye, sir. Of course I will.”

  There’s no question, I know that now. I won’t return to my lonely flat by myself. I won’t turn my back on the chance to be a part of this fierce, loyal family. And I can’t leave Tully. Never again.

  And for the first time that night, those around us smile. Aileen nods and beams at me. Maeve’s eyes grow soft, and she nods to herself. Tully gathers me in his arms and drags me to his chest, kissing the top of my head.

  Keenan smiles sadly himself. “Excellent. After things are settled, we’ll move on to make plans.”

  What have I agreed to? Nerves flutter in my belly like butterflies, but Tully’s steady reassurance helps.

  “Relax, lass,” he whispers in my ear. “We’re hardly taking vows in the morning.” I smile. “We’ll talk about our options when we’re done here.”

  I nod. “Aye. Thank you.”

  He runs his fingers through my hair, and I don’t know if it’s more to settle himself or me. Perhaps both.

  Slowly, all eyes go to Maeve. She sits alone, perched at the edge of an overstuffed chair, but she’s looking off in the distance. Her mind’s a million miles away.

  She sighs before she speaks. “A few weeks ago, when we were attacked, we guessed it was either the Scottish or the Welsh who came to attack.”

  Keenan and the others nod. I feel Tully’s attention fully riveted on hers as he holds me.

  “I explained how the former Scottish Chief, a married man, fell in love with a woman from Ballyhock and got her pregnant. He attempted to kill her for what he thought was betrayal.”

  This is the first I’ve heard this story, and I listen in silence, riveted.

  “He started a war with Seamus, and after much bloodshed, we formed an alliance with both the Welsh and Scottish Clans of the north.”

  “Aye,” Keenan says.

  Maeve smiles sadly. “What I didn’t tell you was that I had a relationship myself with the son of the Welsh Chief. You have to understand, I rebelled against the arranged marriage with Seamus. Your father hated when I spoke of it, and out of respect for him I didn’t. But now it’s important. I was only a girl. I had several… boyfriends, you might say. Lovers.”

  Tully leans in and whispers in my ear, “She was nearly still a child when she wed Seamus. Theirs was an arranged marriage.”

  I nod silently. It’s a stark reminder that the Clan follows only their rules and no one else’s.

  “My father intervened, and after the bloody, brutal war between Clans, part of the agreement of truce was that I was to marry Seamus. But I suspected my Welsh boyfriend wasn’t prepared to let me go.” She sighs. “It seemed the Scottish had come to attack us. We were told by Mary it wasn’t them, and I think we wanted to believe that.” She turns to Lachlan.

  “The night of the attack, was their Scottish ink on the men you killed?”

  I blink in surprise. I haven’t heard them speak of these things so frankly.

  Lachlan holds her gaze. “No.”

  Maeve nods. “It’s clear to me, then. Tonight, at the parsonage…” her voice trails off, and she swallows hard. She sighs. “I saw the son of Elys Hughes, the Welsh Clan. And he told all.”

  “So let me get this straight.” Tully’s voice booms loud and clear, and all eyes come to us.

  “You were in love with the Welsh Chief as a girl. Hughes.”

  Maeve nods.

  “But you were promised to Seamus by your father.”

  “Aye.”

  “But the Welsh Chief never got over it, did he? As he saw the McCarthy Clan growing, he decided he wouldn’t let bygones be bygones anymore.”

  Maeve nods again.

  “When you saw his son, you knew it wasn’t the Scottish. You knew he was Welsh-born.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So the Welsh framed the Scots, then,” Keenan says. “And it was fitting, since they’d come to protect Mary. But none of our enemies showed the ink of the Scots, did they?”

  “That’s exactly it, Keenan,” Maeve says. “It wasn’t until I saw the face of the man in the parsonage tonight that I knew who he was.”

  Keenan nods slowly. “Then we fight the Welsh.”

  There’s silence in the room as we all process what he’s telling us.

  “They’ve attacked the Clan matriarch. They killed a McCarthy man of the cloth in cold blood. It’s an act of war.”

  “Aye,” Maeve says. She swallows hard. “But Father Finn would hate to know there was more bloodshed because of him.”

  Keenan paces the room. “Does it matter, Mam? He’s gone, and we’ll have a proper burial.”

  “I already ended the threat against us, Keenan,” Tully says quietly.

  “Perhaps you’d have an alliance with the Scots, then, if they know they were framed?” I speak up, immediately feeling my cheeks flame. “Is it possible the Welsh will send more men down here?”

  Carson pulls out a shiny silver laptop and fires it up. “Just a minute. Let me see what I can find.”

  He taps the keyboard, punches in some details, and nods.

  “They know their men were killed in Ballyhock. They know we’re responsible.” He taps his chin, reading on. His eyes widen. “They sent someone as spy for them, and it seems they think he attacked McKenna?”

  A chill skates down my spine. “’Twas Mary, Carson. They attacked her, thinking it was me.”

  “So your ex-boyfriend was hired by the Welsh. Why?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve no idea. None at all.”

  “We’ll have to ask your mother,” Tully says quietly.

  I turn to look at him. “My mum? What does she have to do with it?”

  He sighs. “She’s said a few things that have raised my suspicions. Let’s pay her a visit, shall we?”

  I nod silently. “Tomorrow?”

  He nods. “Aye.” He sighs. “Let’s get some rest.”

  “We convene first thing in the morning, at breakfast,” Keenan says. “We’ll plan our attack.” He sobers. “And we’ll plan the burial of Father Finn.”

  We leave in a somber mood, but he smiles at me as we get ready to go. “Good night, McKenna. I’m glad you came back.”

  I smile at him. “I’m glad of it, too.”

  * * *

  Chapter 18

  Tully

  I feel the weariness in my very bones as I head upstairs with McKenna. We’re nowhere near at peace yet after what’s happened tonight,
and I know that battle is imminent. The fight we fought tonight is only one of… how many?

  Patrick attacked Mary, thinking she was McKenna. Where’s he now? I wish he’d show his cowardly face. I’d fucking kill him with my own bare hands.

  Maeve says it’s the Welsh who’ve framed the Scottish, and I know now she’s right. There’s no other explanation. The night I saw the men of the north, they were here to help Mary, not attack us. Was it really an old wound that caused the devastation we’ve been dealing with?

  But old wounds fester, and when there’s no resolution to anger or discord, it sometimes explodes.

  “You look so tired, Tully,” McKenna says, gently cupping my face with her hand. Her eyes gentle, and she smiles so softly, she looks like an angel.

  “I could sleep for fucking years,” I mutter wearily.

  She nods. “Come. Let’s get some rest.”

  I don’t know how she’s dealt with everything we dealt with tonight and seems so at peace with it all.

  We enter our flat, and thankfully the guard’s in place outside our door. We need good, deep sleep tonight.

  Even with the guard outside, I inspect every room, every closet, every corner of the flat before I give her the signal we’re clear.

  I sit on the edge of the bed and draw her into my lap. I’m too weary for anything right now, but I want to reclaim her. I need to.

  Wordlessly, I strip her clothes from her body and toss them into the wicker basket by the door. She doesn’t protest or fight me, but lifts her arms and lets me remove her clothing slowly.

  In silence, I bend her back, nestled in the crook of my arm, lean in, and kiss her. I sigh as her lips meet mine, tasting her sweet essence. Her eyelids flutter closed as we kiss, until her breath’s labored. Her lips part, and my tongue meets hers in a dance of surrender. She moans, and I feel her body become boneless in my arms.

  We pull away, both breathing heavily. So much to say, and yet, do we need to say anything at all? Our foreheads meet. Her hand on my shoulder. Mine under her legs and around her lower back. She’s mine, this woman, and I won’t ever let her fucking go again.

  Not ever.

  “Tully,” she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. “We can’t…”

  “Can’t what, lass?” I whisper in her ear. Can’t be together? Can’t make another baby? Can’t forget all that’s happened? It’s on the tip of my tongue to defeat every fucking argument she has against the two of us together, when she finishes her sentence with a fierceness that’s all McKenna.

  “We can’t ever let that happen again.”

  I feel a corner of my lips twitch. “Let what happen, love?”

  She plants her hands on my shoulders, her eyes holding mine intently.

  “We can’t let anything drag us apart. We need to fight harder.”

  “Oh, aye,” I say, nodding. “You have my word, lass.”

  “Do I?” she asks, her eyes shining. “Do you have a plan, then?”

  I nod soberly. “I do.”

  “And what might that plan be?”

  I shrug a shoulder casually. “Well, first, I’m going to tie you to my bed.”

  She blinks, then smiles. “Oh, really?”

  “Aye. In fact, I think I’ll give you a bit of a demonstration now.”

  “Tully!”

  I’m already standing with her in my arms, moving to the bedpost. I lay her on her back and point my finger at her. “You stay right there.”

  She bites her lip and nods. “Aye. I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

  “Good. Second, if you run again, I’ll have to punish you.”

  She swallows hard, her cheeks a faint shade of pink. “Oh?”

  I reach for the buckle of my belt and unfasten it, before I slide it through the belt loops and lean over her to fasten her hands.

  “Oh, thank God.”

  “Why?”

  “Thought you were going to spank me with that.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Not yet?”

  In silence, I fasten the leather around her wrists, securing it. Her eyes shine at me. I bend and kiss each cheek in turn.

  I cup her jaw and drag my thumb across her full, pretty lips.

  “I love you, McKenna.”

  It’s the first time in my life I’ve ever told someone I love them. My dad was not the demonstrative type, and I learned from him.

  “And I love you.”

  Hearing her say those words gives me the sudden need to make her mine.

  “I want to claim you, McKenna. I want to make you a woman of the Clan. I want you to take my name and wear my ring on your finger. I’ll take the very best care of you I know how, and devote myself to meeting your every need.

  Her eyes shine. “Will you?”

  “Aye, love, if you’ll have me. Will you?”

  She nods. “I will.” Then she looks at her bound wrists and laughs. “My goodness, I can’t believe you just proposed to me while I’m naked in your bed, my wrists bound with your belt, and you’re about to…”

  I grin at her. “Have my way with you?”

  It’s too soon for me to fuck her, but I will in time.

  “You want me to call the fucking paper? Buy a fucking rose?”

  She grins right back. “Ack, no. I want you to do all sorts of dirty things to me.”

  I bend down to her, hold her in my arms, and kiss every inch of her until she’s moaning, arching into me, her legs parted to welcome me in. I hold her body close as I finger her until she moans. Her eyelids flutter closed.

  “I fucking love you,” I whisper, as she climaxes. My cock strains but this is all about her tonight. All her. “I want a baby with you.”

  She gasps, straining against the headboard, and she meets my eyes.

  “I want your baby, Tully. I want all of you. I want to stay with you, be claimed by you, wear your ring, and take your name.”

  I want all of her. I want to give her all of me. Joined together as one.

  * * *

  I wake in the middle of the night to the wind howling out our window again. McKenna’s asleep, her arm strewn across the pillow. I unfastened my belt hours ago and she squealed when I gave her a teasing smack to the backside. Her wrists are still pink where I restrained her, and her cheeks are flushed with warmth.

  I wrap my arm around her as the wind rails outside the window. Rain slashes in torrents, the angry cry of the sky. Weeping for the McCarthy Clan who will bury their own. Crying with tears of rejoicing that McKenna’s come back to me.

  The house is quiet, and my heart’s more at peace than it’s ever been. I fall asleep again, holding her to me. No matter what happens, no matter who threatens her again, she’ll be protected and cared for.

  My woman.

  We wake the next day together, and she rolls over onto my chest. I hold her there. She smiles, tracing the hair on my chest with the very tip of her finger.

  “You’re very manly, you know.”

  I chuckle. “I should hope so. Any fucking man of the Clan ought to be fucking manly.”

  She giggles, then sighs. “You’ll be a good father one day, Tully, you know that?”

  I kiss her and smile. “I’ll do my best.”

  She laces her fingers with mine. “Today’s the day Keenan declares war, isn’t it?”

  I nod. It is. It’s been decades since we went to war. The last time we were in full-blown battle, rather than the skirmishes we’ve had in recent years, Seamus McCarthy was Clan Chief.

  “You’re quiet,” she says. “Something on your mind?”

  “Aye, lass.” I run my finger through her hair. “Very much so.”

  She doesn’t ask any questions, so I don’t give any more response than that. I don’t want to talk about it if we can avoid it.

  We dress quietly, and head downstairs to join the others for breakfast. It’s a somber affair, and Keenan holds a brief meeting afterward, but it isn’t until midday we discuss what’s really on everyone’s mind b
ut only briefly. It’s out of respect for Father Finn that Keenan hasn’t declared war yet.

  At dinner, Keenan shows up after we do, but no Caitlin. Minutes later, Boner comes, and Lachlan, and a few more others, but it’s hardly a full Clan turnout.

  “I’ve gotten in touch with the men of the North,” Keenan announces soberly.

  “And?”

  He sighs, rubbing a hand across his eyes before he pinches the bridge of his nose. But before he responds, the door to the kitchen flies open, and a wide-eyed staff member enters the room.

  “Mr. McCarthy?”

  Keenan turns his stern gaze on her. “What is it?”

  We all hear the implied question. What is it that disturbed a meeting with my men? That’s unheard of within these walls. Keenan’s words are gospel, his meetings sacred.

  “There’s someone here to see you, sir.”

  He frowns. “Is there?”

  There’s a commotion outside, and Keenan gets to his feet. I’m already on my feet, my hand on my weapon, when the doors to the dining room swing open, and McKenna’s mother comes in. Her hair’s flying around her like tumbleweed, her eyes wild.

  “I heard what happened!” she shouts. “McKenna! Are you alright?”

  “Mum!” McKenna blinks in surprise, her face drawn. She looks from me to Keenan, as if she’ll get in trouble for this intrusion, but we all look back to her mum. I reach for her hand and give her a little squeeze, silently communicating to her that it will all be okay.

  Keenan looks from one to the other, his face stern and impassive. “May I help you?’

  “Keenan. This is Alice Byrne, mum to McKenna and Mary.” He looks mildly surprised, but nods. I lower my voice. “You’ll remember she’s a McCarthy Clan widow.”

  “Ah,” Keenan says nodding. When he turns to Alice, his gaze sharpens, and I suspect I know why. As a widow of the Clan, she’s been given money to sustain her, but she’s not taken care of herself. She blames the Clan, but I know for certain she gets an ample annual allowance.